#I'm about to start chapter 10. save that for tomorrow

[where-dreamers-go]

I didn't expect to giggle during parts in reading Star Wars: Thrawn: Treason...

"I assume that is a no," Thrawn said.

[alexfromjersey]

𝓓𝓸𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻 𝓥𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓼 & 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓬 𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

jenna x g!poc

summary: jenna and jah going to the obstetrician. jah asking stupid questions.

warnings: jah being a comedian, mature language, partial smut

a/n: tumblr didn’t save the first draft 😭…anyway enjoy the chapter and a Jenna edit 🤭. also I’m not a medical professional. I tried to look up the actual terminology and stuff to be semi-accurate but I started to lose interest 😂 - 4.3k words

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MAY 2023

“YOU GOT YOUR BACK BLOWN OUT BY KID CUDI?!? WHAT THE FUCK!” You shouted on the phone.

You and Jenna were currently on FaceTime, she was in her last fitting for her Met Gala outfit. She was bored waiting for the designer to come and make potential adjustments. So she called you to entertain her someway. She regrets calling you now.

You were doing your due diligence as a baby mama and friend to watch Jenna’s work. You started with The Babysitter: Killer Queen. It was alright in your opinion, you gave it a 7/10. Next, you watched The Fallout. It made you tear up and you applauded Jenna on her work. You considered it her best character.

Then, you watched both Scream movies and now you’re watching X. She tried to get you to not watch the movie by not even telling you about it. You had to look up her filmography to find out about it.

“You’re so lucky I have my headphones in” Jenna rolled her eyes.

“Nah you ain’t tell me this movie like that. I was jumpscared with so much ass and titties and now I gotta see you have sex with Mr. Day N’ Nite. Insane” You stated.

“I told you not to watch it. Actually I specifically remember withholding the information” Jenna said.

“Hm. They did you dirty by pairing you with that white man though” You shrugged and ate a fistful of popcorn.

“Shut up” Jenna mumbled.

Your eyes slowly drifted away from the movie to the phone screen. Jenna was preoccupied fixing the nail polish on her nails. She was doing something so simple yet captivating. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. The feelings you felt for her was starting to scare you.

“So, Nancy helped me book an appointment with the obstetrician not far from you” Jenna spoke bringing you out your thoughts.

“You did it for here? Why not back in your hometown, you know to be closer with your family” You questioned.

“It was the best one and…I always wanted to live in New York. I also want to be far away as possible from my mother when I tell her that I’m pregnant” Jenna smiled.

You laughed taking in the information, “When’s the appointment?”

“Tomorrow morning, 9am” Jenna replied.

“I’ll be there” You playfully salute to her. You turn your attention back to the movie. It was now on the part where the white man get killed by the old lady brutally.

“Speaking of families, how exactly are you going to tell yours?” Jenna asked.

“I’ll just call my brother and tell him. Now, for my mom, I’m gonna need a police riot shield” You huffed.

"You and I are in the same boat. I'm praying for you more though" Jenna said.

Your head snapped toward her, "Nah, don't say that."

Jenna chuckled at the expression on your face. The door behind her opened and the designer walks in. "I have to go. I'll call you later" Jenna said.

"Okay...wait you don't get your back broken like a glow stick anymore in this movie right?" You jokingly asked.

Instead of a verbal response, you got the sound of the FaceTime call ending. You laughed out loud and placed your phone on the charger and turned back to the movie.

Meanwhile with Jenna, she rolled her eyes secretly amused as she hung up on you. It was starting to get hard for her to ignore the growing feelings she had for you. She stalked your Instagram, staring at each photo for at least 10 minutes. She stayed up late last night and watch all your YouTube videos.

“Okay, since you’re not showing yet. The dress still fits perfectly but we will loosen it up around the waist just touch” Thom complimented.

Jenna looked at herself in the mirror, “I feel good in it. It feels good, I’m really happy with it” Jenna smiled.

Thom and Jenna continued discussing the dress some more before Thom had to leave to another client. He bid Jenna a bye and congratulations and left the building. Now, it was just Enrique, Nancy, Hudson, and Big L in the room.

A phone alert has Jenna snapping her head to her phone but unfortunately it was not her phone that made the sound. Enrique snorts at Jenna’s actions. An embarrassed blushed appears on her face.

“Shut up Enrique” Jenna mumbled.

“I’ve never seen like this before. It’s adorable” Enrique chuckled.

“It’s just hormones” Jenna lied.

“Yeah no it’s not. You know it’s okay to like her right. I mean the both of you kinda skipped a couple of steps but it’s good to backtrack” Enrique joked.

Jenna playfully punched his shoulder which made him laugh. Nancy let out a little giggle at the home. Hudson just grumbled something incoherent to himself.

“What does she look like anyway? I wanna see if your baby is going to be ugly or not” Enrique said.

Jenna rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone. She went to Instagram and went to your profile.

“This is the most recent photo” Jenna said.

liked by jennaortega, davis, and 12,683 people

bronxshiesty no bite marks no scratches and no hickeys

“Oh my….she got a brother?” Enrique asked.

Jenna laughed, “She does actually but he lives in Barbados.”

“I always wanted to go to Barbados. When’s my vacation?” He joked.

Jenna just shook her head while laughing. She carefully took off the dress and Enrique hung it up on the mannequin.

“You know it still hasn’t fully hit me that you’re about to become an actual mother. Shit is wild” Enrique commented.

“You and me both. I downloaded this pregnancy app and currently my baby is the size of a large strawberry” Jenna smiled and placed her hand on her stomach.

“Ain’t all strawberries large though?” Nancy questioned.

“I guess not” Jenna shrugged and sat down in a chair. Her stomach growled loudly.

“Get used to that. You’re gonna wanna eat twice more than usual.” Nancy said.

A text message alert can heard throughout the room. Jenna picked up her phone.

NYC 🩵: yo u got anything else to do today?

Hollywood 🤰🏻: no I’m free for the rest of the day

Hollywood 🤰🏻: why?

NYC 🩵: I want to see you

Jenna’s heart fluttered at the message. She bit her lip and smirked.

Hollywood 🤰🏻: what are we gonna do?

Jenna watched as the text bubbles appear and then disappeared. It happened a few more times before the text bubbles stayed.

NYC 🩵: i mean…whatever you wanna do shawty. I’m down with whatever 😁

“Let me guess, it’s her” Enrique smirked and tried to peek at Jenna’s phone she turned away. “Ohh not y’all sending spicy messages”.

“We’re not sending spicy messages. She just said she wants to see me” Jenna smiled.

“See you as in watching movies or see you as in Neighbors know my name?” Enrique joked.

Suddenly, a loud slam can be heard throughout the room. Everyone looked confused at the sudden sound and disappearance of Hudson. But shrugged it off.

Hollywood 🤰🏻: I’m hungry

NYC 🩵: what u want

Hollywood 🤰🏻: seafood

NYC 🩵: u like seafood boils? I know a banging spot that I can get

Hollywood 🤰🏻: absolutely

NYC 🩵: bet 🫡

“You’re all finished for the day Jenna. Go spend it with your baby momma” Nancy said.

“Thanks guys” Jenna said and grabbed her things. She hugged Enrique and Nancy before walking to the door.

“Don’t get pregnant…oh wait” Enrique joked.

Jenna stuck up her middle finger and Enrique and Nancy’s laugh can be heard as she left the room.

🤰🏻🩵

45 minutes later, Jenna finally arrived at your apartment. She texted you that you were here. A couple of minutes later, you came down in a gray tank top, gray shorts, and your slides.

“Yo Hollywood” You greeted and helped her out of the SUV. Jenna smiled and wrapped her arms around your waist. It was unexpected but you wrapped your free arm around her back and hugged her tight.

Jenna looked up you with a certain spark in her eyes. You noticed but decided to look away from her.

“Big L, I got you a boil too. You ain’t allergic to seafood right?” You asked.

“Nah I’m not. Appreciate it though” Big L said appreciative and took the bag of food. You nodded in response.

The two of you then head into the apartment complex. You lived on the 6th floor of the building, the nicest floor out the entire building. When you applied for the place, the landlord tried to stick you in a moldy and roaches infested apartment but one of the neighbors put you on game and helped you get this one.

“Welcome to mi casa” You said as you walked into your apartment. It was two bedroom and one bathroom. Their was music softly playing throughout the apartment from your speaker on the counter.

Jenna looked around the thankfully, clean apartment.

“Not bad” Jenna playfully shrugged.

“Yeah it’s not the high rise, plants in the windows, Hollywood type of apartment but it’s something” You chuckled.

Jenna giggled and sat down at the dining table with the food.

“I didn’t get yours with sauce on it. I got it on the side, it’s a Cajun style sauce and it’s a little spicy. I looked up if pregnant woman can eat spicy stuff, they said it was safe but might cause heartburn or indigestion so I also got a lemon garlic sauce too just in case.” You ranted.

Jenna looked at you with admiration in her eyes, “Thank you. I like spicy stuff so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

You smiled and the two of you engaged in a light conversation as you ate. You took the sausages from her bag and you gave her your corn. You also helped her with cracking the crab legs open and showing her how to get the meat in one piece.

You and Jenna finish your food and clean up before sitting on the couch. You sat in the middle while she sat at the end with her back against the armrest and her feet in your lap.

“Are you wishing for a boy or girl?” Jenna asked.

“I’m wishing for a healthy baby. I genuinely don’t care if it’s a boy or girl” You shrugged.

“Good answer. I want a girl though” Jenna said.

“That’s surprising. Most mothers want boys” You said.

“Girls are more fun in my opinion. But either way I’m going to love our child regardless of gender” Jenna stated.

She then sat up, scooted closer, and looked at the number tattoo on your wrist. “What’s this mean?”

“It’s my angel number. 555. It’s means change. Changes are coming and that I shouldn’t be worry or scared just have trust in the process” You explained.

“What about this one?” Jenna said as she pointed to another tattoo. This one was a small writing.

“Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes. It was my second ever tattoo. Believe it or not I was a shy kid before my junior year. I used to let people walk over me and bully me and take me for advantage. That was until the last day of sophomore year, I was on the yearbook committee and I had a really good idea but I was too scared and one of the other students stole it and took credit for it. My yearbook teacher pulled me aside one day and told me she knew I was the one that came with the idea. She told me, “you’re never going to get what you want if you never speak up. Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes because you never know who could be listening”. It’s a quote that stuck with me ever since” You explained.

“You had a great teacher” Jenna commented.

“Yeah, she reached out to me a couple of months ago and told me she loved my videos. It was wholesome” You smiled. Your hand start to rub her thigh unconsciously. “What about you? You got any ink?” You asked.

“Nope. I want one though. Maybe for my first one I’ll get our baby’s name behind my ear” Jenna answered. You nodded in response and continued rubbing her thigh. Your eyes kept looking down to her soft lips.

You wanted to feel them on yours, it’s been a minute since you felt any intimacy. You were longing for her soft touch.

Jenna’s eyes traveled down to your hand. She was starting to grow hot. Her hormones making it very difficult to keep in check.

“Jah?” Jenna called out.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response.

“Kiss me” Jenna demanded softly.

You leaned in and connected your lips to hers. Jenna immediately deepened the kiss as soon as she could. She climbed into your lap and her hands were placed on your cheeks. You placed your hands on hips. The kiss was starting to get sloppy and eager.

Jenna pulled away and took off her top leaving her in her navy blue bra. Her lips then latched onto your neck.

“You know…we should…talk about our relationship” You struggled to get out due to the pleasure.

Jenna placed butterfly kisses on your neck until her lips found your pulse. She then began to suck on the area. Your hands gripped her waist tighter and a small hiss escaped your lips. She smirked against you, happy that she found your sweet spot. She continued sucking until she felt satisfied with the hickey she left on your skin.

Your lips connect once more, your tongues clash and you slide your right hand up her back. Your fingers find her bra strap and with one hand you undo it. You help her pull it off your body. This time your lips leaves hers and attach them to her sweet spot. A sigh of pleasure leaves her lips and her hand gets tangled in your hair.

Your left hand grabs onto her slightly larger breast and begins to massage them.

Thank god for this pregnancy.

Your fingers rolling and pleasurably tugging at her hardened nub. The hand in your hair start to scratch at your scalp which felt really good. You take your attention away from her hickey littered neck.

Yikes, her make up person is going to have a field day with that.

Your lips clamp around her nub. Your tongue swipe over it a few times before sucking on it.

“Oh my god” Jenna moaned softly.

You let your teeth graze over it just a tad bit before switching your attention to the other breast. While you were giving her breasts attention, Jenna slipped down a little to sit on your knees before her hand found it’s way into your sweatpants. Her warm hand quickly found their prize. The long and girthy beast that was growing in your pants.

You pull away from her breasts and look into her lust filled eyes. You lifted your hips and pushed your sweatpants along with your underwear off your hips. Jenna got up from your legs and pushed the rest of it off your legs. She got on her knees in front of you.

Her small hand wrapped around your third leg. It jerked in her hand at her touch which she smirked at. She placed small kisses up and down your shaft until she got to the tip. Her tongue circled around it, her eyes never leaving yours. You lick your lips as she takes you into her mouth.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your head fell back against the cushions and your right hand tangle themselves in her hair.

One hand at the base of your shaft and the other rested on your thigh. Jenna started to bob her head up and down. Her muffled moans sending vibrations against your member which made you hiss.

“Damn girl” You hissed and licked your lips. You pushed her head down farther. You were deep in her throat, tears were pooling in her eyes. Jenna then took you fully in her mouth, her nose was touching your pelvic area. Your eyes slightly widened, you can feel her uvula grazing across you. She stayed there for a second, flexing her throat until it got hard to breathe and she pulled you out of her mouth. Her hand continuing to pump your length.

Once she got her breath back, she swallowed you while again. You grabbed a fistful of her hair and helped her bob her head up and down at a fast pace.

You were close, the knot in your stomach started to tighten.

“Fuck Jenna” You moaned.

Her nails dug into your thigh, enjoying the way your tip abused the back of her throat. You start to pant as you got closer and closer. Before you knew it, you halted her head before you felt your length twitch as it emptied into her mouth.

You relaxed into the couch, sweat glistening on your face. Jenna milked you for every last drop before she pulled you out of her mouth. She showed you the thick substance in her mouth before closing it and swallowing.

“Me gusta esa mierda extraña (I like that freaky shit)” You spoke.

“You know even though it’s sexy. It’s not fair when you speak Spanish knowing I have no clue what you’re saying” Jenna pouted.

“Chupa para chuparte fraude (Sucks to suck you fraud)” You shrugged with a chuckle.

Jenna sucks her teeth before standing up. She goes to walk away but you grab her hand.

“I’m joking. I’ll teach you Spanish if you want me too” You said. She stood in front of you. You pulled her down and interlocked your lips again. This kiss you guys took it slow, building the mood again, even though it technically never left. You pulled her pants down her legs until she kicked them off somewhere.

You stood up and hoisted Jenna up. She wrapped her legs around your waist. You walked until her back made contact with the wall in your bedroom. Your fingers pulled her underwear to the side and you ran your middle finger through her folds.

Damn, she was mad wet. She got that WAP.

Your middle finger massaged her clit. A whine left her lips as you flicked her clit and her hand gripped the back of your neck.

“Jah…” She moaned.

Unbeknownst to you, she was close to the edge. Usually, she lasts a lot longer than this. You barely touched her and she was already close to the edge. This pregnancy was making everything heightened.

You pull her from the wall and lay her on the bed. You were on your knees to the side of you, you took her underwear off before you slipped your middle and ring finger inside her.

“Fuck!” Jenna gasped.

Your long fingers worked their magic, quickly finding the rough spongy spot inside her. A loud moan ripped through her as she arched her back. Her hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

“I’m…about to cu-” Jenna choked on her words as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. She stilled with her back arched to sky and eyes squeezed shut. There was a pool under her and your hand was soaked to the max.

You were slightly surprised at how fast she came. You didn’t complain though.

“Holy shit, that was intense” Jenna swallowed harshly. She relaxed her body on your bed, her chest was still rising and falling rapidly.

“I’m good at what I do” You smirked.

Exhaustion creeped in and Jenna struggled to keep her eyes open.

“No way I just fingered you to sleep” You laughed.

“Shut up” Jenna mumbled sleepily.

You chuckled as you grabbed some boxers from your drawer and pulled them on. You grab an old T-shirt from your drawer.

“Here put this on” You said and handed her the T-shirt. Jenna lazily put it on while you changed the blanket on your bed. Jenna crawled into your soft queen sized bed and curled up in your blanket.

You locked up your place and put the blanket and her clothes in the wash. Before going back to your room to see Jenna fast asleep. You climbed in the bed and stared up at the ceiling. As soon as you closed your eyes, you felt Jenna scoot closer to you. You turned your head towards her to see her grabbing your hand. You placed your hand in hers and she placed it on her stomach. You turned your body to her, spooning her. She relaxed into your hold and fell back asleep. You soon followed with a big smile on your face.

🤰🏻🩵

It was the next morning, you and Jenna were currently at the obstetrician's office waiting for the doctor to return to do the physical exam. The two of you got to know Dr. Nightngale better and vice versa. Her daughter was a fan of Jenna's which didn't bother or surprise the girl.

When it came down to asking questions about the other parent, Dr. Nightingale was stunned to learn that you were. Questions were thrown at you, which didn't bother you. You were used to people asking questions about being intersex. You were asked questions about it from the minute you could speak full sentences.

When you were younger, you used to go into full details but they got boring real quick. So you opted to tell people a quick summary. Which was 'I was an experiment from Area 51. My father was a spy that fell in love with an alien'. Most people didn't find it funny.

“What to expect when expecting?” You read aloud. It was a pamphlet that you picked up from the front desk. All morning you were reading up on anything related to pregnancy. You wanted to at least have a little bit of knowledge of what’s happening. Plus, it was kinda interesting learning about everything.

“Holy shit” You gasped as you were instantly hit with the sight of a stretched-out vagina…not the kind of stretched you want.

You look at the pamphlet with a disgusted look and then over to Jenna. The girl looking at you with an amused expression.

“I’m so sorry” You apologize to the girl.

A knock on the door was heard and Dr. Nightingale came in.

“Alright, Ms. Ortega and Ms. Jimenez are you guys ready to see your little bundle of joy," Dr. Nightingale asked.

Jenna was laid back in the exam chair with a sheet covering her breasts. Her slightly protruding belly was out in the open. You got up to stand next Jenna and also see the screen. You felt a shaking hand grab yours.

"You okay?" You asked the shaking girl.

"I'm nervous. I'm finally realizing how real this is" Jenna gulped.

"It's normal to be nervous. But I'm right here." You reassured the girl. She gave you a smile and a quick squeeze of your hand. Dr. Nightingale smiled at the interaction between the two of you. She put the gel on the medical instrument.

"Okay, this is going to be cold." Dr. Nightingale warned. She put the instrument on Jenna's belly, who flinched slightly at the sudden coldness of the gel. She moved the instrument around a little before a little body appears on the screen. The room was then filled with a rhythmic thumping.

"Oh my god" Jenna gasped at the screen. Her eyes started to fill up with tears at the sight. You, on the other hand, couldn't stop looking at the screen. You had a huge smile on your face.

"Your baby has a strong heartbeat. You are about 11 weeks pregnant. 2 months almost 3 if you like to go by months. Judging by the date of conception, you are due to give birth on November 28. But there's also a possibility that you could give birth in December" Dr. Nightingale said. She starts to take pictures of the baby.

“A Sagittarius baby…oh lord” Jenna joked.

“Better than a Scorpio” You shrugged.

Dr. Nightingale continued the exam. Everything coming up clear for both the baby and Jenna which you were happy about.

“When are we able to know the gender?” Jenna asked.

“By 14 weeks but I like to do it around 19-20 week mark so it can be accurate” Dr. Nightingale asked.

“What about sex?” You impulsively asked.

“Jah” Jenna sighed and rolled her eyes.

“What? It’s a smart question to ask” You defended.

Dr. Nightingale laughed, “One of the most common questions we get. Sex is completely fine to continue doing. It’s actually beneficial, it can ease discomfort or pain, great for physical health, and a good partner bonding experience. But I would highly recommend still using condoms because STI/STDs are still a thing.”

You smirked and nodded at the response. Jenna just smack your arm as she rolled her eyes.

“Any more questions?” Dr. Nightingale asked.

The both of you shook your heads no.

“Okay, well that is it for today. I’ll see you guys next month. Congratulations to you both” The older woman smiled and left the room. You helped Jenna wipe the gel off her stomach and she puts her shirt back on.

“You know…last night I said something to you. We were kind of busy so I don’t know if you heard me” You said.

“What did you say?” Jenna asked.

“I said we should talk about this. You know…us” You gestured to the two of you.

“What’s there to talk about? We’re just two people who had sex and are now having a baby together.” Jenna shrugged.

You furrowed your face, “Is that how you see us? Just two people having a baby?”

“Not just two complete strangers. Like friends” Jenna said. She watched you as you stared at her with no emotion on your face.

“Friends” You muttered and nodded.

Not gonna lie, the statement hurt you. You didn’t want to be just friends with her. You wanted to be more. You liked her and you thought she liked you too but you guess wrong. You respected her decision though despite the mental pain it brought you.

Just friends…

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @raven-ss @fanboy7794 @morganismspam23 @cinffy23 @darklron @cheesybacon1 @octavias-next-meat-bite @playboysaleen @niqmandu

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 5 - Clandestine Meetings

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

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Chapter Summary: Every interaction has finally led you to this moment, straight into the arms of the man you love.

18+ Only! Minors DNI! (Smut and Mature themes)

CW: Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Infidelity (reader is married). Dirty talk. Smut! Oral (Female receiving). Fingering. Big Dick!Steve. Protected P in V. Hint of a breeding kink (for both reader and Steve).

WC: 8.4K

The hours ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace while sitting in your room waiting for the first trace of light to filter through the curtains so you could sneak back out. You sat alternating between chewing your nails and ringing your hands.

Your only consuming thought was getting back to the office to gain access to your phone and warn Steve.

At least waiting for morning didn't make it quite as suspicious. It would be under the guise that you needed to make sure the space was properly cleaned and organized for business as usual come Monday.

It wasn't unusual. Nik knew you were meticulous, if not a little OCD regarding the gallery. He wouldn't bat an eye your way. At least you hoped so, after what you had overheard on your way in, you had to be extra vigilant.

When those first beams of light finally trickled in, you were off, not bothering to alert your driver or anyone else in the house, grabbing the keys to your cherry red convertible that Nik had purchased for you when you'd returned from your honeymoon.

It was one present you were now thankful for, the only vehicle in the house you had exclusive access to.

You quickly went to the garage and got behind the wheel, starting the engine and initiating the automatic garage door.

Nik watched you from his second-floor window with disdain and contempt, immediately phoning one of his many goons to make sure they followed you. Lucky for you they would have nothing useful to report back to him today.

You raced across town feeling as though you were against some sort of impending countdown.

It was early but you hoped Steve was already up as you sent your text.

6:20 AM: Please call me.

Simple. Effective. The phone rang within 30 seconds.

“What's wrong?” He asked before you had the chance to speak, sounding a little winded. “I'll be there in 10 minutes.”

“No, no. Steve. I'm fine.” You assured him, an audible sigh of relief was heard on the other end of the line. “It's you I'm worried about. When I came home last night, Nik was speaking with the boogeyman. Have you heard of him?”

There was a pause, his mind silently letting it register who you were referring to while choosing his next words carefully to not alarm you in any sort of way.

“I have. What did you hear?”

“Nik said he wanted to have him on standby. It doesn't sound like he's planning anything right away, but it's Nik. Any little thing could set him off.” You felt yourself getting worked up as you took a ragged breath. “Steve, I— I can't—”

“Dove, listen to my voice. Take a deep breath for me, tesoro. It's just you and me right now.”

You focused solely on his calm demeanor, yet commanding tone as you inhaled and then let out a deep exhale like he asked.

“Better?” He questioned.

“Better.” You parroted, a small smile finally gracing your features.

“Good, now let's avoid trying to give me a heart attack first thing in the morning, yeah?” You could hear the relief in his voice as he spoke. He was ready to leave the house at a moment's notice for you. He'd been prepared for all kinds of scenarios, hoping for best but always prepared for the worst.

“I can't promise, but I'll try to save the dramatics for a more reasonable hour.” You laughed, as the rest of your trepidation further slipped away. He had a way of doing that. Making you feel completely calm and safe.

“I'll come by tomorrow, if that's alright.” He took a seat at his desk and leaned back in his plush leather chair with another sigh.

“Of course, but I'm fine. Truly. I just needed to let you know.” I needed to hear your voice.

“I know, Dove. I just want to come by to see my girl.” The words came out so easily, he didn't even notice when they slipped out. In his mind, you were always his.

“Your girl, huh?” You grinned to yourself.

“Always, tesoro mio. Stay safe and say hello to your father for me.”

“My father?”

“It's Sunday, no? That was always a tradition in your house. Don't tell me you don't do that anymore.” Something Steve had always longed for. A family that actually cared enough for one another to have dinner once a week. He craved that kind of closeness with his own family some day.

“Of course, it's just— nothing, it doesn't matter. I'll see you tomorrow, amore mio.”

Amore mio. Your parting words had him over the moon. You were still his, in every way. He had a few more surprises for you in the days to come and he couldn't wait to share them with you.

He suddenly felt like a teenager again. Sneaking around so his father wouldn't find you together, except this time the stakes were much higher. He knew the dangers, but you were more than worth it.

-

The truth you didn't want to tell Steve was that you hadn't made lunch plans with your father. Not since the day he shed light on everything that he knew.

You had been keeping him at an arm's length. Texting him instead of calling him. Avoiding any face-to-face interactions if at all possible. It wouldn't last forever but right now it's what you needed.

He respected your decision, but he was hurting too. His only child going from devoted daughter to almost completely ignoring him gave him immediate whiplash, but deep down he knew he deserved it. After that day, he vowed to make everything right.

He was prepared to follow through, whatever the cost. He wasn't about to lose the only light he had left in his miserable life.

The day was open to possibilities, rarely staying at home anymore unless some sort of “wifely” duty was called for, but even that was becoming less frequent. You suspected Nik wanted nothing to do with you at this point.

It did worry you, but at the same time there was a huge sense of relief.

It was a beautiful, sunshine filled day. A walk around the park to clear your head and get some fresh air was high on the agenda.

You found an empty park bench close to the playground to read for a while.

The breeze was warm, spring would soon usher in summer, as children laughed and carried on around you. The book you tried to read, long forgotten sitting closed beside you.

You let yourself imagine for a moment what it would be like to be nothing more than a woman sitting at a bench who was free to do as she pleased, not chained to a life she was born into but one that was all her own.

Given the chance, you could walk away but the man you loved could never have that luxury. Deep down you know that he would have tried to make your life as normal as possible because it's what you had always wanted.

A simple dream of being a wife and someday a mother almost seemed too out of reach but when you looked at him you could still picture it all perfectly. You were both like minded, sharing the same dreams and goals. It has always been that way.

A child screamed in the distance, knocking you from your daydream. It was getting late in the afternoon as you packed your things and headed back home for the day.

You'd been expecting him all morning.

“Excuse me, miss?” He asked toward you and your assistant, Abigail turned as you bit your lip, hiding the smile that threatened to give you away all too easily.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harrington. How can…” Your assistant began, but you quickly cut it, relieved to see him again.

“That's okay, Abigail. I'll see this gentleman.” She nodded and quickly dashed away.

He had turned back to a sculpture that had just made it to the floor, hands clasped behind his back seemingly studying it as you walked up standing beside him.

“Quite exquisite, no?” You asked.

“It's well, it's…” he tilts his head, eyes roving down and back up your body instead. “I would say breathtaking.”

“Is that so, Mr. Harrington?” You finally meet his gaze, soft hazel eyes focused solely on you as he studies your face.

You didn't want to break the trance, but it was beginning to feel suffocating being in this close proximity to him.

You swallowed thickly before looking away from him, cheeks flushing pink. You'd hope he hadn't noticed.

“So, does anything catch your eye?” Simply referring to the art.

“Absolutely. But what I want is sadly unavailable.” He whispered; you hadn't noticed when he'd inched closer; his woodsy scented cologne suddenly surrounding you.

You met his eyes, as he tucked his bottom lip briefly between his teeth drawing your attention back to his pouty lips.

“I would love nothing more than to take her home. Show her all the ways I've missed her, wishing I could take it all back.” Your body felt like it was being pulled toward him, as his eyes drifted to your lips.

“Steve, I—” It came out almost pained, as you released a breath you'd been holding.

“I told you once if this is too much, I'll stop. Just tell me what YOU need.”

Need. Not want. As if he already knew.

“I need room to breathe. I need the love and affection I so desperately crave. I need freedom.” Your eyes checked the room before stepping closer and whispering to him. “And most of all, I need you.”

“I'm working on that.” He replied, a small twinkle in his eye. He was up to something.

“I trust you are, but right now, Mr. Harrington, I need to get back to work.”

“Of course, I'll leave you to it.” He reached for you, fingertips grazing lightly across your skin before pulling your hand up tenderly to his lips placing a small kiss to the back of your hand; squeezing lightly before letting it rest back at your side.

The moment his lips touched your skin your mind went blank. You stare at him unblinking for a moment more before he smiles.

“Arrivederci, my dove.” He turned, leaving you to trail after him.

Steve would stop at nothing to keep you safe and make you his once more. He was ready to play the long game and he knew he'd win; family or husbands be damned. He knows who your heart truly belongs to just as he knows his has always belonged to you.

You had a habit of leaving your burner out in the afternoon while you finished working.

Sometimes he would text or call, knowing you were still at the office. You checked it after taking a small break.

921-987-5555 5:38PM: Tesoro, I left a few things unsaid this afternoon. Are you free to talk?

Sent 6:09 PM: Of course.

The phone began to buzz a few moments later.

“Mr. Harrington?” You asked.

“Ms. Alexander, it would be a pleasure to have you accompany me for dinner tomorrow evening.” He stated.

“Ste—” releasing a heavy sigh, as he interrupted.

“Ah, ah I know what you're going to say, but just listen. I have a place just around the corner from your gallery. It'll just be you and I, away from prying eyes.” Pausing a moment to light a cigarette between his lips letting what he had just said sink in for a moment. The two of you. Alone.

“What do you say? I'll show you those cooking skills and make us a nice dinner.” Taking a large drag, giving you the moment to speak.

“I— I'll think about it. It's—”

“Hey, don't worry about those goons or the goddamn Boogeyman. You deserve a night without worries. I want to give you that at least. Just think about it. Please?” He chimed in, as your mind began to drift with the possibilities.

“Okay.” You replied softly. “I'll think about it.”

“Good girl.” He purred, leaning back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk. If his father could see him now, he'd likely kill him. “Take the night, Dove. Think it over.”

And you had been thinking it over. The last four hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling. It all felt like a fever dream. It was happening so fast yet taking its time.

You began to relive that moment from the gala over and over, always wishing and hoping for more. This was your chance.

You suddenly began aching with need at the thought of finally being alone with him, imagining his large hands roaming your body. His lips trailing soft kisses. His mouth, exploring and tasting you.

Your fingertips slipped past the waistband of your satin sleep shorts until they swirled along your clit, dipping further to your entrance as images of the two of you tangled together danced behind your eyelids. It didn't take very long for your orgasm to build at the thought of him filling you completely, remembering vividly what his cock looked and felt like.

He was bigger than anyone you'd been with since, not only long but thick with a prominent vein that ran down the underside almost from base to tip. You could picture the way he stretched you open with just his head, working you down his length little by little while whispering sweet praises in your ear.

“Steve.” You whispered out, breathy and high, working yourself as your fingers tried to reach that sweet spongy spot inside you. Your clit was throbbing, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you came harder than you had in a long time, picturing him telling you what a good job you'd done.

You slept easy that night.

It was never a choice. Your mind has been made up since the first time you had laid eyes on him again. It was time to take a leap.

Once you'd reached the office, you sent him a simple text stating, “when and where?”

It was followed quickly with an answer. His driver would be parked around back at 7 PM.

Your nerves were high, and your heart was pounding, excitement more than anything fueling your body.

When you locked up the driver was already outside waiting for you just as Steve had instructed, opening the door for you.

“For you miss.” Announcing when you got closer, handing you a small manila envelope. You hold it close as you sit down. “We don't have far to go, but do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.” Replying as he nodded and closed the door. No doubt under Steve's explicit instructions to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

The envelope has a little weight to it, you noted while opening it. No letter, you flipped it over as a brass key fell into your hand with a small slip of paper.

Top floor. Apartment 3.

Take the elevator, it's the last door on the left.

This was it. It felt like everything had been leading up to this moment and your life was about to change. If only you knew how true that would be after tonight.

The driver stopped about a block away at a smaller, but well-maintained apartment complex. Very low key. Your head swiveled, eyes looking over your shoulder for any hint of being followed.

“That key will open the main door; the apartment should be unlocked.” Tipping his hat as you exited the vehicle and walked the couple of stairs up to the front.

The interior was nice, recently updated with fresh paint and new flooring. The elevator was adjacent to the door, you entered and pressed 5 as it began to ascend.

You shifted, tapping your foot in time with each beat of your heart for the short ride up, as the door slid open revealing an equally empty hallway.

You took a deep breath, stepping out, immediately noticing a large, very intimidating gentleman posted by the stairwell. He spoke into an earpiece as you walked past him, otherwise ignoring your presence.

Steve has enough security stationed at various strategic points that no one could get within a fifty-foot radius of the two of you tonight.

Face to face with the cream-colored door adorned with the brass 3, you wondered if you should knock but dismissed the silly notion because he was expecting you, after all.

You slowly turned the matching brass knob, letting the door swing open slightly.

The intoxicating aroma of rosemary and garlic wafted through the air to meet you, pushing the door open so you could slip in.

It was a smaller apartment, the entrance situated inside the kitchen. His back was turned, humming to himself, as he chopped some fresh herbs.

His black dress shirt sleeves were rolled up his forearms, with a towel slung over his shoulder, still dressed in his expensive trousers and Italian loafers. He almost seemed completely out of place but at the same time, exactly where he should be.

Closing the door softly, you lean against the wall taking in the sight. He looks completely domesticated and it immediately feels like home.

For a few moments, you can imagine that this is your life. The life you were meant to have. Coming home to him each night. A loving, and caring man that had only had your best interests at heart. You craved these kinds of intimate moments.

He finished chopping and tossed the leafy greens into a pot of simmering sauce on top of the stove.

“There's a bottle of wine and a glass for you on the table.” He spoke, taking a spoon to stir in his newly added ingredients. “I know merlot isn't your favorite, but it pairs well with the meal.”

“Merlot is fine Steve. You'll find my tastes have changed somewhat.” Tossing your purse to the open counter beside you.

“Is that so?” He raised a brow toward you, looking over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his spoon raising it to his lips to have a small taste.

“That is so, Mr. Harrington.” You grinned, pouring your wine as you looked over the label, but it was from an Italian vineyard you hadn't heard of.

“Need any help with that?” Asking as you stepped closer to him.

“Now, what kind of host would I be if I let you lift a finger? Hmmm?” Pulling the towel from his shoulder, wiping his hands and tossing it to the counter before turning his attention fully to you. He found his own glass, eyeing you appreciatively over the rim as he took a sip.

“You look nice today.” Saying as an almost afterthought, eyes trailing down and back up. You were wearing a maroon silk button up, paired with a simple black skirt, sheer black hosiery and matching heels. Normal work attire.

“As opposed to any other day?” You giggled, sipping on the rich wine, noting hints of blackberry and subtle dark chocolate when the liquid splashed along your tastebuds.

“Tesoro,” he states, setting his wine down and taking a few steps to close the gap between you as you follow his lead, setting your own glass down. His hands come to rest on either side of your hips, your own landing on his chest, as you look up at him with bemused curiosity.

“You look beautiful, EVERY day.” He was crowding your space, invading your senses. A tingling, buzzing feeling began to hum beneath your skin. He was so close when he spoke his warm breath fanned across your cheek.

“You don't see me everyday.” You remarked, eyes trained on his, subtly shifting to his lips and back up.

“Don't remind me.” He huffed, his hold drifting to your lower back, pressing you closer still.

You were suddenly hungry for something other than food, as you bit your lower lip, looking up at him as if he'd hung the moon with stars in your eyes. You could feel the heat of his body radiating between the thin layers of fabric separating you, your own heat just beginning to pool between your thighs.

“Oh, wait.” Remembering what you had bought earlier in the day, reluctantly pulling from his grasp.

You reached your purse, noticing the rings still adorning your left hand. Pausing a moment, you pulled them off, slipping them into a side compartment. You weren't a Petrov tonight, pushing all thoughts of Nik aside.

It was just you and Steve.

“Here!” You pulled a box out, tossing it toward his chest. He caught it easily, looking down with a puzzled look.

“Condoms?” He quirked his brow up at you.

“Uh, we can't be too careful right now. As much as I would love for you to— um” you giggled, turning away from him briefly, suddenly feeling shy under his questioning gaze.

“Fuck you raw?” He finished with a salacious grin that had you blushing like a schoolgirl. “Like we haven't done that before?” He huffed an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah, well, Nonna Vittoria made sure we were covered back then, Steve. I haven't taken birth control since I got married.” You sucked in your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes. “If I remember correctly, your pullout game was terrible.”

His mouth fell open slightly, with a small gasp that had you laughing out. Nerves slowly melting away with the lighthearted banter.

“That isn't my fault. IF I remember correctly, you were the one always begging for it.” His hands drifted to his hips as he shot you a playful glare.

“Steven! I did not! We have to be careful until…” You looked away again, suddenly feeling shy once more. A silly notion.

“Until?” He questions further, taking a step into your space.

“Just until, well— we're together.”

“Are we not together?” His hand cups the nape of your neck, as the other drifts to your hip pulling you into him. You toy with his collar before looking into his honey hued irises that seemed to draw you in.

“You know what I mean, Steve. I can't exactly be fucking you without some sort of plan.”

“Wait, is that why you're here?” He looks around the room, as if confused. “I thought I was just making us a nice dinner.”

“Stop!” You whine out, slapping his chest, squirming slightly to step away from his grasp but he holds firm.

“Where do you think you're going, huh?” He asks, leaning in, the tip of his nose nudging yours. “I'm not letting you go.”

“Promise?” Tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

“I promise, tesoro mio.”

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with a needy and raw excitement. Intense in all the best ways but you needed more. You were hungry, licking at his mouth. Tongues meeting in a messy crescendo, tasting each other, as if it were the first time all over again, nerves suddenly giving away to butterflies dancing at your ribs.

Your hands began pawing at his chest, gripping the fabric of his starchy, black dress shirt. Fingers finding the buttons and making quick work of them.

“No interruptions this time?” You breathe out, pulling slightly away from him, pushing his shirt open, as he grips the bottom to move it free from his slacks and lets it peel away from his body leaving him in his undershirt.

“No. Fuck no. He's under strict orders not to bother us.” His lips find your jaw.

A small giggle quickly turns into a breathy moan as hot, open mouth kisses trail down your neck then to your collarbone. The fabric of your top hangs loosely around your shoulder as he starts to suck lightly, eliciting a moan from the sensation. He has to stop himself from leaving a mark, placing another kiss there instead.

He unlatches his lips momentarily to look you in the eyes, already blown full of lust.

“I thought instead of going at it on top of your desk, you deserve a proper bed. A proper fuck.”

His nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your top, moving slowly as he speaks again, savoring the way your body tenses at his movements.

“I want to take my time. Worship you, the way you deserve.” He reaches the last button, pulling it away from your skirt and lets the silk drift open, revealing a lacy black bra underneath. The cooler air hitting your skin makes you shiver slightly.

His hand comes to cradle your jaw. The affection you've come to crave, a foreign concept to you as you melt into his touch.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, the feeling makes your eyes flutter closed. Your teeth graze his thumb pad when he pushes slightly past your lips, before your tongue darts out swirling the tip of his digit, taking him into your mouth and sucking.

He groans out, suddenly pulling away, and wrapping his arms back around you.

“Fuck. My dirty girl.” He grits out, hands reaching the fat of your ass pushing you flush to his hips, his fingers gather the fabric of your skirt in his hands with aching length pressed into your lower stomach. The anticipation was suddenly overwhelming. You needed him like you needed air to breathe.

“Steve,” you manage before he dips down and captures your lips again, as if reading your mind. His palms cup your ass and hoists you up on the counter situated behind you, making you squeak out in surprise as your heels slide from your feet with a thud onto the tile floor below.

You grip his shirt as he shifts forward, wrapping your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up when you grind your hips forward searching for any kind of friction to alleviate the prominent ache between your legs, finding his bulge with ease as you both moan out in unison.

His hands slip your shirt from your shoulders, without breaking your heated kiss, letting it drop to the floor to meet his. His palm finds your breast, kneading your warm, pliant flesh.

You suddenly grip his length through his trousers, making him release a guttural groan that has him pulling back.

“Fuck.” He hisses, forehead coming to meet yours, panting into each other's space. His pause made you momentarily question if you'd done something wrong.

“I wa— no, I need to taste you.” His voice is raspy and lust laden, taking something silver from his pocket that suddenly catches your eye.

“Are you very fond of these tights?” He asks. You realize he's holding a switchblade that pops open with a push of his thumb.

Your answer comes as you part your thighs further for him, rucking your skirt up to your waist as his eyes land on your core.

In one swift motion, he pulls them taut away from your skin and easily slices upward through the thin nylon material.

“And those?” Eyes flitting back up to you just a moment to seek your permission on the next barrier. In this moment, you didn't care if he cut every piece of clothing from your body.

You nod, sucking in a breath when his fingers delicately dip past the band, slipping the blade under and cutting both sides, as it falls away from your soaked pussy.

Closing the blade, he tosses it to the counter beside you as his hands wrap around the plush of your thighs.

“I'll buy you new ones.” He absentmindedly says, eyes glued to your glistening folds, suddenly pulling you toward the edge of the counter as he takes a knee, tossing your left leg over his shoulder.

His free hand pushes your thigh to further accommodate his frame as he finally comes to eye level with his meal, warm breath fanning your exposed core, causing you to shudder.

His name slipped past your lips in a breathy whine.

“I know, angel.” He cooed, eyes catching yours as his thumb and forefinger came to slowly spread your lips open for him. “Look at you, a mess already.”

He leaves you no time to respond, his tongue finding your entrance, the tip entering slightly before licking a broad stripe all the way up to your aching clit. Your hips jolt involuntarily at the sensation his mouth brings, as he moans into your pussy.

He unlatches himself momentarily to check your already blissed out expression. Barely holding yourself up with shaky arms, with your head thrown back.

“Angel, just lay back f’me.” He says, as you look back down toward him, slowly lowering your back to meet the counter. “That's it. We might be here a while, baby. Your arms were already getting tired.”

As soon as you get more comfortable, he pulls your other leg over his shoulder to dive back in. He began by swirling his tongue across your puffy clit, then flicking it, setting a rapid pace that already has your head spinning.

He'd grown as a man, and obviously gained some new skills along the way that suddenly made you feel a pang of jealousy.

You pushed those thoughts from your mind, instead running your fingers through his perfectly quaffed mane, tugging when his tongue slid back down to your entrance.

“O— oh, Steve.”

Darting in and out, his nose brushing your clit with every upward movement, then moving back up, sucking it a little harshly and soothing it with the fluid motion of his expert muscle.

His eyes close for brief moments but he wanted to watch you fall apart.

His lips and tongue focus on your bundle of nerves, easing his finger up to your entrance, swirling and teasing before dipping in gradually to see your reaction.

You moaned out, tugging a little more harshly on his locks.

He pushes his digit into your soaked hole, feeling it clench around him. He quickly adds a second as your back arches off the counter pushing your pussy further into his face, his fingers moving in and out of your tight channel.

He curves them up, stroking, searching for that spot that will have you screaming his name.

“Steve! Right there!” You whine out when he finds it, grinning to himself.

He doesn't stop, watching as your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back against the counter. Your hips grind into his face chasing your high.

Your mouth goes slack, each brush of his fingertips and suckle of his lips sending you closer to the edge. You'd all but forgotten pleasure that an expert lover could bestow until this very moment.

He begins to flick his tongue in time with his fingers thrusting in and out of you, first rapidly from side to side, then up and down.

He wouldn't let up until he made you come, uncaring how hard his cock was straining and aching against the confines of his trousers.

“Ah— Ste— I'm, I—” Your orgasm suddenly hit with a blinding force, unable to get out a coherent thought before your pussy clenched down around his fingers as you began to writhe and moan beneath him. He pins you to the counter with his free hand when your hips begin to rise, making you take everything he was giving you.

He moans into your cunt, your juices leaking out around his fingers, lapping up your arousal with eager need.

He works you through your release, before you have to push his face away, trying to scoot away from the sensitivity of it all.

“Steve, Steve. Stop. I—” You huff out, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath.

He grins, lips and chin shining with your release, that he gladly licks away. Your legs fall from his shoulders when he eases back up from the floor draping himself over your body, brushing the hair from your face.

You slowly open your eyes to see him beaming down at you, with a bright smile and shining eyes.

“Hi.” You giggle.

“Hi, angel.” Kissing the tip of your nose, before his lips brush over yours.

You wound your arms around his neck, finding his lips, greedily licking into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

His cock stirs, pinned up against your core, alerting you to his unsatiated desire. His hand finds the back of your neck, as he guides you to sit up gripping your thighs as you wrap them around his waist, locking your ankles at the base of his spine.

He carries you down the small hall to the bedroom, his lips working against yours the entire way, finding the edge of the bed, easing you both down. When your back hits the mattress, you finally detach from him long enough to help pull his undershirt over his head and toss it somewhere across the room.

He sits back, as you unzip the side of your skirt, pushing it down your thighs and tossing it away as well.

The small lamp in the corner provides enough light for your eyes to rove the expanse of his chest and abdomen. A silver chain is nestled in his chest hair, a matching bracelet adorns his left wrist.

A bronzed backdrop for the constellations that were scattered across his body, but he’s littered with a few more scars than you remember.

Steve had never been one for tattoos, but he had one on his bicep, his family crest along with something you couldn't quite make out on the left side of his ribs.

He smiled, looking down to where your eyes had landed, as you tilted your head to gain a better look.

His finger traces the outline of a small bird. A dove, with an olive branch held between its beak.

“I always carried you with me. You're my peace, my purity and everything good in this world. We can't change what we were born into Dove, but we can choose who we love. It's always been you.” Your glossy eyes found his; heart suddenly aching with his admission.

He leans back over you, thumb brushing an errant tear that slipped from your eye.

“I love you. I never stopped loving you, tesoro mio,” He whispers, speaking from his heart.

“I love you, amore mio.” Whispering back, with a sense of relief washing over you. A secret long held, burning you from the inside out, finally speaking it out loud and back into existence once more.

He leans in, kissing you tenderly, less hurried than before, taking every precious moment with you that he can. It's a gift not to be squandered.

He wants nothing more than to take his time and reacquaint himself with your body once more.

He pulls back, as you chase his lips with a whine, but his hands quickly find his belt, unbuckling it and popping the button on his trousers before you halt his movement.

“Let me.” You move to shift to your knees, but instead of helping him from his pants you reach around to unclasp your bra first. The straps ease down your arms as your chest is revealed to him.

He groans, reaching out to close his hand around your breast. You pull your lip between your teeth when his thumb grazes your nipple, sending a spark shooting back down to your core. You lean into his touch, your own fingers finding his zipper and pulling it down.

Your hands push his pants as the pool at his knees on the bed. The tent in his boxers doing nothing to quell your desire that's slowly beginning to build back up. Licking your lips, you grow a little brazen, pushing past his waistband and taking his girthy cock into your hand.

He's hot and heavy, bigger than you remember as you squeeze slightly. He tips his head back with a wanton moan, suddenly pulling your hand away as he slides from the bed. You pout at his abruptness.

“Hang on!” He calls back as he quickly darts out the room, hanging onto his pants to keep them from sliding from his hips.

You let out a small laugh, laying back against the silk covered pillow.

He comes back into view, holding up the box of condoms long forgotten on the kitchen floor, laying them on the nightstand as he comes back over to you.

He swiftly pushes his pants and boxers past his hips, letting them pool at his feet as he steps free of them.

Your eyes drift to where his hand is already wrapped around his cock. He pumps himself a few times, finding the head and smearing his precum down his shaft with a groan.

Finally joining you back on the bed, he situates himself back between your legs. His leg pushes yours further apart as he crawls up to meet you face to face, chest pressed tightly to yours.

He's a weak man. Say the word and he would slide into your dripping cunt without another word but he sees the way your eyes cut to condoms when his dick twitches at your bare core.

Leaning over, he furiously rips the box open and takes one out. He opens the small package, looking at you one more time for confirmation.

“It's just for a little while.” You lament. He nods, rolling it down onto his shaft.

“As you wish, Dove.” Saying as he finishes with the condom, holding himself at the base as he leans back over you, guiding himself to your entrance and stopping.

“Just know this,” his lips grazing yours as he spoke. “I can't wait for the day you beg for me to fuck my cum into this tight, little pussy.”

You gasp, cunt suddenly clenching when his head catches your entrance and breaches just slightly. It takes everything in him not to bury himself completely.

Your legs tighten around his waist at the intrusion, as he slowly cants his hips forward. His thick cock presses slowly into your tight heat. You hadn't been with anyone in a few years, let alone anyone that could ever compare to Steve's size.

“How the hell did we make this work before?” You huffed out, pressing your lips tightly back together with a grimace.

“Hey, it's ok.” He leaned down on his elbow, pressing his body close to yours, trying not to laugh at your pouty expression that he found absolutely adorable.

His fingertips smooth out the lines between your brows from where they were pinched, you melted into his touch, listening to his soothing voice.

“This little pussy just needs to relax.” He said, trying to keep a straight face, as you let out a small giggle.

He felt your muscles loosen slightly, granting him further access letting him push in another inch.

“See, angel. She knows what she wants.” He lifted his torso to look between the two of you. Barely halfway in, but he was trying to restrain himself for you.

You nod, as he pulls himself out and pushes back in. In and out, in and out at a slow but steady rhythm. His cock inching along your channel a little further each time, drawing small gasps and moans from you.

“That's it.” He praises, finally pushing in to the hilt, burying his face in your neck as you wrap your arms back around him.

“Y— you feel so fuckin' good.” He breathes out, pulling almost all the way out, barely leaving his head in.

“Ahhhhhh— fuck!” You cry out when his hips snap forward, plunging back in without any warning punching the air from your lungs at the force.

“Are you okay?” He breathes out, looking down at you.

“Fi— fine. Ju—just keep—mmmm—don’t fucking stop!” You manage out between his steady thrusts.

“There's my girl,” urging your thigh higher on his hip, he grips the headboard for more leverage, suddenly pounding in and out of your tight cunt.

The mix of your moans with skin slapping skin echo around the room. The new angle has him hitting that spot within you over and over as your mind starts to go fuzzy and numb.

Your nails dig into his back, urging him on.

“Fuck, Dove. Mark me. Claim me.” His head tilts back, his silver chain dangling in your face. You grip it, catching his attention as you pull him back down toward you.

“Kiss me, Steve. Please.” Suddenly needing him closer.

He could hear the waver in your voice. There were tears spilling hot over your cheeks, as he heard another soft “please” fall from your lips.

He stills, cupping your jaw, leaning back into your space; his lips meeting yours with tender urgency as they meld together.

Your fingers still grip the chain tightly, your free hand running up the back of his neck, nails scraping at his scalp and toying with the hair there.

You needed tenderness that his lips and touch could provide. A sense of intimacy that you haven't felt with anyone in a long time, not even your own husband.

“Angel, Ca—can I move?” He mumbles breathlessly against you.

You nod, as his thick cock drags out and pushes back in. His heavy balls hitting your ass with his upward thrust.

His hand slides down between the two of you, finding your neglected clit, drawing figure 8s with precision.

“I want you to come with me.” He said, kissing the side of your neck.

“Please.” It seems that's all you could manage. The only word in the forefront of your mind. You didn't know exactly what you were asking for at this point.

“I've got you, baby.” Pecking your lips once more before angling his hips up, and hitting that spot with the head of his cock that has you crying out with reckless abandon.

“St— please, don't stop.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” He responds, keeping his pace, staving off his own release to see you fall apart one more time.

His eyes drift across your flushed face, so concentrated with pleasure and pure ecstasy, he couldn't fathom anyone ever denying you when you look like this. But he knows now you're his and no one else deserves to see you like this. No one else will EVER see you like this.

Your pussy fluttered, as your hips meet his next thrust pulling another particularly loud moan from you.

He was so lost looking at you, he momentarily forgot all about himself, solely focusing on giving you what you wanted he barely caught what you'd said before he felt his brain almost short circuit.

“We could ju— mmmmm— just pretend.” You repeated. “I want you to come in me.”

You were babbling at this point, that buzz in your abdomen was getting stronger, pulling you toward another high. Your hips were meeting his with more urgency.

“You’d like that, huh? Having another man’s cum deep inside you.”

Your pussy responded to his words, sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core.

“Oh— St—” but he didn't let up. He could feel you getting close.

"But you're not really his, huh, Dove?” His nose nudges your cheek. “Huh, baby? Look at me.”

You slowly look up at him, his hair a wild mess from your fingers tangling in the chestnut tresses. Those hazel eyes are almost black as they bore into yours. His next words nearly send you over the edge.

“He doesn't deserve this pussy. It's mine.” He stops toying with your clit, instead grinds his hips so his pubic bone grazes it with every upstroke; taking his hand and pulling yours away from his necklace, threading his fingers through yours as they mold together so perfectly.

“Yes! God—yes! Mmph— Steve, it's all yours. I'm all yours!” Clawing at his shoulder, gripping his hand tightly.

“That’s right, angel! You're all mine.”

It felt like the world stopped, a blinding light behind your eyelids and all sound seemed to fade. A hot white heat flooded your core with the most intense orgasm you'd experienced in a long time. With a scream of his name, your back arches off the bed meeting his chest as he continues to rail you into oblivion.

“That's it, make a mess! Cum on my cock—fuck!” He couldn't finish talking you through it when your cunt clamped down around him, it was all over for him. His abdomen tightened, pushing his length as far into your cunt as he could, his head nudging your cervix as he released into the condom, wishing he was filling you full instead.

They always say sex is better with someone you love. Something about him completely surrounding and grounding you was a high, in and of itself, that you couldn't explain.

He finally stills a few moments later, head falling to your chest. You were both sweaty and spent. Your limbs felt like they were entirely boneless but you managed to wrap your arms back around him as he caged you in.

He bared his weight until you coaxed him to lay on top of you, rubbing soft patterns up and down his spine in the quiet afterglow. He snaked his arms under you, burying his head between your breasts.

“Fuck, I love you.” He finally spoke, kissing up your sternum as his eyes met yours.

He didn't want to ask, he wanted to keep you safe and wrapped up in his arms for as long as possible but he knew the inevitability of the situation.

It's as if you knew what he was thinking.

“I can't stay.” You whisper.

“I know, but just a little while longer.” He moves to get up, removing himself from you as you wince, already missing the way he could fill you completely.

“Sorry, tesoro. Stay right here. I'll be right back.” He kisses your cheek, slipping into the bathroom to dispose of the condom before returning to find his boxers and pulling them back over his ass as you gave him an appreciative once over.

“Don't move.” He reiterated, moving into the hall.

You laid there listening to the clinking of china and silverware, a few grumblings and a loud “shit,” that made you giggle and sit up in the bed.

He emerged from the hall carrying two plates loaded with the long forgotten pasta he had made for you.

“There's a robe over there in the drawer for you, in case you don't want to eat in the nude.” He grinned, as you slowly got up and pulled said robe from the dresser. You paused, noticing it was stocked with various other clothes as well.

“If you need them.” He said as you turned back around, tossing the silk over your shoulders as you slipped back in beside him. “This place is fully stocked with whatever you might need.”

“You really are too good to be true, Mr. Harrington.” Saying as he handed you a plate.

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “Eat.” Steering the conversation.

He didn't want to argue the virtue of his morality. He was an outright ruthless asshole when he was outside these walls but you could bring him to his knees with one simple smile.

There would come a time when that conversation would need to be had but he wasn't worried about it right now.

You take a bite and the rich sauce explodes on your taste buds as you hum around the fork, closing your eyes to savor it.

“Oh my God! This is so good!”

He grinned around his own mouthful, thoroughly amused with your response.

“What else is there I don't know about you? Hmmm?” You inquired.

“Oh, I think we'll have plenty of time to catch up, no?” He planted a kiss to your cheek, sitting back against the headboard enjoying the moment, while he still could.

Once you both were both stuffed, he wouldn't let you lift a finger as he took the plates back to the kitchen.

He came to lay next to you as your fingertips traced the tattoo as he fondly recalled the memory of getting it. It wasn’t long after he left, but he was waiting to surprise you. A surprise that had taken a bit longer than he had initially anticipated. He left out the part that the ink had caused numerous arguments with an ex-girlfriend when he wouldn't get it covered for her, ultimately ending the tumultuous relationship.

You had gotten quiet, getting tired as the night was drawing to an all too soon close.

“Steve?” Coming out barely above a whisper.

“Hmmm?” He hummed into the top of your hair.

“I just want you to know what you're getting into. Nik isn't going to just let me go. This— Us.” You couldn't help from tearing up at the thought of returning back to that life like this never happened.

“Dove, don't worry about that. Leave it to me. There are things that are going on that you don't know about. That I don't want you to know.” He tucked you in closer to him, kissing your temple.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” You answered, letting yourself shed a single tear. It was the truth but it still didn't quell the fear bubbling just below the surface.

He held you a little tighter, basking in the way his heart soared. Elated to have you back in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

A little while later he watched you get dressed, sans your underwear and hosiery. That little detail had him grinning again as you blushed.

He'd made a mental note to make sure you had new ones the next time you came by to replace them.

He held your hand as he walked you to the door, reluctantly releasing you after peppering you with another barrage of kisses that had you laughing out, a sound he could easily get lost in.

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You smiled at the rarity of your actual name gracing his lips.

You would take the impact of the moment, truly the entire day, with you until you could see him again. Hiding it away and showing it the light of day in secret but his love and affection would keep you going until you could finally show the entire world that he was yours once again.

Taglist: @teen--marvel @micheledawn1975 @thecreelhouse @girlwiththerubyslippers @bunnyhargrove @taccobelle @madaboutjoe

Want to be added? Just let me know!

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 11

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: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 14.9k 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, dom/sub dynamics* Fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Marcus Pike the Breeding Kink King, a dash of dirty talk, the tiniest whiff of roleplay, sexual activity in a public place, cum eating. False accusations of cheating, gossip rags being gossipy, descriptions of getting a tattoo (needle mention). Summary: The end of your trip to Texas comes with a few surprises, and a meeting with your mother goes far better than expected. But good things do not guarantee paradise forever. Notes: Hi my lovelies! I do apologize for the spotty posting timeline lately. My health has been inconsistent to say the very least and continues to be unpredictable. Thank you for bearing with me and always being so incredibly supportive. I'm certain that I missed fixing some errors in this chapter, but I blame the migraine I've have for the last 10 days. Enjoy this week's chapter!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10

The last night you and Marcus are in Texas comes after an afternoon-long barbecue that somehow manages to outdo every barbecue of every previous day. You're pretty sure that you've been nibbling constantly since sunrise but rather than being overwhelmed, you're just sorry that you're going to have to leave tomorrow and not see most of these people again for a long time.

The water in Marcus's hand is for you and he comes over to drop a kiss on your lips as he presses it into your hand. "Band is starting at seven." He tells you. "Do you want to shower beforehand?"

"Probably should." There's mischievousness in your agreement, though, and you tuck a smirk in the corner of your mouth as you take the water from him. "I saved my cutest top for tonight. To be the very best groupie I can be."

"Oh really?" He chuckles at how eager you have been to meet his old bandmates. "I like groupies." He smirks, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you close. "Really like them."

"Do you want to show me how much?" You ask, letting that smirk loose but keeping your voice very quiet even when you bat your eyelashes at him.

"I can do that while we shower." He groans wickedly, winking at you. "Unless you want to save that for after the show?"

"No need to save," you assure him easily, drinking down half of the glass of cold water he brought you and letting your grin grow wider. "There will be hours in between. We can do both."

"Insatiable." He grins back and you, wrinkling his nose slightly and proud about that fact. "I love it."

"C'mon." Grabbing his hand, you head for the house with a bitten back grin. Back inside and upstairs to his room – now appropriately defiled by the fact that you're in that Early Relationship Honeymoon Period and horny as hell – to add his childhood bathroom to the list of places you've fucked on this property.

Marcus smirks when there’s a number of suggestive whistles that ring out. Everyone here aware of how eager the two of you are and he gives a halfhearted wave before disappearing. You might be embarrassed if you cared at all, but his cousins have been nothing but welcoming and accepting. They all seem to share the opinion that Marcus has waited too long to meet his match and you are more than happy to be the one that they have welcomed as their cousin – or nephew or son's – perfect match.

“I love them all, but I need to get you alone.” Marcus huffs as he practically races over to the stairs.

"Alone, naked, and wet, I hope." You're on the stairs just ahead of him, the advantage of one or two steps meaning your ass is right in his face as you hustle up to the second floor.

"How wet you are depends on how good of a job I do turning you on." He can't help himself, reaching out and slapping your ass, something you love if your delighted giggle is anything to go by. "How wet are you?"

“Wet enough that if you even touch me over my clothes, I’m going to moan,” you admit, glancing back at him when you reach the top of the stairs.

"Promises, promises." Marcus reaches out and cups your pussy from behind, jumping up the last two steps to press close to you. "Fuck, I love you." He growls into your ear as he rubs your clit.

“Oh fuck—” Maybe it’s more of a whine than a groan but the arousal in your voice is unmistakable. Pressed between Marcus and the wall, your hips rock to get as much pressure and friction from his hand as absolutely possible. “I—I love you too, baby. Fuck.”

"Shower." He orders softly, pulling away from you reluctantly. He knows he can't fuck you in the hallway and his cock is already pressing against his shorts.

Since the discovery of your interest in a more submissive role sexually, you and Marcus have been enjoying playing with the dynamic. Soft orders for things that he knows will bring you both pleasure. Seeing how well you follow his instructions while he’s inside of you in any way. Right now you move with long strides to get to the shower as quickly as possible, already shedding your clothes along the way.

Smirking as he watches the rushed strip show, Marcus pulls his own shirt over his head. He's never had someone so enthusiastic for his touch and it's honestly its own kind of high. Plenty of women wanted him, but not with the hunger that you constantly display. He can only hope that it never changes. "So sexy." He huffs, unbuttoning his shorts to step out of them as he follows you.

“Oh yeah?” As soon as the water is on, you glance back over your shoulder and throw him the most tantalizing glance you can possibly summon. “Come and show me how much.”

“Fuck.” He hisses and immediately rushes forward to crowd into the shower with you, pressing kisses to your back as he folds in closer to you.

Marcus might be testing the waters with how dominant he’s comfortable being, but he still likes it when you show him how much you want him. When you hum at the feeling of his hands on your skin or moan deep in your throat at the perfect kiss. He even loves moments like these, when you whimper at the way his large hands spread over your body to hold you as close to him as you can possibly be without him being inside you.

“Love you.” He whispers into your skin, not wanting you to forget it in the two seconds since he has said it last.

“I love you, too.” Pressed into that little space together, you twist your head around to kiss him and then lean forward against the wall. There aren’t too many comfortable ways to fuck standing up under falling water, but having him press into you from behind is good no matter where you are.

His hands slide over your body and one sinks between your thighs. Immediately parting enough for his hands with a quickness than has him smiling. “You like when I finger you?” He teases. “Rub your sensitive little clit for you?”

“I like every way you touch me.” Your hips roll as if to prove it, searching for the right angle to get his thick fingers to sink inside of you.

“Greedy.” He chuckles softly. “That’s what you are.” He doesn’t pull his hand away, giving you what you want as two fingers slip inside you. “My greedy girl.”

“Can’t blame me for getting addicted.” You moan, forehead pressed against the tile, when his fingers scissor open inside you. “You feel so fucking good baby.”

“You feel better.” He groans quickly, working you open as the hot water rushes over you.

“Made just for you, baby.” If there was ever anyone you could truly feel that about, it’s Marcus. The way he seems to make you feel complete in ways you didn’t know you needed or even wanted is uncanny and beautiful. And the way he fills you to bursting is just as fantastic.

Marcus worships you with small kisses as his fingers move inside you, groaning in your ear about how good you feel. The thick length of him pressed against your ass. “Marcus—” His name is a whine and a prayer with every long stroke of his fingers. “Please, baby. Please fuck me.”

“I’m going to.” He promises, grinding against your ass as he continues to finger you. “Too bad you still have your birth control.” He moans in your ear. “Dreamed about you pregnant last night. Nice and round with my baby.”

“Fuck.” If anyone had suggested pregnancy or breeding or any of those fertility-related kinks to you before Marcus, you might have laughed them out of your bedroom. But in a few short weeks, you’ve got from wanting children but not looking forward to being pregnant — all the way to getting wet at the thought of starting to swell with Marcus’s baby. The impulse to promise you’ll stop taking it tomorrow is right on the tip of your tongue but you know it’s just a touch too soon. “Yeah?” You breathe instead. “You woke up hard to the thought of fucking me full of your baby?”

“Why do you think I was ravenous this morning?” He asks, chuckling at how he had woken you up. He had been a little embarrassed by the dream, so he hadn’t mentioned it at the time, but realized later that it was dumb to keep it from you. “When you’re ready, I’m going to be feral.”

“We need to start building that house now.” You insist, suddenly possessed of a whole new set of reasons to be eager for more privacy.

He chuckles as he nibbles on your shoulder, moving to the hollow of your neck. “Yeah? You want to paint a nursery right away baby?”

“We’re gonna have to if you keep growling about getting me pregnant.” Something which you apparently find far sexier than you anticipated, if the way your cunt throbs and pulses around his fingers is any indication.

"You love the idea." He challenges softly, humming against your pulse. "It's not my fault you're so perfect I can see the future we have in store."

“I love the idea so much I’m ready to say let’s just buy a house.” The throaty laugh you let out burns into a long moan when he curls his fingers inside you. “Need you, baby.”

"Never want you to say that I don't give you what you want." He pushes your feet apart, careful not to let you slip on the slick tile and pulls his fingers out of you to immediately replace them with his cock. A smooth transition planned to keep you from missing the fullness.

There is more freedom here, at least where volume is concerned, and when your moan bounces off the tile it is music to Marcus's ears. The utterly satisfying fullness of having him inside you is indescribable, even if you have tried to find the words several times talking to Syd. Sharp, powerful strokes will work you both up to your peak quickly, letting you enjoy the water that burns as hot as your skin as he pounds into you.

Marcus has learned that going harder is needed sometimes. It’s something that both of you enjoy and lose yourselves in, always making sure that you are still with him with filthy sweet praises in your ear. “My perfect princess.” He groans. “Taking me so well.”

It’s so much filthier coming from such a sweet, unassuming man like Marcus, and he presses you into the wall with a firmness that leaves absolutely no room for questioning. You are his. He is yours. And anything you moan to each other in the throes of passion is fair game. Filth, praise, and everything in between is welcome as your hips slap against your ass and your throat strangled around the endless cries of pleasure.

It’s never been this good. It’s cliched to even think it, but it’s true. He can barely even breathe when you are surrounding him. Drowning in you happily. “Fuck, I love you.” He promises. His hands squeeze and caress before sinking back between your thighs to rub your clit while he continues to fuck you at a frantic pace.

“Love you so — fuck! — so fucking much.” You practically claw at the wall of the shower when the calloused pads of his fingers find your swollen clit and press in on tight circles. Perfect little circles. “So close baby, so fucking close.”

“That’s it.” He groans. “Want you to cum. Want you to soak me. Need it.” He dips his hips lower and changes the angle that he shreds up inside you.

“Fuck—fuck—can’t wait until you’re fucking me full of your babies, oh god—” He’s already an expert at tearing you apart and putting you back together, and this time will be no exception. Your legs shake with it and your belly tightens, coiling at the base of your spine tightening as pleasure rips through you.

“That’s it, fuck, so good, Princess.” He hisses in pleasure. “Cum for me. Fuck, you feel so good squeezing my cock. I love it.” It only takes two or three more sharp snaps of his hips before you’re calling his name, sure that if anyone else is in the house right now they can definitely hear you but too overcome with pleasure and too full of him to care.

When you cum, it’s like your entire soul melt with his. Your heartbeats align and for a split second, Marcus can’t tell where you end and he begins. Perfectly fused together in ecstasy. As soon as you tighten around him, his thrusts ease, still moving but helping you float down from the precipice. “Good girl, fuck baby, you are so good to me.” He pants in your ear. “So good. Giving me everything, aren’t you? Yeah, you are, I can feel it.”

“Fill me up, baby.” Your legs may be rubber at this point but that sensation of his cum painting your inner walls is worth holding out for. It has you rocking your hips back even more than you need to ride the aftershocks of your own orgasm, hoping to bring him to his.

He loves when you say that. Groaning your name as his pace picks back up. The slap of his hips not quite as sharp, but insistent. “Gonna, fuck baby, gonna fill you up.” He moans in your ear. “Drip me all night.”

From the way his hips start to stutter you know he’s close, and you grind back against him with a low moan. “Gonna be dripping your cum while I meet all your friends.”

“Just the way I want you.” He groans, kissing your shoulder and moaning as he pushes deep, throbbing inside you as he fills you up.

There’s nothing but the sound of running water and panting breath for a minute or two as you both collect yourselves, arms wrapped around each other in the best way you can manage while he’s still inside you and you’re leaning on the shower wall. “I love you so fucking much.” You murmur, giggling softly at the giddy feeling still coursing through your veins.

“I love you too.” He whispers, smiling against your shoulder as the soft aftershocks continue to squeeze him as he softens inside you. “Addicted to everything about you.”

“Glad we agree about that.” It isn’t elegant but you twist around and manage to place a kiss on his jaw. “So…breeding kink, huh?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles sheepishly as he slowly pulls out of you. “Sorry. I know that took you by surprise.”

“Not in a bad way.” You promise him, fully turning around now, to put your arms around him before you both have to clean up. “Surprising but…potentially shared?”

“When it actually happens is still one hundred percent up to you.” He assures you, wanting you to know he would never pressure you, no matter how much he dreams about the future. “But shared, huh?”

“Surprise,” you tease, reaching for a washcloth.

“Every day is an adventure with you.” He chuckles and steals another kiss before he turns his attention to getting ready for tonight.

You’re right on time despite taking an overlong shower, arriving at the club in downtown Dallas in time to see a group of his old friends gathered at the bar.

“Hey.” A carefree grin lights up his face, reunited with old friends and their spouses. The band is about to leave to get on stage so it’s quick backslaps and promises to catch up later after he introduces you proudly. They disappear and it seems like all the other crowd around you to all talk about Marcus.

It’s much the same as it was with his cousins. Quick questions about you — or the occasional “That’s why I recognize you!” — but mostly wanting to tell stories about young Marcus in the olden days, teasing their old friend and gauging your reaction to their stories to decide if you’re good enough for him. You don’t mind of course. Your friends would have done the same if they hadn’t already met Marcus before you got together.

“Hey now.” Marcus pouts and protests but it’s all in good fun. He’s enjoying the stories; taking him back down memory lane. He hugs you tighter to him as he laughs at a college age story, where he had imbibed a little too much and made a fool of himself.

“Everyone got drunk and dumb in college at least once, didn’t they?” You hug his side and grin at him while his friends tease and chatter. “And I’m sure you weren’t the only college student in the world to skateboard across campus in boxers and a cowboy hat. I’m just impressed you didn’t fall off the board more if you were drunk.”

“Hammered.” He confirms with a laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know if I would have felt anything that night.”

“All the better that you didn’t get hurt then,” you laugh with him, enjoying these glimpses into the Marcus of the past. “Though I think we should recreate the look. For posterity.”

“Bachelor party.” He grins, leaning in and kissing you on the nose. “One of those boring co-ed ones where the couple is disgusting and can’t be apart for even one night of debauchery.”

“Cause we’re gross in love.” The smile on your face is blinding, lighting you up from the inside out as you beam at him.

“Yes we are.” He agrees, unable to stop himself from kissing you again, as his friends groan playfully around you both.

“Yeah, yeah.” Marcus’s old college roommate huffs good naturedly and rolls his eyes. This is the guy Marcus had lived with before he moved off campus to live with Lara and he’s always known Marcus Pike to be exceptionally lucky in love. “Lucky bastard.”

“I am.” He agrees with a small nod. “I’m honestly surprised that you aren’t already engaged.” One of his closest college study partners snickers as she shoots you a grin. “He always was rushing into things headfirst.”

“Don’t think he didn’t give me a ring right away,” you joke, holding up the shimmering promise ring on your hand. “But we want to keep our heads on straight, so it’s a promise for now and an engagement a little bit into the future.”

“There’s the Marcus we know and love.” She giggles, taking your hand and admiring the ring. “Honey, it’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it?” The little heart-shaped diamonds wink and shine in the dim lighting of the club and you can’t help but smile proudly. “I told him he set a dangerous precedent with this one. If the promise ring is this beautiful then the engagement ring has to be, too.”

“Knowing Marcus, it’s perfectly designed to set with your promise ring.” She guesses, grinning wildly when he shuffles guiltily. “I knew it!” She throws her arm around his shoulder and smacks a playful kiss on his cheek. “Atta boy!”

“You did not buy it already!” You gasp in shock, giggling with unrestrained joy at the embarrassment and glee on his face.

“It’s safe.” He promises, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t want to risk them not having the perfect mate when I came back.”

“You’re incorrigibly sweet.” The idea that he’d gone so out of his way makes you melt on the spot, with warmth in your cheeks and a fluttering extra beat of your heart. “And I love you.”

His group of friends cheers when you kiss this time. For all the shit they give him, they are all thrill Marcus has found his sweet soulmate. Right then, the lights dim and everyone turns towards the stage. “Marcus Pike.” His eyes widen when the lead singer says his name. “Report to the stage. There is a bass waiting to be played.”

“Oh fuck yes!” When you squeal with absolute pure excitement you grab his side and practically cackle with glee. Even Agent Bailey is smirking in her plain clothes. “Go, baby! Go!”

“Oh my Gooooood.” Marcus groans as he’s practically shoved towards the stage and he shakes his head, pointing his finger at the band. “I hate you guys.” He moans, even as he shuffles closer, but they just grin.

“Best night ever!” You call back, grinning from ear to ear as you make your way to the front with his friends.

“This is going to be amazing.” Hooking her arm through yours, Stephanie grins at you. “Have you ever heard Marcus sing?”

“No.” And you pout about it for about two seconds before the glint returns to your eyes. “He always demurs and says he’s not that great but I know he’s being humble.”

Marcus shrugs out of his leather jacket and winds the strap of the bass around his neck and back to quickly strum a chord before adjusting the tension to his liking. “I’m going to hurt all of you.” He huffs, even if he’s grinning out at you.

“You fucking love us.” The lead singer, his old friend Leo, reminds him with a shit-eating grin.

Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs, not even able to deny it. “Which songs are we doing?” He asks instead.

“Set list is next to your pedal,” Leo tells him, grin only growing bolder when Marcus doesn’t deny anything. He knows his old friend misses playing. They’ve talked about it. Hence this silly little stunt. “Just like riding a bike, right Pike?”

He snorts and looks out at the crowd, his eyes automatically finding you and he smiles. “Yeah.” He scoffs. “If riding a bike means embarrassing the shit out of yourself in front of your soulmate.”

“It absolutely fucking does, dude.” Leo laughs, slapping Marcus on the back before he steps up to the mic to hype up the already excited crowd.

Marcus winks at you from the stage and looks at the lineup. Most of them are songs that they performed when he was in the band and quite a few that he knows Leo knows he knows. Apparently this wasn’t just a last minute deal. As Leo introduces the band, Marcus starts the bass chords for the first song.

It’s not the night you were planning — swaying to the music with Marcus with a cold beer in your hand while his friends played. This is infinitely better. Marcus is in his element up on that stage, showing off and playing to the crowd and making sure he finds your eyes every so often. Surrounded by friends and an enthusiastic audience, you could see Marcus enjoying many more nights like this. It makes you all the more glad that his friends decided to surprise him.

The crowd is a mix of older and younger people, the songs favorites and he enjoys the energy of the people singing along. Finally finished and sweating, in desperate need of a beer, he grins when you clap and yell.

"You are absolutely incredible." The second he hops down off the stage; you're practically jumping into his arms to give him a kiss. "And I never, ever want to hear anything about your singing voice again. That might be the sexiest singing ever."

He laughs, catching you easily and spinning you around. “Think you might be a little biased, Princess.” He teases, feeling euphoric and like he could do anything tonight.

"So?" The giggle that bubbles out of you is nothing short of adrenaline-infused joy. "I'm still right."

“Shit.” The laughter is infectious and he joins you. “I need a beer.” He admits, squeezing you close.

"Allow me." You insist, and when he makes a face you hold up a hand, still grinning. "Groupie's privilege."

“Groupie, huh?” He chuckles again and slides his hand down to your ass. “You have someone in mind?”

"Yeah," you poke his side and laugh, wiggling the fingers of your other hand in his face. "The one wearing the ring."

“Ring?” He glances at your hand and smirks. “That’s a pretty ring baby, but I could do better.” He flirts. “Dump that guy and run away with me. I’ve gotta sweet van and I know how to treat a lady.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"You think you can do better for me than my soulmate?" Batting your eyelashes back at him and half playing along, you tug Marcus toward the bar to get him his drink. "He's pretty amazing."

“I know I can.” He snorts, grinning at your playful banter. “You’ve never been with a musician baby.”

"Hmmm." An amused hum barely smothers your grin and laughter. "I have heard that bassists are experts with their fingering."

“Then you know.” He nods as you both slide up to the bar and Marcus orders a draft. He turns back to you. “My fingers are magic, baby.” He promises. “I can take you to the stars.”

It's too hard for you not to giggle at that, leaning into his side there at the bar. "I did know that already, though."

He breaks the character he was putting on and winks at you. “I was merely playing my favorite instrument.” He leans in and whispers in your ear. “Your pussy.”

"Marcus." Your tone is very false in its admonishment, and you're still grinning when you swat at his arm. "You can play her any time you like."

“Now?” He arches a brow in challenge.

You should have known he would jump on it, and you tilt your head at him with a wide-eyed expression. "I mean...not here but..." Glancing around the room proves that there is little cover to be found, and you bite your lip. "Bathroom?"

Marcus smirks and nods to the bartender when he sets his drink down. “Come on.” He takes your hand and drags you away, unable to even drink his beer in his haste to make you cum.

Practically able to feel the heaviness of Agent Bailey's eyes tracking you across the club, you can't bring yourself to care. Not when the promise of his hands on you is so close you can already feel it.

Normally, Marcus would never do this. Not now. But somehow, being with his own friends and playing, seems to have tapped into the wilder side he had exposed when he was younger. Not thinking like an FBI agent at this moment.

The club has two single-occupant bathrooms in a back hallway, and Marcus shoves open the door to the nearest one to tug you inside. "Holy shit." You're giggling again, bubbling over with it. "We're so lucky Agent Bailey trusts you."

“Amazing what a background check and a security clearance will get you.” He jokes as he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. He knows he can’t be in here too long with you, it would be rude, but he has to touch you right now. You are just adoring him too much.

It's almost too bad you wore jeans tonight, but you had wanted to keep that feeling of fullness after the shower and truth be told the denim inseam still managed to give you a little stimulation on the way out here tonight. Now Marcus pops the top button open with eager fingers and you whimper softly, biting back the sound so no one in the hall outside hears you.

“Gotta be quiet, Princess.” He coos, smirking at your already lust blown eyes. “Can’t let anyone know you’re fucking a musician in a bathroom, can you?”

You’ve never done anything like this before and he knows that, but with wide eyes and the shivering desire to obey, you nod your head and bite back a needy whine. His hand slides down your panties, finding you slick with new desire and the remnants of his cum covering your lips. He groans your name in your ear and immediately pushes two fingers deep inside you.

It takes effort not to cry out. Not to whimper or moan or keen his name at the sharp, sweet intrusion of two thick fingers deep in your pussy. The vaguely taboo tint of doing something sexual in a public place only makes it better — a surprising feeling that you’ll have to bite for later — and you bury your face in the crook of Marcus’s neck, knowing that it will muffle the little bit of sound that you simply can’t swallow in your own throat. He doesn’t draw it out, doesn’t tease you. Just pumping his fingers deep and twisting his wrist to rub your clit as he tries to see how fast he can make you cum for him.

It’s like being sent up in a rocket, where all you can do is lean back against the sink in the little bathroom and hold on tight. He knows your body, knows how to make you see stars without breaking much of a sweat, and the adrenaline from playing on stage that’s still coursing through him keeps the pace of his fingers thrusting inside you at an almost punishing speed that feels amazing.

It’s like his playing a song with your body. The soft whimper echoing the timing of the beat of his fingers. Kissing along your neck as he pants against your skin. Already throbbing in his pants, but this is for you. “Good girl, baby. You’re so sweet for me.” He groans quietly.

There's not really much you're doing for him right now except keeping quiet and spreading your legs so he can dive inside you, but you'll fix that later. You'll lay him out on his bed and worship him for as long as he will let you. Right now your back arches and you have to let go of your white knuckle hold on the counter in order to tug him closer, pouring the moan that you want to let loose into a kiss instead.

He feels when you let go. Your moan muffled by your tongue as your walls soak his fingers in their pulsing grip. Feeling your heartbeat through the sensitive walls of your pussy. It’s so good and he loves that you are enjoying yourself as the bar music plays loudly.

"Fucking hell..." When you can finally breathe again you look up him with a hazy smile. "I'm gonna give you the best blow job of your life later on," you promise him with a grin.

He smirks as he pulls his wet fingers out of your fluttering cunt and holds them up to the dim light of the bathroom. They are shiny with your slick and he reaches out to your lips. “Open.” He orders.

That was not at all the response you were expecting, but somehow it far sexier because of that, and even though you've just cum you can feel your pussy fluttering at what he wants you to do. It only takes a second before you open your mouth, letting him put his fingers heavily on your tongue before you obediently clean them of any trace of your slick.

Marcus groans quietly, cock twitching in his pants and all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink to fuck you this time, but he can’t. You pop his fingers out of his mouth and he hisses at your innocent look. “Good girl.” His voice is raspy and dripping with lust.

"I feel like I should start calling you something." Leaning up, you steal a kiss and then rebutton your jeans so the two of you can wash up and go back out to his friends. "But I don't know if you wanted to be that kind of dom."

Marcus chuckles as he watches you in the mirror. “So you’re telling me you want a red room in our new house, hm?”

"I'm not gonna be mad about it if you want one," you answer innocently. "I just had the very intense urge to call you...'daddy' a second ago, but I didn't know if you'd like it. That's all."

Marcus has never been in a situation where someone would call him daddy so he has to think about it. “Only one way to find out.” He decides, patting you on the ass as you move out from the sink so he can wash his hands.

"I guess we'll give it a try later then." The air dryer in the bathroom is loud enough to drown out any other conversation, so you finish cleaning up and steal yet another kiss before dragging him back out into the club feeling like you're living on Cloud Nine.

Everyone in the group knows what happened when the two of you disappeared. At least to some degree. They might not believe that it was only an orgasm for you, but the grins are wide and Marcus snorts at the whistling and clapping from the guys. You brush it off with burning hot cheeks and a grin and go to get fresh drinks from the bar. Tonight has been pretty fucking perfect in every way you can think of. The best possible way to say goodbye for now to Texas, although you know you'll be back as often as you can be.

Marcus accepts this beer quickly, feeling parched and he winks at you before he takes a sip. “I think she might want me to find a band in D.C.” he teases.

"Oh, ya think?" Stephanie snorts, leaning into Leo's side when he comes over to join you at a high-top table.

"Actually..." Leo smirks, looking down at his soulmate before he glances up and around the group. "The guys know this already but...there was a big reason we were glad Pike showed up tonight." He tips his beer toward Marcus in salute. "Tonight was the last Dallas show we might ever play."

“Really?” Marcus frowns instantly, looking around to the group. “You guys are gonna stop playing?”

"We're moving in about a month." Leo announces. His arm winds around Stephanie proudly and he squeezes her tight to his side. "Steph got an amazing job at George Washington Hospital. So we're actually moving to DC."

“What?” Marcus sputters and starts beaming. “That’s great!”

"I'm really excited," she admits, smiling even bigger and brighter than Marcus is. "So maybe you won't have to find a new band after all."

“Well, we’d still have to find other members.” He look at the guys. “Until you come out to visit.”

"Maybe we'll all move East." Their drummer, Clark, jokes. He takes a sip of his whiskey and leans on the table. "Y'all know anyone that needs an electrician or a carpenter? I could be persuaded."

“We’re gonna be building a house.” Marcus snorts. “You’re hired.” He’s joking, because he would never make that decision without you, but it’s interesting to think about. Clark is the best damn carpenter he knows.

"Actually..." Tilting your head to look at Marcus beside you, you shrug your shoulders a little and have a sip of your drink. "There's some work that needs to get done at the inn, too. I've been putting it off because my electrician retired last year and finding a new guy is a pain."

His brows lift in surprise and Clark smirks. “Really, tell me about it.” He encourages.

"It's a historical property," you clarify right away, knowing that that scares some people off. Which is fine with you, really. If they aren't comfortable working on historical structures, you're not going to work with them anyway. "Of course things have been updated, but the structure is colonial so it does require a little bit of tender loving care."

“That’s awesome.” Clark snorts. “I love historic structures. Have you rewired the entire building or are you having to replace as you uncover issues?” He asks. “Code has changed so much since knob and tube. And that’s recent in a historic home, depending on how historic.”

"I've only owned the property for a few years, so we're having to play catch up from the previous owner." His enthusiasm is met with plenty of your own, and you look back at Marcus with a wide grin. "You just watch how fast I adopt all your friends. I was not exaggerating about that being what my family does."

Marcus laughs and leans back. “Adopt away, babe.” He encourages you. “You’ll get sick of them quickly.” He teases, laughing again when they all shoot him a finger.

Two days after touching back down in DC, the early morning meeting that you have with your mother and the communications staffer whose job it is to wrangle all things concerning the First Kids means that you’re up and moving before Marcus. You’re essentially having breakfast at the White House, which is less cozy than having coffee and muffins with your soulmate, but this meeting is important. You really do have things to talk to your mother about.

The staffers show you to the less formal dining rooms in the apartment, a rare time the president allows business to be conducted here, but it’s important that you feel comfortable.

The family dining room in the White House residence is still beautiful, and honestly you prefer it to the larger state dining room. The smaller and more casual room makes it easier to convince yourself that it’s just a normal breakfast with your mother today. Agent Bailey blends into the background here, noticeably more relaxed when she is around other agents and not working solo. It’s a good morning for both of you, and you move to the sideboard in the room to make yourself a cup of coffee while you wait for your mother to come in.

The communications staffer comes in and greets you warmly, laying out folders by the plates. “Your mother should be here in a few minutes. She was just in a briefing.”

“How are you, Annette?” The senior staffer that’s joining you is a woman that you’ve known for years. She was also on your mother’s staff in Pennsylvania and she is a good friend of the family after so many years working side by side.

“I’m doing well, how about you?” She asks politely and gives you a warm smile. “Your mother told me about your soulmate, I’m so thrilled for you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you.” There’s going to be a lot more talk about Marcus as this goes on if your mother and Annette accept your proposal, but for now you sip your coffee and smile. “The adjustment to DC hasn’t been too bad for you? Everything’s been okay?” A little small talk before your mother comes in and breakfast gets served is actually nice. With everyone being so busy you feel like there are people you haven’t gotten to talk to in ages.

“It’s always crazy, but we are adjusting well.” She smiles. “Brad isn’t too fond of the traffic, but who is?” She snorts. “I keep threatening to steal a diplomatic plate.” She jokes.

"I'll nab them for you," you promise her, sitting back with your coffee and smiling at the way your promise ring glints in the room's lighting. "They can't fire me from being First Daughter."

She laughs, knowing that you are completely joking but it would be funny to see the headlines. “I’ll expect one then.” She teases, picking up her own coffee to sip.

It takes a few more minutes before your mother comes in, but you and Annette sit and chat and pour second (or third, in your case) cups of coffee.

“I’m sorry, Birdie, Annette.” Your mother rushes over to drop a kiss on your head and throw her arms around her friend’s shoulders briefly. “That took longer than I expected.”

“Everything okay?” You’re wildly aware that there is plenty that your mother deals with that you do not have the security clearance to know about, but that isn’t what you’re asking. You’re asking if your mother herself is okay.

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “But I wish that people would stop trying to impress me with long winded reports going over every minute detail.” She huffs with a laugh. “My favorite briefing is from DIA Agent York. He gives me the bare bones information and it’s over in less than five minutes.”

“Would he consider it a blessing or a curse to be out on the State dinner guest lists in appreciation for his speedy briefings?” You ask, practically snorting a laugh at breakfast is served.

“Knowing the kind of man he is, a curse.” She snorts, appreciating your joke but also because she would never willingly let a man like Dave York around her family unless he was protecting them.

“Well, it’s nice to know that the chaos around here is just normal chaos.” The smile you offer your mother is fully understanding. The inn is your own beautiful area of normalized chaos.

“Of course. Thank you for coming.” She acknowledges that her life, her career isn’t the center of her children’s lives and she doesn’t take for granted when they make time for it outside the normal Friday night dinners. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Mom.” An early morning meeting is a small sacrifice to make, especially when Marcus exhausted you last night trying out a sexy little card game you’d had stashed away since Syd’s bachelorette party a couple of years ago. It’s safe to say he liked the suggestions the game came up with. “There’s coffee, amazing food, and my favourite Mom, why wouldn’t I come? Although Marcus’s mother is pretty great. Solid second place in the Best Mom Ever competition.”

“I wanted to ask you how your week in Texas went.” She admits, pouring her own cup of coffee. It’s her third cup of the day so far, but she’s also been up since four.

“Honestly?” You pause when a staff member sets a plate of hot food in front of each of the three of you and a large platter of pastries and fruit in the center of the table. The chorus of Thank you’s is in unison. “It was fantastic. His parents are great, I got along pretty well with most of his cousins, and even met a bunch of his friends from college. It was…” you grin at The admission forming on your lips. “It was really wonderful. His parents are planning on coming up to visit us here this summer.”

“That’s wonderful.” Your mother lights up and she nods. “We will have to have a family dinner.” She suggests. “Here? Personal tour of the White House? Do you think that would be something they would enjoy? I know his father would probably enjoy a game while he’s here as well.”

“Marcus has season tickets to the Nationals so we’re definitely planning on seeing a game.” The omelets that have been set out in front of you are steaming and you dig in to your plate without hesitation. “I was going to ask you about a tour for them so thank you for jumping on that. And I know they would love to meet you guys. A family dinner would be really great.”

“Marcus is wonderful and I can guarantee that it’s a reflection of his parents.” Your mother hums. “And as your soulmate, I think it’s important that everyone meets and gets along.”

“I know his parents already said they wouldn’t be offended if you were too busy, but I do want you guys to meet.” Donna and Matthew Pike had sworn that they would completely understand if they didn’t see hide or hair of your parents during the trip, but that hadn’t sat well with you. Your parents have always made time for the important things in their kids’ lives no matter how busy they were.

“Absolutely not.” Your mother sounds offended by the idea. “There is no reason, barring a world catastrophe, where we should meet his parents at your engagement party or some other event. “No, if they want to have something low key, we don’t have to meet here. But I am eager to meet them.” She shoots you a grin. “Diplomacy can wait for one evening.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t pass up the chance to have dinner at the White House.” The grin you send your mother is beaming and appreciative. “That’s a bragging right not everyone gets. There will be plenty of informal meals in the future.”

“Then I will try to make sure that the chef makes something that will measure up to the amazing food Sydney will be plying them with.” If it wouldn’t hurt your business, your mother would have hired her to be the White House chef in a heartbeat.

“I will carry that compliment back to her on a silver platter.” Now that all three of you are eating — devouring — your breakfasts, you don’t mind getting into things. Of course your mother doesn’t have all day for this meeting, but you expect to be sitting here with Annette for at least a little while. “So, before I put my two cents in, what kind of social media and press presence were you thinking you might wrangle me into?” You’re curious, after all. Since Junie has a clear passion and Alex is handsome and personable, whatever route they chose for you was bound to be a little different.

“Well, I was hoping that we could show how small businesses are vital for our economy.” Your mother looks over at Annette who is nodding. “You are a small business owner and you work with others as well.”

“Okay.” You nod, mumbling the word as you finish a bite of food. “So highlighting the small businesses we work with? Making visible visits to other small businesses? That kind of thing?”

“I know that you utilize some of the local merchants for your supplies.” Your mother nods. “Maybe some clips of you with them? We can do a voice over with the message we want to sent.”

“I’ll compile a list of who we have good relationships with and you let me know who you want to have footage of?” It’s a big plug for the businesses that you do actual work with, so you can’t imagine any of them objecting. “Patronizing your local small businesses is a message I’m happy to get behind.”

“Corporations have garnered too much power in the country.” Your mother agrees. “We need to find a balance between them and a simpler time where everyone shopped local.”

“Alright, that’s easy enough.” Although you’re sure that other complications will arise in time, agreeing to this plan is at least something you’re glad to do. “Anything else?”

A look is exchanged between Annette and your mother. A pause that should be concerning. “It’s about…your soulmate.” She begins.

“What about him?” You frown instantly, not liking the tone that has been chosen for this thought.

“I was hoping that you might sit for an interview.” Annette is the one who voices it. “For the Love is Love legislation that your mother is trying to get passed.

“Oh!” The hesitation in their voices is nothing to do with Marcus, really, and you relax measurably. “Yes. We can definitely do that. And actually?” Looking between your mother and Annette, wondering what they’ll think of this idea coming from you of all people. “I think I can do you one bigger than that.”

“What do you have in mind, young lady?” Your mother almost smirks at the idea that you are suggesting something.

“I know I’m not the kid you expect this from.” The look on her face says that loud and clear and you completely understand why. “But Marcus and I talked it over, and we thought we would see what you thought about a First Family love story. From engagement to wedding to building a house.”

As a career politician, it’s been a rare time where your mother has been speechless, but she just gapes at you, her mouth slightly ajar in shock. “I— are you sure?”

"I mean we're not offering to have a White House photographer follow us around every second of every day, but we know that things are going to get said about us no matter what. Our family are public figures, and Marcus grew up with a father in the spotlight. We figured that getting ahead of the narrative and giving people honest glances into who we are was a hell of a lot better than people just speculating wildly."

“That is an amazingly gracious idea.” She can understand that you are going out on a huge limb and that is so appreciated. “Are you sure you would be comfortable with that scope?”

"We've talked through it," you tell her, knowing that it's probably unbelievable for her to hear this coming from you. "And I'm more confident when I have Marcus with me. I feel better able to handle the extra sets of eyes on my life. So...I thought it made sense not to waste that."

“I think that would be incredible.” She reaches out for your hand. “Only what you will give us though. No more.” Your father had reminded her right before leaving for her briefing that you are her daughter and probably the most private out of the three children. You don’t crave the spotlight at all.

"Marcus thought we could start with the engagement," you tell her, knowing that this is a big leap for you and trying not to be nervous about it. "But I think I should put something on my social media about him being my soulmate first. Maybe some photos from a date with a small announcement?"

“It will mitigate any issues that might spring up.” She doesn’t mention how there has been chatter about the congressman being unhappy about the demise of your relationship. That’s not your concern.

"Our favorite restaurant is family-owned, and we can pick something to do afterward that is still small business or community oriented." That shouldn't be too awfully hard, considering the DC area is always crawling with choices for things to do. You're spoiled for it, really.

“Whatever you think would be best.” She smiles at you. “While I would normally have one million ideas, I think it’s better if this is organically from you.”

“I know Marcus already has my engagement ring hidden away somewhere.” A fact which makes your cheeks burn and your smile turn a little dopey. “But I don’t know anything else as far as that goes. Is it okay if I give him your email so he can touch base with you, Annette?”

“Absolutely!” Annette agrees immediately, while your mother looks impressed that your soulmate has already bought your engagement ring. More importantly is your reaction to that information, you look dreamy eyed and she couldn’t be more happy for you. “I must applaud Marcus for thinking ahead.” Your mother hums, taking a small sip of her coffee to hide her smile.

“We’re both thinking ahead.” A fact which gives you no end of pleasure. The flight back from Dallas had been spent in dreams and future plans, cuddled together looking out the window and making up a list of big and small things you wanted for your future together. “We’re starting to plot out what we want for our house, too. That’s the timeline that’s going to take the longest.”

“Your house?” You had mentioned it before, but your mother ticks her head to the side curiously.

“We’re going to build,” you explain, reaching for a scone from the plate of pastries on the table. “Since the land that the inn is on is more than enough and I own all of it, we’re going to use a portion at the back of the acreage to build a house.”

“That sounds like an adventure.” She’s always known you enjoy doing things your way and it’s refreshing to see that apparently your soulmate understands how much of your being is invested in the inn.

“It’s going to feel like a mansion after sharing my apartment in the inn.” After a little discussion, Marcus had decided that he would rather share the smaller space with you while the house is being built and sublet his current place to Clark — ensuring that his friend can have the new start in DC that he wants. “But we’re excited. It’s a whole lot of planning and big steps forward all at once, and for once I really have a partner who’s on the same page as me.”

“That’s the most important thing.” She knows this from experience. There is absolutely no way she would be the current president if your father hadn’t been on the same page as her as far was what their lives might look like. It’s something she’s always wanted for all of you.

“So…I know it’s more than you were going to ask of me.” Which you appreciate. Your mother recognizing and honoring your boundaries is something she had to work on a lot when you were in your teens and twenties. You look at up her and crack a small, bashful grin. “But it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity for something as uplifting and positive as a White House wedding.”

“A White House wedding?” Your mother’s gasp is surprised, honestly believing you would never even entertain an idea like that. “Are you- you’re joking right? It’s not April Fools Day. That was days ago.”

“I am not joking.” Although you can definitely see why she would be shocked. This is not a decision that you made quickly or easily — or alone. “But I do have an ulterior motive,” you admit, wanting there to be full transparency. “I am hoping that a super-secure and publicly documented White House wedding is a trade off for letting us go on our honeymoon alone.”

She doesn’t even glance at Annette. “Absolutely.” Your mother immediately insists. “There is no way I would want any kind of publicity for your honeymoon. You don’t even have to negotiate for that.” It’s honestly alarming that you think she might want you to do something for her political career on your honeymoon.

“Oh, that isn’t what I meant,” you clarify immediately, seeing naked distress in your mother’s face when she’s normally so good at staying neutral. “I meant…without my Secret Service detail. Give Agent Bailey and Agent Sisson a few weeks off while we go overseas. Marcus is very well trained and definitely enough to keep just two of us safe.”

Her expression eases slightly, relieved that’s not what you are talking about and she nods. “I think that will be entirely appropriate.”

“I’m optimistic that we can make sure this works for everyone.” Sitting in your seat in the family dining room, you lean back with a little extra confidence — bolstered by the fact that you know Marcus is with you every step of the way, just like your family. “Make this happy, and exciting, and something to look forward to.”

“Whatever you want.” Your mother agrees. “Whenever you want.” She adds. “I don’t want you pushing up plans for us, sweetheart.”

“We said we wanted to get started on the house before we get engaged,” you tell your mother, though you have to appreciate her insistence here. Plenty of other parents would hack the timeline if they were in her shoes. “So it will depend on how quickly we start in on those plans.”

“And Marcus wants to stay at the inn while you build?” She asks, lifting a brow in surprise. While she has seen your little apartment and thinks that it’s darling, Sam had always insisted it was too small to share space for even more than a day.

“We talked it through and he feels like it’s more important for me to be close to the inn than for his commute to be shorter. He’s going to sublet his current place to a friend that wants to move up from Texas and then the friend can take over the lease when it comes up. We’ll have a little less space than we would if we stayed in his apartment, but we don’t mind close quarters.” A fact which you will not look bashful about right now…no not at all…

“That’s a very solid plan that you have laid out.” Annette compliments. “It seems like you and your soulmate have made a lot of plans.”

“Right now I’d call it our favorite hobby.” Second favorite, but you’re not talking about your sex life in front of your mother…

The president snorts and rolls her eyes as she reaches for another scoop of fruit. “Sure.”

“Anyway.” Forcibly getting the conversation back on track seems like a smart idea. “Annette is my point person, then?”

“Yes.” Your mother takes the hint with a small smile. “I reasoned you would be more comfortable with her than any of the new staff.”

“And I appreciate that.” You offer both your mother and Annette a grateful smile. “Especially since this is going to involve my soulmate, I’m very glad to have someone that I know and trust working with us.”

“I am eager to meet him.” She hadn’t been present at the state dinner, she had been sick, but from what she can tell she will like him.

“Why don’t you come by the inn and have dinner with us sometime in the next week or two?” You suggest, figuring that would be nicer than a formal sit up in an imposing setting. “Something casual for the first time you meet? So we can all relax a little.”

“That sounds perfect.” Annette knows the value of an informal meeting. It often creates a better mood for the entire interaction.

"Awesome." Having everything moving in a comfortable direction is as much as you could ask from this meeting, and it's nice to see your mother semi-relaxed at the start of a workday. "Well, I'm sure you have eighty-seven things to do today Mom, so I won't keep you."

She winces apologetically and looks at her watch. “I’m actually about three minutes late for a cabinet meeting.” She admits, standing up to move over and kiss your forehead again. “Are you and Marcus coming to dinner on Friday?”

"We'll be there with bells on," you promise her. "Go get to your meeting. I love you, and tell Dad I love him too."

“I will, sweetheart.” She promises. “Annette, I will see you later. Take your time finishing breakfast.”

The unfortunate truth is that the dinner with Annette might be necessary sooner rather than later. Within a bare twenty-four hours of the White House Easter Egg Roll and the official photos that refer to Marcus Pike as your soulmate, the commentary on social media and in online tabloids begins.

Marcus frowns as he opens the new story. It’s not uncommon for articles to be inflammatory, he knows that from the state dinner, but this is all but calling you a cheating liar. “Fuck.” He growls, eyes narrowing on the wording from the ‘anonymous source’.

"What's wrong?" Your nose is stuck in the schedule for next week while dinner is in the oven and you sit with Marcus in the living room, but you glance up when he sounds unhappy.

Marcus sighs and turns his phone towards you so you can read the headline. “I hate to accuse anyone, but this fucking sounds like your favorite congressman ex.”

"Sounds more like your ex, if you ask me." Vanessa might look sweet and innocent, but she can be cutthroat and single-minded in her goals when she sets herself to it. Something she learned from her justice father. "Think they're getting their jollies going after us together?"

“Shit- you think?” He ended things on a good note with Vanessa. Actually, she broke up with him, why would she smear his name?

"I don't know what her motive would be besides trying to get under Sam, but I wouldn't be surprised by it." Leaning forward to read the beginning of the article on his phone, you still frown. "I knew somebody was going to try saying we cheated, but damn."

“We know the truth.” Marcus frowns as he rereads the article. “This seems to imply that we are lying about being soulmates.” He looks over to you with a small grin. “That’s proven easily enough.”

"Hmm." That does make you smile, and you look up at him from behind your laptop. "Are you thinking we should stage a little photo on my social media as a response?"

“Absolutely.” He’s not thrilled about the tattoo you both share, but it’s solid evidence of your connection. “Your reputation won’t even tarnish a little.”

"I'm sure I'll get some snide comments about the kind of tattoo we share, but that's on me." You shrug at the truth of it. "I definitely should have gotten it somewhere else."

He laughs and shrugs. “Doesn’t make a difference now.” He reminds you. “It’s on both of our skin, so it’s proof. You’ve had it for years and so have I. Should we post new pictures and old ones with the tattoos?”

"We can do a little album on my Instagram." The suggestion is a welcome one, but it does mean you push your laptop away and set it on the coffee table to snuggle a little closer to him. "You have old photos with the tattoo in them?"

“I do.” Marcus chuckles. “But….” He shrugs. “They were taken by my ex-wife. She’s not in them.” He assures you.

“That’s fine.” Frankly, if Lara gets involved in the conversation it will just reinforce the fact that Marcus has had your marks for a very long time. “I can bribe Agent Sisson to be our photographer for a photo that has both of us in it.”

“And how do we want to casually set up pictures of our lower backs?” He asks with a grin.

“There’s nothing casual about what we’re doing.” You tuck yourself into his side and grin. “This is answering a call out.”

“To address any unfounded and untrue rumors….” He captions with a snort. “Straightforward. I like it.”

"If we wanted to do this casually, I would just say we should go take some pool pictures." You glance up at him, seeing what he thinks of that. "Violating my mom's no bikini rule for a good cause."

“I like bikini’s.” He agrees immediately, his eyes darkening slightly with lust.

"Oh yeah?" The smirk on your face is nearly instant. "Like we should take a tropical vacation level of like?"

“Like you need to book one immediately.” He huffs. “Texas didn’t count as a vacation.”

"Of course it did!" The fact that he's getting all bent out of shape imagining you in a bikini when he sees you naked on a daily basis is adorably, quite frankly. "And you can't even claim it wasn't sexy. We nearly broke that bed."

“Of course we did.” He laughs. “It’s old and we are horny.” He teases, biting his lip as he pulls you close. “But in a bikini, it’s so much less clothing to take off you.”

"You wouldn't even have to take it off." He's getting ideas and you turn your face up to smirk at him, fully encouraging those ideas to take form. "Just shove it aside. Nothing else needed."

“Fuck.” He hisses, clenching his jaw and imagining fucking you on a beach somewhere.

"Gonna keep that imagine in the spank bank, babe?" You can't help but tease him a little, knowing that you would be reacting exactly the same way if it was Marcus teasing you. But you started it this time so you get to tease.

“Fuck yes, I am.” He snorts. “We would get arrested. But it would be worth it.”

"There's a private beach where we could get away with it somewhere." Leaning up to press a kiss to Marcus's cheek, you're still grinning. "Good to know it's on the fantasy list, though."

“Very high up there.” Marcus admits with no shame. Just the freedom to explore these ideas with you is amazing, even if they are never acted on.

"I think..." The only thing that keeps you from shifting into his lap is the kitchen timer going off from the oven. Instead of climbing on to him you just climb off the couch to get to the baked pasta you put together right before Marcus got home from work. "That maybe we should do half the honeymoon in Paris and the other half on the Riviera? Get some swimsuit time in?"

“I like the way you think.” Marcus chuckles quietly, nodding. “How long are we talking? A few days in each place? A week?”

"A week each?" You pull him up from the couch to come to the kitchen with you. There's still a table to set and wine to pour, and all that good stuff. "Two weeks in France sounds like magic."

“I agree.” He grins and grabs the bottle of wine you had set out. It’s become a routine to have a glass with dinner and he enjoys the selection the inn has, although it annoys you that he insists on paying you for the wine.

"A big, beautiful wedding. Two weeks in Paris. A lovely house for us to move into." Every time you think through the plans you're starting to make for the future, they sound better and better.

“That sounds perfect to me.” Marcus admits, smiling softly at the idea. “Have you thought about the style ideas I sent you?”

"I was showing your Pinterest board to Syd on our lunch today." The collection of Dutch Colonial, Queen Anne, Georgian, and Federal style houses that Marcus had put together to share with you is full of so many ideas that you had lost track of time in the kitchen and was almost late to interview a new member of the housekeeping staff. "She likes the Queen Anne style Victorians, of course."

“Of course she does.” Marcus grins as he lifts a brow. “Which one of those were you most interested in?” He doesn’t really mind what architectural style your home is in, as long as you are happy with the result.

Having decided that the edge of the property where you planned to build was far enough from the inn and her out buildings that you didn’t need to be loyal to the colonial structures, you have a little more freedom to choose what you build. “I think I like the Georgian houses you sent me best,” you tell him, setting down two plates of baked pasta in the table at your customary seats. “It complements the colonial style without being obsessive about matching, and it’s not overly complicated.”

“That’s a good choice, and it still fits with the overall theme of the property.” Marcus agrees. “However…one thing I think is a must in our new house.”

“What’s that?” The two of you settle down and pick up your forks, comfortable in the relative quiet of the apartment while Agent Bailey takes one of her occasional walks around the grounds.

“We have to have an elevator in our house.” He’s gotten used to the elevator at the inn and can’t imagine living without one now.

“Non-negotiable?” You tease, knowing that on the nights he goes to the gym after work he groans his way into the apartment on principle. “Noted. You will have your elevator.”

“Thank God.” He dramatically moans and tosses his head back. “Getting older sucks. You’ll see.” He teases about the age gap, but it’s only seven years. “Heartburn is about to start.”

“I was more thinking of our kids,” you admit quietly, poking your fork into a big bite of sausage and zucchini and pasta together. “What if one of them needs the house to be accessible?”

“That thought had crossed my mind.” Marcus agrees. “But we will pray that all our children will be healthy, prepare in case they are not.”

“No matter what, they’ll be cared for and loved.” That, at least, you can both guarantee.

“Plus it will be easier when someone undoubtably breaks a leg.” Marcus snorts, laughing slightly. “It seemed like it was a contest in my family who would break a bone first every year.”

“Kids are gonna be clumsy,” you joke, pointing your fork at him in teasing accusation. “Got it.”

“But they will make up for it with good looks and charm.” He grins back at you and winks.

First Princess Cheating Scandal is the headline splashed across the tabloid on the magazine rack, and your hand twitches before reaching for it. This is the bullshit you absolutely hate about being in the public eye, and now that they’ve started coming for Marcus you hate it even more. The article inside claims that you faked your matching marks — including your scars, which is possible but extremely far fetched — and that you’ve been sleeping together since at least the night of the State dinner.

With another one of those dinners on the horizon and the weariness in your bones over now spending multiple weeks of time on this stupid non-issue, you pay for the magazine and continue on to the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building with it shoved in your purse. Agent Bailey’s advice had been to let it roll off your shoulders because people are always going to gossip, but as much as you’d like to do that it’s possible this might affect your mother’s image. Or your business. Your previously fully booked inn has had multiple cancelled reservations since this whole thing started.

So you walk on, with the little treats you made in a container in your purse and Marcus’s favorite midafternoon coffee order from the shop around the corner to surprise him at the office.

Marcus is pouring over a case when you knock on his office door. He doesn’t keep it closed, preferring to let his team come to him whenever. To feel like they can. Looking up, he sees you and immediately smiles. “Birdie.” He almost said Princess, but since the beginning of this entire ‘scandal’ non-scandal thing, it’s kind of soured the nickname. Immediately abandoning the file, he stands up and rushes around to give you a kiss. “This is a welcomed surprise.”

“I did a little baking with Syd this afternoon and the results were so good that I couldn’t wait to share.” The kiss is a comforting balm, even if it’s short, and you hold up the cup in your left hand. “And I brought your coffee.”

He groans in appreciation, of both the baked goods and the caffeine. “I was just about to get another cup from the break room, but this is better. His hand slides around your back and he rubs it soothingly, seeing the pinch of upset around your eyes but he wants you to talk to him naturally. “Want to come inside? Share it with me?”

You nod and step inside, your own cup from the coffeeshop clutched in your other hand. It’s herbal tea, though. Caffeine didn’t seem like a good idea when you’re already anxious. “Agent Bailey is in the bullpen, I hope you don’t mind.” Now that you’re in a relationship with a well-trained and fully competent federal agent, your Secret Service detail tends to be a bit more relaxed about giving you space.

“Not at all.” Marcus insists, guiding you over to the little couch in his office. “Rodriguez will show her where the donuts are.” He snickers.

“So…” he sits down beside you and you pull a small container of Madeleines out of your oversized purse to offer to him, but the magazine is sitting just underneath and it makes your eyebrows pinch together all over again. “We walked past a news stand on the way here and…saw a new headline.”

“Oh no.” Marcus sighs, he takes the container but sets them aside to give you his full attention. “Bad?”

“Not great.” With a resigned sigh, you pull the magazine out of your bag and hand it over for Marcus to inspect. Under the headline is the now-famous shot of the two of you dancing together and the article inside includes a paparazzi shot of the two of you grocery shopping alongside one torn from your social media of a date night.

He winces at the headline and huffs, opens it, flipping to the article and skimming it. “I want to really get this ‘anonymous source’ into a fucking interrogation room.” He growls, growing more and more upset at the outright lies that are being insinuated. “But it’s fucking hard to be sleeping with you when security from Vanessa’s building has me showing up on a timestamped tape.”

“Agent Bailey was less than thrilled with the accusation that she would lie about anything out of loyalty. You might have to fight her for that interrogation.” Shaking your head as he puts down the magazine, you’re craving his warmth and security enough that you lean in on the couch beside him. “I had an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it,” you admit quietly.

“What is it?” He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, wanting to protect you from all this. He feels guilty, like you would be better off if your connection hadn’t been acted on.

“It’s….a little dramatic.” You can admit that, too. Although at this point you feel like a dramatic response isn’t uncalled for.

It might be necessary, in Marcus’s opinion. He nods and hums while waiting for you to continue.

“How would you feel about having another tattoo?” The question is posed carefully, quietly, but you had been considering it all the way over and bandied it back and forth with Agent Bailey during your walk. While extreme, it would certainly put all doubts to rest to share a video of you getting a new tattoo and having it appear just seconds after being finished, fully formed on Marcus’s skin.

“No gang or face tattoos.” Marcus jokes, shrugging slightly. “I’ve got no problem if you want to get a tattoo, sweetheart.” He decides. “But I don’t want you to do that simply to prove that we are soulmates. We don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I know it’s not owed.” That thought had never even crossed your mind, actually. “But I want this put to rest and something small that we decide on together would be a nice mark to share under almost any circumstance.” Shrugging a little, you take a sip of your tea and sit back. “It’s just a thought. Obviously I’m not going to just go off and do this on my own. That’s the opposite of the point of it.”

“No, I’m not opposed to it.” Marcus protests softly. “I just want to make sure it’s not from a place of insecurity.”

“Even if we weren’t soulmates, I would think it was sweet to have matching tattoos,” you tell him honestly, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment when your mind was chaotic just a half hour ago.

“What kind are you thinking of?” He asks softly, smiling as you lean against him. He enjoys the warmth of moment. The quiet comfort of you with him.

“I haven’t come up with anything brilliant.” Or even anything original. You had mostly been waiting to talk to him about it. “But something small, that’s reasonably discreet? Behind the ear or on the ankle or something like that? Even the wrist, so you could cover it with your watch when you want. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“What about a little flower?” Marcus offers. “Behind the ear. I can cover that with my hair if I need to, and it can be your favorite bloom.”

“That sounds completely adorable.” The smile you have for him is beaming, feeling the way your heart bursts at his absolute acceptance and support. The love that radiates off him even in something as simple as knowing how much you love flowers.

“I thought you would like that.” He admits, tapping just behind your ear. “And you are so sensitive when I kiss right here. Especially when I’m inside you.”

“That’s mostly because you’re inside me.” Even though your cheeks burn with it and you slide down a little against his side, you’re still beaming at him. “If we’re going for things that enhance sensitivity then maybe I’ll have to look into piercings,” you tease.

“Don’t tease.” He pouts, twitching under the proper suit. “I can’t think about those kinds of things and be expected to work.”

“Oh, would you like if I had secret piercings?” You raise one eyebrow in interest, surprised to hear such an enthusiastic response to the passing idea.

“Piercings are hot.” Marcus would never deny that. “If you wanted to get some, I would support you completely. Enthusiastically.” He teases with a grin.

You hum at him, intrigued enough by the thought to actually heavily consider it, just imagining his face seeing them and how eager he would be to play with them. “That would be a very personal gift for my soulmate.”

Yes it would be. Marcus hums, trying and failing to hide a small smirk. “Personal is good.” He agrees, “but don’t feel like that’s something I have to have. If you want it, that’s one thing.”

"It's something to think about." It's no secret to him that you like things that mark you as his – your soulmate marks, of course, but your promise ring and occasionally wearing a piece of his clothing as well. Piercings might be something only he would see, but that just makes it all the more meaningful.

“Hmmmmmm.” He chuckles and nods his head. “It is. But I don’t think you came all the way down here to just fill my head with dirty thoughts.”

"I came down to surprise you with coffee and tell you that I love you." When he cocks his head slightly, you end up grinning. "I might have a little date night planned for you tonight. The caffeine has ulterior motives."

"Oh really?" He perks up, smiling slightly as he looks over at you in utter surprise. "So I need to make sure I'm home on time tonight?"

"Actually?" His delight is gratifying, and you squeeze his arm gently at your waist. "I'm taking you right from here. Our night is in the city."

"Kidnapping me, hmmm?" He grins widens and he bites his lip. "What does Agent Bailey think of such activities?"

"Oh, she helped me plan it." And she seemed to have fun with it, too, which made the little diversion even better. "Even made our dinner reservation for us."

"Wow." Marcus makes an impressed face. "That was a plot twist I didn't expect." he laughs. "Am I allowed to know any details or just show up and look pretty?"

"Just be your handsome self when I come back at five to pick you up." You stretch up to kiss his cheek, glad that he seems to be looking forward to tonight and hadn't been looking forward to just going home. "I'm going to scoot home, finish some paperwork, and get all dolled up for you."

"Bring me back an outfit?" Marcus asks, turning pleading eyes on you. "It can be another suit, I just want to freshen up too. Look my best."

"I'll bring something devastating but understated." That isn't hard considering Marcus's wardrobe is extremely well curated, but you still like to pay him the compliment as you pull yourself back to standing. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, babe."

He can’t help but grin a little more, your compliment making his shoulders lift confidently. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises, pressing his lips to yours in the office where there’s privacy, although he will walk you to the elevator.

"I love you." That is for the privacy of his office too, but only because it comes with such a doe-eyed look from you that it's nearly obscene.

“I love you too, Hummingbird.” He promises, the same sappy look in his eyes as he turns to guide you out of the office. His hand rests on your lower back, over the tattoo.

Unfortunately, no date night photos or other positive presence on your social media is enough to combat the now growing accusation and rumors surrounding your soulmate status. It's only two weeks after first presenting the idea to Marcus that you're both sitting in a tattoo studio with the artist that did a beautiful flower tattoo for Sydney's sister AnnaLeigh.

Marcus had asked Juan to come and film the entire thing, so it couldn’t be said that it was spliced together. Although he was sure that comment was coming. Some people couldn’t be pleased no matter what, they didn’t want to believe there was an innocent reason for them being together.

The simple design would not take long to ink into your skin, and the artist helped Juan set up two chairs so that both you and Marcus could be in the shot to capture the instant the finished tattoo appears on Marcus’s skin. The entire video would be shared on your social media, audio included, so you had had to work up the nerve to even just chat with Marcus on camera. Sharing another mark with him isn’t stressful at all, it’s letting the public so deeply into your personal life that is.

“I like the design.” Marcus sits down on the other side of you and takes your hand. “You should have let me do the tattoo this time.” He jokes. “I don’t know what it feels like.”

“We can switch if you want to?” You’re nervous, and he knows it. Not for getting the tattoo, but from everything that has been going on.

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. Whatever you want to do.” Marcus wouldn’t take this experience from you if you want it.

“It’s small,” the artist assures you, seeing anxiety in her clients. “And behind the ear doesn’t hurt very much for most people. I had one woman nearly fall asleep on the table because she liked the humming and the soft vibrations.”

Marcus can handle a little bit of pain. You know that. A tattoo is nothing compared to broken limbs or the incident when he was undercover and was shot — which had sent you in a flurry of cooing and coddling for about three days when he first told you about it. Tattooing is the kind of pain that some people find pleasurable, so you squeeze his hand and nod. “Why don’t you give it a shot? You might decide you like it and we’ll end up here all over again.”

“Is that alright with you?” Marcus asks the tattoo artist, knowing they might not appreciate a change of clientele.

“Fine with me.” She nods as she sets up her tray. “I have both of your information on file and believe it or not this happens a lot. Soulmates come in with a design they’ve chosen but they’ll change their mind at the last minute about which one of them will actually being sitting for it.”

Marcus chuckles and turns you both so he can sit down in the chair. “We’ll both be wearing it anyway.” He agrees. “So I don’t mind experiencing it.”

“I’ve never been shot but I guarantee it hurts less.” You move to let him sit in the artist’s chair and situate yourself by his side.

Marcus chuckles as the tattoo artists eyes widen. “I’m a federal agent.” He explains quietly. “It was just a flesh wound, but she thinks it’s impressive.”

“It is impressive!” And you’re just going to keep telling him so over and over until he caves, but right now you just throw a pout at him to make him laugh.

Marcus gives you the laugh and turns his head to the side, staring at you. “Still not as impressive as you are beautiful.” He murmurs softly, although the video picks it up.

“I love you, too.” The bashfulness in it is only because you weren’t expecting that kind of compliment right now — as the artist about to permanently ink Marcus’s skin is making sure she has everything she needs on her tray. You lean into his side and tip back your head, nothing but pure love in your eyes right before they slip shut at the brief press of your lips to his.

Marcus hums, an automatic sound that comes out of him when you kiss him. Excited that you are as free with your kisses as he is, it’s liberating to indulge whenever the urge strikes you. When you pull back, he grins. “Now I’m ready.”

"Go ahead and lean forward." Sitting down on her stool, the artist beckons Juan over with the camera for the best angle to watch the action and still have you in the shot. "And here goes nothing."

The first touch of the needle nearly makes Marcus jump. He barely resists the urge and then laughs quietly, trying not to move too much. “This is kind of ticklish.” He admits.

"Then it already hurts less than the one I got," you tease, glad that the experience isn't painful for him. Watching him giggle about it and knowing it's being filmed is downright endearing.

“I’m sorry.” Marcus apologizes, even though he has nothing to be sorry for. “I wish your experience was better.” He snorts after he says it. “Maybe not, or I might be covered in ink.”

"It wasn't bad, but it was definitely more than a tickle." The grin you shoot him, though, is knowing. "If you end up liking this so much tonight, we might be covered in ink because of you instead."

“Only areas that can be respectfully covered.” He teases you, sending you a wink as the artist continues to carefully work behind his ear.

"Sounds like a plan," you toss him a smirk in return and the set of you grow quiet after another round of low laughter, so the only sound in the room becomes the resilient buzz of the artist's needle.

Marcus could probably fall asleep if the noise didn’t vibrate in his head. He smiles at you, squeezing your hand gently. “After this, we will have to go get that cream to keep it clean.”

"We can get a Tattoo Goo kit before we leave the shop." His hand is in yours and you squeeze it reassuringly. "It's going to be tender for a bit, but it won't take too long to heal."

“I’m sure you will be completely cuddly as I heal.” He snickers quietly.

"I think having a cuddly girlfriend is mandatory for the healing process," you tell him seriously. At this point you've completely forgotten Juan is here for any other reason besides moral support. Forgotten about the phone in his hands being a camera and the fact that this video will become public for the world to see. This is just a moment between you and your soulmate. And a sweet one, at that.

“You should have seen me when the scar from your appendix showed up.” He snorts. “I was upset that my soulmate was hurt.”

“We were kids.” Sure he’s older than you, but you were so young when you had appendicitis. “Did it really worry you that much?”

“Yeah.” Marcus admits, not ashamed of that in the least. “Not knowing what happened, I kept imagining horrible things. Waited for other scars to possibly show up for at least a week.”

“If you had scarred from your broken leg or when you hurt your shoulder, I probably would have felt the same way.” It’s less of an admission from you and more of a confirmation, telling him in no uncertain terms how much you have always cared about his well-being. “Which is still your gunshot wound is such a big deal.” One of your fingers digs into his arm playfully. “That scared the crap out of me.”

“Well, now if I get shot, you can baby me right away.” He teases. “And tell the plastic surgeon to make the scar invisible.”

"I don't mind wearing your scars." The thought comes out quieter than you mean for it to, holding Marcus's hand tightly in yours. "I'm proud of you. And proud to wear your marks, no matter how many of them there are."

“Hopefully not too many more.” He hopes, smiling at you. “But I’m proud to wear your marks too, Hummingbird.”

The session doesn’t last too much longer. Marcus has a high pain tolerance but the tattoo mainly just tickles him, making him grin and laugh as he chats with you and with the artist for the last few minutes. When she pronounces him done and stands back, there is a moment of silence before the permanence of the piece takes hold on him and transfers instantly to your skin.

A sharp intake of breath at the momentary pain is how you know it has happened, and you glance over at Marcus — and Juan with your phone — just absolutely beaming with happiness. “Does it look as good on me as it does on him?”

Marcus inspects the area, forgetting the camera is even on and recording. He leans in and presses a kiss to the tattoo. “It looks even better, Princess.” He promises with a smile.

______

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[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-twenty four[END]

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: I'M CRYING MY COUCH RIGHT NOW! I never imagined that this story would be so fucking popular and bring me so many amazing followers and some great friends! thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented, or talked to me! Our love and adoration for this man brought a huge group together. I love him for that. I'm sorry for all the hurt and trauma I caused you while reading but I promise THIS chapter, makes up for it. Again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you!

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough @bngurngheart @dreams-that-are-anwsered @loeytuan98 @omens-in-reverse @loverofagoodbeard @jay02bo @niicoleleigh @tearfallpixie @cupidsdreams

A yawn fell from my lips as I walked through the gate of the airport with Noah's hand in mine and the rest of our group trailing behind. The moonlight from outside broke through the large glass windows, casting all of us in a white glow. It was late, almost 10 in the evening and we just landed in California. The Europe leg of the tour finally ended and after a very long day of travel, all of us were ready to head home for a few months break. It was well earned and deserved for everyone on this team.

"Angel," Noah pulled me to a stop right before baggage claim. "Hang on a second."

"Noah," I almost whined. "I'm tired and want to go home."

But he didn't answer, simply wrapped an arm around my shoulders to pull me into his chest then looked towards our large group of friends.

"We'll see you guys in a couple of weeks."

Jolly nodded. "If anything changes work wise, I'll text you but you two should enjoy yourselves."

"Wait," I blinked. "What did you just say?"

My gaze turn up towards Noah who refused to meet it but kept a small smirk on the corner of his lips.

"Give me on minute," he pulled me closer to his chest to leave a kiss on top of my head.

Internally, I cringed because my hair hadn't been washed in days and I smelled like sweat and a stuffy airplane after the long international travel. I wanted to get home so bad to shower and crawl into my bed with Noah. But it seemed like he had other plans.

"Where are we going?" I tried to ask again.

Matt spoke instead. "Try not to think about work too much, alright? We won't start talking about the next album until you're back."

Irritation made my feet bounce. "Back from where?"

"You guys heading to Virgina?" Noah asked Nick.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Mine and Folio's flight leaves tomorrow so we're crashing in your room."

Folio gave me a wide smirk while removing me from Noah's grasp so he could wrap his own arms around me in a bone-crushing hug. "Use this time to clear your head."

My arms encircled around his back as I returned the hug. "What the fuck are you guys talking about?"

Not giving anything away, Folio ruffled my hair with a wink.

Okay, what the fuck was going on?

I watched as Noah said goodbye to everyone else, me still standing there confused as hell, then when he turned towards me I narrowed my eyes at him while crossing my arms over my chest.

"What is going on?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, I'm just saying goodbye."

"Alright, smartass. Jolly lives with us, why are you saying goodbye to him?" I raised a brow.

"You ask a lot of questions, angel."

"Flight 23A for California to Washington State now pre-boarding. Head to Gate 4b."

"Shit," Noah cursed while adjusted the strap of his carry on backpack. "We gave to go."

Linking our fingers together, he dragged me away, but I held my foot down in place. The announcement played on the speakers again as Noah looked at me with slight panic behind his eyes.

"Angel, we have to go," he urged me with a tug of my hand.

I shook my head. "Where, Noah? Where are we going?"

He ran a hand over his face with a long sigh. "I was hoping to keep this surprise a little longer but we're not going home. I rented us a cabin in Washington, in Olympic National Park. Just the two of us for a few weeks."

Oh.

My heart hammered hard in my chest hearing that Noah put together this little surprise for me and my irritation and need to be in control of everything nearly ruined it. I walked into his arms while wrapping my arms around his back and looked up at him. He was wearing a black sweater with matching joggers. His hair was growing like weeds since we were in Europe and desperately needed a haircut so he was hiding it in a black beanie. The dark circles under his eyes gave way how tired he was, so was I, but he still went out of his way to plan a vacation for us.

With tears in my eyes, I stood up on the tips of my toes so I could reach his lips to leave a chaste kiss upon them.

"I love you."

His hands gripped my hips as he brushed his nose over mine. "I love you too, angel. I just wanted to do something special for you. Life hasn't been easy for you."

"I know," I pressed my cheek into his chest, breathing in his scent.

"Last call for flight 23A. Boarding will close in five minutes."

"Fuck," Noah cursed before we ran across the airport to our gate.

"Jolly, water my plants for me!" I called over my shoulder to look at him.

He waved me off with a large grin on his face as he watched Noah and I giggle in fear of missing our flight.

Two weeks later.

"I don't want to go back," I whined while sitting at the edge of the bed, towel wrapped around my chest.

Water dripped from the ends of my hair, down my back, as I had just walked out of the shower. Noah was kneeling in front of me as he finished packing up our suitcases, our vacation finally coming to an end. The last two weeks had been absolutely amazing. Even though it was hard at first, Noah tried not to talk about future tours or the next album while I did my best to just enjoy life; be in the moment.

We spent the last two weeks either sightseeing, hiking, spending a night inside by the fire, or soaking in the hot tub outside. Of course, we had to test out every fuckable surface throughout the cabin which surprisingly, was a lot. When we were out in the small town, Noah got recognized quite a few times but he respectfully declined pictures, telling the fans that he was here on a personal vacation and wanted to keep it quiet.

I knew he did that for me and I loved him even more for it.

But reality came calling back way before I was ready. We needed to get back to California because Bad Omens had some time blocked out for writing/recording thier next album.

"You guys need more than just a few weeks off," I sighed letting the towel fall to the bed beneath me.

Noah's eyes darkened as his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he took in all the bite marks over my chest and stomach.

I immediately shook my head knowing exactly what he was thinking. "Noah, we've had more sex these last two weeks that I've had in my entire life. I'm exhausted."

"Well, you're in luck because we have somewhere to be so do me a favor," he rose to his feet while handing me a pair of clothes. "Wear that and meet me outside."

I pursed my lips while looking up at him. "Where are we going?"

"Just do this, okay?" Noah sighed with slight agitation.

I may have asked that question a lot these last few weeks when Noah would surprise me with yet another day out and I wanted to know what he had planned.

"Sorry," I muttered before lifting the shirt up to my face with a smirk.

It was the shirt Noah found that first night in the Airbnb; the shirt of his he gave me so long ago and I kept.

"You love telling me what to wear, huh?"

Noah pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and smacked my bare ass. "O wouldn't be upset if you skipped the panties."

Don't have to tell me twice.

He walked out of the patio doors that were connected to our bedroom while I quickly threw the shirt on over my naked form. It was actually pretty warm outside, so I decided on no pants. Nerves made my fingers shake as I wondered what the hell he had planned for me. Every day it was something and each time, it surprised me.

"It's probably just a candlelit dinner," I said to myself, which honestly I didn't mind.

A nice relaxing final night in sounded device.

Leaving the door open, I stepped outside to the sound of soft music playing through the bluetooth speaker the cabin provided and I followed the path of stone lights that led to a table on the large patio with a curious pull of my brows.

"Noah?" I called out when I realized he was nowhere to be seen.

Coming to a halt in front of the table, I looked down at a large photo book that had my name printed across the front of it.

What the…

Noah's soft voice came through the speakers as his song, If I'm There played in the background, when I hesitantly opened the book with a gasp. The first few pages had many pictures of me when I was younger; some alone and some with my father, the one who raised me.

Then the next few pages were from teenage years and I internally cringed at some of the outfit choices I made.

Where the hell did these pictures come from?

"Oh shit," I blurted with tears when my fingers grazed over the next set of pictures.

It was all the pictures I had lost in the fire; the ones that were taking on tour with Bad Omens. The ones I took of them covered one page while the rest of the pages were pictures taken of me by others, mostly Bryan.

Some goofy ones of Folio and I.

Ones of Jolly teaching me guitar.

Even the ones of Nick letting me use his tattoo gun on him; the small patch of skin on his ankle my first canvas.

There were so many others of me with the members of the crew and by the time I got to the last page, tears were falling from my eyes, the salty taste hanging long after on my lips. I choked out a broken sob when the only picture on the last page stared back at me; my fingers grazing over the soft faces of the two people.

We looked so young there, and it was only two years ago.

It was the same picture Noah had on his laptop. The one from the first party I attended at their house where we took a large group photo and I was next to Noah. His arm slung around my shoulder while mine wrapped around his side. His long hair was pulled back with a claw clip and while I was smiling at the camera, Noah's smile was on me along with his eyes, staring directly at my lips.

Hastily wiping away the tears, I looked up to the sky to let out a deep breath, fingers grazing over the picture until it went to low, the touch of cool metal almost burning my skin.

"What the-?" I peered back down to the photo book and nearly stumbled back.

The moonlight caught it in just the right light, the sparkle of the large diamond beckoning me to touch it once again.

Taped beneath the picture was a gorgeous diamond ring with four words written in very familiar handwriting.

Let's get married, angel.

Strong arms wrapped around me from behind, warm breath fanning across the curve of my neck.

"What do you say?"

Noah buried his face into my hair as he spoke his quesiton into the air again. I turned in his embrace, sheer shock and disbelieve on my face.

"You're not fucking with me, are you?"

He chuckled slightly. "Why would I do that?"

I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers messing with the ends of his hair. It was so long now and he was sporting the Levi cut the last few weeks.

"There's no way you'd want to ask me to marry you, Noah. I'm-." The words died on my tounge.

"You're what? Perfect, beautiful, stubborn as hell-ow!"

I smacked his chest but urged him to continue with a nod.

"Angel," he lifted my chin with a finger. "I walked through literal flames for you. Why the hell wouldn't I want to marry you?"

My lips mimicked a fish out of water as I tried to come up with a retort but truthfully, I didn't have any because I knew he was right. He ran into my burning house to save me from my brother who was trying to kill me.

Okay, maybe that's a good reason not to marry me.

"Hey," he bent low so our gazes locked. "Don't go there, alright? Stay here with me and focus on my question. Focus on how great our future together could be."

Noah knew me so fucking well. He knew when I disassociated back into that dark place that James had created. The nightmares were less and less but they were still there, clawing to the front recess of my mind but Noah worked so hard to help me heal.

He lifted me onto the table and spread my thighs apart so he could walk through them as my hands grazed over his bare chest; the tattoos catching my eye instead of the pure dark ones of his.

"I love you. It took me a long time to realize that and accept that feeling for what it is. But now that I have you, I refuse to let you go again. I'm not letting you go into that darkness alone, angel. I'm here and will always be here."

Tears fell from my eyes but this time, it was Noah who brushed them away. When I still said nothing. mind filled with so much emotion I didn't know how to say it.

Yes. Yes, you idiot. Tell him yes!

"I-," the words faltered yet again.

Noah made a low noise in the back of his throat as he took off my shirt, throwing it to the ground below. The night air made my nipples perk, and I shivered when I watched Noah step out of his grey joggers, cock springing free.

Holy shit.

I never realized asking someone to marry them was such a turn on.

"Fuck," I cursed when Noah spat on his hand before running it over my pussy, fingers dipping in for a few quick pumps before he angled the head of his cock between my folds.

Who was exhausted? I certainly wasnt.

"Angel," his forehead fell to my chest with a groan as he filled me completely.

I wrapped my legs around his back, heels resting on his ass as I pressed him deeper into me. The head of his cock immediately pressed against that spot while one hand slipped between us, thumb pressing fast circles to my clit.

"Noah," I panted.

His free hand ripped the ring from the book and grabbed my left hand, looking up at me through lust blown eyes.

"Lets."

Thrust.

"Get."

Thrust.

"Married."

"Yes, Noah!," I screamed when he pulled most of the way out, just leaving the head of his cock in me, before he snapped his hips hard to fill me once again. "Fuck yes, lets get married."

Our lips met in a fiery kiss, the one where your teeth smack together and tongues fight for power and dominance. Without warning, my orgasm ripped through me with a loud shrill, it echoing through the trees of the forest behind us. With my hand in his, Noah slipped the ring on my finger and grazed his teeth other my collarbone.

"You're going to be my wife, angel."

Pure exhaustion ached deep in my bones so all I could do was nod and ran my fingers through Noah's hair as he gave two more powerful thrusts, emptying himself inside of me with a low groan.

When I first started this job working for Bad Omens, I did it because I needed the money for a miracle to help my mom. But by the end of all the darkness and loneliness, Noah was the Miracle I truly needed and hoped for.

[come-away-with-me87]

The Art of Love Chapter 10

Chapter 9 here

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Warnings: This chapter is a lil angsty. Also, sorry for the long delays in posting chapters on this. I've been going through it lately, I'm just not my best self atm. But I promise to finish this story to the very end. Also, I haven't forgotten the two Aizawa requests I received; my hope is to write at least one of them this weekend when my brain is hopefully refreshed. As always, thank you for reading <3

******

You and Shouta went on various dates over the course of the next few weeks.  You went out to eat at a few nice restaurants, you went to a cat cafe where you both discovered your mutual adoration for cats (as well as coffee), he came over to your house, where you cooked him dinner a few times.  You two had not put a label on your...whatever it was you were doing, nor had you slept together yet.  You weren't quite ready for that step, and something told you Shouta wasn't ready yet either.  All you've done so far was kiss, and that was okay with you.  Things were going well.

By getting to know Shouta, you also got to know Eri better, especially on the evenings where you would go to the Heights Alliance campus to visit him.  You sat in on one of his training sessions with her; the patience he demonstrated was very admirable.  You could tell he was a man with a heart of gold with the way he acted towards her.  Eri also seemed genuinely happy to have you around.  At school, she seemed to blossom into a whole new girl.  She became better friends with Hana, and started interacting with other students.

Her artwork at school even became brighter and more colorful over the course of the weeks; no longer were they just shades of purple, green, and black.  Over the course of those few weeks, you also got to meet Izuku Midoriya, who you could tell Eri absolutely adored.  Izuku came with Mirio one day after school to pick Eri up, and you could've sworn two celebrities just walked into the classroom with the way she reacted when she saw them.  You remembered the story Shouta told you about when Eri was rescued; this Izuku and Mirio were her saviors.  You pulled Izuku and Mirio to the side that day saying, "Mr. Aizawa told me her story, and I can't thank you both enough for what you did to save her from that awful fate."  

One Friday evening after work, you had no plans.  You decided to pick up some sashimi from one of your favorite restaurants, and you made your way home to have some you time. You got home, put on your most comfortable pajama set, poured yourself a glass of wine, and sat down in front of your television with your sashimi.  You were flipping through channels, when you came across the news channel with some breaking news.  The League of Villains had teamed up with the Meta Liberation Army, and renamed themselves The Paranormal Liberation Front.  This could not possibly be good.

You texted Shouta telling him to turn on the news.  He just replied, "I'm already watching."  You thought to yourself again how this could not be good.  You had a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach; something bad was going to happen.  You texted Shouta again, "what does this mean?"  He responded back, "I don't know yet, but it can't be good."  For Shouta to say that meant it was a serious matter.  You decided to flip the channel to something a little more mindless, something that didn't make you think.  There was a reality dating show on, so you watched that for the remainder of your evening instead.  

Around 11:00pm, you found yourself starting to get tired.  You had a date with Shouta the following day; you two were going on a picnic at a nearby park for lunch.  So you decided to call it a night and go to bed so you could be nice and refreshed for your date tomorrow.  You did your usual nightly routine of brushing your teeth and washing your face, then made your way to bed.  You were more tired than you realized, and you were pretty much out the moment the head hit the pillow.  Unfortunately, what followed after you fell asleep were a series of lucid nightmares.  

Your first nightmare was your memory of the hospital that Kento was in when he was attacked.  You were standing over his lifeless body in the bed in the hospital room, feeling heartbroken, yet numb.  You knew you were dreaming, so why were you living this moment over again?  You looked around the room to see if you could find a way to wake up, and when you looked down at the bed again, this time it was Shouta's lifeless body laying there.  You still knew you were dreaming, but you clasped your hands over your mouth to stifle yourself from screaming.

Suddenly, you were no longer in the hospital room.  This time, you were at a funeral.  It was set up very much like Kento's funeral, but there was something different about it.  When you looked at the body in the casket, you once again saw Shouta's body laying there.  The people and faces around you were all blurry; Shouta was the only one you could see clearly.  In your nightmare, you were in a never ending loop of being in the hospital room, then at the funeral, then back in the hospital room, then at the funeral again.  And it was always Shouta's body you were seeing.

The nightmare finally ended with you waking up in a cold sweat and hyperventilating.  You had to get up from your bed, go to your bathroom, and splash some cold water on your face.  "It was only a dream," you told yourself.  You looked at your phone; at that point, it was 3:00am.  You went back to bed in an attempt to fall asleep, but you were wide awake at that point.  You tossed and turned for the remainder of the night, thinking about the nightmares you had and what significance they had.  Why were you seeing Shouta's body?

Around 6:30am, you finally got out of bed, giving up on the idea of trying to fall back asleep.  You couldn't help it, but you thought there had to be some sort of significance behind your nightmare.  Shouta was a pro-hero; he would be able to protect himself and those around him.  But at the same time, he wasn't invincible.  You've heard of pro-heroes dying all the time.  At that point, you put on a pot of coffee, sat down on your couch, and pulled out your phone.  You texted Shouta and lied, saying "hey Shouta, I'm not feeling very well today, I'm not going to be able to make our picnic date. I'm sorry."

******

To be continued...

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Tag list: @lili-pond ; @jaguarthecat ; @big-denki-energy ; @ivydoesit23 ; @salientseraph ; @dreamofkaty ; @simp-hub ; @bluebreadenthusiast ; @fuzzyfestcat

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Ken Ryuguji top 10 moments! (Part 1)

10. We'll start this list off with kind and considerate baby Draken helping Emma carry some boxes. He's such a good kid (just ignore him beating those kids up in chapter 0)

9. Him believing Hina about the time leaping and giving her a ride to the fight. Ok maybe bringing Hina to a dangerous fight wasn't the best idea but I'm fairly certain she insisted. But believing her and by extension Takemichi about the time leaping was very important.

8. Draken once again being a kind friend by helping to look after Pochi for Pah, taking him on walks along with Mitsuya.

7. That time he defended Takemichi from Pah and actually suggested listening to what Takemichi was saying.

6. Helping Mikey to build the babu, not only was this important since it gave Takemichi a bike (and us a wholesome moment) but I think this was also really important for Mikey too. Carrying on Shinichiros work might've been part of Mikey's grieving process/ coping mechanism so Draken helping him with that was probably pretty important.

5. Trying to make Mikey let Takemichi leave. Both Draken and Mitsuya noticed how Takemichi wasn't suited for this life and the bad direction they were heading in. Going against Mikey wouldn't have been easy for them here but they still put in the effort for their friend.

4. Being a super considerate partner and checking on Emma while she's pregnant. He really is a big softie!

3. Trying to call off the valhalla fight and reassure Kazutora that they're still friends. I really love this moment, we don't talk about it a lot but I think it shows just how much Draken cares about his friends, he just wanted both Mikey and Kazutora to be safe and tried his best to call the fight off. He also looks especially sad after Kazutora says he hates him.

2. Helping Takemichi get to his final confrontation with Kisaki and fighting off Hanma when he tries to stop them. He was so willing to help that he even carried Takemichi on his back to get him there, he also managed to defeat Hanma which is no easy feat (and he called Hanma a zombie which is just iconic)

1. And no1, grab the tissues cause it's the time he sacrificed himself to save Takemichi. Draken made sure Takemichi lived on but paid his own life as the consequence. It's the fact that he didn't even hesitate too and even had no regrets during his death. He really cared a lot about his friends.

Stay tuned for part 2 at the same time tomorrow (Draken does a lot of good things ok, too many for one list)

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Eyes and Ears

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: An AU where Barbara finds Jason instead of Bruce.

Chapters: 10/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Jim Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character(s), Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Older SIbling Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd-centric, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Jason Todd is NOT Robin, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Has a Crush, Adopted Siblings

Chapter Ten: Helplessness

Jim returned the night before Jason's second therapy session, and Jim was startled by Jason's mumbling in his sleep. Jason sat up in Jim's bed, and they locked eyes in the dark. "Pop?" Jason whispered.

"You don't have to get up if you don't want," Jim whispered, "I—."

"How was your trip?" Jason asked.

Jim's shoulders dropped. "You're too young to hear about this, but it could've gone a lot better," Jim answered, "How was your week with Barbara?"

"It was okay... She took me to the gym, and we watched a movie," Jason answered. Jim smiled and nodded as he gathered his pajamas together. "You don't have to take me tomorrow if you're tired."

"I'm tired, but I'll be fine in the morning... Jason, what were you dreaming about?" Jim questioned.

"Mom... I dreamt about my mom," Jason mumbled as he hugged his knees. "I wasn't there for her. I told her I'd be right back, and when I did—."

"That's not your fault, Jason. Sometimes we desperately want to change things that aren't for us to fix... You didn't fail your mother. The system failed her, and it failed you," Jim's voice softened as he messed up Jason's hair.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" Jason asked, near the point of tears.

"Never let the world forget about people like her. You know where the system failed better than anyone else would... How could we have stepped in? What should the adults of Gotham do to fix things like this?" Jim explained. Jason wiped his tears away. "You didn't create the problem... Neither did your mother, but you can help us come up with solutions."

"She was a good mom," Jason whispered as if he were trying to convince Jim. "She loved me and—."

"Any woman that could raise a boy like you is a good mother in my book," Jim interrupted. Jason smiled a little. "Do you wanna talk about this in therapy tomorrow?"

"Who?" Jason asked.

"Your parents. I'm sort of the fourth parent you've had so far, and you've gotta have thoughts about that," Jim clarified. Jason lay back down and nodded.

After Jim took his shower, he went to bed, and Jason lay fast asleep. Jim didn't sleep that night. He thought about the little boy he couldn't save. It occupied his mind in a way that he just couldn't escape.

Morning came, and Jason dragged himself out of bed and got dressed. He knocked on Barbara's door. "Barbara," Jason whispered. She opened her door and messed up Jason's hair. "Pop's home," Jason whispered.

"Oh, I know. You look cute," Barbara complimented him.

"Is that code for go change?" Jason asked. Barbara shook her head.

"You look fine... Don't be nervous," Barbara whispered. Jason relaxed his shoulders. "Dad's gonna drop you at the library after, and if you want, we can go to the gym after dinner," Barbara suggested. Jason nodded.

Jim poked his head out of his room. "Jason-. Oh, you look nice," Jim smiled, "Can you put two bagels in the toaster? I'll be right out once I can find my socks."

Jason obeyed, and Barbara made Jason a cup of cocoa. "Thank you... Hey, Barbara," Jason leaned in to whisper. She leaned forward to listen. "I—." Jason didn't say anything else. He couldn't tell her. Not yet.

The bagels popped up from the toaster, startling Jason, and Barbara smeared a generous amount of cream cheese on each half. Jason took a bite, and Jim came out of his room. They took their breakfast on the way out the door, and it wasn't until Jason got to the waiting room that he started feeling nervous.

"Pop?" Jason nudged Jim. "Promise you'll be here the whole time?"

"I promised you, so I'll be here. Okay?" Jim reassured. Jason nodded.

The therapist came out and called their names, and they went in together and did a little small talk. She had a sunny disposition that Jason was drawn to, but she was a therapist. Jason was so afraid of saying the wrong thing to her.

After the greetings and niceties, she eased into talking about Jason's parents. "Do you have nightmares about your parents often?" she asked.

"A lot of the time," Jason answered, "More about my dad than my mom." He waited for his therapist or Jim to say something, but there was only silence. "I'm always hiding from him in my dreams, and I can never get away from him. Sometimes he'll lock me in the dark or a small space, and I'll wake up," Jason whispered.

"Was that similar to things your father might have done in real life?" she asked. Jason nodded. "How did it feel for you at the time?"

"I knew he would find me and that he would hurt me," Jason mumbled.

"I imagine that was a frightening experience for you," she replied.

"I guess... But it wasn't what he did to me... It was how he used to hurt my mom. Sometimes, I could hear her crying when she thought I was asleep, and I couldn't do anything to help her," Jason whispered. She didn't speak, and Jason took a deep breath. "You want to know how I felt when stuff like that happened?" She nodded. "I don't even know. I used to be so sad and angry, and I wanted to fix things... How can you feel when you're helpless? How can you be happy when there's nothing to be happy about, Alisa?"

Jim held back from trying to comfort Jason right away. "There was nothing for you to feel happy about back then... Do you feel any differently now, or is that your current perspective?" asked Alisa. She glanced up at the clock and then looked back at Jason, tilting her head sympathetically. It would've felt artificial coming from most people, but coming from her, it felt like she really cared about his answer. It made him want to respond thoughtfully rather than brush off her question entirely.

"I used to think I would be happy if things were different, but now that I've got a dad that I love and an older sister that I'm close to... But—." Jason stopped talking and looked at Alisa and then at Jim.

"Do you feel like something's missing?" she asked.

"Well, no. I just feel like something might happen, and I might end up alone again... And I could've been okay with being by myself before. I could've. But I'm not okay with it now, because I love Pop and Barbara... Barbara and Pop are all the family I've got," Jason explained. Jim rested a hand on the back of Jason's head.

"I love you too," Jim whispered.

Jason relaxed into his thoughts, and as the session came to a close, Alisa left Jason with a question. "Jason, what do you think you can do to deal with these fears and anxieties as they come along? I want you to think about that," Alisa suggested in a soft voice.

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (14/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.9k

Family dinner and fretting about reputations #JustNightCourtThings

Read on AO3 or you can find the fourteenth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11 - she underestimated just who she was stealing from | ch. 12 - no amount of freedom gets you clean | ch. 13 - stay stay stay | ch. 14 - call it what you want to

A pair of strong arms wrapped around my middle and lifted me up off the floor. "The Middengard fucking Wyrm!" Cassian was saying, but his voice suddenly seemed oddly distant. He was pulling me into a hug, but I let out a panicked cry. His hands, my feet leaving the floor—it felt too much like the the Attor scooping me me up by the armpits before it dropped me in that trench.

Just like with Andras, I realized, I hadn't known the Wyrm's name until after I killed it.

It wasn't the same; Andras hadn't been about to eat me. I took a breath and reminded myself that it was all over and that I was safe. We were in the dining room of the townhouse. The rest of the Inner Circle had arrived for dinner. I was fine.

Cassian set me down gently, looking horrorstruck, and said, "I'm sorry, Feyre. I thought you knew I was there."

A low growl escaped Rhys, and tendrils of darkness made the lights go dim. Cauldron boil and fry me, my momentary panic must have crossed the bond. That protective instinct was back—I could see it in the tense set of his shoulders. I gave him a pointed look, even as I said to Cassian, "It's fine."

For good measure, I added down the bond, Do not start a fight over an accident.

Despite the darkness fading, I could feel Mor, Azriel, and Amren watching us very carefully. Perhaps all bets were off when it came to mated males, even ones who were deconditioned and recovering.

Cassian just grinned and said, "Save it for the training ring tomorrow, Rhysie. I promise I won't beat you too badly in front of Feyre."

It took me a moment to process the fact that he'd just called the Lord of Nightmares Rhysie. That was the sort of thing you only called someone if you'd known them as a child, and it was easy to forget that Rhys had been a boy once. Sometimes it seemed he'd just appeared out of the ether fully formed, pristine black tunic and all.

Rhys turned to me, eyes bright as if he were pleasantly surprised. "You're training tomorrow?"

Cassian breezing by Rhys's grip on his power loosening had made the threat of a fight feel distant. It seemed best to follow his lead. Keeping my voice carefully light, I said, "I think after what we just went through, anyone would want to get outside and hit things for a bit."

"And you'll hit things later," Mor said as she pointedly took a seat. "I want to get this meeting over with so we can eat."

The rest of us followed suit, sitting down around the table. No more chatter, just business. I hadn't known a dining room could feel so much like a war room.

"Domestic affairs first," Rhys said with an air of authority I'd never heard from him.

"Illyria's a mess," Cassian said, face darkening. "We knew it would be bad, but it's backslid worse than we thought. Wing-clipping is rampant, the camp-lords have been ignoring laws Rhys put into place centuries ago, and they don't seem worried about the repercussions now that he's back. I hadn't thought so many of them would side with Amarantha."

And I hadn't thought any of them would side with Amarantha. After bearing the brunt of her cruelty, I couldn't imagine why anyone would. There had to be information I was missing because no one else at the table seemed surprised, just frustrated.

Rhys asked for specifics, and there were too many unfamiliar names for me to follow the conversation after that. I just listened, fascinated by this side of Rhys I hadn't seen yet. I'd watched him intimidate and frighten with just scraps of power Under the Mountain but then, he'd been subservient to Amarantha. Even exhausted and healing, Rhys wore the mantle of authority well, the way only someone who'd done it for centuries could.

For once, it wasn't a mask or a thin veneer of faked confidence. This was just what it meant to be a High Lord.

He turned his attention to Mor next and said, "And what of the Hewn City?"

When she spoke, Mor's voice was colder than I'd ever heard it. She must have had her own reunion with her family today, and though I didn't know much about their relationship, the vague mentions had been enough to tell me it was a painful topic. I knew better than to press for details.

"Keir spent the last fifty years with his tail between his legs. After that bloodbath of a party, he's been too afraid to cross anyone. I can bring them back in line myself," she said.

"Good," Rhys said, then looked to Amren. "And Velaris?"

"Economically, a bit worse for wear with the borders being closed for so long, but nothing we can't overcome. Otherwise, just the same as you left it," Amren said. The silver of her eyes swirled with something I couldn't quite name. "Whatever you did Under the Mountain kept this city safe, Rhysand."

Amren knew exactly what he'd sacrificed. They all did.

There was no change in Rhys's expression, but his throat bobbed. The relief I felt on his side the bond was enough to make my breath catch. "I got through it because I knew that Velaris was in good hands. Thank you, Amren," he said, voice thick.

Rhys's eyes flicked to me, then over to Azriel as he said, all smooth polish again, "And the rest of Prythian?"

Amren, Mor, Cassian, and Azriel shared a look, and I had the sneaking suspicion that the four of them had discussed this before coming here. I wasn't sure how I felt about being something to be handled.

"There's widespread curiosity about Feyre," Azriel said slowly, tucking his wings in tight, "and concern about what the Night Court might be doing to Prythian's savior. Rumors are flying that we've killed or kidnapped her. The other courts are in shambles, and they've been too distracted by that to push very hard for answers at the moment."

I hadn't thought much about the state of the other courts, but if they were dealing with anything like the blight on the Spring Court, then it made sense that they'd be more concerned with rebuilding. The magnitude of devastation Amarantha had left…Prythian had to be a shadow of its former self.

Mor added, a bit uncertain, "The longer we wait, the more suspicious it looks, but how much to share isn't our decision to make."

Rhys and I locked eyes for a moment as we considered that. I didn't want to give anyone answers just because they demanded them, especially when there was so much I was unsure of—my potential bargain with the Night Court, being Made immortal, and most of all, where Rhys and I stood with so much recovering left to do. I felt the strangest urge to snarl at invisible enemies and tell them to back off.

We kept our thoughts to ourselves for a long silence, then at the same time, we both blurted out, "Keep the bond a secret for now."

I couldn't help a small smile at the sound of us speaking in unison again, and a sidelong glance at Rhys told me his expression mirrored my own. We were co-conspirators again. Even with four other people at the table, I knew his smile was for me only. I let the warm feeling it gave me drift across the bond.

Cassian's eyes darted back and forth between me and Rhys. "Mother's tits, are you two always like this together?" he said.

"Like what?" I said, unsure what he was getting at.

"Like you're both in on a secret."

Perhaps it was because we were. And had been almost since the moment we met. Rhys looked smug and started to say something, but Amren cut him off, even as she said shot a glare at Cassian that would have sent almost anyone else running. "Focus, boy," she said, the sharpness in her voice making me flinch. Cassian didn't look bothered in the slightest. "There's still more to discuss."

I caught sight of Mor pressing her lips together to hide a smile before she said, "If we're not revealing the truth, what are we telling everyone instead?"

I had absolutely no idea, but Rhys's eyes glittered in that way that told me he had a plan in mind. "That Feyre is the Night Court's human emissary, which will be the truth. Spin a lie about the Suriel telling her about the curse and Night's strained relationship with Spring. We'll say she sought out her kidnapper's enemy for assistance on Calanmai, and I offered her a job. She went Under the Mountain on my orders. Thoughts?"

The question had been directed to the room as a whole, but five sets of eyes fell on me as I weighed that option. It was just as neat and tidy as I'd come to expect from Rhys, something that wrapped up loose ends while buying time to get our feet under us. I was almost inclined to agree to it. Almost.

"No one will believe you made an uneducated nineteen year-old huntress your emissary," I said. Beyond simply being human, I wasn't the sort of person who could represent a court and be taken seriously.

"The only common thread in the rumors is that every single person who reunited with loved ones last night knows that you made it happen, Feyre," Azriel said. "Having so many powerful faeries feeling indebted to you is an incredible amount of soft power. No High Lord in their right mind would let that slip away."

I'd gone Under the Mountain with such a single-minded focus on Rhys that I hadn't thought about it that way. But I saw the truth in Azriel's words. I still felt like a burden, but perhaps….I was an asset, too. The thought made me feel just a bit better.

But there was still another aspect of the plan that gave me pause. Afraid to voice it aloud, I glanced at Rhys and said down the bond, They'll all conclude I'm fucking my boss, won't they?

He went absolutely still again, in that way that only High Fae could. Even to me, his expression was unreadable. I don't see a way around it. If that bothers you, we can come up with something different. Your choice. Always.

I really didn't want to be having this conversation now of all times, but Mor had been right that we needed to address the rumors sooner rather than later. From the way everyone else seemed to be shifting uncomfortably and pointedly not looking at us, I could tell they knew we were discussing something mind-to-mind. I pushed ahead. Will it be the truth?

Do you want it to be?

With our shields down to speak to each other, I let him feel my irritation that he'd answered my question with a question. Perhaps it was unfair of me, but I did the same to him. Do you?

His response didn't come in words, just a wave of want and longing strong enough to steal my breath, lust threaded with hope and a sweet sort of surrender. By the Cauldron, I hadn't expected that when a simple yes or no would do.

I crossed and un-crossed my legs. Rhys looked pleased with himself. Glad we're in agreement, then, I said, my voice a bit weak even in my mind.

"Whatever you two are thinking at each other had better be relevant to the discussion at hand. We're trying to wrap this meeting up so we can eat," Mor complained, though there was no real rancor behind it. She was suppressing a smile again.

If I wasn't mistaken, she was happy for us. I didn't quite know what to make of it.

But I had all the answers I needed to make a decision, so I said, "It's the best plan we have. I'll take the emissary position." Cauldron, it wasn't until the words were out of my mouth that I realized I'd never had a proper job before. I'd brought in money hunting, but that wasn't quite the same. It was a strange thought.

"Perfect," Rhys purred. "A bank account will be opened for you, Feyre, and I'll ensure you get backpay dated to Calanmai. We won't be caught in a lie by a simple accounting error."

I understood what he was trying to do, even if he didn't say it—money of my own would give me a measure of independence. And I understood the other concern, too; there would be so much interest in me that a curious government official might go digging in the budget ledgers for information. I wasn't sure if it was likely to happen, or just Rhys being exceedingly thorough.

"Thank you," I said, voice even despite my worry. "Then I suppose the next step is making it clear that I'm alive?"

"It's not urgent now that we have a cover story. I'll answer the correspondence from other courts, and if Feyre's spotted in public once or twice, that should take care of the worst of it," Mor said.

That was something else I hadn't considered—I was recognizable now. One glance at my rounded ears, and anyone in Prythian would know exactly who I was. A knot of dread formed in my stomach at the thought of attracting attention.

And then that anxiety was replaced by a new, worse thought. "Have you heard from the Spring Court?" I said. Tamlin had kidnapped me once—perhaps he'd decide to drag me back again. Or worse, if he thought I'd made a fool of him after revealing the ruse, he might want to kill me for it. Wounded pride could be dangerous.

Amren snorted. "Tamlin's a fool, but not a big enough one to waste his time writing a letter that will just be thrown into the fire," she said. I wasn't quite sure what she meant, but there was something satisfying about the way she spit his name like a curse. Rhys must have caught my reaction either on my face or through the bond—the corner of his mouth quirked up as he glanced at me again.

"Diplomatic relations between Night and Spring haven't been normalized since Rhys became High Lord. They don't talk to us, and we don't talk to them," Mor said.

That made perfect sense. Before I could say anything else about it, Azriel added, "I have spies there gathering information now."

There wasn't much else to discuss after that. Rhys asked for more updates, but the four of them reassured him there was nothing that couldn't wait until tomorrow. I'd known, of course, that Rhys and his Inner Circle worked as a team—running the Night Court was far too complex a job for one person. But there was still something so foreign to me about watching them take on additional work to give Rhys a chance to recover, without him even having to ask.

No one had ever done that for me during those years of hunting in the woods. Rhys had done it Under the Mountain, but the mating bond made everything different for us. Even after the weeks I'd spent in the Night Court, I hadn't considered that this was just…how they treated each other.

There was another palpable change in the air once business was done, as if everything had gotten lighter. Mor smiled as she waved a hand and food appeared on the table. "We got your favorites from Sevenda's," she said to Rhys. Her smile dimmed for just a second as she looked to me next and added with a note of hesitation, "I would have gotten yours too, Feyre, if I knew what they were. But as far as I can tell, you'll eat anything."

A sympathetic look from Cassian told me he knew exactly why I'd eat whatever was put in front of me—we'd never spoken about it, but I suspected he was the only other one here who'd had the misfortune of eating deer tripe. And besides, faerie food was far more flavorful than anything in the mortal lands. I couldn't imagine disliking any of it.

"It's fine," I said, sincerely meaning it. Even in Spring, I hadn't given much thought to preferences like that. "There's soup, which is all I would have asked for anyway."

Under the table, Rhys's fingers brushed mine in silent understanding. The soup was one more thing that was just ours, even among friends.

At first, I was just focused on my food, but eventually I noticed that the uneasy atmosphere hadn't disappeared completely, even with work finished for the day. I was no stranger to the Inner Circle being less than harmonious—after all, Amren had come to dinners at the House of Wind merely to bicker because she didn't eat—but there was a brittle, forced quality to some smiles and laughter. Conversation normally flowed between them with an ease that had developed over centuries, but that night it was stilted as we avoided mention of the recent ordeal we'd just gone through. And I was all too aware of watchful, worried eyes on Rhys and me.

They all needed to clear the air. But no one wanted to do it in front of me.

At the very least, though, the food made the awkwardness worth it. Even for faerie food, it was uncommonly rich and well-spiced, yet it warmed me the way a simple home-cooked meal would. This morning, I'd been too ravenous to taste anything, just concerned with quelling the hunger gnawing at me. But now I was able to curb that instinct enough to take my time and enjoy the meal.

In truth, it wasn't all that different from dinners with them before I'd gone Under the Mountain, when we'd carefully talked around the shadow of Rhys's absence. I'd realized I was comfortable in the Night Court then. And now, I was glad to be here, as imperfect as things still were.

Though no one was tactless enough to say it aloud, tomorrow would be another long day with an early start, and they needed rest, too. No one lingered. As soon as Rhys and I were alone again, his wings drooped, muscles tired from the effort of just holding them up for the past couple of hours. I felt the same—not drowsy, but utterly lacking in energy. Dinner had taken something out of us both, and even with some sleep, we were still battling an exhaustion that had burrowed in deep and made itself at home now that we were no longer constantly looking over our shoulders for threats.

"I need air. Come to the roof with me?" Rhys said.

"Only if we winnow," I said. I didn't want to so much as look at a staircase for a while.

He took my hand without another word, and we were up there in seconds. I'd needed to see the sky, too, and hadn't realized it until I took a deep breath of salt-tinged night air. The townhouse dining room wasn't exactly small, but it was windowless.

Rhys sat without dropping my hand. I glanced at the other chair, the bond tightening in my chest at the thought of sitting next to him with several inches between us. Ridiculous as it was, the feral part of me ruled by the mating bond railed at anything less than touching in as many places as possible, consequences or current company be damned.

Even with my shields up, Rhys knew what I was thinking. His eyes might have been dull with fatigue, but his lips twisted into a smirk as he spread his legs in invitation. "What kind of mate would I be if I didn't offer you the most comfortable seat in the house?" he purred.

Under the Mountain, I'd thought the flirting was nothing more than a desperate attempt to claw back a sense of normalcy, a strategy to keep us both from breaking. Perhaps that wasn't exactly false, but I was beginning to suspect that Rhys really was just that shameless about it all the time.

"Comfortable because it's soft?" I said drily, even as I let him tug my hand and pull me into his lap. For once, I wasn't doing it because I was pretending to be a plaything, merely sitting on him because we both wanted to be close. He wrapped both arms around me, leaning forward so his chest rested against my back.

"Soft for you? Never," he whispered, breath warm on my ear.

I smiled and flicked his nose. He laughed—the first time I'd heard it since returning to the Night Court—and nuzzled his face against the place where my neck met my jaw. It was so quick I nearly missed it, but for a moment, a spark of happiness lit up the bond, new and unfamiliar. Until then, I hadn't believed we could ever be anything more than just fine.

Rhys's cheek brushed mine as he tipped his head back to look up at the sky. Even with the city lights shining brightly, I'd never seen more stars in the sky. More of the Night Court's magic, I supposed, making sure they weren't washed out.

After a moment, he said softly, "Part of why I bought this house in particular was the view. Out of all the constellations, I kept finding myself drawn to the hunter."

The townhouse faced due north, keeping the Arrowhead—the star I'd followed here—right in front of it every night. And along with it, the group of stars that looked like a hunter holding a bow.

A memory flashed in my mind, the image of the dresser I'd painted back in the cottage. Flowers on Elain's drawer, flames on Nesta's, and the night sky on mine. At the time, I hadn't thought much about the position of the stars I'd painted. But they'd formed that constellation, too.

"I painted it. Back in the cottage, on a dresser drawer to mark it as mine. We were looking for each other, weren't we?" I whispered, though the thread I felt tied to my ribs made the answer obvious.

"Five hundred years of feeling like I was searching for something but having no idea what, only for you to track me down on Calanmai with the efficiency of a bloodhound."

The comparison to a dog would have made me scowl if it weren't for the obvious admiration in his voice. Yet again, I found myself wondering just how bad things would have gotten if we hadn't found each other so quickly. But I pushed that thought aside, unwilling to dwell on it tonight.

"You're not exactly inconspicuous."

"And here I thought you were going to tell me it's because I'm irresistible."

I double-checked that my shields were up—he was incredibly alluring, but I'd never hear the end of it if I admitted it aloud. Besides, it was overwhelming to think about just how completely he drew me in. He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, and I wordlessly tipped my head to the side, sweeping my hair off my neck and baring it to him. I let my eyes flutter shut as he dragged his lips from my jaw to my collarbone.

If we hadn't both been so raw and exhausted, I would have begged for more. There would be time for that later. Rhys and I were all open gashes, and that night was the first stitch that began to close them enough to heal.

[lumpyrock]

36 Questions to fall in love (well, maybe more than that) Chapter 6

(Last time I had someone DM me searching for the rest of it, so here's the AO3 link. Consider dropping a kudos!)

“What did you just say?” They must have been silent for at least a minute before that. Neither was even sure the other was breathing.

“I-- you--”

“I know what you said, why?”

“Because I like you?”

Luigi clutched his chest. “No, that's not true, it can't be.” He stood.

“It is, I've just been hiding it.”

“How long have you been hiding it, though? Have I become the new Peach? Am I just a replacement?!” Luigi backed away.

“It's not like that, I feel like I can talk to you more than I ever did her!”

“Oh, but it is like that! You don't like me for me, you like me cause I'm new!” He reached his foot back and took another step.

“But--”

“Save it! I didn't even want to come back here! I can't believe I wanted to spend time with you!” Another step back.

“Please, I don't want you to be her!”

“Then why--!” Luigi stepped off the desk. Bowser grabbed his waist before he could hit the ground.

“Don't die!” Bowser said, panic shaken.

Luigi looked to the stone floor, only a foot below him. He looked back up at Bowser. “I wasn't trying to.”

“I didn't say don't try to, I said don't!”

“Okay then, I won't!”

Bowser pulled him back up onto the desk, though he didn’t let go of Luigi’s waist yet. “Promise you won’t fall off the desk again?”

“Promise.” 

Bowser let go of his waist, sighing. “It’s not like that. I know you and her are different, and I like you in different ways,” he explained. “And I’m keeping my promise! I’m not going to kidnap you, any more than I already have.”

“I can’t leave though, can I?” Luigi asked.

Bowser paused. “That depends. Do you want to leave?” Bowser silently prayed it wasn’t the case.

Luigi's face flushed. He looked away. “Guess what I wanted the bag for?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I was going to escape with my bag, but I didn't want you to suspect me so I decided to continue on with the questions.”

“How were you going to escape? Either my guards or I would've found you.” Bowser asked, suppressing a laugh.

“Well…” Luigi paused, gears turning in his head. “I didn't think that far into the plan.”

Bowser laughed into his hand. He was too tired for this. “Don’t worry, if I caught you, I’d just ask you the same questions I already did.”

Luigi smiled, though it wasn't as genuine as some of his others had been. “You say that, but I have a feeling we'd have another breaking-in-through-my-window moment.”

“What can I say? I've been really bad at keeping promises.”

“It's fine, I mean, I wanted to be all independent and stuff, but I guess I can wait for Mario.”

“You were the one who wanted to come with me!”

“Yeah, but, I was tired, not thinking straight aside from, ‘huh, big guy suddenly wants to leave after wanting to stay forever? Well, might as well go with him!’”

“That seems an awful lot like wanting to come with me. You did cling to me like there was no tomorrow.”

“Yeah, to get you to stop! You're too strong, you would've shaken me off!”

“I think you like me back.” Bowser raised his eyebrows. He quickly remembered that Luigi almost fell to his death about the whole liking him thing. “Don't say anything. I know that was weird.”

Luigi nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

“I guess I'm tired as well. I haven't slept since 8, maybe, yesterday.”

“Oh poor you, it's not like you were kidnapped twice in the span of 24 hours!”

“You got to just be carried around, guess who was doing all the carrying?” 

“Guess who was thrashing around?”

“You slept the whole way here!”

“Not the first time!”

“Over 10 hours ago! I need sleep, and you are still a prisoner, by technicality.”

♡☆♡☆♡

Luigi walked next to Bowser as wind started to pick up outside the castle. It was a short walk to Bowser’s bedroom. Guess you don’t want to walk 10 minutes to get to where you spend a lot of your time. Bowser opened his door, gesturing for Luigi to enter. Luigi quickly did.

The room was nice, not royal nice, but still nice. There was a balcony where the red of the early morning sun could be seen, though it was mostly covered by clouds. Of course the bed was huge, and had the same sort of canopy that Luigi’s had. 

Bowser walked over to the balcony, opening the doors. “It’ll be nice to get some fresh air,” He explained. He walked back over to the plumber and stood over him, as if expecting something. Finally, Bowser sat on the floor, gesturing towards the bed. "Go ahead."

"What?! No. You are literal royalty, you go ahead!"

"I sleep in that bed every night, you go ahead."

"The floor is fine, really, you have a nice rug..." Luigi said, sitting down as well.

"You are the guest here, sleep in the bed!"

"You are the king here, you sleep in the bed!"

"I don't want special treatment!"

"Neither do I!"

Bowser sighed. "Well you're not going to sleep next to me, so one of us has to go up on the bed."

Luigi laid on the floor. "I'm not going up there."

"Well I think we've made it pretty clear that I'm not going up either!"

"I'm already comfortable."

Bowser frowned. He thought for a moment, before laying down as well. "Fine then. Be that way."

"See if I care." Luigi turned away. He didn't close his eyes yet, no, he didn't trust Bowser that much. Before even five minutes of him staring at the wall was over, he could hear a soft rumbling behind him. He rolled over, seeing Bowser curled up in a ball. 

As Bowser's chest would fall, the rumble would become more prominent. There was that little part of him, very little, that wanted to curl up next to him. Bowser wasn't being a mean tyrant, he was just sleeping. He almost looked...  cute.

Holy crap, Luigi had Stockholm.

After a lifetime of fighting and more fighting, he was falling hard and fast. Maybe this had been going on for a while, and he just didn't realize. Whatever the reason, he was here now and for the foreseeable future. He rolled onto his back, covering his eyes. Maybe if he just stared into the abyss, he'd forget about these questions, and he'd forget about Bowser.

Maybe, he wouldn't get his heart broken if he locked it away. Maybe if he made it through the night, he'd never have to see Bowser's face again. He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Tears welled up in his eyes, remembering every time Bowser had wrecked his life. Every time he was pulled further from the life he had dreamed of.

Tears fell silently to the floor as lightning flashed outside. Thunder followed a second later. Mario would hate him, Peach would hate him, the entire Mushroom Kingdom would hate him! Tomorrow he'd leave, tomorrow everyone would hate him, tomorrow he wouldn't be crying, but tonight he had one person who cared. 

He wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to control his breathing. He just wanted to be home, he wanted everything to go back to normal. A warm hand was placed over his. He looked over to Bowser with bloodshot eyes. Bowser looked back with the softest expression possible.

Luigi nudged closer to him. Not a word was spoken. Bowser wrapped his arms around Luigi. Their breathing was in cink as they both drifted off to sleep.

[lockes-woods]

Stuck Chapter 23: Part 1

A/N: Sober Himiko begins to deal with Drunk Himiko's mess. This chapter is broken into two parts because the first part is already 500 words over my normal word cap per chapter. I'm hoping to finish the second part tomorrow morning before I go to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Himiko took a deep breath before splashing some cold water on her face, hoping it would help with the puffiness. She had just finished scrubbing off her makeup from the night before with the hottest water she could stand. The aspirin she had taken after initially waking up was finally kicking in. This was her first hangover in a while, and she was definitely feeling it. She rarely drank to excess like this. Both her parents were/are alcoholics. She was acutely aware of the slippery slope of the addiction. Himiko limited herself to only drinking in social situations, and even then, she would rarely drink to excess.

Out of all the decisions she made the night before she was most grateful that she had packed a spare set of clothing. She would be in tears if she had to go all the way uptown in her outfit from the night before. Even though she didn’t sleep with anyone it would definitely feel like a walk of shame.  Himiko patted her face dry before finally acknowledging her phone.

She perched herself on the edge of the bathtub in Vivi’s guest bathroom and opened her messenger app. It took all her nerve to click on the DILFs group chat. A groan escaped her as she took in the amount of messages she had exchanged with Mihawk and Shanks. To her dismay, she had primarily communicated to them through audio messages. The few texts she did send were illegible. If she wanted to get a full picture of what happened the night before she was going to have to listen to the audio messages, she had no memory of recording. As she debated whether she wanted to relive what had to be cumulatively five minutes of her drunk rambling she began to faintly hear movement in the living room. If she wanted any privacy, she was going to have to rip off the band-aid and do it now.

She scrolled to the beginning of the night before text conversation that started at 2:13 am. The first few texts she sent were gibberish, to which Shanks had only replied with a question mark. Then came the wall of audio messages. She held her breath as she clicked on the first recording. She was met with around 10 seconds of silence before the audio picked up.

“Oh, shit that’s how you do it. Okay. Okay. Can we please talk about how pretty Mihawk is? Like have you seeeen him? He’s sooo pretty. Like Adonis level shit. HE ALSO SAVES LIVE. Like beauty and brains. He’s like the whole package. On top of that, he’s got a great ass. Like 1,000% would peg. Only if he’s down tho. I 10,000% get why you wanted to lock that shit down.”  Himiko was met with silence again for around 20 seconds before the audio picked up again, “He’s also great with his hands. Like on every level. They’re lowkey, my favorite necklace.  10/10 would wear again. But, like anyway why is he allowed to leave the house? I wanna keep him just for us. He’s just too beautiful for this world. I don’t get why you wanna share him, but I’m gratefu-” The audio abruptly ended. Shanks responded with a laughing crying emoji and liked her audio message.

Himiko tilted her head back her head and let out a groan. While it wasn’t that bad, she could still feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up her spine. There was no doubt in her mind that Shanks would never let her live this down. She took another deep breath before scrolling down to the next audio message and hit play.

“But like that’s like not to say you aren’t equally as handsome Daddy. You’re more beautiful in a natural land formation kinda way. Like the grand canyon or like the arches national park. You’re like reeeally nice to look at. Especially when I wake up before you and your face is the first thing I see. Mihawk’s ass might be better, but you got great thighs; I’m always down for a ride.”

Shank had also liked this message. Himiko wanted to scream into the void. It was news to her that drunk Himiko was equal parts horny and sentimental. If her predisposition to alcoholism wasn’t enough to keep her from excessive drinking this new information certainly would. There were two more audio messages left. Himiko felt defeated as she clicked on the second last one. She tried to convince herself that it couldn’t get any more embarrassing. She was relieved to find out that this message was essentially a butt dial, you could barely make out anything that was happening from the background noise. The only audible words were from someone, who sounded like Luffy, shouting about waffles. The next text was from Mihawk around 4:45 am. He must have sent it when he woke up for work.

Mihawk: Please text us when you get back to Vivi’s so we know you’re safe.

  Himiko:🫡 YEs SiR

Someone knocked on the door before Himiko was able to click on the last audio message.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” She called out as she pressed on the last audio message.

Back at Vivi’s Night!

Himiko could hear screaming faintly in the background before the audio picked up again.

NO, Luffy those are fake fruit, don’t swallow that!

There was another short break before the last bit came through.

Get fucked pancakes will always be supreme. No, you have no defense. Your opinion is trash.

That was the last communication she had with the DILFS outside of Shanks’s two missed calls.

“Himiko, please, I gotta pee!” She heard Luffy shout as she stood up and opened the door. He barged past her. She rushed out the second she heard his zipper and shut the door behind her. She walked back to the living room and was met with the sight of Zoro and Sanji now spooning on the sectional (Zoro was the little spoon). Usopp was passed out on the other side of the large couch. Her nose led her to the kitchen where Nami and Vivi were each nursing a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” She greeted pouring herself a cup of black coffee. Vivi groaned in response, laying her forehead against the table. Nami was gently rubbing up and down her spine.

“Morning, or I guess afternoon.” Nami greeted back.

“Wait, what time is it?” Himiko asked looking at the microwave clock, it was quarter to 1.

“Shit, I gotta call Shanks, I was supposed to be uptown an hour ago,” Himiko said slipping on her coat and heading out onto Vivi’s balcony. Her breath became visible as she closed the sliding door behind her. She placed her mug on the table before calling Shanks. It only rang twice before he picked up.

“Hey, Sunshine, how are you feeling?” His deep voice filtered through the phone, still husky from sleep.

“I’m okay, my head still hurts a bit but other than that I’m feeling fine.” Himiko replied, “Sorry, I’m not in uptown yet, I just woke up.”

“Don’t worry about that. I was pretty sure that you’d be running late today; it looked like you didn’t get back until 5 am.” He responded, “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, it was really fun to be able to spend time with all my friends. It’s sometimes hard to get us all together with all of our schedules.” Himiko said, a smile clear in her voice. Shanks let out another yawn before responding.

“That’s good to hear,” he said, another yawn escaping him.

“You, okay?” Himiko asked.

“Yeah, no I’m just tired. I was up late tying up some loose ends so that I wouldn’t have to worry about them on vacation.” He responded.

“Do you want me to pick up some coffee on my way up?” She asked.

“Only if you want to; I can survive without it.” He replied.

“Okay, I have to pass the coffee shop I work at on my way to the subway anyway. I’m gonna head out now, so I’ll probably be there within a half hour.” She said, “Bye”

“Bye, love,” he replied hanging up. Himiko picked up her coffee before heading back into the apartment. She was met with the sight of a Zoro sitting with his head in his hands. She was about to ask where Sanji was before she heard the faint sound of someone vomiting in the direction of the guest bathroom.

“Here,” she said passing Zoro her coffee.

“Thanks,” he mumbled keeping his head bowed as he took a sip. Himiko slung her bag over her shoulder and picked up Ace’s hat before poking her head into the kitchen.

“I’m heading out,” she said to Nami, her voice just above a whisper. She nodded, got up, and gave Himiko a brief hug.

“Be safe, love you” Nami said, pulling back.

“I will, love you too bye,” Himiko responded, before turning to the living room and giving those who were awake a wave goodbye. She then made her way down to the street and headed east towards the subway. She stopped briefly at the coffee shop to grab her, and Shanks’s drinks where she was forced to put Ace’s hat on to be able to carry the drinks. She was going to attempt to carry it all but decided against it. She knew the hat was expensive and didn’t want to potentially stain it. Once she was on the subway, she grabbed a seat and pulled out her phone. She clicked on the DM request Ace had sent her.

Ace: Hey, I’m sorry if I overstepped last night.

Himiko: TBH I don’t remember most of last night.

Himiko squinted down at her phone and tried to rack her brain of any interaction she had with him the night before. She remembered standing in line with him, and maybe vaguely playing pool with him, but that was it.

Himiko: I think I might have stolen your hat tho

Himiko: I’m free tonight if you want to meet somewhere to pick it up

Himiko immediately got a text back.

Ace: Okay, I live in center city if you want to meet up at the hospital’s garden.

Himiko: Sure, I’ll be heading downtown to meet up with Sanji at 6

Himiko: Would it be okay if we met up around 5:30?

Ace: That’s perfect. See you then.

Himiko slid her phone back into her bag as the train pulled into her stop. It was a short walk to their apartment from the subway. Himiko didn’t know why but she had an underlying feeling of anxiety. She wasn’t sure if it was the gala the next day or the fact that the trip was finally here, but something felt off. She found herself at the entrance of the apartment complex before she was able to further examine the feeling. She scanned in and made her way up to the 12th floor. She tried to push the negative feelings down to deal with later. She and Shanks only had 4 hours to pack before she had to head back downtown to try on the dress that Sanji had made for her. She had been his model for his final assignment. His final was based on something found in nature. He had made a white ballgown inspired by clouds. It was a happy accident that the colors for the gala were white and red based on the hospital’s logo.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of their door. Shanks opened the door as she was digging around for the key.  

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling up at him. He didn’t respond as he stared down at her; eyes glued to the hat on her head with a serious look on his face.

“Shanks?” she said, pulling him out of his daze.

“Hey,” he responded gruffly, moving to the side so that she could enter the apartment. Himiko slipped off her shoes before she cautiously walked past him put down the drinks on the island and hang up the cowboy hat on one of the pegs next to the door.

“What’s with the hat?” he asked, perched on the back of the couch facing her. He looked annoyed. Himiko had never seen him like this. He had a cute wrinkle between his brows, but she bit her tongue to keep herself from commenting on it.

“Oh, it’s one of Luffy’s poly sci friends. I somehow ended up with it last night. I’m returning it on my way downtown.” She said leaning against the island across from him.

“You have no idea how you got it?” he asked looking down at her, a serious look still present on his face.

“No,” she said shaking her head, “I don’t remember most of last night. I think I may have beaten him in pool for it, but I’m not positive. The only clear memories I have of last night are dancing with Vivi and Nami.”

Shanks’s gaze softened at her omission.

“So, you have no recollection of being around him?” he asked.

“No, I think he might have left early with Luffy’s other friend” she replied.

“And you have no memory of kissing him?” he asked.

“What, no,” Himiko answered confused, “Last time he and I had anything physical happen was over three years ago.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Shanks said pulling out his phone and walking over to her. Himiko squinted down at his phone screen. It was a picture from Luffy’s story. At first, it looked it only looked like a selfie of him and Sabo, but if you looked into the background, you could just make out her kissing Ace. It was a bit blurry, but between his hat and the reflective stars on her dress, there was no mistaking it.

“When the fuck did that happen?!” she said, taking Shanks’s phone and zooming in on the image of her and Ace. It must have been early into the night. As she clicked through the remaining photos on Luffy’s story she found no other traces of Ace. All of them looked standard. They left the club and went to the diner for food before heading back to Vivi’s.

“Okay, his message makes way more sense now.” She said handing Shanks back the phone.

“What message?” he asked, his demeanor slowly going back to normal.

“Oh, when I messaged him about the hat, he said he was sorry if he overstepped.” She explained.

“Do you think it was consensual?” Shanks asked.

“Yeah, no I’m not sure why I agreed to kiss him, but I most likely consented as much as you can when you’re drunk. Ace isn’t that kind of guy to force himself on women.” She responded.

“Okay, good,” Shanks said, his posture had relaxed.

“Sorry, you had to find out that I did that in this way.” She started, “If I was more aware I would have let you and Mihawk know before doing anything.”

“It’s okay Sunshine, based on all the empty cups on the table it looks like you had more than your share of drinks.” He said pulling her into a hug and pecking her forehead. Himiko returned the hug, before placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back slightly.

“Were you jealous?” she asked glancing up at him.

“What, no I was just confused.” He responded, not making eye contact. He had a light dusting of a blush on his cheeks.

“Really, 'cause you looked pretty annoyed. You even got a cute little crease on your forehead.” Himiko said teasingly.

“I-Okay I may have been a bit jealous.” He admitted, looking down at her bashfully.

“In the future, please tell me if I’m doing something that upsets you; I never want to purposefully cause you any additional stress.” She said looking up at him fondly.

“Okay,” he nodded, pecking her on the lips while keeping a firm hold on the small of her back.

“I think it might be a good idea if we reevaluate the conditions around me having external relationships next time, we’re all together.” She said. Shanks nodded in agreement, pecking her lips one last time before pulling back.

“Shit,” Himiko said looking at the clock.

“What?” he asked.

“We only have three hours to get everything together and packed.” She said fully pulling away from him and pulling up the text Mihawk had sent them outlining everything they needed to do.

“The list isn’t too long,” Shanks said, glancing over her shoulder, “Plus if we can’t get everything done today, me and Mihawk can always work on it before the gala.”

“Shanks he literally gave us one job. I don’t want him to have to worry about it with a time crunch.” Himiko said looking up at him.

“Fine,” Shanks whined, “I’ll work on brushing Anko, cleaning the litterbox, and writing the pet guide for the sitters.”

“Who are the sitters?” Himiko asked.

“Oh, their a set of older lesbians that live two floors up from us. One’s an abstract painter and the other was a well-known mystery writer in the 70s” he said.

“Wait, aren’t the caretakers of the lake house also an older lesbian couple?” Himiko asked, confused.

“Yeah, that would be Judith and Marge; they live in the town at the base of the mountain. Judith is a psychic and Marge is an owner of the local sex shop.” He answered casually.

“Okay? Did you specifically scout out older lesbians for these jobs or was it just coincidence?” Himiko asked.

“It was just a coincidence, but I’m glad it ended up this way. Both couples are extremely reliable and are able to make educated decisions while we’re not present.” Shanks answered.

“Alright, fair enough I guess.” Himiko said, shaking her head before zoning back in on the list, “I’ll work on cleaning out the fridge, cleaning/putting the dishes away, and putting the laundry away. I guess after that we can meet up then to pack our bags and pack all the group essential items.”

Himiko put on a Lofi playlist and started to clear out all the things that would expire while they are gone. She made quick work of the dishes before heading to the laundry room and starting to fold and sort the clothing. She was about two-thirds way done when Shanks came in and embraced her from behind.

“Did you get all of Anko’s tasks done?” she asked, as she continued to fold.

“Yes, she’s had her weekly brushing, I cleaned her room, and the care directions are printed and pinned to the fridge,” Shanks said as he perched his chin on her shoulder. Himiko bit her lip to contain a shiver from the sensation of his hot breath on her ear. Shanks began to press light kisses against her throat as she finished balling up the socks. She tugged him back by his hair the second he switched from soft kisses to sucking a hickey into her throat. A deep groan emitted from him as she held him back with a firm grasp on his hair. Shanks took the opportunity to pin her hips to the table with his when she released his hair and turned to face him. He tilted her head up by her chin and pulled her in for a desperate kiss. A whine escaped Himiko as he began to grind against her stomach. She threaded her fingers through his hair once again to pull him off her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she panted as they rested their foreheads against each other.

“I think I was trying to get my reward for doing such a good job on my tasks.” He answered cheekily.

“Shanks we’re barely halfway through the list-” she started, she kept a firm grip on his hair as he tried to steal another kiss.

“But baby it’s been so long,” he whined, “I want to feel you.” He said as he began to grind against her stomach again.

“It’s only been a week,” she argued, still holding him back.

“It’s been a week and one day,” he argued back.

“You’re insatiable,” she sighed, looking down at her phone for the time, “We only have an hour and a half before I have to go,”

“That’s plenty of time,” he said back.

“Okay,” Himiko sighed, “If and only IF we get everything on the list done in the next 45 minutes, I’ll give you a reward.”

“Do I get to choose the reward?” he asked,

“Yes, but it has to take less than a half hour, so I have time to get ready to leave.” She conceded.

“Okay,” he nodded, giving her one last peck before pulling back. He slung his laundry bag over his shoulder and sped walked to his room. Himiko shook her head as she followed him out of the room with her laundry basket. This plan was either going to go really well or really bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

A/N: Hey, I'm back! ^-^ Sorry for the unintentional hiatus. I finally have my associate degree! I wanted to update this story last week, but I got a really bad cold and was in bed on all my days off. I'm feeling better now and I'm hoping to be able to regularly update this fic throughout the summer.

Thanks as always for taking the time to read,

-Locke

[ros3ybabe]

Daily Check-in: October 11th, 2023 🎀

So I was wat more productive then I had thought i would be given the exhaustion I felt from jet lag. I am proud of what I got done! However, I only slept about 2 hours, and it was broken sleep at that so I am not exactly feeling top of my game at the moment. We'll see what my energy allows me to complete today.

🩷 What I Ate, Oct 11th -

Brunch/Lunch - Spaghetti with meat sauce and ground turkey, topped with grated parmesean

Dinner - Turkey & Roast Beef bagel sandwich with avocado, 1 slice muenster cheese, 1 slice cheddar cheese, and a small side of potato chips.

Snack - a half bowl of spaghetti with ground turkey and meat sauce

Extra - 4 cups of coffee, each with one sweet n low and a splash of French vanilla creamer

I actually cooked which is odd for me as I typically don't have energy. My goal for today is to cook a batch of ground beef for taco bowls!

🩷 Personal Achivements, Oct 11th -

Washed bed sheets + pillowcases

Did the dishes

Maintained Duolingo streak (1 lesson)

Maintained Busuu streak (3 lessons)

Video called with my boyfriend twice

Made a shopping list for langaueh tracker/bullet journal (purchased at 1am because Amazon prime big deals were ending and I wanted to save some money)

Made a schedule/routine for working out next week

Cooked myself a real meal

Swept kitchen and disinfected/wiped down counters in kitchen

showered + morning skincare

🩷 Academic Achievements, Oct 11th -

Completed and submitted lifecycle nutrition chart

submitted and passed lab 7 anatomy pre lab

submitted discussion post + replies for nutr discussion 3

I feel quite proud of yesterday! Let's hope today I can tackle some more stuff on my todo list!

🩷 Personal ToDo, Oct 12th -

cook ground beef for taco bowls (leftovers!!)

wash dirty laundry

put away all clean laundry

therapy appointment

video call boyfriend

morning + night skincare

morning + night journal (?)

do 2 duolingo lessons

do 2 busuu lessons

complete/continue genki I lesson one

type up draft for upcoming blog post(s?)

🩷 Academic ToDo, Oct 12th -

Chapter 9 Notes Psyc

Quiz Chapter 9 Psyc

Culinary chapter 10 Quiz

Consumer Debt Inventiry assignment

Using Credit personal finance assignment

I've put a lot on my to-do list for today, but if I can even get a third of each list done, I will still be very proud of myself. Productivity should not come at the cost of my own well-being. Maybe I'll take a nap today? My boyfriend thinks it's a good idea, but I'm not a big fan of naps regardless of the situation. We shall see.

I took complete advantage of the prime big deals on Amazon and ordered some new workout clothes, some hair accessories, a set of silk pillowcases, and supplies for my bullet journal language tracker/planner. I even bought this cute little journal that's made specifically for fitness and health tracking, as a little side thing of mine to help keep me going! It comes with stickers and already set up pages, so hopefully, it proves to be useful!

I may or may not have made an Ulta order for some makeup using my afterpay account as well, because as it gets colder outside I'm starting to want to wear makeup for fun again. I'm not typically drawn to full beat looks but in the winter I love going all out with my makeup looks, whether I'm doing a more grunge goth emo look or a soft coquette girly look and everything in between. I love makeup as a form of self expression!

May or may not buy some more skincare as well, I'm just trying to decrease the amount of stuff in my skincare cart on the shopping app but it's so hard choosing what to get now and what to wait on!! I'm super indecisive too so that intensified the struggle.

Thats all for today! I'll make sure to update you lovelies tonight/tomorrow!

til next time, lovelies 🩷

[pisupsala]

One for The History Books [Chapter 11] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words]3.9k

[Index] All Chapters | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Epilogue

[Library]

One for The History Books - Chapter 11: Ripples You are curled up under Bradley's arm on the couch—the movie you were watching is almost over. You didn't exactly see much of it—you're not even sure which movie this is? It doesn't really matter either way.

You remember the important stuff. Bradley in low slung Navy sweatpants effortlessly twirling you through your living room to the soundtrack of the Breakfast Club. Him shamelessly taking a bite from your slice of pizza. His fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, skimming your thigh near your hipster shorts while watching TV and casually sipping his beer.

It doesn't even feel awkward—although you don't think you've had time to process anything enough to feel awkward about. Bradley makes things feel easy with his natural charm, and you are all too happy to go along with that.

“What time are you getting up tomorrow, sweetheart?”

His question shakes you out of your reverie.

“Oh, like 7?” You glance at your phone quickly, it's a little bit after 11 PM. It's not that late yet. You snuggle into him. “Why? Are you due back in Virginia Beach?”

“Not until Monday.” His words hang in the air for a moment too long.

“I mean - God,” You start before he can continue. “We're doing this whole thing ass-backwards anyway. Why don't you hang out here tomorrow while I'm at work, and we can go out after... or something? If you want.”

You clamp your mouth shut. Wow, like, all your good sense and morals just go out of the window where Bradley's concerned, eh? You are not ready for him to leave yet. What if this is a lightning in a bottle moment? Shouldn't you get to enjoy that for as long as you can?

“Is this a subtle hint that you want me to take you out on a date?” You can hear the mirth in his voice. You look up at his handsome face, grinning down at you.

Your face is growing hot. For all his sweetness, Bradley enjoys teasing and needling you a bit too much.

“Well, yeah, but it also just makes more sense this way.” You try to reply coolly, only partially succeeding, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction he can get a rise so easily out of you each time. You've fallen apart at his hands (and mouth...) multiple times now, you'd do well to try to save at least some of your dignity.

“Ah yes, it's the rational approach, of course.” Bradley's voice is sarcastic, as he pinches your thigh.

“And we've never been on a date.” You add, deadpan.

“I bought you ice cream.” He counters easily.

“That wasn't a date!” You wrinkle your nose in indignation. “That was a turn of fortune after a - oh fuck.”

You quickly sit up, pinching your nose. Shit, your nose has stopped hurting hours ago (more like you stopped thinking about it hurting), but it was clearly still sensitive. And that was a wrong move. Bradley doesn't waste time, and has grabbed you some kitchen towels, bunching them up and holding them under your nose.

“Is this why your sleeve was covered in blood?” The mirth has gone from his voice, he's calm but serious. You just make an affirmative sound, wanting the bleeding to stop quickly and not run down the back of your throat.

“Don't lean back, darlin' - tell me what happened?” He sounds concerned now. Okay, now you actually feel embarrassed. Because it's so stupid.

“I dropped a box.” You say tiredly, and your voice sounds muffled, as Bradley is still holding the wad of kitchen towels against your face. He's silent. He wants to laugh at you. You just know it.

“You dropped a box?” To his credit, Bradley's voice sounds neutral. You look at him from the corner of your eye—he's schooling his features, but you can just see in his eyes how much he's about to laugh at you.

“On my face.” You add, flatly.

“On your face.” He repeats slowly. “How?”

Is there no end to your torture?

“The shelf was too high. Don't laugh at me!”

That is of course the trigger that sets him off. Bradley, in his 6' and then some glory, is probably rarely too short for something. He's laughing at you heartily, still holding the towels to your face. You push his hand away, and get up off the couch.

“Fine, laugh at my pain and misfortune while I go wash my face.” You say haughtily, lightly slapping his shoulder. He playfully slaps your ass in return, still laughing. You yelp and laugh, too.

It's almost an hour later, after brushing your teeth, and you settle into bed together. You are exhausted, mentally and physically. As soon as you cuddle up, you feel your eyes falling close. It feels so nice.

For now at least, everything else feels far away. Work. Your busted car. The pit you would feel in your stomach when you'd lay in bed by yourself at night, where your insecurities and inadequacies would flow out until you felt you were drowning, is suddenly and thankfully absent.

If this really is just a lightning in a bottle moment, you fucking deserve it.

As you drift off, you don't notice Bradley stay awake, absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's early morning when you walk up to the bus stop. You got yourself an extra large coffee to go, because pinching yourself definitely didn't wake you up. You were convinced you'd wake up in an empty bed this morning, alarm clock blaring, feeling worse than ever before because that was the clearest dream about him you ever had.

But instead, you got woken up by gentle kisses on your shoulder, hands traveling down your body... you blush taking a large sip of your coffee. Nope, those fingers wrapped around your throat and his voice in your ear—oh jesus fuck the bus is here.

You hop on quickly, clutching your coffee. You're going to have to keep your wits about you today. At least while cleaning the storage, there's not that much that can go wrong, unless you drop another box on your face. Getting there, however...

As the bus approaches your stop, you start feeling apprehensive. You have to walk the gauntlet getting to your department. The Pentagon rumor mill is hungry.

Hold your head high, smile and don't stop walking.

You keep the smile on your face as you greet the guards at the metal detectors, handing over your ID card. The guard leans over to you conspiratorially.

“So miss Williams, yesterday...”

“Was very warm.” You cut in quickly, smile still on your face. “Yeah, it's unseasonably hot—I'm looking forward to winter!”

You grab your stuff and start walking to the elevators with a firm pace, waving over your shoulder at the guards. Don't give them an inch. You dodge the next few attempts at interactions by forcefully changing the topic and high tailing out of the situation—your cheeks hurting from keeping the smile plastered on your face. Yeah. Cleaning the storage solo really doesn't sound so bad now.

The smile disappears off your face completely when you reach your office door to drop off your things. An obnoxiously pink post-it is stuck on the handle, with flourished handwriting simply stating:

You're welcome <3

Oh, God. No. How could you be so blind? How did Bradley get into your locked office yesterday? You were so preoccupied with him being there period, you didn't consider how he got there. And that he really wasn't supposed to be there. Part of your work is classified, which makes your office off-limits to outsiders. Hell, to most of the team, even.

He's really going to be the end of you, and not in the sexy way.

But first. Leanne. You need to stop that girl before she blabs. Or blabs more than she already did. You rush through the hall to the small kitchenette, where you hear the voices of your co-workers. As you turn the corner, you spot Leanne, leaning against the counter. The moment she sees you, a big smile spreads on her face.

“Leanne, with me. Urgently.” You say sternly. Her smile falters as she follows you. You don't bother to look at the surprised faces of the team as you march back out into the hall.

“Darcy—what happened? I thought you'd be happy!” She jogs up to you, face concerned.

Quickly looking around, you see the hall is empty.

“Are you trying to get fired, Leanne?” You hiss at her, voice low.

“What? - what are you talking about?” Leanne seems genuinely baffled. You just hold up the crumpled pink post-it.

“Did you let Lt. Bradshaw into my office?”

“Yeah...” She seems hesitant in admitting it, and you can see she is not comprehending the issue. You pinch the bridge of your nose. Such a good start to the day, such a headache it's turning out to be.

“Okay, Leanne, listen. Please.” You keep your voice level—there's no use in getting angry at someone who doesn't understand what they did wrong, although part of you kind of wants to strangle her right now.

“You cannot let people into my office when I'm not there. Ever. There is classified material in there, and it could get very serious.”

“I thought... he's an officer... and he said he was your friend.”

You don't miss that Bradley apparently referred to you as his friend. Filing that information away for later to pester him about, you just sigh.

“I know you know better than that.” You look at her, still stern—she looks genuinely scared. “A uniform and a pretty smile don't mean anything for security clearance—don't let people into my office when I'm out, and for the love of all that's holy, don't tell anybody about this, okay?”

She nods, eyes downcast. You might not have taken the most diplomatic route, but this urgently needed to get nipped in the bud.

“Keep your head screwed on straight, Leanne.” Advice you should really be taking yourself, but you are trying to be kind to her. “Just focus on doing your job.”

Again, advice well suited for you too. Leanne nods sadly. You pat her on the shoulder to encourage her. You are curious what kind of tale Bradley spun poor Leanne, because she might be impulsive, but this is kind of a lot, even for her.

But then again... it's not like you behaved rationally after he showed up looking like a cool tall drink in those service khaki's. Underpinned by the fact that Bradley was asleep in your bed this morning, naked, when you left for work. Can you really judge?

You both start walking back to the kitchenette, and Leanne seems to regain some pep in her step again.

“So you and Lt. Bradshaw are-” Leanne flashes you a cheeky grin. Of course, her curiosity got the better of her.

“If you dare finish that sentence,” You cut her off firmly, voice forcibly light. “So help me god.” 

“Duly noted.” Leanne nods solemnly and ducks back into the kitchenette. You don't miss her wink at you as she wishes you a good day. This is promising to be a long day.

You slink back to your office, hoping not to run into anyone else. Check email, hide in storage room, wait for the day to end. Turning on your computer, you sink back into your chair. Best to get this done quickly.

You enjoy the relative quiet of your office as you focus on firing out emails. A bit too focused, perhaps.

“So are you to tell Birch yourself, or shall I do the honors?”

You look up. Riks is casually leaning against the doorway, looking like a cat that got the cream. Great.

“About what?” You don't bother to smile or go out of your way to be polite. Best to have him spit out what hell has got him going this morning, so you can avoid him for the rest of the day—or time, preferably.

But he just stands there, an almost scary smile on his face. Your stomach twists, but you keep your face neutral.

“Oh, I don't know.” He waves his hand, clearly enjoying having the upper hand in the situation. “Something about inappropriate relationships, withholding evidence to cover for your paramour....”

Paramour? Ew.

“Did you rehearse this?” You ask tiredly. Don't take the bait. A short flash of anger passes over Riks' face. Hah, that got to him.

“Nice deflection Williams.” He bites out. “But you're not denying it.”

“Denying what?” Spit it out already, Corporal Cunt.

“You withheld that incident report about Bradshaw starting a fight because you were sleeping with him, and he wouldn't get washed out of the mission.” Riks accuses you, tone steely.

You stare. Your brain seriously not comprehending where Riks is going with this. Why would you withhold that report (which wasn't relevant, and no one was punished over the indecent) so Bradley could go on a mission that could kill him— and nearly did, actually —because you were sleeping with him? Just. What?

“You should get fired over this.” He concludes. “And you will.”

“You are... insane.” You exclaim in disbelief, barely stopping yourself from laughing. “Jesus, how long have you been working on that theory? It's flimsy, even for you.”

“You're still not denying it.” He gloats undeterred. “And about the whole DoD knows about the Naval aviator that picked you up here yesterday.”

You roll your eyes obnoxiously. “And then what? It's been over three months since I recused myself. Hardly a breach of ethics.”

“Perhaps, but why did you recuse yourself?”

Shit, you might have overplayed your hand there. Stay calm. Riks doesn't have proof of anything. He wouldn't drag this out otherwise; he would have gone straight to Birch months ago. If he had anything solid to go on based on Bradley being here yesterday, he would not stop to gloat. He's fishing for evidence because he sees an in. Play it cool.

“You don't rate that information.” You brush him off, shrugging lightly. “That's between me and the boss.”

“I don't rate -” Riks scoffs loudly. “You sure like talking the talk, without having walked the walk.”

“Because you have?” You retort, getting annoyed now. Not this again. You don't belong here because you are civilian, bla bla bla. “You're working in the same place I do Riks, for as long as I have—only difference is you went to boot camp. So you can cut the crap after all these years.”

Riks suddenly storms up to your desk with such speed and anger, rage etched on his face, you are convinced he's going to punch you. You jump out of your chair and stumble back, actually scared now. That clearly hit a sore spot. He circles around your desk like a predator, seething.

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch.” Riks is still stalking up to you, fist balled at his side. You almost trip backwards over your bag that you left on the floor. This is the time you need to stand your ground. He is trying to intimidate you. Don't let him. You are terrified he's actually going to take a swing at you—you've never seen Riks this mad. But he wouldn't. Would he?

“You are so fucking pathetic.” In your panic, you are near yelling just to compensate for how completely freaked out you are. “You have the whole prestige project to yourself, but you are so incredibly inept, you still come after me.”

Cheeks burning and eyes blazing, you plant your feet. You are not going without a fight. You endured years of bullshit with Riks, him cutting at your confidence, undermining you, and being plain rude under the guise of jokes. And you took it all with a smile, never wanting to take the bait. But now you will, and you're going to strangle Riks with the line.

“How incompetent are you, exactly?!” You are screaming now. “You have no proof, an insane theory not worthy of critique, and all you've done is waste time looking for a way to undermine me!”

“Because you don't deserve to be here!” Riks is yelling back at you, red in the face. “You fucked your way in, and you are using Bradshaw to fuck your way up!”

“What the- you are completely fucking unhinged! On what plane of reality-”

The door to your office flies open with such a bang it rattles the painting on your wall. You yelp. Riks quickly straightens up, still seething.

Birch is standing in the doorway, hands folded behind his back and a look that spells thunder. You are stunned into silence, swallowing dryly. Riks opens his mouth to speak, but Birch just shakes his head as he marches into your office, looking back and forth between both of you.

“This is the second screaming match in your office in two days, Williams.” Birch remarks, voice entirely too calm for his demeanor. You lower your eyes, knowing better than to speak up now. There's really nothing you can say anyway, because his statement is true.

“It would behoove both of you to behave like professionals and set an example befitting your role.” His voice booms through the room, leaving no room for argument. Shit, this is so embarrassing. The whole department probably heard you. Twice.

He stops in front of Riks, who is standing to attention nervously.

“You.” He prods Riks in the chest with a finger, voice steely. “If you ever suspect someone of misconduct, you follow the chain of command, which means you come to me.”

Riks opens his mouth again to speak.

“Shut the fuck up, Corporal, I don't want to hear it.” Birch continues without missing a beat. “Under no circumstance, you start investigating and accusing people on your own team like a piece of shit. Everything goes through me.”

Riks nods.

“Dismissed, Corporal.” Riks, stubborn to the bone, looks like he wants to say something again. “Get the fuck out of here!” Birch orders loudly, his booming voice filling the whole room again. You feel like the soundwaves are physically pushing you back.

Riks hightails out, not sparing either of you another look.

“And you.” Birch thunders as he legs it up to you, his fingers pointing in your face. You flinch back.

“Unfuck yourself.” He hisses. You blanch.

“Unfuck yourself from whatever tailspin that stick jockey has you in.” You flinch again, face burning in embarrassment, wanting to defend yourself, minimize the accusation, amend the circumstances.

“Fuck it out of your system, elope—I don't care how you do it. Quite frankly, I don't want to know.”

Your heart is beating in your throat. You don't think your face could get any redder. Did your boss seriously just say that to you?

“But you are going to show up on Monday, head clear, and you are going to do your job and not make your personal life a problem for me anymore.”

You look at Birch, nodding mutely. Shit. At least you're not fired? But this definitely ranks among the worst and most uncomfortable workplace conversations you ever had. Birch sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“A new senate committee is being formed to investigate a failed mission.” Birch looks up at you. “I recommended you as the lead archivist for that. Can you handle that?”

“Ye- yes, of course.” You stumble over your words. “Thanks boss.”

“Let me make one thing very clear. This is your first and final warning.” He thunders, looking at you sternly. “I catch you lying to me again, skating responsibilities, having another screaming match in the office—I might have to start taking an interest in the exact timeline of events between you and Lt. Bradshaw.”

“I understand, but please believe me-” You start hurriedly.

“Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up already!” Birch exclaims angrily. “I just told you not to lie to me. And don't say anything that could potentially incriminate you, or worse, me. I don't want to know, and don't make me find out.”

Stunned, you nod. Was Birch really going to let this whole thing slide by just having you never mention it? Could you really be that lucky? That would take all ammunition out of Riks' hands (not that he had much to begin with...).

“Thanks again boss. I'll finish up in the storage today.” You say softly, forcing a smile on your face.

Birch puts his hand in his pocket and shakes his head.

“Go home for the day, Darcy.” He sounds tired. “Go figure out your shit, and come see me Monday first thing for the senate committee.”

“Will do. Have a good weekend.” You smile a little wider. Birch looks like he needs a stiff drink. You could use one too after the morning you've had. He bids you goodbye, and marches out of your office. You hear him mumble something about 'fucking kids these days'.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is only a little bit before noon when you barrel into your apartment. Your brain is in complete overdrive. You need a drink. No, you need to lay down. No, splash some water in your face. A large coffee and a pint of ice cream. Something, anything to stop the million different thoughts running crazy through your head.

Loudly dropping your bag next to your shoes in the hall, you let out a loud exasperated sigh as you walk into the living room, rubbing your face.

“Oh shit, how long was I asleep?”

You stop dead in your tracks. Bradley. He's on sprawled out on the couch, rubbing his face. Was he asleep there?

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” You smile softly.

“No, it's fine.” He says, yawning. He looks adorable when he's so sleepy—hair mussed up, voice thick. “What time is it?”

“Like noon.” You shrug as you walk up and sit down next to him. Bradley pulls you against him, tucking your head under his chin. You close your eyes for a second. This is good. Just focus on this.

“How come you're back already?” Bradley's hand is rubbing circles on your back. “Are feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.” You mumble, suddenly embarrassed. It feels really weird to admit that you have been sent home to, as your boss put it, unfuck yourself.

“Are you skating because you want to go on a date really bad?” Bradley teases. You giggle despite yourself.

"No, this was sanctioned." You reply vaguely. Should you tell Bradley?

You sit up and regard him for a moment. He has a right to know, you concede. You suppose you'd want to know if he were dealing with something similar.

“Darlin', what's going on?” Bradley's face turns serious. You crack a smile.

“It's kind of a long story, but it comes down to my boss telling me to either fuck you out of my system or marry you.” Bradley's eyes widen, and you let out a nervous giggle. “In short, I need to unfuck myself before Monday.”

There's a moment of silence. Was that too much? Did you make it really awkward now?

Then Bradley bursts out laughing. You decide then and there it's your favorite sound in the world. Chuckling softly, you rub your forehead.

“I'm going to make us some coffee, babe.” You smile as you get up. “And then I'll tell you how I got into this mess, so you can laugh at me some more.”

Maybe this day will still turn out okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[note] next chapter will be the date-time! Living for all the amazing comments I have been getting <3 you guys are the absolute best.

[taglist] @ponyboys-sunsets | @thatchickwiththecamera | @littlewhiterose | @katieshook02 | @straightforwardly | @zazzysseoul | @rororo06 | @datingbtr | @notalxx | @fresh-new-yoik-watah | @gretagerwigsmuse  | @swthxrry | @joshkiskasbunion | @caelipartem | @blackbrownie | @yanak324 | @unluckymonaghan | @letusbewildflowers | @ticklish-leafy-plant | @alana4610 | @eg-dr3amer3 | @turningtoclown | @mell-bell | @mak-32 |@avis15

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 85 - The Bach Bash Part 1

It's time for Ophelia and Xander's joint bachelor/ette party! The Watcher was too excited to get started to take establishing screenshots of The Lemon Drop, but Xander closed early for the night so they'd have the perfect party spot!

Marcie: Penny? What are you doing in this save?

Penny: …I live here?

Marcie: And where's Kyle?

Penny: I don't know what the hell a "Kyle" is but my wife Miko is like 10 feet away if this is some weird flirting tactic.

Marcie: Oh, no, sorry. You just look a lot like my best friend Penny Pizzazz. And you're also apparently named Penny Pizzazz.

Penny: Understandable mistake. Pizzazz is a pretty common name. Your friend sounds pretty, though.

Summer's always danced to the beat of her own drum!

And she took her heels off so she could dance easier. I definitely didn't delete the CC shoes I put on her and then forget to give her new ones. I'm killing it over here, gang.

Xander tries to tap the keg he hauled in, but the tap ends up flying off.

Drew: You're a bartender, dude! How do you not know how to tap a keg?

Xander: I'm used to mixing and pouring, not tapping! And Ophelia and I pre-gamed a little so maybe I'm already kind of buzzed.

Keg successfully tapped!

Xander: All right, who wants to do a keg stand with the future Mr. Lemon?

Ophelia doesn't hear this declaration because she's too busy demanding to dance battle Joaquin. He's certainly down for it!

Xander somehow convinces Drew to help him with a keg stand, even though they insist they're not strong enough to hold him up that long.

Xander: I trust you!

Drew: I don't think this is a trust issue but whatever, man.

Well, that's about how I imagined it going.

Damn, even the bartender came over to laugh at him. Tough crowd.

From the other side of the room, Marcie and Ophelia are still able to witness that fail.

Ophelia: OMW, what a dork.

Marcie: You must feel like the luckiest girl in the world to be marrying that specimen.

Marcie: What do we owe Hilary and Greta for watching the kids?

Ophelia: Nothing. Jace was so excited to have some boys his age to play with, and Greta's probably having fun with the girls. Just don't be too mad if Violet comes home with black coffin-shaped nails.

Marcie: Deal.

Marcie: So the big day's tomorrow. You nervous?

Ophelia: Yes and no, I guess? I feel all fluttery about it but I'm just excited to get married.

Marcie: Understandable! I felt the same way, but it was a perfect day. Your day will be too, I know it.

Marcie: The kids had so much fun with you guys. Violet kept talking about playing in the splash pad with "O'fia".

Ophelia: She's precious, they all are. The girls especially were giving me baby fever.

Marcie: Just as I planned.

Ophelia: What?

Marcie: Nothing.

Marcie: Do you really think you want kids soon?

Ophelia: I don't know, I think so? I know Xander wants kids and so do I, but he's got the bar, I've got the band. How would we make it work?

Marcie: You find a way. It wasn't always easy for me and Joaquin, but it's been worth it.

Speaking of Joaquin, Xander's going for round two with his new fellow goofball bestie!

Travis: Come on, dude, are you trying to get killed before your wedding?

You're just jealous The Watcher made you and Becca get married off-screen, Travis!

What's that quote about doing the same thing and expecting different results? Xander should probably look it up when he's not so juiced.

Ophelia: Can't wait to tell my future kids about this night, they'll be so proud of their daddy.

Joaquin: BWAHAHA you should have seen your face, man!

As Joaquin doubles over laughing, Xander hobbles back onto his feet.

Xander: I should have given your kids ice cream before sending them back to you.

Joaquin: Those kids are chaotic no matter how much sugar you feed them!

Ophelia: I'm gonna make sure he's okay. And get myself another drink.

Marcie: Be sure you're drinking plenty of water!

Ophelia: Water? I hardly know her!

Ophelia laughs at her dumb joke, then also laughs as she fake applauds Xander.

Ophelia: That was quite the show! Mwah!

After another drink, Ophelia gets back on the dance floor to show off her moves, only to smack herself in the face in the process.

Ophelia: OWWWW

Drew: Party foul!

Ophelia: As my fake dad, aren't you supposed to support me?

Drew: Not when you're doing rookie shit, kiddo.

[avastrasposts]

Hello!

So I just realised about 300+ people decided to follow me and, I suppose, read my stories? And 300 is such a small number but to me it's surreal that so many of you want to read what I write!

So I thought I'd introduce myself a little, just to be polite you know, and be like those author blurbs they put on the inside flap of books. So read on if you want to know more about me and my writing, or just keep scrolling if you'd rather I remain a redheaded mystery with a thing for Frankie Morales.

Also, chapter 16 of The Pilot and his Girl will be posted tomorrow, it just needs another round of editing.

Also, again, this got long, so if you can't be bothered reading all my ramblings below the cut, I totally understand. I have a habit of getting wordy....

So, I'm in my 40's and I've been writing for most of my life, starting with embarrassing little short stories in adorable misspelled fashion when I was just wee. I aspired to be a journalist and then went on a completely different tangent career wise, ending up with a PhD in an area I no longer work in (fifteen years of higher education never to be touched again but you definitely want me on your team in a pub quiz!). I have vague memories of writing fan fiction in my early 20, I think? (I'm old, give me a break). But I only got back to it late last year as a way to kick start my imagination and discipline around writing again. I needed a creative outlet and writing is something I always enjoyed and found easy to do.

I live in England, in the amazing but fucking expensive city of London. I look pretty much like my profile picture, only more wrinkles and maybe a bit of silver in all that gingerness. I'm a very good cook and baker (Pedro, I'll teach you how to cook any day!) and I'm married to my very own sweet Latino man. He's not called Frankie but he does call me cariño. I have big chunk of family in Sweden and I speak a little bit of Swedish (it's actually where I am right now, we're over here celebrating midsummer).

I started writing fanfics for The Boys fandom and Karl Urban as I was binging the whole show after finishing season 4. Then I stumbled into the Pedro Pascal fandom as I watched The Last of Us.

TLoU has a very special place in my heart. I've been gaming since my early teens and bought a Playstation 3 after saving for months, my first console after playing on PC for years. When TLoU came out in 2013 I bought and played it straight away and I, like so many others, had an experience playing it. It's the only story, in any medium, that's made me cry after just 10-15 minutes of game play. The scene were Sarah dies, still gets me every time. And the rest of the game...I turned up at work the next week in a daze, just needing to tell people about this incredible story and experience I'd had. It was like no other game I'd ever played, before or since. And I've replayed the game about once a year since 2013. Back then, that kind of game was totally unique, there was nothing like it. Some games had explored stronger story telling elements, but not on this level, nothing came even close to creating such a bond between gamer and characters. Now days we're spoiled by powerful storytelling in video games, in 2013, The Last of Us was totally unique (sorry, I'm blabbering, but I could go on at length about TLoU and the impact it had).

So when I heard there was talks about turning into a tv-series, I was scared. Really worried. The gaming community have seen so many horrendous adaptations of video games, my beloved Assassin's Creed was butchered in 2016. But then I heard Pedro Pascal had been cast as Joel and I was carefully hopeful, and then Bella Ramsey as Ellie and I got really excited. I'd seen them both in Game of Thrones, both of their performances sticking in my mind. I even remember reading about Pedro being cast in GoT and looking him up and being disappointed because he looked nothing like I'd pictured the Red Viper when I read the books. But then he just swanned in and crushed it, he was so damn good, he won me over straight away. I can't imagine anyone else playing Oberyn.

And then of course, the first few trailers of TLoU dropped and we got glimpses of the show and I remember texting my equally TLoU obsessed friend and we squealed in delight at how good it looked! And the first time I heard the clicker sound....I shuddered, it was a very real physical reaction. If I'd been on the actual set and heard it, I think I would've run a mile.

And then, as I was still writing The British Connection, a fic set in The Boys fandom, I watched Triple Frontier, and, like so many others, fell hard for sweet Frankie Morales. So jumping the gun a bit, I decided to write something with him, just a drabble, to get used to writing him and to write in the Reader insert format. But it kind a grew in scope and when I had the idea of sticking him and the rest of the Triple Frontier boys into TLoU universe I knew I had to create something bigger.

Looking back I would've made the story tighter, less lengthy, had I known from the start that's where it was going to go. But part of the fun of fan fiction is posting as you go, I think. I get feedback from you guys and it makes me think of other elements to add to the story. There isn't always a set road map for how a fic is going to develop.

If you've made it this far, congratulations and thank you, I'm impressed you read all that rambling from some stranger on Tumblr! The Pilot and his Girl has a set plan now, I have chapters drawn up and although I'm not sure how many chapters I'm going to end up with, I know where the story is going. You'll find out what's happened to Pope, Will and Benny. And Joel and Tommy will of course come back to the story later on. There will be more trauma and angst as the story continues but there will be a happy ending, of sorts, in the end.

And again, thank you all for reading, commenting and reblogging! I love you all!

[suugrpop]

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? | Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female reader

Summary: Phoenix decides to take you in a party at Hard Deck and Jake seresin (your enemie since you've been in top gun) can't take his eyes off of you.

Previous chapter | next chapter

~

You wake up with a headache in a place you don't know. Your head spins and you also remember you don't have to work today. You heard some footsteps coming closer and you pretend you're still sleeping.

Someone opens the door and sits in the corner of the bed. "Y/N" - he says. "What? That's Jake's voice". You think. You look if you still have your clothes on. You did. That means you didn't sleep with him.

"Y/N" - he repeats. You open your eyes slightly and look at his way. "You're okay?" - he asks. " I made coffee if you want some". The only thing that comes to your mind is to escape. Is he really being nice? Does he like me? You wake up as fast as you can with your dress still on.

" I can't, but thanks". Before you even cross the door, Jake takes you by your arm to look at you.

"Please, stay" - but you can't.

"I'm sorry". You leave Jake's house to call Penny to come pick you up.

When Penny comes, you sit in her car. The way she stares at you tells you everything you need to know.

"I won't even talk about it" - you say.

"I think he's just messing with me, I know". Penny starts the car, and asks you

"How do you even know, have you asked him?" - You start thinking if Playboy and Hangman had a bet going on.

"I don't know, but I'm not in the mood for another heartbreak". You replied, remembering the guy who cheated on you in highschool.

Penny finally takes you home and you thank her. You make some coffee to make up for your hangover and went to sleep all day. You'd still have to work tomorrow.

It's 6:00 am and your alarm rings. You wake and take a quick shower, have breakfast and brush your teeth. You start your car to get to work. The first thing you notice when you arrive is that Jake's car is parked. You get out and start walking to the dressing room to get changed. You say good morning to the girls.

You're done getting ready and start doing some paperwork. You don't see Jake around and you don't hope to, you're gonna avoid him anyway. It's later in the noon and you get up from your seat to get some coffee. You see Phoenix talking to Halo in the hallway and decide to go with them. Jake's laugher sounds echoing the hallway and you get nervous. It's like your body needs to run away every time you see him, but you don't wanna get hurt again. Your eyes meet but you still avoid him anyway. He just stares at you and the girls but you kept talking. He's talking to Payback about going for some drinks at the Hard Deck. Your muscles finally relax and you go back to work.

It's almost 10 pm and you get a text message from Penny. " I need you tonight at the Hard Deck. Be ready in 30 minutes, and I won't take no for an answer." A deep sigh comes out your mouth but you didn't have a choice. Penny's daughter had an exam tomorrow and had to study. You walk to the dressing room and take a quick shower. Your hair's in a ponytail and you're wearing a white tank top and black jeans with some Converse. You start your car to drive to the Hard Deck. Music's blasting so hard you can hear it when you get out the car. You cross your finger and wish that Jake has cancelled his plans.

You enter through the back door of the Hard Deck to avoid seeing anyone. You weren't in the mood to party or anything like that. You got into the dressing room to save your things. When Penny sees you she greets you with a smile.

"I didn't know if you were gonna make it" - she jokes. You smile and hug her.

After a few hours passed, you were sweaty as hell. Only a few minutes left and you were going to be in your bed. You did see a few of your team mates having fun and even offered them some beers. You though Jake wasn't there, but when Payback asked for two beers in the bar, you thought that maybe Jake was here but not inside. You take a peek and see him playing rugby with some of your team mates.

"Like what you see?" - Penny asks. She takes you out of your thoughts and your cheeks flustered. Jake might be an asshole, but he's hot.

"No! What's wrong with you! - you obviously lied.

You didn't see Jake for the rest of the night. You were taking your things to go back home. When you get out, none of the boys were playing in the beach.

"Avoiding me, huh?" You jump in your seat and see Jake in a Hawaiian shirt and tanned skin.

"Excuse me?" You ask. He laughs and gets closer. You can feel his eyes all over your body. Just like that night at the Hard Deck.

"You didn't wanna have coffee at my place, didn't a say a word to me at work.. what's going on"? Fuck. He caught you.

"I'm not avoiding you, I'm just not interested. That's all." That smile of him has you going crazy. You were craving for his lips. His taste. Just a little bit of him.

"Really?" He says.

"Yeah. I'm not interested into guys that makes girls believe to fall in love with someone how's gonna leave them the next morning." You took your shot. It was now or never. His mouth opens, like he's offended.

"You think that's the kind of guy I am?" You thought about the time you entered Top Gun and Phoenix, who you didn't know yet, warned you about Jake.

"Then tell me why all of the girls warned me about you. Told me not to get close to you". You didn't know why, but your voice was breaking and your eyes were watery.

"I've changed. Believe me". He got closer to you trying to confort you. You only took a step back, without looking into his eyes. Jake sighs.

"Please, Jake, let me go. We both know we don't want this". You say.

"Don't ask me to do something that I can't". He replies. You only escape right now is to run, like you always do. You're a coward. You were only in Top gun because your reasons to life were empty. Nobody knew that though. You were cold. Cold as ice. So you ran. You only hear Jake's voice calling your name.

When you arrive to your apartment, your body let's you down and you fall on the floor, with tears in your eyes. "This is this las time." You promised to yourself. You're going to disappear, vanish from everyone's life. They didn't deserve you anyway.