#Marcus Pike x F!OC

[idolatrybarbie]

series masterlist

pairing: marcus pike x alex dozie (fem!OC)

word count & rating: 4.5k | mature

summary: alex dozie, everyone.

tags: angst, takes place in 2014, complicated relationships, background american politics, some emotional violence/potentially triggering relationship dynamics.

notes: @atinylittlepain | extra! extra! read all about it: marcus pike, past, present and future pathetibabe.

Spring. The temperature outside is mild. Rain showers take over the usual Lake Champlain gloom. It’s still sad outside, but at least there’s a little bit more substance to it. The sky is crying, and Alex can appreciate that. For how much it rains, she wonders if it is grieving.

Something—someone shifts in bed beside her. Opening her eyes slowly, it takes a minute for her eyes to focus. When an arm snakes around Alex’s waist, she doesn’t need to see to know who it is.

“Reg,” she croaks. Reg like register, or Reggie—that’s his name.

“Lex,” he whispers back. His breath tickles the shell of her ear.

“How long have you been up?”

“Hmm, ‘bout an hour,” Reggie tells her.

“And what time is it now?” Alex asks.

“Almost 6:30.”

Alex freezes, blood running cold. She twists out of Reggie’s grip, sitting up in bed to give him the harshest glare she can muster this early. Except she doesn’t have the time, so she only squints at him in vague annoyance before throwing the covers off her long legs.

“I’m supposed to be up at five,” she sighs. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked so peaceful,” Reggie smiles. It forces her to smile too, despite herself.

“Peaceful or not, I’ve got a seven o’clock class.”

Alex scurries into the bathroom, unwrapping the silk scarf around her head. Her straightened hair falls to her shoulders, choppy bangs bleached and dyed black at the ends. The rest of her hair shines with the bathroom light, a bright silver blonde reflecting everything thrown at it. She rubs a makeup wipe over her face, forgoing a decent cleanse in the crunch of time.

A shortened version of her usual morning routine goes as follows: deodorant, followed by a spritz of perfume; pinning her hair back as she smears on the slightest bit of makeup; throwing together an ensemble of decent-looking clothes while she scratches at her enamel with a toothbrush.

She doesn’t have time for contacts, grabbing her glasses from the nightstand. Reggie has done his due diligence in making her a coffee, black with two sugars. He hands Alex a bright blue travel mug and her brown leather carryall. It really does carry all—notes, pens, loose tabs of chewing gum. You name it, she’s got it.

Alex kisses him on the cheek, leaving a red-brown pair of lips on his skin.

“I’m going to kill you,” she says, all play.

“You’re gonna need a lawyer for that.”

“Point there. Know any good ones?” Alex asks. She smiles again, because Reggie makes it so easy, and says, “I’ll see you later.”

The walk from Cushing Hall to the law department’s cozy little building is a cool fifteen minutes. The rain stops as she makes her way, maneuvering around puddles in her short-heeled boots. Quaint boxy buildings surround her, the campus built like a brick maze between manicured lawns and concrete sidewalks. She can almost see a glint of sunlight reflecting against the clear windows as she passes them by.

It’d been a big swing choosing school out here; Vermont was far from the dusty heat of New Mexico and the warm arms of her mother. She’d turned down the acceptance to a community college right outside her hometown of Rio Rancho. It was a good school, Mrs. Dozie always told her. A Nigerian immigrant herself, she only wanted to see Alex succeed. It was good, sure—but Alex wanted better. The best. To be it, have it, live it; all of the above. Just over 100 thousand dollars in combined loans and scholarships later, she was set to graduate magna cum laude in a few short months.

The door opens at her pull, the floors still bright and sparkling from a lack of early morning foot traffic. A tangle of suits sit in the cushy lounge chairs nearby, hanging around. Business majors, maybe, waiting for their first lecture of the day. A check of her watch—a knockoff Calvin Klein her mother gifted her at the ceremony for Rio Rancho High’s class of 2010—tells Alex she is already late for her own.

She doesn’t have the time to notice the rain starting to pelt against the windows again, a light tingle in her ears as Alex speeds up with each step. When she reaches Rutherford Hall, she slips into room 104 with practiced silence. Alex takes a seat at the very back of the lecture hall, pulling a notebook and one pen from her varied collection, trying to catch up. When Professor Cartier takes a moment to switch between presentation slides, she pops a piece of gum in her mouth to chew.

Just a few more months, she thinks.

Professor Cartier calls on her to stay back after class ends. “Miss Dozie, if I could have a minute?” he asks at the front of the classroom.

Alex nods with a weak pull of her lips, swiping her things into her bag. She clops down the many steps to his podium with an iron grip on the leather handle. Standing tall in his impeccably tailored suits, Cartier was the only Black faculty member in the criminal justice department. Of all her professors, he is the man Alex holds in the highest regard. It’s not easy to get where he is.

They both start to speak at the same time.

“Please, go ahead,” Cartier says.

“I’m sorry for showing up late, I still got all of the content and I promise, it won’t ha—”

“Miss Dozie,” he says, stopping her. “Alex. You’re fine.”

The breath trapped in her lungs drains from her slowly. He’s never called her Alex, not in all her four years.  “Alright then.”

“I wanted to congratulate you,” the professor says.

“Well, thank you,” Alex says. “…for what exactly?”

“The scholars' brunch,” Cartier says it like it’s an obvious thing.

“I’m confused.”

“Don’t tell me they didn’t tell you?” At Alex’s silence, Cartier shakes his head with the suck of his teeth. It makes Alex chuckle lightly through her nose. Her mother has the same habit. “For your noted academic excellence, you’ve been invited to a scholars’ brunch with the mayor of Burlington.”

“Oh,” Alex says. She tries to look grateful, putting on a show of holding her hand up and clenching it in a fist of faux excitement. “Yay.”

“I know. Sounds pretty fuckin’ boring, huh?” Professor Cartier asks.

Alex laughs, a little uneasy, a little endeared. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Well, it’s a great opportunity, anyway. It’s less invitation and more expectation if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Alex nods. “I can grit and bear a few tea sandwiches with Rob Yorkdale, Professor Cartier.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“When is it?”

“This afternoon.��

Fantastic. They must schedule it in the middle of a school day, on a Monday. Not like she has anything better to do! Oh, these hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt? Pfft, it’s nothing Mr. Yorkdale. Let’s talk about you, huh?

“You look more than thrilled,” Cartier says.

Alex schools her grimace into a neutral mask, raising her brows. Expectation, not invitation. “Do you think Professor Harris will mind me missing her ethics class?” she asks.

"I don’t think she’d even notice you weren’t there.”

Three and a half hours later, Alex wanders into the administration office. Dean Wesley is ready to greet her with a smile, parroting all the standard questions and statements lobbed at outgoing seniors: what a pleasure Alex is to have on campus and how much she will be missed, how Wesley does hope that she comes back for a visit indeed. By the time they make it to an unfamiliar conference room, it feels like the dean is practically pushing her out the door already.

The doors open together, revealing the other attendees of this lovely little gathering. Alex recognizes a few of them: Aditi Patel, second in their class this year, setting the curve for the past three. Rowan Michael's posh attitude and smug smirk disappear as Dean Wesley leads Alex inside the room, dated floral wallpaper and the lingering scent of dust surrounding them.

“Dean Wesley,” Aditi steps forward first, shaking hands with the older man as she gives him a polite, toothless smile.

Rowan stands from his seat, nodding as he spits out a clipped, “Sir,” with a nod in the dean’s direction. The others take their turns spewing polite greetings.

“It’s so nice to have you all here,” Wesley says.

“Sure,” Alex says. “Getting the gang together to celebrate our successes.” The sarcasm is lost on Dean Wesley, but Rowan shoots her a glare.

Alex has less of an issue with Aditi than Rowan, but she’s not exactly trading friendship charms with her either. Whatever. Weeks from now, they’ll never see each other again. She might as well have her fun.

It’s a few minutes of stilted small talk that Alex simply observes before the doors open again. Mr. Yorkdale waltzes through them, everyone standing at attention with his presence. Behind him, a couple of young men trail in. The guys from earlier, Alex’s hypothesized business kids. Her opinion of them as a collective goes up marginally; being the cronies of one of the wealthiest public servants in New England didn’t exactly notch them very high.

“Mayor Yorkdale!” Dean Wesley greets him.

The two men shake hands as the student crowd utters hellos in a polite cacophony. Alex’s attention slides over to the man standing just to Yorkdale’s left. Tall-ish with short dark hair, he is perfectly clean-shaven. He holds himself in a hunch, like he’s waiting for what’s next, grinding the heel of his shoe into the ground. Maybe it’s a nervous habit. When they make eye contact, the man smiles at her. She blinks, looking away again. Reggie flashes before her eyes, probably stealing her Netflix to watch Community before his 2:30 class.

“I’m so excited to meet and greet all of you,” Mayor Yorkdale says, addressing the scholars of this brunch. “Now, let’s eat!”

Like they were waiting in the wings, a flurry of cater-waiters have everyone seated with a plate at his command. In the organized chaos of everything, Mr. Cue Ball sits next to Alex. She doesn’t say anything, unfolding a pristine linen napkin and spreading it across her lap. Catering trays are wheeled into the large space, lining the walls before a short man and a tall woman make their way around the long table. Everyone is served with a choice of ham and cheese omelet or eggs Florentine, a slice of rye toast slathered with farm-fresh butter, and a tidy fruit cup of state-grown peaches and pears.

Cue Ball gets the omelet while Alex opts for the eggs Florentine…not that she’s paying him any mind. The mayor is talking, boasting about his accomplishments with almost seven years in office behind him. It will be another two years before the election; Alex won’t be living here, but if she were, she wouldn’t vote for him. She certainly didn’t the last time.

“So how is it?” someone asks. The question seems to come from thin air. Alex looks around for the owner of the voice, looking straight ahead and meeting Rowan’s sneer. Turning her head left, fork still in her mouth, she meets the smile of the mayor’s aide.

“I’m sorry?” she asks.

“How is it? The food,” he says.

“Oh, um—fine, I guess.” The yolk is globby against her tongue, sliding down her throat before Alex speaks again. “Sorry, do I know you?”

“No,” the aide shakes his head. “I’m Marcus.” Now she does.

“Alex,” she offers.

“So, Alex,” Marcus starts, keeping his voice a little lower as to not interrupt Yorkdale’s chatter, “what’s it like at Champlain?”

Are they really doing this? “Look, Marcus? I’m here to eat with the mayor. I’d like to get back to that.”

Marcus’ brows raise a little at her reaction. Alex can almost see the gears in his head turning. “My bad. Sorry,” he says. No smart line, no bitchy comment. An apology.

The simplicity of it, the genuine sentiment dripping from just three words has her cringing inside. He’s trying to be nice. “It’s good,” she says, popping a diced peach into her mouth with her fork.

“Pardon?”

“You asked what it’s like? It’s good,” Alex says. “Simple. Hard, but no one comes here without looking for a challenge.”

“Doesn’t seem like it would be difficult for you,” Marcus says.

“Hard isn’t difficult,” she shakes her head. Curious, she adds, “Why do you say that?”

“You seem up for it. You don’t strike me as the typical audience for the halls of an institution like this.”

Hm. Of course. Well, he isn’t wrong; Alex can count the number of Black staff and students at Champlain College on one hand. Still, the insinuation has her turning away again, tongue poking into her cheek. She ignores him for the rest of the meal, only politely passing the glass pitcher of orange juice to Marcus when it comes to their stretch of the table. He tries to hedge in a few more leading comments, but Alex stays silent. By the time they serve strawberry cream tarts, he’s caught the hint.

Breakfast finishes unceremoniously. The mayor shakes every student’s hand on the way out, his clammy palm engulfing Alex’s as she feigns a smile at him. As she walks out of the conference room, she can’t help but feel that the whole thing was an utter waste of time. Worst of all, she’s still hungry. The eggs were light, the toast dry. The fruit and tart might as well have been made of air.

The dining hall is packed at peak lunch hour. Alex makes her way into the line for the international foods station, hooking a white plastic tray under her arm. Dining hall staff are busying themselves all over the kitchen, one woman hauling ass to bring another tray of Alfredo tomato linguini to the service counter. When Alex gets closer to the front of the line, she greets them.

“Ladies, how are we doing today?” she asks easily.

“Runnin’ around like chickens without our heads, sweetheart. You know the deal,” Marlene says. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll take some of that pasta if you don’t mind,” Alex says.

“Of course.” She nods, slopping a generous helping onto a porcelain plate. “Here you go.”

“Had breakfast with the dean and the mayor.”

“Ooh, hoity-toity. Fitting right in with that high society there, right hon?” another woman—Linda—asks.

“If only they knew how to cook.”

Marlene and Linda titter with laughter, smiling at her. This is the best part of her day. These women have kept her alive and fed for the past four years, keeping Alex sane on her worst days with their cooking. She thinks she’ll miss them the most.

Thank god, there is an empty table at the very edge of the dining hall. It’s just Alex and an empty chair across from her, away from the rest of the student body in a tight corner against the building’s far wall. She expects that someone will come along soon enough, asking to take the vacant chair to slide up next to their table. Spare parts, spare friendships that Alex hasn’t developed here. Sure, she’s got acquaintances—classmates she much prefers if she must take a pick of the litter. No one Alex feels a real affinity to.

Well, Reggie. She slides her palm-sized phone from the front pocket of her bag, thumbs flying over the smooth ridges of its buttons to send him a text.

What are you up to right now?

She places the phone on the table beside her tray, waiting for a buzz in response.

Surprisingly, it’s not some freshman with parents richer than God who takes the chair from her. No one takes it at all. The guy from earlier, what was his name? Marcus. He rests his right hand over the sturdy wood back of it, catching Alex’s attention.

“Anyone sitting here?” he asks.

Marcus doesn’t wait for her to answer, sliding the chair out to take a seat. Alex watches him carefully. He sets his tray down across from hers, chicken fingers and French fries in a pile on his plate.

He’s got a bad case of overconfidence. Sincere apology be damned, working at the mayor’s office has clearly gone to this guy’s head. She doesn’t say a word, watching him tear open a ketchup packet and squeeze its contents out over the starchy fries. When Marcus is done, he licks any remnants of the red sauce from his fingers.

Alex tries not to linger too long on the sight of his fingers in his mouth, focusing on the task at hand. He’s watching her watch him. He glances to the side, then cranes his neck to look behind him. Then he quirks his lip up, no teeth.

“Do I have something on my face?” Marcus asks.

At this, Alex smiles. She likes to play with her food first.

“Nope,” she says, popping the P. “You’re just fine.”

She twirls linguini noodles around the tines of her fork methodically, attention never breaking from the man in front of her. He shoves a few fries in his mouth at once. She only notices now that the sleeves of his pressed blue dress shirt have been rolled to the elbow, the expanse of his forearm bare. It draws Alex’s eyes to the rest of him. His shoulders are broad under the expensive linen, an extra button newly undone to expose a peak of his collarbone.

Her phone buzzes beside her. Alex ignores it.

“So, Marcus?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s it like working at the mayor’s office?”

Mouth half-full, he starts to answer the question. “It’s…good,” he says. With one word, he’s fallen right into her trap.

“Really?” Alex asks, taking another bite of pasta. She waits until she is finished. Chew. Swallow. Speak. “You don’t strike me as the typical audience for the halls of an institution like that.”

As she speaks, Alex watches ketchup drip off the end of a French fry already halfway inside Marcus’ mouth. It disappears behind the table, presumably landing on his pants by the way he groans.

“Shit,” he mutters. “I’m sorry, what did you say? Oh.” His brain seems to only be catching up now, realizing she’s taken his words from him.

“You know what, never mind,” Alex says. She picks up her phone and tosses it onto her tray, then grabs her bag.

“Where are you going?” Marcus asks.

“You can have the table.”

“Where’re you going to eat?”

This man and his fucking questions. “It doesn’t really matter to you, does it?” she asks.

“Why do you think that? I mean, better here than the bathroom.”

Their conversations seem to be circling each other. It’s frustrating.

Alex sets her tray back down a little too hard, the plate rattling against her baby blue Nokia. She sits again, crossing one leg over the other.

“Guys like you walk around places like this and get applauded for showing up. I would say I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you made it clear that you have—the same thing is not happening for people like me,” Alex says. “You pop out on Earth with a silver spoon up your ass just like the rest of them, but because you deigned to notice that I might be a little out of place here, we’re supposed to be…what? Friends?”

“I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to. It came as the expectation. Look, I’m sure you’re great and everything, but I’m really not interested in getting to know some jag who saw The Color Purple off-Broadway and thinks he can hang with the Black chick.”

“You’re wrong,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“The silver spoon, you’re wrong. I mean sure, it’s there, but I wasn’t born with it. Certainly not a pleasure that it’s present,” Marcus says.

“Am I supposed to feel bad?” Alex asks.

Marcus chuckles, a harsh gust of air through his nose as his chest shakes lightly. He puts a chicken finger in his mouth. Chews. Swallows. Speaks. “You’re funny, you know that?”

“Hilarious,” she deadpans.

“I don’t know why they’ve got you here. Scholars’ brunch? Your talent’s wasted,” he continues. “We should get you a stand-up special.”

“We?”

“Yeah. A tight fifteen, you know, working the crowd. Who doesn’t love a beautiful woman telling jokes?” Marcus asks. Alex’s face grows hot, eyes glued to her pasta as he continues to talk. “You’re right. I can’t expect you to feel bad. Kind of a dick move of me. I don’t know you and you don’t know me.”

“Oh, I know you,” Alex says, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms.

“Okay,” he says, pointing at Alex with a fry between his fingers. “So who am I?”

“Rich, for starters, but anyone who has eyes can tell you that. Harry Rosen button-down, authentic leather Prada lace-ups, but your pants… Banana Republic? My guess is you ran buck wild in Neiman Marcus and went a little over budget. That’s a 200-dollar haircut that you’ve let grow out so you know you’re getting the money’s worth, and maybe you’re hoping you can style it into bangs in a few weeks once it dips past your ears,” Alex says. “You didn’t want to come here today, and you don’t like working for the mayor, because the truth is…” She leans in closer now, voice barely above a whisper. “Deep down, you’re about as out of place here as I am.”

Alex sits back up again, playing with the blush pasta on her plate. “You’re just inauthentic.” When Marcus puts his other hand on top of the table, she sees it: the yellow-gold wedding band that circles his ring finger. And married, she thinks. Of course.

She finishes her food quickly, standing from her seat. Out of politeness—not that there’s much left—Alex offers him her hand to shake. Surprisingly, he takes it.

“Lovely to meet you, Alex…?”

“Dozie. Alex Dozie,” she says.

“Marcus Pike.” He drops her hand, and she walks away.

Very pushy, very proud, very married. Alex recites these things in her head as she drops off her plate and tray, and again some more as she leaves the dining hall. She finally checks her phone, a message from Reggie waiting for her.

Class was canceled, schedule is clear…come fill up my time for me?

Alex smiles down at her screen.

It’s another early morning when Alex is called into Professor Cartier’s office. His class has been canceled; an occasion never seen before in his fifteen years teaching at Champlain. When Alex walks past the threshold of his door, she can feel something off. He smiles when he sees her, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Miss Dozie, please,” he motions towards the seat across his desk.

Alex pulls it out, quickly sitting. “Professor Cartier, I don’t know what this is about,” she says.

“You’re not in trouble. We’re interviewing all of my female students this week.”

“Oh?” That sounds bad. Or if not bad, whatever the opposite of good is.

“It has been brought to my attention that my teaching assistant, Reginald Juneau, has been having a sexual relationship with one of my undergrads.”

“Okay…”

“I’m not asking if it was you,” the professor says. “But if you know anything, or there’s anything you’d like to tell me, this is a safe space.”

Alex’s heart pounds beneath her ribs. Professor Cartier…she can’t lie to this man. He’s a beacon in the department. She wants to be him one day; an accomplished Doctor of Law, a man who fought for what was right before coming here to help people like her learn to do it all over again.

She can’t lie, but she has to. The fallout if she came clean would be unimaginable. Alex didn’t come this far to have it all come crashing down like this.  She certainly can’t do that to Reggie.

 “I’m sorry, Professor. I don’t know anything.” It comes out easy, a lie that’s oil-slick the way it pours from her mouth.

“I figured you’d say that,” Cartier sighs. “You’re not the type to…” Whatever else he was going to say gets caught up in a vague handwave. The professor stands from his chair, ready to see her out.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Alex asks suddenly. “To Re—your TA?”

“Well, he’s under temporary suspension. Whatever results of the internal affairs investigation will determine whether he must leave.”

“But?”

Cartier shakes his head. “Even if nothing does turn up, the school isn’t in the habit of keeping on potentially…problematic staff members. Liability,” he explains.

“Oh, right,” Alex nods.

Her body goes numb, limbs operating automatically as she makes her way back to her apartment. How could this have happened? Did they get too comfortable? That can’t be it. Outside the confines of this room, they were never together. Nothing more to go off of other than pure speculation. Still, someone had. And now Reggie was going to lose his job.

Harsh knocks at the door pull her out of a fugue state. The sky is much darker now than it was the last time she checked. Alex makes sure to draw the curtains shut before she answers the door. Behind it is Reggie, of course it’s him. He looks mad. No—he looks angry.

“The fuck did you do, huh?” he asks, shouldering his way into the apartment.

Alex closes the door. “Reg—”

“Don’t start, okay? I know what you did, I just want to hear you say it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Alex says.

“Yeah, huh? Then what’s this?”

He grips the back of her neck with a firm hand, pulling her close to a wrinkled piece of paper between his fingers. Through the tears, she can read the words Letter of Termination. It’s been signed by Dean Wesley.

“I didn’t do anything!” she says again. “I promise, Reg, I would never. I-I—”

“If you say you love me, so help me God,” Reggie spits.

“I would never do that to you. To us. Come on, Reggie, think about it for two seconds.”

“I’ve been thinking about it all day!” he yells. “You know what this’ll do to me, Lex? Ruin me. This will ruin me. All that work down the fuckin’ drain, and for what? A nice piece of ass.”

“Get out,” Alex says.

“What?”

“Get. Out. Of my apartment. Right now, Reggie,” she demands. “You think I’m guilty? Fine! Sure, I did it. Whatever you need to believe. Just get the fuck out of my place. I never want to see you again.”

Reggie huffs. “Can do, Lex,” he says, making for the door. He pulls it open, stopping at the last second. “Have a nice fuckin’ life.”

The door falls shut with a slam. Alex drops slowly to the floor, clutching at her chest as sobs wrack her body. Shoulders shaking, she huddles into a tight ball. Now, she’s alone. Alex is well and truly alone.

[booburry]

Snippet Sunday

@fangbangerghoul - ty for reminding us all it's Sunday haha

Kinda in limbo rn on deciding the next short WIP or going back to my loooong fic WIP's, but I have this little snippet below for my Marcus Pike WIP 'Heiress'.

It summarizes the premise of the story pretty well. I want to continue this but yesterday I also wrote for three (?) other WIP's I have, so...

Marcus Pike x F!OC; 616 words. Setup: Marcus rushed from a diner, where he finally spoke with Izzy (OC), due to an urgent work call. Marcus has major crush on OC, long lasting for months prior to today, but is too scared to try to get into anything with anyone.

“We found the next target for that Swedish group we’ve been tracking.” Charles stated as Marcus sat on the conference table, raising one leg to rest on top while the other supported his position. He tossed the folder by his side and placed his mug gently in front of him.

This was why he rushed back.

They had been tracking these assholes for a while, but they always managed to slip through their fingers, and with each heist they were becoming brasher, clumsier, and no longer showed signs of being against resorting to violence.

Things were going to end badly if they didn’t get them this time, Marcus was sure.

“Whose the unfortunate target?” Marcus asked, his eyes darting to Charles who clicked to the next slide.

“Some rich Belgian family...Vanthorn. One of the oldest family names in Belgium that still holds power and wealth, from what we have gathered. They have a ridiculously large vault of priceless art, some never seen before by the public, it’s unknown how vast it is or the value. The family’s kept that secret pretty tightly locked.” Charles clicked to the next slide that contained numerous images of historical artifacts and artworks that Marcus immediately recognized. “You will probably best know this family for being the ‘poor bastards’ who got ‘robbed’ of billions of dollars by being forced to return all of these pieces to the proper countries and cultures of origin.”

Marcus stood up, immediately intrigued at the fact that this family lost all of this and still holds status of being rich and influential. That they still held art within their home that Charles would claim to be priceless?

What the fuck were these people hiding?

Same question the thieves must be thinking too...

“There is only one living heir to the Vanthorn fortune.” Charles continued while Marcus turned around, finding himself pacing as his mind got ahead of himself. “Miss Genevieve Vanthorn,” Charles announced with a resounding click, Marcus’s focus still elsewhere. “Who surprisingly, but thankfully, lives here in DC.”

“What?” Marcus blurted out as he turned on his heel to look at Charles, sure he heard wrong that a Belgian Heiress would be living here, in Washington, DC, but his eyes caught the screen and he felt his body freeze and his throat clamp shut when he saw the picture of Miss Genevieve Vanthorn and recognized her as Izzy.

She looked different, but the features were the same—her eyes, nose, lips…the small scar on her chin and indent above her right eyebrow, her pronounced cluster of freckles on her jaw and the bridge of her nose that begged Marcus to kiss every dot whenever he could see them.

It was a sickening feeling on a multitude of levels.

“I know.” One of the other agents commented, raising his eyebrows at how Marcus paused to stare at Genevieve—Izzy! Marcus just glowered at him.

“Not the point.” He sternly scolded the agent as he walked towards Charles. “Why do we need to involve her?” He clarified, glancing once more towards the image, his rage at the goon behind him stepping back to make space for his growing worry for Izzy.

“Their vault is DNA locked. She’s the only one who can open it, so naturally, she will be the number one target.” An overwhelming sense of dread came over Marcus at the realization, and before he could dwell on why that feeling came up, why it was so strong and why he felt so overwhelmed by it, he rushed into action. He ensured to give all his agents, except for the egghead, tasks to handle while purposefully leaving for himself the handling of attaining the target—Izzy.

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 1

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.4k 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* Not much for this chapter! Mostly fluff, a little flirting, and playful but on-point use of the term 'tramp stamp'. Summary: On a failed date at the local market, Marcus runs into an old friend and gets an invitation to visit. The beautiful inn and fantastic food were explicit in the invite -- but you are a complete surprise to him. Notes: Welcome, welcome, welcome my lovelies! As a girl who grew up on The West Wing and fosters an unapologetic love of all things romance, a story like this has been on my wish list to write for a very long time. I hope you're all ready for a cast of new characters and the grand appearance of Pedro's character from Graceland, because it's time for Marcus Pike to meet his soulmate! 🧡🧡🧡

There’s something about the hustle and bustle of D.C., that while it can invigorate someone and inspire them to live life as fast as possible, it can also drain them. At least, that’s what Marcus Pike has learned from the last three years of therapy. That and he’s prone to rushing into relationships, being in love with love, as Dr. Barnes would caution him.

It seems sometimes as if he’s unlucky in love, despite the universe providing a perfect match for him, he’s never found her. Always looking, but also being open to loving someone who doesn’t share marks or scars. Someone who just wants a stable and steady man to worship them and give them the world.

He hasn’t dated in almost three years. His therapist had advised him to focus on himself. To work through his emotions of a failed college marriage, a failed engagement. To make himself happy with who he is before introducing another person into the mix. He had thought that’s what he was doing, but apparently he had been wrong.

Finally feeling ready to date again, he had dipped his toes back in the water. Only to have it backfire tremendously. So much so, that he finds himself walking around the Eastern Market on his own. His idea of a farmer’s market casual date obviously not a good one, according to the woman who had tossed the drink he had bought her on the trash and stomped off, abandoning him to feel like a fool.

Smiling faces beam back at him from the covers of glossy gossip magazines, flashing headlines critiquing fashions worn to the recent inauguration ceremony and parties. The new president and her family wave from above the fold of newspapers — the happy family that Marcus himself doesn’t have. Ignoring the rude reminder, he wanders through the stalls and vendors of Eastern Market aimlessly until he reaches the family-owned sweet shop that he’s been coming to for years now. They know him, and like him, and his sweet tooth knows no bounds. There’s another man at the counter just before Marcus so he stands back, but Jenny waves hello from behind the counter. “Morning Marcus! Gimme one second and I’ll be right with you.” She says, turning back to the order marked Juan in her big, looping handwriting. “Six cannoli, right? Two pistachio, two double chocolate, and two cherry chocolate?”

“Right.” The man in a corduroy jacket with his short hair trimmed neatly nods. “Thanks, Jen. The girls are going to be over the moon.”

Another reminder of a life he craves. Marcus frowns slightly and tries to remember what his therapist has told him. Everyone moves at their own pace. Just because he’s not juggling two kids, a dog and a lovely wife with his workload doesn’t mean he’s failing. It just means he’s not met the right person, soulmate or not.

The other man pays for his order and turns to leave but stops dead in the middle of a cordial nod when he sees Marcus standing a few feet away. Sure he had heard Jenny say hi to someone…but he hadn’t looked. Now though? He huffs a laugh at the ghost of his past. “Pike?” They’d been mistaken as brothers — or for each other — so many times back at the Academy that it would be impossible not to recognize Marcus Pike.

“Badillo?” It’s amazing to see the other agent, although he had heard that he had left the Bureau after a friendly fire shooting. He looks good though, and Marcus cracks into the first real grin of the morning since being left high and dry. “What the hell? How are you doing, man?” He asks, coming in for a friendly hug while being mindful of the box in Juan���s hand.

“Good! Good. Errands.” Juan huffs, returning Marcus’s hug with equal surprise and affection. The men had been quite good friends at one time, more than a few years ago now. “Pregnant wife gets whatever pregnant wife wants, ya know?” He grins, bright and shining. “When did you get back to DC?”

“Pregnant wife, huh?” Despite the knife to his heart, Marcus paints on a grin, happy for his old friend. “Three years ago.” He shrugs slightly. “Heading up Art Crimes now. How about you? I heard you got out.” He lifts his eyebrows, allowing Juan to talk if he wants or brush it off if he doesn’t.

“I did.” Juan nods, knowing that various stories circulated after he left the Bureau. Most of them false. “Decided to take a little road trip vacation to clear my head and ended up meeting my soulmate in Yosemite on day two of the whole thing, and I followed her East.” He shrugs, ever the unapologetic romantic just like Marcus. They had had that in common. “How’s Lara?” He asks, remembering the woman that had been Mrs. Pike during their Academy days. Marcus had been over the moon for her. “Is she liking being back?”

Marcus grimaces a little and shrugs. “She’s, uh, we got divorced about ten years ago.” He tells him. “She found out she did have a soulmate.”

“Ah shit.” Blowing out a breath and shuffling his feet, Juan rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “I’m sorry, man. That’s—there’s just no easy way to get through something like that.”

“It’s okay.” Marcus had loved Lara, but he wasn’t going to stand in the way of soulmates. It wouldn’t be right. “It was actually a very easy divorce; she hated hurting me. More than I can say for the last date, or last fiancée I’ve had.”

“Shit.” Juan huffs again, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s eleven in the morning but I feel like I ought to be buying you a drink, man.” Hearing that someone as genuinely good as Marcus Pike is has had his heart bashed so often is a fucking bummer, and Juan chews on his lip for a second before his head tilts in that Universal signal of natural curiosity. “I’ve got time today. If you want to hang out? Catch up?” He offers, knowing that drinks will most likely come later if the two old friends spend the day getting back on the same page.

Marcus chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do I look that dejected?” He asks, even though he’s not really looking for an answer. “I was supposed to be on a date, I figured a farmer’s market/brunch date would be easy enough and yet thoughtful, but I was ditched.” He snorts. “I have zero luck it seems.” He nods his head towards the cannoli. “But you can’t leave your pregnant wife waiting on those.”

“No, I can’t.” Sydney is waiting back at the restaurant with bated breath, he knows that, but he does offer Marcus a smile. “But she does run a restaurant, so you don’t have to be brunch-less unless you choose to be.”

“Yeah?” He perks up at the idea of trying out a new place, always loving brunch foods. “Where at? I might have to take a spin over there.”

“Her place is called Il Corvo.” It takes a second, but Juan digs a business card for the restaurant out of his jacket pocket and hands it over. “It’s the in-house restaurant at The Inn at Jones Point in Alexandria.” He reports proudly, always ready to brag about his soulmate’s amazing success. Running a restaurant is no small feat. “I know the card says the dining room opens at 4pm, but ignore that. She does brunch for guests at the inn and for special guests from time to time.”

“Are you sure?” Marcus frowns slightly. “I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not imposing, trust me.” Knowing his wife as well as he does, Juan is more than certain she’ll be doting on Marcus in no time. “As long as you’re on board for Italian food, come by any time you want.”

“I’m out on the bike.” Marcus tells Juan, remembering how the other agent also loved to ride motorcycles. “I might swing by sometime. Normally go for rides on the weekend.”

"Anytime you want," Juan repeats, and he hopes Marcus understands how entirely he means it. "It's good to see you again, man."

“Good to see you too.” Marcus means that, smiling at the former agent. “Nice to see that you are okay.”

The two men part with a smile and a nod, and Juan hustles away to get his precious cargo back out to his soulmate. Maybe he'll pitch the idea of inviting Marcus to their next board game night if Sydney and her best friend don't mind the extra company. Not that they ever mind extra company.

Marcus doesn’t mean for it to be two weeks from the chance encounter with Juan before he steers his bike down the country, winding roads towards this inn that he had been told about. He had a case that required him to travel. Then it was reports and the never ending budget fiascos that new presidencies always bring, his boss wanting a new projections for the fiscal year for some reason.

Now though, he’s enjoying the scenery as the wind blows over his face and he leans into the curve, enjoying the small thrill that races up his spine from the inherent danger.

The winter has been mild so far and all the snow left behind by the storm the area had gotten while he was traveling has melted, making the ride an easy and calming one. He had intentionally driven a long route around Alexandria and the surrounding area, letting him arrive at his destination a little after noon on that cold, sunny Sunday. The inn is a large brick farmhouse, probably originally colonial but it looks like it was redone sometime during the Federalist architecture craze of the early 1800s. Now its clean white painted window frames and front porch are as welcoming as the pristinely kept front garden. The Inn at Jones Point proclaims a sign out front, which is accompanied by a smaller complimentary sign with an impressionist painted black bird that reads Il Corvo in an artistic script. There are cars in the lot with a plethora of states listed on their license plates, another motorcycle that he has to assume is Juan's, and a very government-issued-looking black car parked close to the building.

Marcus is enough of a romantic to fully appreciate the appeal of the property and more importantly, grounded enough to be able to appreciate it without having a partner here to enjoy it with. Since working with his therapist, he's spent a lot of the last three years 'dating himself'. Instead of waiting to make a date to try out a new restaurant, he goes by himself. Not limiting himself to new experiences with partners, he has found that he enjoys the hunt for the perfect spots to eat. The little Indian restaurant he had found is an absolute gem and he is looking forward to discovering a new little brunch spot. If this place is half as good as Juan says, he might make it a monthly habit while he can spend some time with his old friend.

Inside, the lobby of the inn is bustling. Guests sit in plush chairs with travel brochures or excitedly type on their phones. A family is gathered around a display of pamphlets for different travel experiences and tourist attraction. Another guest is hovering around the front desk, seemingly waiting for someone to return.

From the rooms off to the left, wave after wave of stunning smells wafts past Marcus as he looks around. A set of French doors stands open but the hostess stand for Il Corvo stands empty while a small number of diners sit inside, happily chattering over their meals. The scent of fresh coffee permeates everything else just a second before he can see why, as a woman in a blue silk shirt comes around the corner with two travel cups — presumably full of coffee — for the guest standing at the desk.

“Here we are, Mrs. Richards. Thank you for your patience, the pot was just finishing brewing. These will keep you nice and warm while you walk around Old Town.” Smiling as the woman walks away, your eyes survey the room and land on the new arrival with a touch of confusion. “Good afternoon,” you greet, in your typical sunshiny tone. This man isn’t a guest and you genuinely almost thought it was Juan for a second — even though you just saw Juan in the restaurant. “How can I help you today?”

“Hi— uh, I—” Marcus realizes he knows you. Your mother’s picture hangs on his office wall next to the current FBI director’s, and furthermore, it’s hard to not see the darling First Daughter in some news story – although it doesn’t seem like you enjoy the press. “Yeah, sorry, Juan said that brunch is served here?” He asks with an apologetic smile. “I’m Marcus, uh, Pike. We were in the Academy together and I ran into him a few weeks ago.”

You’re prettier than he ever imagined the pictures and news reels, your voice curling into his stomach pleasantly. In true, Marcus Pike fashion. He finds himself instantly intrigued by you.

“Oh, you’re Marcus!” As bright and cheery as you sound, something flips in your stomach and clenches at your chest and you swallow down the oh god he’s really hot impulse that you haven’t felt in…well, in years. This guy looks like someone took Juan and gave him broader shoulders and better hair, and put a little bit more James Dean in his style. “It’s really nice to meet you.” You introduce yourself, probably unnecessarily, but it’s good manners and keeps you from getting nervous or going off track. “Come on this way. Juan said you might be stopping by but he wasn’t sure when.”

“I’m sorry, should I have called first?” He asks, feeling guilty and slightly in the way. The last thing that he wants is to cause an imposition.

“Not at all.” You slip out from behind your desk and wave for him to follow you. “He’s been excited to introduce you to everybody.” The inn is a decent size, with the ground floor being public spaces and all the rooms upstairs being ready-made for guests except for the attic apartment, and you quickly lead the way through the rooms toward the restaurant kitchen.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve caught up.” Marcus admits. “We were close in the academy, most people through we were twins to be honest.” He chuckles slightly.

“I almost thought you were him when I saw you,” you admit, glad to know you aren’t alone in it. Juan had said they look alike but it really is extreme. “Here we are.” Humming as you push open the door to the restaurant’s bar, you huff a soft laugh when a woman slightly taller than you with masses of curls in a tight bun at the nape of her neck in a black suit sidesteps the pair of you and opens the kitchen door to look inside before letting you in. “Thank you, Agent Bailey.” As odd as it is to have constant supervision like this, you’re doing your best to be patient and understanding with it. “Come on into the kitchen,” you offer to Marcus. “Brunch is almost over and this is where Juan sits when he hangs out.”

“Really? The inner sanctum already?” The tone is joking, but Marcus knows that for a lot of chefs, the kitchen is their sacred place. He wouldn’t know, because his kitchen is used to make coffee, but he’s had a few relationships with amateur gourmet cooks.

“Marcus!” There’s no question that this is where he’s supposed to be, when Juan is waving from a corner of the kitchen and immediately zips over to say hello. “How are you, man? Good to see you!”

“Hey.” He grins when he sees the other man, obviously happier here than any time in the Bureau and he’s happy for him. He seems like a completely different man, just from the quick glance. Perhaps it’s the fact that he found his soulmate. “Sorry it’s been a few weeks. Got caught up on a case.”

“I completely get it,” he assures his friend. “It’s been kind of crazy around here anyway. Weddings booked every single weekend and the restaurant stuffed full with reservations.” He beams, proud as a peacock, and waves slightly as you disappear back out through the bar to return to your counter. The inn is full up with last night’s wedding party and you have your hands full. “I want you to meet my wife,” Juan says, clapping Marcus in the shoulder and pulling him further into the kitchen.

There are only two people cooking right now and they are both winding down. Enough that the petite woman with tied-up hair and a look of intense concentration on her face can look up and smile. “I hear you talking about me,” she warns with a laugh.

“Syd, this is Marcus Pike.” Juan introduces, bringing his friend out in front of him. “Marcus, this is Sydney. The gorgeous goddess the universe decided to grace me with.”

“Nice to meet you.” Again that pesky pang of longing lurches inside Marcus but he throws her a smile and takes her hand after she offers it immediately. “I’ve only heard angelic things about you, so rest assured, he’s not talking ill.”

“He’s does nothing but tell stories about you since you guys ran into each other at Eastern Market.” Sydney tells him honestly. “Can I make you something to eat?”

“I was hoping to experience the brunch option that Juan was bragging about.” Marcus admits as he glances around, admiring the state of the art kitchen. “Didn’t expect to see this from the historical facade.” He admits. “It’s charming though.” He adds, hoping that neither one of you take offense.

"Charming is her specialty." Sydney points her thumb in the direction of the door, indicating the main lobby of the inn. "We took over running this place about three years ago now. The previous owners weren't able to keep up anymore so they sold to her and we updated the restaurant. Modern Italian dinners and brunch for the inn's guests. It's a big step up from the B&B that this place used to be." Grinning proudly, Sydney moves over to the nearest counter and plops a paper menu down at the stool beside her husband. "What would you like?"

Marcus looks at the menu and lifts a brow, impressed by the sophisticated menu. This isn’t some little spaghetti shop that pretends to be Italian. “It’s been so long since I’ve had good Uova in Purgatorio.” He moans. “Since the last time I was in Naples.” He clicks his tongue. “But I want to try the ricotta pancakes too.”

"Then you will get both," Sydney insists, clicking her tongue and getting to work. "A G-man in Naples, huh?" She barely glances up from her work as she moves. "Art crimes must be the fancy branch of the Bureau."

“I work on international cases with Interpol and Scotland Yard.” He explains as he sits down and admires the fluidity of her movements in the kitchen. She’s completely at home in her space and it’s evident she’s in command. He’s slightly envious of her comfort in a kitchen, if he’s honest.

"Oh, so it definitely is the fancy branch." She laughs. Juan hops up from his seat to grab coffee for himself and Marcus, brushing a kiss on her cheek as he moves past, and the other woman who had been cooking moves away to the other end of the room to work on cleaning up from the brunch rush.

"Fancy branch of what?" The kitchen door swings open again and you come strolling back inside looking infinitely more tired than you had just a few minutes ago but still in a generally good mood. "The wedding party is finally gone. I am officially taking my break."

Marcus stares at you for a moment and then looks down at his hands, feeling like he might be bragging if he were to tell you what they’ve been talking about. There’s something about you that is knocking him off kilter, he’s normally a little more confident than this.

"Art crimes is swanky, apparently." Sydney tells you, never stopping or slowing as she moves around like a controlled whirlwind. "Eggs in purgatory and ricotta pancakes for your brunch? I'll make up a big batch." They're two of your favourite things anyway and it's easy enough to just make a double serving of each when she knows that your break time is always mealtime.

"That sounds incredible," you moan in agreement, making a beeline for the industrial refrigerator in the corner of the room to make yourself an iced latte that is far more espresso than milk. A generous swirl of flavored syrup joins your cup before you plop down on the edge of the counter and sip your drink with a happy sigh. Normally people exclaim over you when they realize they recognize you but Marcus Pike hasn't said a word — and you wonder if he doesn't recognize you from the papers or if you even care. It's nice to not have someone make a fuss for once. To just be nice and not suck up to you for being the President's oldest child.

“Weddings take it out of you, huh?” Marcus asks, smirking a little at the drink in your hand, although it looks delicious. “Or were they just demanding?”

"It was a big party. Very specific needs." Sipping your drink and finally sitting is immediately relaxing, and you're always ready to meet new people. Especially when they're someone that your best friend's husband speaks of so highly. "Nothing I can't handle, but weddings are always tricky. It's the most important day of at least one person's life, so you always want to try to make it as perfect for them as you can. Thankfully," you gesture around you. "I have an incredible team. Syd is the best Italian chef in the Chesapeake Bay and Juanito is an incredible event coordinator."

Marcus snorts and cuts his eyes over at Badillo. “He always did have an eye for details.” He admits, snickering at the nickname you’ve bestowed on the former federal agent. “Although it’s surprising that it’s manifested in wedding planning.” He teases playfully.

"Event planning," Juan clarifies, but he's grinning regardless. "We host a lot here. Weddings, anniversaries, holiday parties, all kinds of personal events. I get to put my organizational mind to work on it. It's actually pretty rewarding."

"Don't let him sell himself short. Juan plans a hell of a wedding." There is pride on your face, pride for your friend and in your work "We've gotten written up in a bunch of bridal magazines and on websites the last few years."

“Good job, Juanito.” If there’s anything that Marcus enjoyed more than the courses in the academy, it was busting his friend’s balls. All in good fun of course, he had taken his share of ribbing as well. It was par for the course. “That sounds like a hell of a job, making people happy and sharing in their special moments.”

"We do our best." Juan will never take the credit for himself, always attributing the effort to the team as a whole. This time, though, he flashes a knowing grin at you. "Although the next one we plan might be a hell of a lot bigger than what we do here."

“Oh?” Marcus asks, turning towards you. “Are you getting married soon?” His eyes drop discreetly to your hand and he tries to remember what he’s read about you but for some reason, he’s drawing a blank.

“No, Juan just likes to tease.” You shake it off with a roll of your eyes, knowing that — unfortunately — your friend is completely right. If or when it does happen, it will be a damn circus. “It’s this…guy that I met last year, and it’s been really good and he really took all the stress of the last year in stride, and these two love to tease.” In truth, you’ve been intentionally moving forward slowly with the junior Congressman from Maryland that you met at a campaign event you attended with your mother last year. Sam is a good guy and has big ideas for the future. It’s just that you normally dive into relationships so fast and so deep that your heart does all the talking before your mind can catch up. And now that you’re a public figure, you can’t afford to have that happen again. “I’m perfectly content to watch other people have their big days for now.”

“I can imagine that it’s hard to have a relationship right now.” He sympathizes. “The press either treats you like a darling celebrity or some kind of public spectacle, right?” He asks, curious as to your view on the entire thing. Personally, he hated the idea of politics taking on a celebrity flare and you aren’t on politics, your mother is.

“I’m honestly lucky that my younger siblings take some of the focus,” you admit. So he did recognize you. It’s nice that he didn’t fuss. You’re grateful for that. “My brother is in law school and my sister is in undergrad and they’re both living in the White House while they study but…yeah. We all agreed to give up our privacy for a while so Mom can do some good work. That means relationships aren’t easy right now.”

“It’s good you had a choice.” Marcus admits. “Sometimes I watch the campaigns for some of the politicians and it’s obvious the family would rather be anywhere else and are putting on a facade.” He shrugs, not wanting to delve too deep into a subject you probably are uncomfortable with. “Nice that you don’t have too much interference here, except for the Secret Service agent.”

"Agent Bailey's okay." In fact, she's sitting outside the kitchen door right now, giving you a bit of space and privacy to try to pretend you still have a halfway normal life. "We're still getting used to each other. I had somebody else during the campaign, but she's been assigned to my sister now. It all works out in the end." Smiling, you take another sip of your coffee and wonder why your stomach is fluttering over this very kind man who has been introduced into your lives very much by chance. It's...unsettling. To say the very least. "But that's plenty about me. How about you, Special Agent Marcus Pike? Where're you from? How are you liking Art Crimes?" You grin, throwing him a mischievous expression. "Who'd you vote for, for president?"

Marcus laughs, a real laugh that comes from his belly and he relaxes. “Let’s see…I’m from the great state of Texas - Go Rangers.” He ticks off. “I love Art Crimes, especially when we can recover sentimental pieces and keep “collectors”,” he uses air quotes, “from locking away art from being enjoyed by all.” He grins at your last question. “And my momma told me never to discuss politics or religion in social settings….but….my candidate is currently hanging on my office wall.”

"Rangers, huh?" Glossing over the not insignificant tidbit that he did, in fact, vote for your mother, you find yourself thoroughly enjoying getting to know this friend of your friend. It's usually not this easy to click with a new acquaintance, although you've become an expert at seeming interested just to be polite. That doesn't seem to be necessary at all with this man. "When we get our Phillies/Rangers series this year we'll have to come up with a bet of some kind."

“It’s gonna be a losing bet on your end.” Marcus predicts. “We’ve got Darío Álvarez and then Elvis Andrus is going to continue stealing bases.”

"Oh thank god," Sydney huffs, flipping ricotta pancakes on her griddle top and grinning as she throws you a wink. "She's finally got someone else to drag to baseball games. I'm free!"

"My alleged best friend," you smirk and decide to tease her back. "And her husband are both hockey people. So I'm generally either stuck watching the game on my own or dragging Syd along with promises of beer and ballpark dogs."

“Nationals aren’t my favorite team. Since they are National League.” Marcus smirks. “But I have season tickets since it’s too expensive to fly back to Texas for every game.”

It would be bragging to admit that you've been asked to throw the first ball out at the Nationals opening game this season as the most vocally baseball-loving member of the new First Family, so you just smile. You know it can feel like a big sacrifice to leave something about home behind. "Maybe I'll see you there," you offer instead. "The Nationals aren't my team either, but the game are pretty fun."

“Oh they always are.” He admits wholeheartedly. “Plus the Navy Yard is close so it’s always interesting.”

"Heeeeere we go." Onto the counter in front of you, Sydney heaps four plates of food – making each of you identical breakfasts. "The fruit compote for the pancakes right now is cranberry lemon. And I threw a little extra chili into the sauce for the eggs." She grins. "Some folks who stay at the inn say it's too spicy but it's how we like it," she tells Marcus.

Marcus chuckles and Juan snorts, hooking his fingers towards the agent. “This man ate his way through a five alarm chili contest and didn’t even touch his beer.” He boasts to the two of you. “If it’s not spicy, I don’t want it.” Marcus confirms with a grin. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”

"Then next time you're getting Calabrian chili instead of just the wimpy flakes." Sydney promises with glee. "That's how our girl likes it, but that's too much even for me most of the time. I have to be in the mood for it."

“You like spicy?” He asks, smirking towards you. “How do you feel about the Indian food around here?”

"There's a place in DuPont Circle that is probably the best Indian food I've ever had in my entire life." Even as you're getting ready to dig into your best friend's comfort Italian fare, your mouth starts watering thinking of curries and dal. "The kind of place where they don't make it really spicy until you've been there a couple of times and they know you can handle it. I swear I've eaten there more than I've cooked my own food since moving out here."

“Rasika’s?” Marcus groans, nodding. “I love that place. They make the best curry I’ve ever eaten in my life. I’m sweating, but I never tell them to bring me the yogurt sauce.”

"If you don't sweat while you're eating there, you're doing it wrong." It's a slight point of contention with Sam, who generally considers mustard to be too spicy most of the time, but you ignore the side eye you're getting from Sydney and dig in to your brunch. Having come in early today, this is halfway through your shift and you're going to be excited to head upstairs to your little attic caretaker's apartment when the time comes this afternoon. "Mmmmm," you groan happily and do a little wiggle in your seat unconsciously. "Syd, I swear. If you hadn't already married Juan, I'd marry you for your brunch."

Marcus takes that as the best kind of advertisement and cuts into his own meal to fork up a bite of the eggs. “Christ.” He groans as soon as the flavors hit his mouth. “That’s amazing.”

"I told you," Juan boasts, sitting up in his seat a little taller with pride for his soulmate. "She's amazing."

“You weren’t kidding.” Marcus huffs, taking another bite. “If this got out, you could run on brunch alone.”

"We're considering offering an incentive package for events." Starting to clean up, Syd watches the two of you eat while she wraps the kitchen up from brunch to get everything prepared for dinner service. "Wedding brunches are coming back in fashion, but a lot of people are wanting to do morning after brunches for their families before everyone goes their separate ways."

“I can see that.” Marcus nods. “Lara and I had a lunch thing before we all said goodbye, but that was casual.”

"Your wife?" You guess, struggling to remember if Juan had mentioned that his friend was married. He's not wearing a ring, but some men don't — a habit that generally rubs you the wrong way because those men are always the ones who basically want their wives to walk around wearing a giant 'I'm married' sign but will never show any outward signs of commitment themselves.

Marcus gives a small shrug and smiles self-consciously. “Ex-wife.” He admits, knowing that soon enough the pitying looks will start. “We divorced a while ago.”

Sydney clicks her tongue, having remembered that fact, and says nothing more. You, though? For some reason you can't help yourself. Something about Marcus Pike compels you to offer comfort in whatever way you can. "If you ever find another Mrs. Pike, you let us know. We've got you covered."

Marcus chuckles. “So far, that search has been in vain.” He admits. “Apparently it’s not in the cards for me.”

"She's out there." Juan offers with confidence. "If I remember correctly, you've even got a couple of tattoos to prove it."

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I do.” He snorts. “If I ever find her, I want to know why there is a hummingbird tramp stamp on my lower back.” He laughs. “I get why, but why???? Why a hummingbird?”

A glare of questioning moves soundlessly between you and your best friend — the perpetually meddling woman who sat next to you when you were eighteen and challenged you to answer trivia questions while you had your own hummingbird tramp stamp inked onto your skin in celebration of your high school graduation. "Oh yeah?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at you while you furious try to communicate with nothing more than wide eyes that you do not want her to ask what she's about to ask. "What kind of hummingbird? How trashy are we talking?"

“It’s not exactly trashy.” Marcus defends. “It’s actually a pretty blue and green.“

"Interesting." Sydney hums, practically giggling with glee as she cleans up the kitchen and you bury your face in your meal like it will help you escape the entire conversation. "Maybe hummingbirds are her favourite bird?"

I'm going to kill you in your sleep says the glare you send your best friend's way.

“Totally trashed my punk rock image.” He laughs. “Although I didn’t think of that at the time. Thinking I’m this hardcore next Kurt Cobain rocker and I’ve got a hummingbird tattoo on my lower back.” He snorts, shrugging slightly. “But it’s always been a question I’ve wanted to ask. What made her choose that? What’s special about it to her?”

"Hummingbirds symbolize love and devotion," you murmur next to him, not quite looking up and wondering if the world is really turning on its ear right now or if it's just that you've been thrown off kilter by the possibilities. It's not like you're the only girl in the world with a hummingbird tattoo, after all. Far from it. "And they're supposed to be good luck."

“I like that.” Marcus hums softly. “It’s wistful, hopeful.” There could be a thousand different reasons why his soulmate chose that symbol to etch on her body and in turn, his, but he would rather it be a loving sign. You aren’t looking at him, and miss the small smile he throws you. “Poetic.”

"So she's gotta be out there somewhere." Sydney needles the point a little bit, sounding breezy as hell but just about ready to pounce on any clues Marcus offers up. "Maybe a hopeless romantic with a stubborn streak and an encyclopedic knowledge of Lost Generation authors and impressionist painters?" She shrugs like she's just pulled the example out of thin air. "Who knows?"

Throwing Juan a look, Marcus smirks. “Sounds like your husband has been talking about favorite kind of woman.” He jokes, although he’s pretty sure that he would love it if his soulmate turned out to be just that. “I just want to have someone that wants to be build a lift together. A partner.” He shrugs. “Most people think that it’s crazy, but I think that your significant other should be your best friend and your lover.”

"Absolutely crazy." With as clearly sarcastic a tone as she can possibly muster, Sydney practically deadpans in Marcus's direction. "So weird. How dare you want to spend your life with someone you loves you as much as you love them?" Every single thing she's described has been about you, and while neither of the guys are picking up on that for even a single second, the fact that you have your head down over your plate means you're reading her loud and clear. "I bet your dream girl will even have a thing for your old rockstar days," she goes on, as if she's stringing out a hypothetical and not explicitly describing your opinion that musicians are sexy as hell. "Don't tell me. You were a bassist, right?"

“And vocals.” He admits, shaking his head ruefully. “It’s alright if she doesn’t like that. God, it’s been years since I’ve picked up my bass.” He realizes. “I should do that. Between the bass or the motorcycle, I just spent more time on the bike.”

Bass. Vocals. And motorcycle? You practically groan out loud but barely manage to swallow the sound and instead hop up from your seat immediately to hopefully combine the noise you just made with all manner of other commotion. "Just grabbing another drink," you explain, when all three of their heads turn toward you at once. "You, uh...you should do what makes you happy, Marcus. If that's not overstepping things for me to say. We just met today. But I've always heard that the best things in life tend to fall into your lap when you're not looking for them. So maybe just...enjoy yourself? And who knows what can happen."

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Marcus admits. “My therapist agrees with you. That we need to enjoy ourselves and not just search.”

"Our therapists agree with each other, then," you admit with a chuckle. "I started seeing someone when Mom decided to run for president. I figured it would be good to have someone to check in with and make sure I was handling my stressors in a healthy way." The conversations you had had with them about whether or not to factor your soulmate into future plans when you had never met them were slightly less straightforward.

“That’s always a good thing.” He nods quickly. “I’ve never been one to think that therapists are a waste of time.” He shrugs. “My mom was a therapist all my childhood.”

"It's an incredibly important profession. And an incredibly important resource to have." Seeing as Marcus's mug was empty as well, you bring back two glasses of water to the counter and sit down again, hoping that Sydney won't keep pushing. Or at least that she won't reveal things if she does. "My little sister is a psychology major. She's thinking about medical school next, and talking about different paths she might taken with her studies. Therapist being one of them."

“It’s a good profession.” Marcus admits easily. “Just- let her know, most therapists have their own therapists they see. It’s draining to take on everyone’s secrets and burdens, trying to do the best you can to give them the tools to help themselves. So tell her that there’s no shame in that.”

"I will." It isn't worth negating the kindness of Marcus's thoughts and advice by telling him that all three of the First Kids started therapy at the start of the campaign. It's the care he has for other people — people he has never met and may never meet ever in his life, that touches you so very deeply. "Thank you, Marcus. That's very kind of you."

He nods and picks up the glass of water, needing to wash down the remnants of the eggs before starting on the pancakes. “So, Juan, how did you and your lovely wife discover you were soulmates?” He asks curiously.

"Uhm..." Juan chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck and looking to Sydney for her permission to tell the story.

"Go ahead," she laughs. "I've go to start dinner prep. Tell him as much as you want."

"It's not exactly PG," he admits, still laughing softly to himself. "The polite version is that we compared tattoos."

Marcus isn’t the head of his department because he’s dimwitted. “One night stand?” He asks, lifting his brows in surprise. It wasn’t like he had never had them himself, but both men had preferred to be in relationships rather than sleep around. Not that he’s judging.

“I was willing to take whatever that goddess was willing to give me,” Juan admits without shame. “One night would have been a memory to cherish. But the universe said it should be a lifetime, instead.”

“I’m happy for you.” Marcus promises with a slap on the back for his old friend. “You deserve it. Glad you found her.”

“You say that now.” His friend smiles happily though, beaming at the commendation. “But now it’s going to be my mission to find you that girl with the hummingbird tattoo.”

Marcus smiles, a little sadly, but he just shrugs. “I’ll find her when I’m supposed to.” He reasons. “Knowing my luck, she’s happily married.”

“Not as happily as she would be with you.” He’s confident in that, and Juan looks to you to bolster his encouragements. “How could anybody not be ecstatic to have a guy this good, right?”

It feels rude. Like a trick from the universe that you do not like one bit. Like the powers that be are rubbing your nose in your defiance of their plans. “They’d have to be blind.” You offer, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Sam is a good guy. He’s been a good boyfriend and has made you happy. Why are you suddenly thinking about someone else after an hour of knowing them? That’s utterly ridiculous. “You…never really know how the universe is going to have things work out.”

She’s just being polite. Marcus realizes that when he sees your smile, his stomach churning unhappily. It doesn’t matter, you’re seeing someone. A woman in a relationship has always been off limits to him. He doesn’t like, nor respect cheaters and yet he’s upset that you don’t seem that attracted to him. Or, you’re reluctantly attracted to him. He stares down at his pancakes and sighs. “All that matters to me if that my soulmate is happy.” He decides.

Juan and Marcus talk about this and that for the next few minutes, but you quickly finish your pancakes and excuse yourself. It was very nice to meet Marcus, and you tell him so, but you’re a little rattled by the possibility that was just laid out in front of you and you need a few deep breaths of fresh air before your break is over and you have to go back to solving guest’s dilemmas.

Juan doesn’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes follow you out of the room and he smirks. “Thinkin’ about it?” He asks, knowing you are the other man’s type.

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “I mean, I would if she were single, but she’s not.” Deciding to change the subject, he leans in. “Did they heighten security here, or just the one agent?”

“Updated cameras and increased security personnel. We turned the spare office into a surveillance room but her Secret Service detail doesn’t butt in on anything they don’t need to.” Juan shrugs, knowing that things always change over time. “So far.”

That’s good and Marcus nods. “Sounds like you might have had some input.” He knows that Juan is very analytical, he would know what the weakness were in a place like this.

Juan snorts, taking a sip of his drink and shrugging vaguely. "My wife's childhood best friend is the First Daughter of the United States. If I can help her be safe, I'm going to."

“I can certainly understand that.” Marcus admits.

"It's a good system." Juan acknowledges. "She always has a detail agent nearby and the place needs the security because we've gotten a hell of a lot busier since the campaign last year."

“I’m sure.” Marcus snorts. “Everyone wants to claim they have some insider pull.” He says, a little cynical, but he looks around. “And I’m sure a lot of it is the fact that this place is a little gem.”

"272-year-old farmhouse with restored gardens and a barn and a gazebo from 1823. The place has had so many owners and been used for so many things." It's clear that Juan has nothing but affection for the place, and that he really has leaned into a fully civilian life. "I'm glad you came out to say hi," he tells Marcus honestly. "Hopefully we'll see more of you around here."

“With food like this?” Marcus groans, throwing his buddy a grin. “Those are the best damn pancakes that I’ve eaten in forever.”

"And considering you're a certified pancake expert, that says something." Juan chuckles. When Marcus hadn't shown up for a few weeks he was afraid that maybe he had said something wrong or that his old friend had moved on from the comradery they used to have, Apparently, neither was the case.

“Still love pancakes. It’s finding the time to eat them, that’s the problem.” He snorts. “It’s getting better now that I run the department, but after I ran into you? I was flying out two days later.”

"Sounds like you earned a day to relax." Sounds like he earned a lot more than just one day, but Juan knows how the Bureau works. A single day can sometimes be a miracle to come by. "There's books and board games in the library if you want to stay and spend some time relaxing."

“What do you have going on?” Marcus asks, tilting his head curiously.

“It’s…board game night.” As silly and domestic as it sounds, it’s a nice tradition that they’ve managed to keep going among friends. “Every month we have a group of friends over and we do a potluck for dinner. Just to unwind and be social. Just catch up, eat some good food, and play board games. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“I don’t want to impose.” Marcus shakes his head, wondering if he’s so desperate that it sounds like great evening or if it just really was.

“It’s not imposing,” Juan assured him. “We bring new friends all the time. There’s about six of us usually, so it fluctuates depending on how many other people we bring or if someone can’t make it.”

“Well, is there a store or something?” He asks. “I can pick up some wine or something to contribute.”

“Old Town has some good liquor stores.” The historic district of Alexandria has become increasingly popular in the last several years, and the revitalization of the neighborhood has helped the inn as well.

“Anything else you could possibly want?” Marcus asks seriously. He’s willing to go get anything that could be thought of, the prospect of not spending the night alone incredibly cheering.

“Get whatever you want,” Juan encourages. “Every once in a while someone will show up with something they’ve never tried just try to it together. So really — anything you want.”

“Okay.” Marcus grins, excited about this and reaches out to slap Juan on the back. “Do you still ride bikes or have you given that up?”

"Hell no." Juan tuts, glad to see the smile back on Marcus's face. "My Indian is back at our house. We take rides when we've got time off together."

“That’s good. Although the rides have taken a pause since the pregnancy, right?” Marcus asks. “I can’t imagine a doctor signing off on a pregnant woman on the back of a bike.”

“Yeah…these days we take rides in the station wagon.” He chuckles at that, and Juan knows how ridiculously domestic it sounds but he really doesn’t care. He’s in love with his life in a very unexpected way, and that’s okay. “It’ll be nice to have someone to ride with again.”

“I can imagine.” Marcus is missing that, but on the bright side, he rides when and where he wants. “Do you guys know what you’re having yet?” He asks.

“Not yet.” Juan is excited, though, as evidenced by the way he lights up when asked about it. “It’s still too early to find out. Obviously we don’t care, as long as they’re healthy and happy.”

“Congrats, man, you’re living the dream, you know that?” As envious as he can admit to being, he’s also incredibly happy for Juan. “You deserve it. Especially after, you know…”

“Life is totally different now.” Leaving the Bureau is what was best for Juan. He knows that now, even if it was a painful decision to make back then. “I’m not going to ever downplay the things in my past, but the future is looking pretty fucking good, man.”

Completely understanding the fact that Juan doesn’t want to talk, he nods. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

“I appreciate that, man.” Juan grins and pats Marcus on the shoulder. “Enjoy some time in town and come on back here around seven tonight. Syd isn’t working the dinner rush tonight so we’ll all be able to relax.”

“That sounds good.” The comfortable jeans and a sweater will still look sharp enough for game night and he sends his friend a smile before he walks out of the kitchen.

Things have calmed down in the lobby when you return to the front desk to pick up a few papers and check in on your concierge before retreating into your office for the rest of your shift. The inn may have calmed down but you're still spinning wildly on the idea that your soulmate might have walked through the door of the inn this morning with absolutely no fanfare and a nervous smile on his incredibly handsome face.

Nope. Stop it. Sam is coming for board game night tonight and you really fucking like him. Don't give up your whole stance on freedom of happiness just because some absolutely dishy FBI agent has your tattoo.

"Everything going okay, Malachi?" You will be professional, and not a blithering mass of nervous energy. Even if it takes all the energy you have to force it.

“Everything’s fantastic, we had another couple call to book a room for next weekend. So we officially will have no vacancies.” He reports proudly, like he had recruited the couple himself.

"Good. That's actually excellent. That means we have no vacancies at any point for two week on either side of Valentine's Day unless someone cancels." It's always possible. After all, break up happen around that particular holiday. But with the way they've been booking rooms lately, they should be able to fill a hole more easily than not. "I'm going to go to my office and work on the schedule. If you need me, just call."

“Of course.” Malachi cranes his neck as that handsome guy walks out to a beautiful motorcycle. “But before you go.” He hums. “Who is that?”

You can't help but chuckle, your concierge's obvious interest making you recognize the ridiculousness of the whole situation all over again. "That's Juan's friend," you tell him, gathering up your paperwork. "He'll be around more, and he's allowed into the kitchen. So you know he's special."

“And does Juan’s friend have a name?” He asks, smirking slightly.

"Special Agent Marcus Pike." You smirk right back at him, giving Marcus's title along with his name. By now Agent Bailey has probably done an entire workup on the agent. Why wouldn't she?

“Special Agent.” Because it’s the two of you and there’s no guest around, Malachi watches out the window with unabashed interest. “He can mount me like he mounts that bike any time.”

"Mal!" There's no reason for you to be taken aback by that comment considering how well you know Malachi Debose, but you still find yourself stifling a laugh with wide eyes. You tell yourself to joke, ignoring the twist in your chest at the idea of Marcus with anyone else. It's not up to you. He's his own person. And he might not even be your soulmate to begin with! "I'm pretty sure he's straight, honey, but you never know. It would not be the first guy you've swept out of the closet who didn't even realize they were in there in the first place."

He sighs dramatically, even though he’s smirking proudly. “You’re right.” He admits. “We’ll see how mister Special Agent Marcus Pike acts and then I’ll decide.”

"Behave yourself." Is the playful warning you give him before turning and nodding to Agent Bailey. "Time to sit in the office while I swear at my computer," you tell her. As the Secret Service agent who is with you most of the time, Kendra Bailey has learned your past, your friends, your job, and your habits like a book. She appreciates that you're not throwing yourself into politics because it means her days are a little calmer than they could be, but the coming and going of all sorts of people through the inn on a daily basis presents its own challenges.

She nods, already curious about the FBI agent that she’s encountered here. It’s not unusual to run background checks on people who continuously hang around the inn, and it sounds like he will become a fixture for the foreseeable future. “Of course, Hummingbird.”

You groan softly, realizing that that is going to get said around Marcus Pike at some point or other, and just try to shake it off for now. "You can call me by my name around here, you know." She won't. You've had this conversation more than once, but sometimes you think you'll never get used to being ma'am or Hummingbird at all times to your Secret Service detail.

“Yes ma’am.” She nods, both of you aware that she’s not going to break protocol like that. Instead, she’s turning to the chair that has been placed outside your office, tucked into a discreet corner so it’s not completely obvious that you are being guarded. Giving you the illusion of privacy.

"Someday I'm going to get you to at least come into the office." There are rules. A hell of a lot of them, in fact, and you know that they exist for a reason. But Agent Bailey is allowed to be in your office with you, and you hope it won't take your mother's entire first term in office for her to get comfortable enough with you to do that.

“I understand that, but if I’m in your office, you won’t concentrate.” She reminds you with a small, unseen smile. The first time you had insisted, you hadn’t gotten anything done.

"Too social for my own good, I guess." With a small smile exchanged between the two of you, you nod in agreement before heading down the hall to your office. She's right, and you both know it.

Outside, a snazzy sports car pulls up. Not too flashy, because a junior congressman from Maryland can’t be seen throwing money away frivolously, but sporty enough to make him grin as he changes gears. The door pops open, sunglasses tossed on the dash and Sam hustles out of his car, eager to see you.

"Hey Sam." Malachi looks up from the desk when the door opens and offers up a smile. Professional, but friendly. So far, Congressman Chase hasn't done anything to warrant the cold shoulder. "Is she expecting you?"

“Not until later, but I was hoping to surprise her.” He admits, sending the concierge a wink. “She in her office?”

"Just went in to work on the schedule." Malachi reports, but his smile morphs from professional to earnest in half a second. "The new software is giving her a headache and a half. I bet coming in with a cup of coffee with also be a welcome surprise."

“You are a good man, Malachi.” Sam slaps the antique reception stand and grins. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He lifts his brows and points at him as he changes directions to the kitchen to beg a cup of coffee from Sydney.

A knock on the kitchen door is odd but not unheard of, and Sydney glances back over her shoulder when the swinging door pushes open to admit the six-foot Congressman she now affectionately calls, "Sam Sam! As happy as I am to see you, your lady friend is not in the kitchen."

“I know.” Sam tosses the chef an easy grin. “A little birdie told me that she might appreciate a cup of coffee, so I’m here to be her runner.”

Sydney smirks, never ceasing in her work but nodding to the coffee pot in the corner of the kitchen. “Go right ahead. I’m sure she’ll be grateful.”

“Thank you.” He immediately beelines for the coffee maker, intent on also making himself a cup. Though he would prefer a cocktail. “It smells great in here, like always.” He tosses over his shoulder.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She hums happily in return. “I made a lasagna for game night. Are you staying?”

“Unless an emergency session is call.” Sam snorts. “And you know half those crusty old bastards don’t want to work.” He adds some creamer and sweetener to his, doctors yours and turns back. “Is this the lasagna with the pancetta?” He asks, giving her a pleading look.

“It is, and I did a little something different with the ricotta layer this time, so you’ll have to tell me what you think.” One hand shoos him playfully away, but she does laugh. “I’ll feed you later. Go see your lady.”

“Thank you!” He laughs as well, zipping out the door to head in to see you. Hopefully you aren’t working on anything too important that you can’t steal away some time for him.

Two short knocks on your door could be anyone, but you save your progress in working on next week’s schedule and call for them to come in. It’s probably Malachi with a guest accommodation question, which is no problem. You can hit pause on scheduling the housekeeping staff around their various class schedules to answer just about anything.

After getting the okay to enter, Sam juggles the cups and pokes his head in the door. “Can you spare a few minutes, beautiful?” He asks.

The grin that spreads on your face is surprise and relief, and you hop up from your dream to open the door fully. “If that’s coffee in your hands, I can spare more than just a few.”

“Of course it is, fixed just the way you like it.” While he doesn’t drink it nearly as sweet as you do, he also doesn’t make fun of you for it.

“To what do I owe the early visit?” The door clicks shut behind him and you sit back in your chair with a happy sigh.

“We let out early.” Sam explains. “Figured we could spend some time together .”

“I’m always glad to see you.” It’s true. It genuinely is. Which is why you hate the nagging guilt of the fact that you had just been telling yourself to stop speculating about your possible soulmate and focus on work.

“That’s a good thing.” Despite the idea that dating the First Daughter was good for his career, Sam genuinely cares for you. It might not be the passionate love he had imagined years ago, but he’s mature enough to understand that a solid connection was a good thing.

“So your meeting went alright?” The committee that he’s on had an unofficial lunch meeting today, which must have gone well if he’s already here saying hello. “I was afraid they’d have you all day and you’d miss out in lasagna and the new Clue game that Sydney’s sister picked up.”

“No.” Sam snorts. “They wanted it done as quickly as possible.” He tells you. “I’ve got to admit that I’ve never seen people that hate to work more than politicians.”

“Well that’s hardly encouraging,” you snort, and shake your head before taking a sip of hot coffee. “I guess you’ll just have to whip them into shape, Congressman. No two ways about it.”

“I’m trying.” He laughs and shrugs. “Right now I equate it to herding cats.” He jokes, sitting down on the other side of your desk and watching you for a moment while you savor your coffee.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever called a member of the House of Representatives.” The two of you share a laugh, and you shift in your seat a little with an awkward expression before talking again. “I…got an email this morning. From Mom’s office. Informing me of my first few expected photo ops as First Daughter.” It’s a big part of the job, for you at least, to look the part and play the part and help the country to see your mother as not just the president, but a family-oriented professional as well. Being the first female President has its challenges and your mother is plowing into them head on. Which, honestly? You give her a lot of credit for. “They asked if I would be willing to release some social media photos from our Valentine’s date…” The fact that you hadn’t planned one yet is slightly beyond the point. Now you pretty much have to.

“Well, what kind of pictures would you like?” Sam asks easily, aware that you don’t relish the attention, but it’s part of the job. “We can do a dinner at home, appeal to the base of Americans.” He suggests.

“I don’t love the idea of someone recognizing an aspect of your house or neighborhood and you getting doxed for it,” you admit ruefully. It would have to be Sam’s house, since you don’t actually have one. You can’t exactly put out photos of your attic apartment and expect the White House press core not to make noises. “I was thinking we could put the spotlight on a minority-owned small business or go to some low-key arts event? If they’re going to ask me to be in the spotlight then I want to use it for good.”

“Do you want to decide?” He asks, aware that you can be quite choosy at times. He doesn’t really mind. “Or do you want me to come up with something?”

“It’s probably easier if I figure it out.” You admit. It’s not your favorite option, all things considered, but since it’s dumb for you to be even vaguely upset that your boyfriend didn’t announce he had secret plans already in the works — which your stupid romantic comedy loving brain had hoped for but knew was a longshot — it’s better to just be practical. “So the Secret Service can tell me if wherever I pick is insecure or something like that. Even though I can’t imagine that anybody is out to get me. That’s absurd.”

“You’d be surprised what humans are capable of.” Sam reminds you, having read some of the most horrific reports imaginable. He likes that you are practical, even if you are a bit naive.

“Not a super fun thing to hear from your boyfriend, but okay.” It’s nothing you can’t brush off, and you do so with a wave of your hand. “There is also a state dinner coming up in a few weeks that I definitely do not want to go to without you.”

“I’m available.” He promises. “I’ve got a couple of events in my district coming up. But I’ll mark that on my calendar.”

“Thank you.” Though you aren’t blind to the ways that attending these things helps him, you appreciate the company. You aren’t effortlessly charismatic like your brother or a star student with enigmatic insights like your sister. You’re the least comfortable in the public eye out of your whole family, and that is what it is. At some point in the night when he inevitably veers off to shake hands and schmooze politically, you’ll sit quietly at your table and smile politely while you wait for Sam to come back, and that’s okay. “I really really appreciate it.”

Sam huffs, sending you a small smirk. “A night where you are wearing a beautiful dress, we eat an elegant dinner, what’s not to love?” He leaves the part about making connections unspoken, both of you know how this game is worked. “And maybe you can come spend the night at my place after.”

"What an absolutely scandalous suggestion." One hand clutches your nonexistent pearls, pretending to be aghast, but you throw him a wink. Intimacy in your relationship unfortunately does have to be scheduled at a certain point...just on the basis that you have a Secret Service agent you can't simply ditch, and he has a personal assistant that might be even more invasive than the Secret Service. "I love it."

“Good.” Sam smirks back at you and sends you his own wink. “I’ve missed a cute little snore, and I need to get some cuddling in.”

"I do not snore." Despite pouting at him – and knowing that you do, in fact, snore – you end up grinning. "But we have been low on cuddle time lately, I agree."

“Yeah, I know my job is hectic and yours isn’t a walk in the park.” He acknowledges wholeheartedly. “But I want this to work. Maybe we just need to move in together.” He hadn’t meant to just blurt that out, but he’s been thinking about it.

“I—what?” You nearly spit out the sip of coffee you had just taken and sit up arrow straight in your chair, staring at him without the ability to stop yourself. “You—you want me to—to move in with you?” It’s never been discussed. Not really. At least not with a timeline, and that’s probably your fault. You’re so prone to jumping into relationships head first that you had told yourself you would move slow with Sam. That…seems to not be the case now.

“It doesn’t have to be now.” He promises. “Just something to consider. That’s all. We would get more time together.”

"I can honestly say I was not expecting that today." It's shaken you up a little, if you're honest, but you reach over your desk and squeeze his hand before leaning out of your chair to kiss him.

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” It’s not quite the reaction he was expecting, if he is honest with himself.

"No, not at all!" You're quick to reassure him, realizing that Sam's expression is a little more guarded than usual. You've disappointed him. That's not a feeling you like at all. Not even a little. "I'd say the fact that my boyfriend wants to spend more time with me is a very good thing." If it's such a good thing, why is your mouth dry and why are you all tense with nerves? "And I want that, too. You just surprised me, that's all."

“Of course we need to talk about it more in depth.” He relaxes slightly, happy that you are at least open to the idea.

"Is that...something you want to talk about soon?" There are ideas rolling over in your head with varying levels of comfort, but the fact is that you hadn't realized that Sam was already there. Sure you had said your I love yous already, but you really had been trying to go slower this time, and that pace had seemed to suit Sam just fine. And why is it suddenly now that your mind is stuck on the idea that he isn't your soulmate? Is it just because you met a man who could be? You had always told yourself it didn't matter before now...

“We are coming up on our one-year anniversary of dating.” He reminds you, wondering why all of a sudden you look like you’ve seen a ghost. He’s been patient, letting you move slowly since you were afraid of diving in too much too soon, but this is the natural next step. Otherwise, it will be random sleepovers whenever you can manage it for the rest of your lives and Sam doesn’t want that. “I figured we could discuss what our next steps were.” He smiles softly. “I want the next steps, whenever you’re ready.”

"You're right." He is right. The logic is there, and the sweetness, and you do genuinely like him. In fact, loving him came easily and naturally. It's just that today has you a little shaken up and you don't want to admit it to yourself. Any other day and you would have been ecstatically throwing yourself into his arms. "You're absolutely right. This is definitely next." Composing yourself into a smile and reminding yourself to goddamn relax, you pick up your now cold coffee and finish the cup. "Why don't we pick a night this week to cook dinner together and talk through what we want our future to look like?"

“That works.” He flashes you the boyish grin you claim to love and nods. “Little food. Little wine, little….cuddling while we talk. It’s exactly what we need. You’ve been peddle to the mettle lately, and so have I. It will be good to decompress and hash out our concerns.”

"Perfect." And you will, you tell yourself sternly, get your shit together by then.

“But tonight…” he winks at you. “I’m going to whoop your ass at Clue.”

Because it's your turn to host, your small apartment has been cleaned top to bottom in preparation for the night. Sydney took care of making dinner, you have dessert in the refrigerator, and you have it on the authority of the group chat that garlic bread and salad are both coming as well. Juan said he and Marcus were supplying drinks, so everything is set up with plenty of time for everyone to arrive.

Agent Bailey is sitting on the couch waiting for her evening relief so she can go home to her own family and Sam is setting a stack of mismatched plates on the dining room table when Juan, Marcus, Sydney, and her sister Anna Leigh all show up very promptly on the turn of the hour.

Marcus is a little nervous aware that he has a tenuous tie to the game night, but he is quickly at ease when everyone starts greeting people like old friends. He hadn’t quite known what to get, so he had bought several bottle of whiskey and wine, figuring someone would appreciate it. The bottle of ‘76 Statesman Reserve a personal favorite of his and the little store he had stopped at had one last bottle.

"Hey, we didn't scare Marcus off!" Maybe you're a little happy to see him, but you excuse that as being glad that Juan has his friend back and ardently ignore the way your chest clenches when he walks into your little apartment.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers instantly, holding back from flirting like he wants to. You are seeing someone. “But I brought gifts.” He holds up the bottle, the others in his bag.

“Statesman.” You practically groan with delight at the sight of the bottle. “When we were campaigning in Kentucky, my little brother and I toured their distillery, I love this stuff.” Fighting the instinct to offer him a hug — and it really is an instinct — you grin and wander toward the kitchen to complete introductions. “You already know Syd and Juan, of course. The beautiful agent of chaos currently throwing garlic bread in the oven is Syd’s sister Anna Leigh, and the intimidating lady on the sofa with the New York Times crossword in her lap is Agent Bailey. I don’t know if you two officially met earlier or not. Looking around, Sam is not in sight, but you chew your lip for a second and smile. “My other half seems to have disappeared, but I’m sure he’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay.” He shouldn’t be disappointed that your boyfriend is here. That’s what he keeps telling himself. “Congressman from Maryland, right?” Okay, he might have read up on you.

“Right.” There’s a note of something off in Marcus’s voice but you can’t figure out what, so you just smile. “I promise we don’t use official titles over board games.”

“Good.” He cracks a lighthearted grin. “I hate when I’m made in charge of the jail in Monopoly.” He jokes. He hands you the bottle and looks around the little apartment. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I think we’re just waiting for Issy and then everyone will be here. So for now if you want to maybe pour drinks while we all get settled?” This is always an informal setting and you want everyone to feel relaxed as much as possible. “Let me give you the grand tour first?” What a stupid thing to say in your little, tiny space. But now you’ve said it, so you just have to pretend it was something charming to say instead of awkward.

“That sounds good.” Marcus quickly agrees, although it’s obvious that there’s not much to the small space. “The private sanctum.”

“Eat it kitchen.” Is the space you’re standing in, with a too-big dining room table that is also your prep counter because there is basically no counter space — just enough to put a few grocery bags on and nothing more. “I have an unholy love of dinner parties, hence the big table. Over here is the living room. Mandatory bar cart with the tv, and as many throw pillows as the couch can hold.” Agent Bailey currently has her arm resting on the head of a pillow shaped like a horse that you brought back from a campaign trip out West. “Bathroom is down the hall, just here.” The door is closed, so that must be where Sam is. “And just turn the corner and you’re in the bedroom-slash-library.” You have to call it that — you really have to, because the entire room is covered in wall to wall bookcases that are pretty much entirely full. The only exceptions are where your sleigh bed and writing desk sit on opposite ends of the tight room. “It’s more library than anything else.”

“Obviously like to read.” He nods. “What genre? Or is it too embarrassing to mention in company?”

“I’m not embarrassed at all to read romance novels.” A whole section of the shelf by your bed is dedicated to them, in fact. Healthy sexuality and healthy explorations of that sexuality are vital, but you won’t get that far into the topic. “I have a lot of various things here, but the majority are probably mystery, thrillers, and classics from all over the world.” The shelf you’re standing by has your collection of writing by both F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and you smile. “Of course, some of the classics are romances. That’s to be expected.”

“They are. I find that if you limit yourself in what you read, you are missing out.” He looks over your shelf with interest. “It looks like a wonderful collection.”

“Thank you. A compliment for my books is the highest compliment possible.” There’s a warm smile on your lips when the bathroom door pulls open a few feet away and you feel like you’ve been caught although there isn’t a single thing wrong about showing a new friend around your apartment. There’s no reason to jump out of your skin, but here you are with burning cheeks feeling embarrassed.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sam doesn’t frown, but he wonders who this man is and why he is in your bedroom.

"Hey." Your smile does widen of its own accord, and you motion between the men in a sort of vaguely formal way that is definitely odd for you. "Sam, this is Marcus. One of Juan's old friends. He came by the inn earlier today and we thought it would be nice to introduce him to the group." It's awful, and very unnecessary, how heavy your tongue feels when you go to make the introduction the opposite way. "Marcus, this is Sam. My boyfriend."

It’s a little awkward, Marcus can admit that but he extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” He offers, smiling in a friendly, first meeting kind of way. “My connection to the group is through Juan.” He explains. “We were at the academy together.”

"Ah, a government man." That seems to win Sam's approval, though his handshake might be just a hair tighter than it would otherwise be based on the tension in the air. "Well, welc—"

"Babe!" Sydney's voice comes loud and clear from the other room as the door opens and the sound of chaotic friends can be heard. "Issy's here! Let's gooo!"

The introductions are interrupted and it’s probably not a bad thing. Marcus lets go of Sam’s hand and immediately makes for the door. “Guess that’s our queue.”

“Coming!” You call back, eager to be standing anywhere but your doorway between these two men. “Issy is a friend from college.” That’s the easy explanation you give Marcus as Sam steers you back to the kitchen with his hand on your back. “Syd, Anna Leigh, and Issy and I were suite mates at Mount Holyoke.”

Marcus nods, committing everyone to memory. “Nice to meet all of you. Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”

Getting everything set up doesn’t take much longer, and a buffet of cheesy garlic bread, a huge salad, Sydney’s pancetta lasagna, and the lemon tiramisu you made for dessert is all laid out on the counter. Everyone digs in and says a loud chorus of rowdy good nights when your Secret Service detail has its changing of the guard in the middle of it all. It’s a lot, and it’s chaos, but it’s so comforting because these are all people you love to spend time with. Even Marcus, as new as he is, fits right into the group effortlessly.

“Oh! Sydney.” Marcus dives back into the bag and pulls out a bottle of sparkling white grape juice and some sodas and grenadine. “I figured you might like my family’s version of Shirley Temple’s?” He offers. “So you can have a mocktail with the ladies?”

“Absolutely!” Syd’s eyes light up at the offer, and she brings her overstuffed plate over to the table to sit beside her husband. In her favorite baggy sweatshirt, no one could ever tell she’s pregnant, but one of her hands rests on the side of her belly anyway. “That sounds fantastic.”

“So my grandmother used to make these for all the kids, so we could feel special too.” Marcus explains as he grabs a wine glass and starts to mix together the non-alcoholic drink. “It had to be sparkling grape juice because of the bottle shape.” He chuckles now, but back then? He had felt grown up. “When she died, we served these at her wake.”

“That’s so sweet.” Sydney awes softly as Marcus carefully pours out the drink. “These are Birdie’s favorite, actually,” she points her thumb back at you while she chats at him. “We usually spike them with rum, of course. To be a Shirley Temple Black. I can’t remember the last time I just had a regular old Shirley Temple.”

“A dirty Shirley?” Marcus gasps in faux horror. “The best way to spike that is with Statesman.”

“On it!” You hop up from the table immediately to grab a glass and line up next to Sydney at the counter. “I’ve heard of people doing them with rum and vodka, but never with whiskey. I have to know.”

He chuckles and nods. “You won’t regret it. The grape juice plays off the smoky, oaky flavors very nicely.” He tells you. “It’s almost better than a robust bouquet on a red.”

“I can’t claim to know anything about wine, but I’m trying to learn.” Sam prefers wine, and you’ve been trying to not feel foolish when people discuss wine pairings at official dinners. It’s been a fairly deep learning curve. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

“More of a whiskey girl?” Marcus asks, filing away the information even though it’s not like he’s going to use it. One of those odd little quirks of his time in the Bureau, he tries to read people.

“Always have been.” As evidenced by the Whiskey Makes Me Frisky sweater still stuff in your closet from college, which won’t see the light of day again until your mother is out of office. “You too?” Your eyes widen immediately and you stumble over correcting yourself. “Guy, I mean? Whiskey guy?”

Marcus laughs and gives you a guilty grin. “I learned to enjoy wine. My ex was a wino to the point where we honeymooned in Napa Valley.” He snorts. “But my first love was a Jack and Coke.”

“The next time you’re sick, have a whiskey and ginger beer.” The advice comes as he hands you your glass but he looks skeptical. “I mean, it’s a good drink no matter what, but I swear it knocks out my colds faster than anything else.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Marcus hums and decides that he will make one for himself. “Tell me what you think.”

One sip has you groaning, and you bring the glass back to the table like you’ve found the Holy Grail. “Sammy, try this. I know you’re not usually big in whiskey, but this is fantastic.”

Sam wrinkles his nose, really uninterested in trying it, but he politely takes a sip. Pleasantly surprised, he makes a face. “Huh. That’s not as horrible as I imagined.”

“And that,” you look back at Marcus and laugh. “Is the highest compliment he’s ever given a whiskey drink.”

Marcus chuckles politely and motions towards the table. “There’s a nice Cabernet that he might like better.” He offers.

“That sounds perfect.” You move back to the counter to collect a wine glass, corkscrew, and the bottle to bring back, knowing that Sam will open it far more neatly than you can.

“So how has everybody been?” Prompting conversation once everyone is at the table gets the ball rolling nicely, and conversation starts as everyone starts to eat their dinner.

“Well, everyone knows that Sydney is expecting.” Juan boasts proudly, obviously loving the prospect of becoming a father. “But she started experiencing her first cravings.”

“Oooo, what are they?” Issy sits up in her chair immediately. “Please tell me it’s something non-gourmet. If this baby is a food snob I’m not going to have anything to tease you about.”

“Right now….” Juan grins and sends his wife an utterly besotted look. “Ranch flavored bugles.”

“Oh my god!” Both Issy and Anna Leigh practically scream with laughter immediately and your jaw hits the table with maniacal giggle.

“I know,” Syd moans in embarrassment. “I know! The baby likes ranch!”

“There must be a joke there somewhere.” Marcus laughs, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere of the group and how they are all so easy with each other.

"Syd's current greatest fear is having a kid who doesn't care about food." You explain, picking up a forkful of lasagna. "If they turned out to not like food or hockey, she'll be doomed."

“I see.” He chuckles, although he himself had a less refined pallet when he was younger. Now he enjoys trying new things.

"They're exaggerating." Sydney promises, not wanting her husband's old friend to think she's that much of a snob. "Obviously no kid comes out loving caviar and oxtail."

“No, I can see why you would expect your child to give you cravings for something like this.” He praises, lifting a forkful of the lasagna. “I gave my mom cravings for salami and bologna. Which she couldn’t eat.”

"My mom had a lot of cheese cravings." Not expecting baby-oriented conversation was probably an oversight on your part, but it's fun and your best friend just absolutely glows whenever it's brought up. "With me it was gruyere, with my brother it was cheddar, and with my little sister it was asiago." The memory makes you grin, and you laugh a little, mostly to yourself. "She ate so many asiago bagels when she was pregnant with June."

“Ohhhhh I could see how that could be an easy craving.” Issy snorts. “I have cravings for those all the time and I’m not pregnant.”

"Right?" You're nodding in agreement instantly. "I'm honored that my pregnancy craving was gruyere. That's quality cheese."

“Maybe the craving will change to truffle cheddar fries.” Marcus suggests with a grin. “With ranch.”

“See, this is the kind of encouragement we should be thinking about. Positive thinking all the way.” Sydney grins, beaming across the table to her husband’s friend. Even if her hunch about the true nature of Marcus’s soulmate marks isn’t true, he’s still a good addition to the group. “What’s everybody else been up to.”

Everyone starts talking and Marcus leans back. Watching the dynamic of the group and it’s obvious that everyone is comfortable with each other. Talking over one another and laughing, poking fun in a gentle way. It seems as if Juan - and you - have a solid friends group.

The tempo of the night is unchanged from any other — there is as much laughter and fun as any game night you’ve had in years. The joy of having your friends nearby is never tempered, but tonight it is…just a little bit different. As for first time ever — with your boyfriend sitting next to you — you have to wonder if maybe your soulmate is actually sitting there at the table. And what will you do when it isn’t the man with his arm around you?

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid

My Masterlist!

[mountainsandmayhem]

Masterlist - all 18+

Little Dove (18+, Minors Do Not Interact)

After your daughters go off to college, you and Joel become empty nesters in your early 40's. The two of you take advantage of all this alone time, falling into a Sub/Dom relationship and exploring new kinks. No outbreak, these are characters in their 40's with real bodies. See each chapter for content warnings. Tags include: use of nicknames (little dove, baby, etc.), unprotected p in v, edging, bondage, spanking, consensual non consent, cum play, toys.

BDSMaid (18+ Minors, Do Not Interact)

After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Moulin Rouge - AU (18+ Minors, Do Not Interact)

Joel takes up a job as a maintenance man at the Moulin Rouge. He's glad to finally have enough money to get by day by day, but when he sees you, the Sparkling Diamond, the whole world melts away and all that matters is you, even if you are promised to another. A/N: I'm writing this with @mermaidgirl30. She will be posting it on her account. See each chapter for content warnings. Tags include: oral, p in v, fingering, praise, use of nicknames (Darlin', baby girl, etc.), non consensual touching and misogynostic language (not by Joel).

Wings. Fire. Magic. - AU (18+ Minors, Do Not Interact)

You just needed one dragons egg, one egg and you could turn the life of you and your family around completely. But when Joel Miller captures you, it turns out that it's his life that gets turned around. See each chapter for content warnings.

One Shots

Shhh…Just A Little Bit More (DBF!Joel) Shhh...Just A Little Bit More 2 (DBF!Joel) Shhh...Just A Little Bit More 3 - Soft (DFB!Joel) Shhh...Just A Little Bit More 3 - Spicy (DFB!Joel)

Happy Easter, Joel Miller (Husband!Joel) Sunday With Your Dad's Best Friend (DBF!Joel) A Lesson In Learning (Dom!Joel) God Bless the She Devil Who Made Joel Miller (BFD!Joel) Right Person, Wrong Time (Joel Miller Fluff)

Tess’s Treasures (MFFF)

Joel Miller: Period Master (Joel Miller Fluff)

One Shots

Wonderful Tonight Netflix & Chill Aisle Amore

Just One More, Baby

Beach Babe

Please, Sir

🤓 Mayhem’s Reviews 🤓

Book reviews/recommendations for what I read that month

July

August

September

[trulybetty]

marcus pike x masterlist

x. main masterlist

Sweet Janes Series (Marcus x f!reader) Can all be read individually, or read in order as one whole series.

Art Gallery You and Marcus have been dating for a while and surprisingly it's the first time he's gone to an art gallery with you. It's also an afternoon for another first... Sick Day Marcus never cancels dates, and if he does it usually comes with his own brand of romantic gestures to make up for it. So when he doesn't, you know something isn't quite right. New York | Part I You were supposed to spend a week off with Marcus for a staycation, the FBI had other plans… and so did Marcus. Baked Goods Easy Sunday mornings with the impossible task of choosing the right pastry, pure fluff. Bad Day You arrive home after a terrible day at work and Marcus wants to help turn it around. Marcus fluff. Sleep Marcus is leaving for a week for work. Cake At the end of a long week of hosting duties, it's late at night and you're unable to sleep.

Baker!Marcus Series:

Something Sweet this way Comes Something Festive this way Comes

One Shots:

[covetyou]

Thank you to everyone who sent me their favourite butt sex/anal play fics! If you'd still like to submit something, please check out the original post.

Now, no more dilly-dallying, onto the butt stuff. I've listed some key contents of each fic where possible, but not all warnings - please see individual fics for all warnings. All fics are with reader characters unless otherwise specified.

Din Djarin

birthday bunny by @604to647 modern AU - butt plugs this endless friction by @corazondebeskar-reads BDSM - double penetration (toy)

Frankie Morales

bunny by @gasolinerainbowpuddles double penetration (toy) weeknights drabble by @frannyzooey first time anal open waters/ashore by @gaiuswrites first time anal - double penetration (fingers)

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

inter-agency cooperation by @ghostofaboy with Javier Peña double whiskey on the rocks by @ghostofaboy with m!OC - anal fingering

Javier Peña

keep me in your glow by @atticrissfinch first time anal tovar's desires by @absurdthirst threesome (with Pero Tovar) - double penetration - rimming - more 🍑 from absurdthirst on ao3

Joel Miller

MDKT 2023 day 8 - bondage by @theywhowriteandknowthings double penetration (fingers) another time, baby by @swiftispunk butt plugs - double penetration (fingers, toys) the saints can't help me now by @atticrissfinch butt plugs - anal fingering - dom!Joel craving by @velvetmud double penetration (fingers) knuckles deep by @ozarkthedog anal fingering make a move on me by @freelancearsonist first time anal mine by @the-scandalorian first time anal - rimming sparks fly by @ezrasbirdie rimming what's in the bag by @thetriumphantpanda first time anal - butt plugs - double penetration (fingers) a day in the filth by @toxicanonymity double penetration (toys)

Others

reaching for the sweetest, sweetest peaches by @psychedelic-ink Oberyn Martell x f!reader - modern AU - first time anal

Series

baby, I'm-a want you by @perotovar multiple Pedro characters - pornstar AU bloody kisses (part two) by @perotovar Tim Rockford x Shane 'Dio' Morrissey - first time anal in the dark (chapter 9) by @frannyzooey Ezra x f!reader - anal fingering something wretched about this (part 2) by @covetyou anal fingering - rimming playdate by @daddy-dins-girl Marcus Pike x f!reader x Dave York

blackmail (part 1 and 4) by @milla-frenchy

Joel Miller x f!reader x Javier Peña - rimming - double penetration

[lady-bess]

LadyBess' Masterlist 📖

Hello, and welcome to my Masterlist! Grab a snack, two fingers of whiskey, and take a look at what I've got to offer! 🥃

I write predominantly for Pedro Pascal characters at the moment, but this is a multi-fandom blog, so characters in and out of the 'Pedro-verse' are featured here too!

My works are often 18+ and each fic comes with its own content tags and warning. Minors, please DNI ✨

For ease of navigation, I have used a Traffic Light System to rate these works 🚦

💚 Green is for General/Teen rated content 🧡 Orange is for more Mature works 💋 Red is for anything rated Explicit

My writing is mainly reader-insert content, but I have a mix of Female, AFAB, and Gender Neutral (GN) reader inserts 💜

Not all of these works are on Tumblr yet, but feel free to check out my A03 profile for all works!

Please enjoy, and come back regularly to see what's new!

Current Series: Fallout (Jack Daniels x F!Reader) Most Recent One-Shot Release: "Breaking the Barrier" - (Jack Daniels x Joel Miller x F!Reader)

One-Shots

"Petals" - Jack Daniels x F!OC (Tumblr Ask/Prompt) "Something Sweet" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Departure" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader "After Hours" - Jack Daniels x GN!Reader (A03) "Fright" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Swing" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "The Perfect Fit" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "A Preposterous Thing" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader "Homeward Bound" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader "Restless" - young! Jack Daniels x F!Reader "The Lodger" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader "Dessert" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Chasing The Sun" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Afternoon Intrusions" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "A Lesson Learned" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Closing Time" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Bound" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03) "Disciplinary" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader (A03)

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"Jack-mas Christmas Drabbles" - Jack Daniels x AFAB/ F!Reader (A03) "Fallout" - Jack Daniels x F!Reader

One-Shots

"Birthday Wishes" - Joel Miller x F!Reader "The Headache" - Joel Miller x GN!Reader (A03) "Foolish" - Joel Miller x F!Reader

One-Shots

"Getting In A Pickle" - Javier Peña x F!Reader "Take A Seat" - Javier Peña x F!Reader "Hot Nights in Colombia" - Javier Peña x F!Reader (A03) "My, Oh My" - Javier Peña x F!Reader

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"Monday Morning" - Javier Peña x F!Reader (A03) - collaboration with @joels-darlin 💕

One-Shots

"Drive Me Wild" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03) "Return To Me" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03) "Longing" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03) "Sundress" - Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)

One-Shots

"Birthday Boy" - Javi G x F!Reader (A03) "Behave Yourself" - Javi G x AFAB!Reader (No pronouns used)

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"Heist" - Javi G x F!Reader - COMING SOON

One-Shots

"Three's A Crowd" - Jack Daniels x Joel Miller x F!Reader "Breaking the Barrier" - Jack Daniels x Joel Miller x F!Reader "Watch & Learn" - Dave York x Javi Gutierrez x AFAB!Reader

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"Just A Date" - Multiple Pedro Character fic x GN!Reader "Mutually Beneficial" - Javier Peña x Frankie Morales x F!Reader (A03)

Much loved characters, but so far only 1-2 fics to their name 💜

One-Shots

"Understanding" - Marcus Pike x F!Reader (A03) "Now You See Me" - Marcus Pike x F!Reader (A03) "Clean Up" - Max Phillips x F!Reader (A03) "Hypercharged In Hyperspace" - Din Djarin x F!Reader (A03) "Trust" - Din Djarin x F!Reader "On The Nature of Daylight" - Din Djarin x F!Reader "Rookie Mistake" - Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"A Brand New Start" - Agent Ortega x F!Reader (A03)

One-Shots

"Salvation" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x Clara Oswald (A03) "Run" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x F!Reader (A03) "Rose Petals Blossom" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x Rose Tyler (A03) "Precious Moments With You" - 11th Doctor (Doctor Who) x F!Reader (A03)

Multi-Chapter/ Series'

"Paint The Town Red" - Ginger Ale (Kingsman) x F!Reader

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend update 05/05/2024

Hello! It’s been awhile since Nerdie has done one of these. 👀

Yes it has! Why have you only been lurking and popping up with random things?

Well, my smut fairy is playing hide and seek. Has been more hidden as of late. Inspiration has led to different fics than I planned on. And I’ve queued so many posts that my current queue is posting things up until June 5th. 😂

How does one even queue that many things? And what do you mean the smut fairy has been playing hide and seek? We read that Frankie series! And that Dieter update! Nerdie, stop trying to be coy, it doesn’t suit you dear.

I’m not sure how to respond to that. And yeah both of those had smut but it was….I did say the fairy was playing hide and seek. I did not say they were hidden the entire time. 🫣

Details, details. You also changed the title graphic color, why?

Stories are made by their details. Wise advice said by…some smart person somewhere. It reminds Nerdie of a bahama mama. It’s a drink that she enjoys like a pirate. Yohoho! 🏴‍☠️(I’m very sorry. 😣)

Anyway, thank you to the following lovely people who sent me beautiful person asks and who reached out when I was not doing so hot. I know better than to argue with any of you:

@rhoorl @yourcoolauntie @grogusmum @avastrasposts @megamindsecretlair

@westside-rot @laurfilijames @inept-the-magnificent @bitchwitch1981 @secretelephanttattoo

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @connectioneverywhere @604to647 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @morallyinept

@yorksgirl @sweetercalypso @schnarfer @soft-persephone @maggiemayhemnj

@magpiepills @paulmescal-s @lotusbxtch @wannab-urs

As for Nerdie’s fic recommendations, they are here! She’s keeping track of them and is going to put the whole list out at the end of the month because, promoting fics is fun and means she can type more randomness. 😆

1. Torment Part 1 Fear by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x fem OC)

2. Tempered by the Fire by @ladamedusoif (Din Djarin x f reader)

3. Talk Dirty to Me by @morallyinept (Marcus Pike x fem reader)

4. Nightingale by @rosecentaur1916 (Miguel O’Hara x plus size fem reader)

5. Daffodil by @starstruckunknown-princess (Javi G. X reader)

6. Into the Deep End by @magpiepills (Joel Miller: the hole filler x AFAB reader)

7. your favorite kryptonite by @kedsandtubesocks (Comic Bookstore Owner!Dieter Bravo x F!Reader)

8. Kings & Queens by @joels-shitty-puns (Joel Miller x reader)

9. Insatiable by @lowlights (Pero Tovar x fem reader)

10. Top Me, I deserve it by @for-a-longlongtime (Santiago Garcia x Francisco Morales)

11. Fifteen Minutes by @whocaresstillthelouvre (Din Djarin x fem reader)

12. Raining in Baltimore by @schnarfer (Marcus Pike x f reader)

Nerdie did post a bit this week. She’s mainly been posting on AO3 since it takes less time and she can slap things up there with reckless abandon (and sufficient tags).

Part VIII of Only Parts of you Mr. Morales (Frankie Morales) *completed*

The Intended determines their Meaning (Javier Gutierrez)

Sure inside, but will you stay for more after we’re done? Chapter 5 of Weddings 101 with Dieter (Dieter Bravo)

Lastly there are a few ongoing challenges and fun things. Make sure to read individual challenge rules and fun things.

1. Help Wanted: Summer Reading with @strang3lov3 They’re asking for self-recs, recs of fics that have stuck with you, fics that you think others should read. Send them your Pedro boy goods. The best kind of summer reading.

2. Jett’s Flora and Fauna Challenge by @morallyinept It’s the incomparable Jett! Making her own challenge to being your fics, art, Moodboards or all any combinations. It just has to have a Pedro character and flowers. Any length (because we like all kinds here) and can be as many submissions as you want.

3. Jamie’s Ocean Challenge by @mermaidgirl30 Pedro characters, the ocean, fun, fics and moodboards mixed together for this one. Again any length (all are welcome and enjoyed), must have a Pedro character and the ocean in your fic or Moodboard.

4. @pedroscouts The Pedro Scouts have descended upon us to give us badges (gotta collect ‘em all), fun tasks and general tomfoolery to make Tumblr fun! Make sure to read through the rules if you’d like to join.

5. May Drabble Challenge courtesy of the @dieterbravobrainrotclub It features our favorite Kit Kat lover Dieter Bravo and aliens 👽 with a meet-cute. 👀 Not weird enough for you? Then write it extra strange.

So that’s about it. There was a lot of ground to cover but we got it done. Nerdie is going to go see a man about a goat 🐐 and also another guy about some teasing or edging? Maybe it counts as edging. Nerdie is 🫤 unsure. She’s only wrote like one of these before. 😆 She also has to look for boots, maybe she’s gonna go to her second concert 🎵

Stay safe and hydrated everyone!

Love Nerdie! ❤️ ❤️❤️

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 8

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: 11k 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* Teasing, flirting, nudity, bathing together, fingering, a smattering of dirty talk. Summary: This wedding night is special for more than just the happy couple. Notes: A little light smut for your Sunday! Thanks for sticking with us this long, but these two are finally starting to get to know each other. 🧡 As always, please remember that the gif choice at the top of the chapter is not meant to represent reader's physical appearance. In this case, it's for Cameron and Wiley!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

Not even the nonstop amount of work you’ve been doing for the wedding can stop how much you’ve been thinking about Marcus since he left early on Thursday morning, and obviously Sydney isn’t going easy on you. The merciless, good hearted, happy-for-you teasing started the second you and Marcus came downstairs together the morning after the rehearsal dinner and has kept going through the texting and when you appeared for the actual wedding looking like you had paid a great deal of extra attention to your appearance for tonight. Not even to take away from the bride of course, but enough to look special for the occasion.

It had been so hard to not go back to your apartment after leaving the office yesterday. He had wanted to. So badly. To pick up the conversation and possibly do more than that kiss on the cheek he had thought about the entire time he was on the golf course and in the office. Now, getting ready for the wedding, he pays special attention getting ready so he can look his best for you.

The greenery that has been brought into the gardens, the subtle lighting accents, the clover-shaped place cards, and even the Kelly green silk shirt and matching heels that you picked out to wear with your most flattering suit are all festive for the St Patrick’s Day wedding. Each time you have checked on Joyce and her bridesmaids they have been jittery with excitement but doing well, and the florist was an astonishing ten minutes early to drop off the flowers, so everything is moving along perfectly.

By the time guests begin to arrive, the groom, ushers, groomsmen, and father of the bride are all in place. Considering the chaos this wedding was thrown into just two weeks ago? It might be the best organized night you’ve executed by yourself in years.

He has no problem not being in the wedding party anymore, however, Marcus escorts Joyce’s mother down the aisle to her seat with pride. The accents of his tuxedo had been the same color as the bridesmaids, but he had willingly given them up for her father, deciding on a classic grey accent to contrast for the vest, pocket square, and bow tie.

The only two things that save you from crying during the ceremony — which you always, always do — are how busy you are and how damn good Marcus looks. Through the ceremony and photos you catch glimpses and share smiles, but it takes until cocktail hour before you get a chance to sneak up in his side. “You know it’s bad manners to show up being more handsome than the groom.”

“Don’t think that I did that.” Marcus immediately warms from the inside out at just hearing your voice as he turns towards you. “And you look like you stepped out of a fashion shoot.” He compliments. “Upstaging the bride.”

“I would never.” Just hearing his voice in person instead of over the phone practically makes you giddy, but you demure. “Thank you, though. I will pass the compliment along to David, who is my fashion consultant.”

“Well, the linen suit is perfect with the vivid emerald green.” He smiles as he motions towards the reception. “It’s wonderful and they are beaming.” He smiles at the now family pictures being taken with Joyce’s parents and a large bouquet. While Michael’s parents hadn’t shown, they had sent a flower arrangement so it had made the couple hopeful that they would be accepting of things down the line.

“As long as they’re happy, that’s all that matters.” So far nothing has gone wrong, and you’re keeping your fingers crossed that it stays that way. Or at least, that when something finally does, it will be either small or insignificant enough that you can fix it without the couple even realizing.

“You have a gift.” Marcus praises softly. “Which do you prefer? Running the inn or planning? I’m assuming the day to day for the inn.”

“I do prefer the day to day of the inn,” you admit, looking around the garden filled with reception guests. “But I think I’ll be broken-hearted if I don’t get to help my siblings plan their weddings. I do like it.”

“I can see that.” He reaches out and slides a hand around your body, resting on where the tattoo sits in the small of your back. “You are wonderful and you’ve created a day they will never forget.”

“I won’t take an ounce of credit.” Looking up at him, though, you do smile. Just about as broadly as you can. “I will steal a dance from you later, though.”

“I think we can manage that.” He nods, smiling just as wide as you are. “Let me know when you are free.”

“I’ll come and find you when things are under control enough for me to slip away.” Not that you think it will take long, but there is always potential for things to happen. That’s why you have the radio in your ear, after all. A discreet Walkie talkie on your belt is hidden by your suit it makes you reachable by the whole staff working tonight. It gives you the luxury of stepping away to say hi to Marcus without worrying about a major disaster breaking out.

“Let me know if I can help.” He tells you, knowing that you would never ask, but he will offer anyway. “I can carry a case of champagne or something.”

“You’re a guest.” Never in a million years would you ask him to do any work when he’s attending an event in space you control, and you shake your head. “Relax. Enjoy. Eat and drink. Dance. I’ll come and find you later, handsome.”

He rolls his eyes and grins at you. “I knew that would be your answer, but my offer will stand.”

“Noted and appreciated.” You lean into his side for a brief hug before slipping away again, shooting a teasing wink his way from halfway across the garden as you go.

The garden lights are on. White mixed with green to match the theme of the wedding party and Marcus has danced with the bride and her mother by the time you come back to his side. More than a few glasses of champagne in, and relaxed with his bow tie untied now.

“Having fun?” You may have snuck over to the deejay to ask him to play a slow song, but no one needs to know that you planned it.

“Enjoying myself, but now…” he turns and gives you a slow smirk. “It’s even better since you are here.”

“Oh yeah?” That has you beaming at him as the next song starts.

“Yeah.” He hears the slow, sweet strains of the song and lifts a brow. “Are you here long enough to dance before you flit away, hummingbird?”

“I’m all yours.” It sounds a bit more like a pledge than the playful thing it had sounded like in your head, but that’s okay. You still mean it. “For at least a song or two.”

Humming happily, he holds out his hand for you, watching you with almost tender affection. “We seem to be good at this.”

“Those lessons that our parents insisted on have paid off.” Those lessons don’t dictate how well you fit in his arms, though, or the way you feel drawn into him like a magnet.

“It’s like they knew.” He chuckles.

“We can never tell them,” you snicker, leaning into him a little more as the song goes on, and resting your head comfortably on his shoulder. “We’re still their children, after all. Can’t let them know we think they were ever right.”

“Never.” He had already received a call from his parents after the photos of the State dinner were published, only a case of mild humble bragging allowed before they changed the subject.

“You’ve never told me if you have siblings or anything.” The thought occurs to you almost belatedly, as the world is hazy around the two of you and you like it that way.

“Only child.” He chuckles. “Although I am possibly the only case of single child syndrome in my extended family.” He tells you. “I have twenty-seven first cousins.”

Your head nearly snaps back, wide eyes and a laugh of shock making your face look comically surprised. “I’m gonna need flash cards, aren’t I?”

He laughs, making several others look towards you, curious as to the amusement. “No.” He promises. “Most of the time, we all wear name tags.” He grins. “My family has six sets of identical twins in mix. They decided to make it a family traditional to tag us so no pranks were played.”

“Criminey.” Even on a low huff, you shake your head in wonder. All his poor aunts! “So an only child but plenty of playmates, then?”

“Always.” He laughs. “Always felt like I lived in a zoo when family was around.”

"You must have had hellacious games of Hide and Seek." The huff is replaced with a giggle, imagining little Marcus with all those cousins and all the chaos they must have gotten into. "It sounds amazing."

He agrees with you. “It was a competition to see how long we could last.” He tells you. “Had to stay on the property though.”

“Big family house?” You guess, figuring that his grandparents must have at least had a little bit of land. That’s the image you have in your head of Texas, anyway.

“Ended up having like a family compound.” Marcus admits with a chuckle. “For the summers together.”

"That sounds like so much fun." As the first song bleeds into a second, you don't move an inch from his arms. There's nowhere you would rather be than right here. "My parents are both only children, so I have absolutely zero first cousins. That's how we all ended up with best friends that basically got adopted into the family."

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Marcus smiles at the image of your family adopting friends over the years, collecting them.

"Don't get me wrong, it's great." It's how you have kept Sydney in your life, and her sister, and your other best friend from college. It's how Alex and David got so close so young, and how Junie and Kiley became so close. "It's just different, that's all."

“I know.” Marcus would never put down your experience. “You might be overwhelmed by my family and think we are all insane.”

"Or I might have a blast." You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if he's really saying that he wants you to meet his family or just postulating that someday down the line it would happen. Probably the latter. "We'll find out when we're ready."

“I’m going home at the beginning of April.” He informs you, wondering if it’s too fast. “You could always come with me.”

From intrigued to bewildered at the drop of a hat, your face morphs into something soft and your head tilts in a gentle awe. "And I thought I was always the one running headlong into relationships with my heart out there on my sleeve," you murmur, realizing that Marcus must be very much the same way. "I—I would absolutely love to."

You don’t have to come of course, but he thinks you really mean that you would want to. “No pressure, of course.” He adds. “We don’t have to be press official or anything. My family is tight-knit, they wouldn’t breathe a word.”

“There is already speculation,” you admit, though you have to shrug about it so it doesn’t upset you that people are speculating about your life at all. “We…didn’t do a great job of not looking enamored with each other at the State dinner.”

“I understand that.” Marcus has read the speculation and seen the photos. Both of you are photographed looking completely taken with the other. “However, when you decided to confirm is completely up to you.” He reminds you softly. “You owe no one anything before that. Not even as the First Princess.”

“It’s more important to me that you know I want to be with you. And that we tell our families when we’re ready. The nation can wait, it won’t kill them to not get gossip right away.” You bite your lip though, leaning into his side again as you dance. “My family is probably going to be very enthusiastic tomorrow.”

“You plan on telling them tomorrow?” He asks, slightly surprised that you would be so willing to say something so quickly. It’s not that he’s been viewed as undesirable, but often the women he dated were more cautious.

“The only thing that would stop me would be if you don’t want me to.” Otherwise, sharing this new step forward in your life with your family is just one more thing to celebrate.

“You’re my soulmate.” Marcus reminds you, smiling softly at the reminder himself. “I don’t mind telling a stranger on the street, let alone people you love.”

When Juan had told you what a romantic Marcus is, you had almost taken it with a grain of salt. A friend talking up his friend to the girl who likes him. But it hasn’t taken long at all for you to see the truth of it shining in Marcus’s eyes, or widening his smile. And a man who wants love is exactly what you have always hoped for. “I’m glad we agree,” you murmur, swallowing around the first time your heart has burst with those words. You’re not going to come out with that full-scale declaration before you’ve even gone out on your first few dates. Before you’ve even kissed.

He smiles even more, his fingers pressing into your hip and lower back, pulling you closer to his own body. It’s not possessive, more protective over you and the moment that is unfurling between you. “Just let me know if I come on too strong.” He asks, knowing that it could annoy some and he doesn’t want to do that to you.

“That’s…usually the warning I have to give.” The striking similarities between the two of you aren’t lost. The way your wishes and dreams and treatment of your partners all lines up…it makes sense why they always say that your soulmate is your ideal fit. Especially in this moment, as your arms tighten around each other and the world seems to stop around you.

He chuckles softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to the edge of your hair. “You will never have to worry about that with me.” He promises.

The way your heart stops completely for a moment at the bare touch of lips to skin before starting back up at double the speed is so telling, and so overwhelming that your fingers dig into his jacket to keep him close. “You don’t have to worry either.”

The moment is perfect and it’s one of those moments that a first kiss is almost required. Like it’s the Hallmark movie it feels like. Marcus stares into your eyes and his gaze flickers down to your lips for a moment before there’s a snort beside him.

“You two look like the newlyweds.” Joyce teases, a broad grin on her face as she leans into the arms of her new husband.

Thwarted for the second time in as many days, you swallow the disappointment but have to appreciate the irony of who’s pointing it out. “That’s your job, today, I think.”

“No way we would want to upstage the happy couple.” Marcus adds, sending them a smile.

“No reason it can’t be a happy day for more than just us,” she hums, grinning again when they turn away to keep dancing.

Marcus laughs quietly as he continues to dance with you. “I think they suspect something.” He teases softly.

“Like I said,” you laugh quietly, beaming at him impossibly brighter. “We’re not very good at hiding it.”

“No, we aren’t.” He agrees, deciding that now is the perfect time to dip you like he had during the State dinner.

The same joyful shout of laughter bubbles out of you that had then, drawing some attention again but this time you revel in it. Marcus’s soothing presence is there to let you enjoy yourself without fear, so that when you wrap your arms around his neck again on the upswing — this time there is no hesitation in following your natural impulse. Your lips find his like you’re coming home again, in a kiss as sweet and bright as the rest of this moment.

He expected the kiss, had anticipated kissing you so it’s a shock to have you initiating the kiss. Eyes widening for a split second before he closes his eyes and leans you down even more. The brilliancy of having him lean into the moment is wonderful, and you suddenly don’t know if your head is swimming from being dipped or from him. Not that you care. Not that any of it matters. Because the electric spark of it is so brilliant you could sing.

Marcus has kissed women, lots of them. Some of them women he had loved, but nothing compares to this kiss. He had always heard that soulmate intimacy is beyond description and that is exactly what this is, indescribable.

The buzzing seems to start at the top of your head and go all the way down to your toes, making you hum against his lips when you finally have to pull away. Can’t be making out in the dance floor. That will definitely be noticed. Marcus slowly pulls you upright, his lips tingling and his heart feeling like it is soaring through the clouds.

“I wanted to do that so badly at the State dinner,” you whisper, beaming at him and glowing in the moment. He knows that. You told him already. But you’re too lightheaded to care about repeating yourself.

“I did too.” Marcus confesses just as softly. It’s impossibly amazing to have someone that feels the same way and he absorbs it like it’s oxygen to breathe.

There’s a giggle in your throat, but it’s small and feels like a hiccup, making you grin even more. “But that was better than I imagined.”

“Same.” He looks around the dance floor, aware that you weren’t at a soulmate wedding before he leans in to whisper in your ear. “I had never thought touching my soulmate would be so exciting and soothing all at the same time.”

“No exciting touches while I’m working,” you chide, knowing it isn’t what he meant but unable to resist teasing him.

He snorts quietly and arches a brow mischievously. “And if I do?”

He is a tease, and he said as much to you with pride, so you just quirk a smile up in the corner of your mouth and stroke one thumb along the line of his neck. “Then you’re not staying on the couch this time.”

“Am I staying?” He asks softly, not wanting to presume anything and he grins at your huff.

“Only if you want to.” You have no intention of pressuring him, but if he wants to spend the night you will welcome him with open arms.

“I don’t think that’s a question in my mind.” He chuckles. “I just don’t want you to think that I only want to take you to bed.”

“If I thought that, you wouldn’t be invited.” Enough years of second guessing and wondering have made an impact on you that way, and you certainly aren’t going to entertain any kind of advances from someone who isn’t interested in you for the right reasons. Not anymore.

“That’s good.” He admires your spirit and self-assurance. They are traits that he always likes in a woman and he’s happy to find that his soulmate is aligned the same way. Reaching up, he smirks slightly as he touches an earring. “So what time do you get off work, beautiful?”

"As soon as the reception's over." Subtly turning your wrist on his shoulder, you check the time and press a kiss to his cheek when your heart flutters at the end of the song that had been playing. "Just a couple more hours, handsome. I hope you're one of those G-men who keeps a change of clothes in their car."

“I do.” He nods, butterflies swirling in his stomach like he’s untried all over again, even though his virginity is long past gone. “The other night was an odd thing because of just coming back.”

"I'll let my temporary roommate know you're coming up." That's not exactly the kind of thing you can spring on Agent Bailey, even if she is at the end of her shift. Her shift relief will need to know there's someone spending the night so they don't hear noises and burst into your room.

“If it’s not convenient, we can always plan something out.” Marcus immediately assures you. He knows that it has to be a little stifling at times with the agent there and he doesn’t want you to stress if there’s some reason he can’t stay.

"I just don't want an agent interrupting us," you assure him quickly. "That's all. I want you to stay."

Marcus grins. “Afraid of a shift change and the agent thinking you’re being attacked?” He jokes.

"Stranger things have happened." Unfortunately, the ear piece you're wearing to stay connected to your team crackles to life with the voices of servers get ready for the cake cutting. "That's my cue," you hum, tapping your earpiece with a slight frown. "Save me one more dance later, okay?"

“Absolutely.” Marcus lets go of you reluctantly, although he knows you are still working to make the night magical for his friends.

The wedding is as close to perfect as any event that you've organized in possibly your entire career. By the time the last guests are trickling out of the garden and the wait staff is bringing in the last trays of glasses to be washed, your work is fairly well done for the night. The overnight manager can oversee the rest of the cleanup, and you've already sent Sydney home to her comfy bed after freaking out with her over the fact that Marcus has agreed to stay over tonight. Joyce and Michael left straight for the airport to be off on their honeymoon after many, many hugs. Agent Bailey looks positively relaxed compared to some other events you've held at the inn, but you can tell she's ready for a cup of coffee and a crossword to wind down with before her relief arrives.

"Hey." You find Marcus on the porch when you step back outside, and your face splits on a big, beautiful smile.

“Hey.” Marcus turns to find you watching him, your jacket discarded somewhere and you look softer, a little worn. “I have to just give you a round of applause.” He hums, clapping silently. “You made this look so easy, even though there are a million balls up in the air at one time.”

"I'm exhausted," you admit without shame. After two weeks of basically working nonstop, you would feel like you're about to drop except that you have the promise of the rest of the night ahead of you. "Thank god I took the whole weekend off. We can sleep in tomorrow."

Marcus frowns, not liking that you’ve overworked yourself and he is immediately pulling you close and rubbing your back. “Why don’t we go upstairs and you let me take care of you?”

“Because that will require an entire reprogramming of my personality?” The attempt at a joke just makes him raise his eyebrows at you and deepens his frown, and you know instinctively you’re going to give in to him. You may not be good at letting other people be in charge of you ever, but the warm and fuzzy feelings you get from being the sole focus of Marcus’s attention outweighs it. “Okayyyyyy.”

At the almost petulant tone, Marcus smirks slightly. “Good.” He nods and pulls you closer. “You deserve to let someone do for you.” He whispers softly. “You’ve done so much for my friends tonight. Let me return the favor.”

There isn’t any use protesting, and you like the gentle security of his arms too much to leave them right now, so the two of you make your way to the elevator wrapped around each other as though there is nowhere else you could possibly be. “Did you have fun tonight?” Aside from Joyce and Michael — who had thanked you profusely before leaving for the night — his opinion of things is the only one you care about.

“Probably the best wedding I’ve ever been to.” Marcus isn’t just saying that. The staff milled around, wearing happy expressions that weren’t painted on, even when they were busy. The entire event flowed smoothly and the atmosphere was one of celebrated joy. A lot of that comes straight from the top, how you treat your staff and the environment you’ve created. “I’ll say it again, you are amazing.”

“You may have noticed by now that I’m not very good at taking compliments.” You up at him, though, warm cheeks and broad smile making you look bashful. “But…thank you.”

“Well, I plan on giving them to you often.” He admits, admiring your beautiful face. He’s always believed in giving compliments, but he never says something he doesn’t mean.

“Then I will try to be better.” Having only kissed him once so far, the tantalizing closeness of where he hangs his head as you step into the elevator together beckons you, but you resist if only out of manners. Agent Bailey doesn’t need to be made to feel awkward in such a small space.

He can tell that you want to kiss him, but he can also see how incredibly worn out you are. Marcus shifts slightly, moving behind you so he can let you lean against him. The small, nondescript duffel bag in his hand brushes your leg, and you smile gently at the idea of waking up beside him tomorrow morning. As tantalizing as taking him to bed is, it’s the soft, domestic dream of waking up to see his sleep-mussed face that has you weak in the knees. When the elevator stops upstairs, you pause to let Agent Bailey work and then go in when she gives you the signal.

“Are the threats bad enough she needs to check the apartment every time?” He asks softly, frowning at the idea that you would be in so much danger.

“Mom is slightly overprotective,” you explain, dropping your jacket on the coat rack by the door when you come in. “I give it another month of all-clears before she stops insisting the apartment be checked every single time.”

“She loves you.” It’s not hard to see why but he also doesn’t want to minimize its effect on you.

“Oh, I know.” Turning around again, you reach for him even though he isn’t far away. “And I love her. Which is why I’ve never fussed at her for anything reasonable she’s ever asked of me. Including letting my agent check my apartment before I go inside. If it eases her anxiety to know I’m safe, that’s fine. She’s got plenty else to deal with right now.”

“It’s probably because you live alone.” He murmurs, sliding his arms around you. “When I first moved away, my Mom called every night to make sure I locked my door. And I was not nearly as pretty as you are.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” His chin weighs on your shoulder and you cover his arms with your own, wrapping them around your own waist. “You’re much prettier than me. But you’re right that it’s about me living alone. When I lived with Syd she never worried out loud. But she also wasn’t president then.”

“Maybe we will have to get you a roommate.” Marcus isn’t pushing for anything, only teasing out loud. “And a really protective dog.”

“If you want a review of how I am to live with, Syd will tell you everything, I’m sure.” Though neither of you believes in pushing the other, it’s obvious that a fully functioning and committed relationship is on both of your minds. “And you know I’m dying to have a dog, we talked about that. I just can’t do it here. There’s nowhere near enough space.”

“There is if you build a cottage behind the inn.” Marcus suggests. “Gives you space for the family and keeps you close enough to your work to still pop in whenever you need.”

For a second you just stand stock still, shocked at the idea, before you slowly turn in his arms and look up into that sharply angled face with the gentlest eyes in the whole world. “I had never thought of that,” you admit, astonished now at your own lack of imagination.

“Maybe now you will.” He smiles, happy to have offered a suggestion that might be of use to you. “It’s a perfect compromise, and then you could turn your apartment into another suite for guests.”

“It’s a perfect compromise as long as it’s something my partner also likes the sound of.” Thinking of him as a partner — a long term one, the long-term partner of your life — sends that tingle out to all your extremities all over again and you find yourself smiling even brighter. “I guess we’ll have to think about what kind of cottage we would want, if that’s something we decide to do together.”

“Stone.” Marcus immediately says. “Designed to fit in. Perhaps an old carriage house design.”

The way he offers such unfettered support softens you, and you reach up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Have you thought about it before, or are you just brilliant with improvising ideas?”

“Haven’t thought about it before but I hate when I see a historic building and some addition that’s completely modern or doesn’t match the style.” He admits with a sheepish grin.

“Then I’ll just call you brilliant and you’ll have to live with being positively adored.” He blushes at that declaration, and you end up smiling all over again. “And it’s very Sabrina of you to think of living in a carriage house. Which makes it thematic, of course, and now we have to.”

“Now we have to, huh?” He chuckles quietly and leans in to press a kiss to your hair. “Then I guess we better start designing a carriage house worth of the First Princess.”

“I don’t care.” Even though you’re shaking your head, you’re transfixed, looking up into his eyes. It’s too soon for these things you’re feeling — too quick and too untried — but they’re so honest that they catch in your throat and bubble over. “As long as you’re there, too, I don’t care about anything else.”

It’s a loaded comment and it’s one that would have him searching your eyes to see if you are being truthful but he doesn’t have to. He feels that you are. “We will decide when the time comes.” He promises. “Where we live.”

“I’m just grateful you don’t think I’m crazy,” you admit softly. “For feeling so certain already.”

He snorts and pulls you close. “When I realized that you knew we had to be soulmates, there was another reaction that I needed space from you because of.” He admits. “Do you know what that was?”

“Not a clue.” Whatever it was, he’s here with you now, so you aren’t afraid of it. “Tell me.”

“So I didn’t beg you to run away with me and get married.” He flushes slightly and bites his lip.

“Oh god…” The breath of disbelief that leaves you is as disbelieving as it is giddy. “I would’ve said yes and we would’ve been doing text message breakups from the car on our way to the nearest soulmate chapel.”

“And we are better than that.” Marcus agrees, “so it was a good thing that I left for London.”

“Long distance so that we were forced to not be impulsive.” In a very real way, he’s right. You would both have jumped headfirst into this and being on separate continents forced you to calm down. You do smirk, though, and hold him a little closer. “It didn’t stop us from bathing together, though.”

Your smirk is tantalizingly wicked and innocent, making him return it. “I was trying very hard to be good while we were on the phone together. To not think about you naked.”

"I admit," you aren't embarrassed or shy about it, though. "I was decidedly less well behaved..."

“Oh yeah?” He arches a brow curiously. “What— were you touching yourself while we were talking?”

"After." It's not something you expected to admit tonight, but you have no intention of keeping the truth from Marcus at all. "I...wasn't confident I could keep quiet if I actually did it during one of our conversations."

“So you are vocal.” He hums softly, starting to get an idea of what might be a perfect ending to the night for you.

"Maybe a little." It's definitely something you have to control to be considerate of the other person in your apartment at all times.

“That’s good.” He’s aware that Agent Bailey has disappeared around the corner, trying to give you the illusion of privacy. “I like vocal.”

Instantly, your eyes snap up to his. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He hums, pressing a little closer to you with a weighted smile. “Why don’t we run a bath? Soaking sounds like a good idea for you, doesn’t it?”

“Thank god my tub is big enough for two people,” you huff, immediately grabbing his hand and heading straight for your bathroom.

He hadn’t actually meant for him to soak, but it’s obvious that’s what you want. Allowing you to guide him into your bathroom, he looks around the room. He hadn’t really paid attention to the tub when he had spent the night or when he was here for the game night, so it was a charming surprise to see that the tub is big enough for two.

"Are you a bubbles or salts guy?" You have a whole shelf dedicated to bath things that you've actually started working through thanks to the frequent phone calls you shared while he was away. Before that, you barely made time to touch them.

“Either one.” He shrugs slightly. “Depends on the mood, but I’m thinking bubbles tonight. What about you?”

"Sweet Surrender or Heart of the Ocean?" The two yet-untouched bottles on the shelf have abstract names but smelled amazing in the store when you bought them, so you give him the choice. Either way, the light and airy scented candles in the room will add ambiance more than anything else.

“Sweet Surrender.” He likes the sound of it and shrugs off his tuxedo jacket to drape over the counter.

“Honey, almonds, and pomegranate,” you read from the bottle as you turn to plug up the tub and start the bath. These first moments of intimacy are so delicate, and even though you have both verbally confirmed your shared marks — this will be the first time you see them on each other.

“That sounds like the perfect scent to relax in.” He doesn’t glance up at you, slowly starting to undress in case you change your mind.

“Hey.” As soft as your voice is, your hand reaches out to touch his arm. He isn’t looking at you and you just want to be sure that he doesn’t feel pressured. “If you want to wait, we can wait as long as you need.”

“No.” He laughs at the irony of you voice his own thoughts. “But I also know you are tired. Why don’t we soak without any expectations?”

“No expectations is good.” You nod, appreciating the way he already looks like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “There are a lot of different kinds of intimacy.”

“My idea was to get you into a bath, maybe make you feel good, and wrap you up in my arms to sleep.” Marcus voices softly.

“Is that what you want to do?” He’s only undone two buttons on his shirt, and you rest one hand lightly on his chest to ground yourself in him and give him your full attention. You said it earlier in the night — you are both just out of relationships. If he wants to take things between you physically slow even if they are moving at emotional light speed, you’ll honor that and make sure he feels comfortable and safe.

“The romantic in me wants to wait for your birthday tomorrow night.” He admits, huffing at himself. “For sex. Not for making you cum.”

“Honey.” Your hand goes to your mouth instantly, stifling a witheringly heartfelt sigh, and you step into him immediately with a sort of lopsided smile settling into your features that tells him exactly how sweet you find that idea. “That is…quite possibly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. And I adore you for wanting to make it special.”

“You don’t think it’s silly?” He’s been told he tries too hard or overthinks in relationships a lot and it’s something he’s worked on.

“No.” Shaking your head just once, you run your thumb over one of the buttons of his shirt and nearly sigh again. “I think it’s romantic. And it tells me you’re a thoughtful partner.”

“What do you want?” That is equally as important in this scenario as his own wistful flights of romantic fancy.

“I want to wake up with you tomorrow.” It might sound odd or even a little creepy to anyone else, but you’re confident that Marcus will understand. It’s not possessive or obsessive, it’s domestic and romantic in its own right. “Find out what you look like sleep mussed and bathed in sunlight all tangled in my sheets. Anything else that happens is a bonus.”

“Then let me take care of you tonight?” He asks softly, leaning in and kissing your forehead. “I can wait, and I want to make your weekend special.”

It’s impossibly romantic and probably the first time in your entire life that the man you’re romantically involved with isn’t clamoring to fuck you as quickly as humanly possible. Instead of making you feel less desirable, like it might have at earlier points in your life, it makes you feel special. Cared for. Like the fact that you have his focus means more than anything else ever could. “Okay,” you murmur, nodding once before you turn to shut off the hot water filling your bathtub. “If you prefer, there’s a little stool next to the sink. “You don’t have to get in with me unless you want to.”

“I don’t mind getting into the bath with you.” The idea of pressing his body against yours is incredibly erotic and sensual. “You can lean against me.”

“Okay.” Even as simple as a word is, the acknowledgement is important. Right now it’s just as important as the mounting hum of tension between you, and His your fingers prickly with the desire to continue undressing him. How you’re dying to press your bare skin to his, even if it doesn’t come with sex just yet.

He wonders if you are disappointed, if you are wanting him to just jump you and take you to bed. He wants to, but he wants to celebrate what is between you more.

"There's only..." Your hands go to your own buttons. Undressing yourself is not pressuring him, but just offering. Offering to deepen this connection and share this part of yourself. "Only one thing I want to ask...that's all. If it's okay with you?"

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He’s willing to whatever you want to make you happy. “What do you need to ask of me?”

It seems silly, all things considered, but when you bite your lip it feels like asking permission to smile. "I just want to see the marks we share. On both of us."

Marcus chuckles and nods, finishing the buttons on his shirt and he slips it off his shoulders. “The most obvious one first, I think.”

"I hope you don't hate it." His shirt lands on the stool you had offered him, and yours follows it.

“I don’t.” He promises, smiling at you. “Your explanation makes complete sense, now that I know that it’s you.” He tells you. “A Hummingbird for my little hummingbird.”

"And you know why I was never on Mate Marks now." It was something he had pointed out at the State dinner and you had felt awfully about the way he took it. Thinking that you never wanted to be found, when in fact it's the opposite that is true. It's just that it was considered unsafe for you. Now, though? Now that you have him right in front of you? You can turn around and show him your back and let him see the hummingbird for himself.

Your bra is still on, but he doesn’t mind that, watching as you slowly turn to let him see the tattoo on your lower back. The hummingbird that has marked his own skin, the exact same one. “Does it look different on someone else?” You ask, suddenly afraid to see his reaction.

Reaching out, his fingers brush over the skin, feeling the slight rise in it where the ink has been pushed underneath. His own is flat, not raised and it’s a wonderful little contrast between your tattoo and its counterpart on his own body. “It looks beautiful.” He murmurs softly.

"If I had been older than eighteen, I might have had it put somewhere else," you admit with a wry laugh. "But I don't care as long as it helped us find each other."

“It’s discreet.” He snorts, still tracing it. “If you want it to be.”

"I tend to tuck my shirts into my pants these days." His fingers are burning hot but not in an unpleasant way. More like the tension and promise of them is scorching your skin with eagerness. "Or just wear a longer top layer. No bikinis, ya know?"

“That’s why there aren’t pictures of it out there.” He huffs slightly, amused that if you had been photographed it would have been splashed in some kind expose or something.

"It doesn't matter anymore." Before, discretion had been something that was agreed upon. You didn't want someone claiming to be your soulmate falsely and your parents considered it a safety concern. But now that you have Marcus? Any claim would be an obvious lie and easily taken care of. "You're what matters."

Marcus turns so you can see the tattoo on his skin, verifying the same design to you. “You matter too, sweetheart.”

You never thought it would be such an emotional moment, but it’s only in the last few days that you realize how silly that assumption was. Of course this is emotional. This connection goes far, far beyond any that you’ve made otherwise. It is, just like the ink marking both of your bodies, under your skin. The tears are more than you were expecting, and you wipe one away on your thumb after a pause. “Holy shit,” you laugh after a second. “It’s real…”

He lights up at the giddy excitement in your voice. The yearning has him turning around and wiping away another with his own thumb as he caresses your cheek. “It’s real, sweetheart. We’re real.”

When he turns to you fully you can see the scar from your childhood surgery on his torso, the line of healed flesh where the doctor cut into you as clear as day on his otherwise smooth skin. “I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly, tracing it with your fingers. “We were so young to have to carry this and know what it means…that we were always connected…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Marcus shakes his head, frowning at your apology. “I was worried about you.” He admits softly. “If I had known you, I would have been visiting you in the hospital.”

"I told you." A thin smile brightens your face, reminding him of what you said at the State dinner. "Appendicitis sucks."

“I will take your word for it.” He chuckles quietly and his fingers brush your scar. “Were you scared when it happened?”

"Terrified." You nod slightly, eyes transfixed on his fingers touching your skin. "I was six and I had never, ever felt that kind of pain before."

“Poor thing.” Kneeling down, he leans in and presses his lips to the scar.

You swallow hard as he reaches for the button on your pants, skin singing at every little bit of contact. It’s only a second before he pulls the zipper open that you frankly try to remember what panties you put on for today, but it doesn’t matter. Every stitch of clothing will be gone soon, and you’re okay with that. Losing the last barriers between the two of you is exactly what you want for this weekend.

He continues to kiss along the length of the scar, watching you looking down at him as he slowly opens your trousers. Finding it incredibly sexy that you are already breathless.

“Just had a mini panic,” you admit, raking your fingers through his short hair. “Can’t remember if I put on presentable panties today or not.”

He can’t help but laugh at the very normal fear. “I don’t care about what kind of panties you wear.” He promises with grin. “But I did wear my good boxer briefs.” He jokes. “Keep it all contained properly.”

“Can’t have you letting it all hang out.” When you laugh along with him, it comes out like a snort. “Very undignified.”

“Very.” He joins you in the laughing, his fingers running along the edge of your panties. “No erections allowed in wedding photos.”

“Fully permitted later in the night, though.” He’s still on his knees in front of you, and despite being nervous you reach behind yourself to unhook your bra. “In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s encouraged.”

“Well, of course it is now.” He huffs playfully, hooking his fingers into the band of your panties. The last scraps of fabric fall away, leaving you naked in front of him, and you shiver slightly without knowing if it’s the chilly bathroom or nerves that are doing it. Marcus debates, seriously debates, if he should just lean forward and bury his face into the pretty, neat little patch of hair. To use his tongue on you. When you shiver, he knows he needs to get you into the bath, so he stands quickly and unbuckles his belt.

You aren’t a virgin. You never claimed to be. At one-day-under-30, you’ve had your fair share of sexual and romantic partners, and not everyone in those two categories overlapped. Still, when Marcus pushes his boxer briefs and trousers away in one go, you inhale sharply at the first glimpse of his half-hard cock. If you hadn’t promised to let him take care of you, you might be reaching forward or dropping to your own knees — but you did. You promised. And you can barely hold back a smothered groan of regret at that fact because he’s stunning.

If it weren’t for the lusty, glazed look on your face, he might have thought something was wrong. As it is, his half hard cock twitches and hardens even more as he guides you towards the tub. “Get in, sweetheart.” He urges. “I’ll get us some towels.”

“The cupboard behind you.” They’re big, fluffy, soft things that you count as an indulgence, but they won’t be anywhere near as comfortable as having him in this bath with you. Still, you step into the hot, sudsy water without him, knowing he’ll follow in a minute.

Marcus grabs the towels and sets them close before striding back over to the tub. He’s not some Greek god, but he’s in good enough shape that there’s no reason to slump or hide as he walks towards you naked.

“Fuck.” Just one word groaned softly, but your eyes stay on him with every step. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Are you stealing my lines?” He teases, flashing you a grin as you sit in the sudsy water. “Because the only gorgeous thing I see is you.”

“We can both be gorgeous to each other,” you point out, still transfixed by him.

He had never really thought of it that way and shrugs slightly. “If you say so.” He bites his lip and watches you lean forward to give him room behind you.

The water is just a tiny bit high with both of you settled into the tub, but you don’t care. It’s not in danger of flooding the floors so you’ll just revel in being warm and comfortable with your soulmate for as long as the hot water holds out. You lean back against him, making him sigh softly in your ear and his arms come around you.

“Is this okay, hummingbird?” He murmurs quietly. “Can I touch you?”

“You know you can call me Birdie.” Settling back against him, you guide his hand around you and under the water to let him start exploring. “Hummingbird is my Secret Service call sign. Don’t wanna start accidentally moaning as a Pavlovian response whenever Agent Bailey says it.”

He chuckles quietly, a warm sound in your ear as he splays his hand over your stomach. “If you want me to.” He slowly starts to stroke your skin. “Hummingbird sounds a little more intimate, I thought.”

“Whatever you want, gorgeous.” The way he laughs and the way he touches you? You’d probably agree to anything right about now.

“Is that how I get my way?” He asks teasingly. “Get in a hot bath with you and I get what I want?” His hands, both of them, slide up to fill his hands with your tits and squeezes gently, enjoying the way your nipples harden against his palm.

“Apparently.” Sighing lets your body loosen even more in his arms and you rest heavily against his torso but your back arches to press your chest into his hands. “And ya know what? I’m okay with it.”

He laughs again, squeezes and then massaging the flesh before his thumbs brush over your nipples. “That’s right?” He asks. “You enjoying this? Feeling relaxed already?” Flicking your nipples again lightly before he cups your tits again.

“Mmmmm, it’s perfect,” you hum, letting your eyes slip shut to just enjoy the sensations.

“Good.” He’s slow to explore, letting the moment expand naturally and taking his time as he listens to your soft moans. Wanting to learn what makes you hum and purr like a kitten in his hands.

“Are you going to make a Goldilocks joke if I point out what big hands you have?” You ask, humming again when his large hand spans what feels like your entire thigh.

“The better to feel you with, my dear.” He growls into your ear playfully, squeezing your thigh slightly and massaging it gently.

The giggle you let out is low and deep, but cut off sharply by a gasp when his fingers ghost over your core. He hums, more of a raspy growl as he slides his fingers through the wet curls and into your folds. Groaning at the slickness that has nothing to do with the bath you are in.

“Fuck.” One syllable, repeated as many times as you want to tonight, and you drop your head back on his shoulder with a moan. “Feels so good and you’ve barely touched me.”

“That’s it, beautiful.” He coos softly. “Just relax, I’m gonna take care of you.” The water ripples as he slowly starts to caress your folds, rubbing and stroking the velvety skin as he listens to you moan again.

Pliant is an understatement as Marcus starts to explore, gauging your reactions and keeping his other hand busy with your tits now that he’s figured out how much you love having them played with. The itch in the back of your mind that you’re neglecting him is very real, but this is what he wants tonight and what he’s ready to share with you, so you’ll just make tomorrow twice as good for both of you when you can share the sensations.

He keeps the motion of his fingers slow, sensual as they dance over your sensitive clit. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“So good—” So good that your breath is coming short, shallow pants already and only occasionally punctuated by longer and deeper ones. It’s like he can read you as easily as a book. “So fucking good.”

He hums softly, keeping the pace up and his cock is throbbing against your lower back now that he is fully hard. He ignores it and squeezes your breast again before teasing the nipple. “That’s good, baby girl.”

Your hips tilt, searching for more pressure and trying to show him where to focus his attention, but Marcus is exploring. He’s learning. And as much as you love it, it’s making you twist and pant and rub against him in ways you’re sure are not helping the hard on pressed between you.

“Ohhhh my soulmate gets eager, hmmm?” He coos, chuckling at the way you are grinding against him. “What do you need sweetheart?”

"More." You aren't above begging and he's already professed to being a tease so you just bask in it when his husky voice is right by your ear. He doesn't mind that you're eager and you don't mind that he's a tease, which means there's going to be a whole lot of fun ahead of the two of you. "Please, baby? More?"

“I’ve got you.” He knows there is a fine balance between being a tease and tormenting someone. He turns his hand, his thumb pressing against your aching clit so he can push two fingers deep inside you. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

"Oh fuck." The whine that comes out of you is something unrestrained and probably louder than you meant it to be, but it hardly matters when he's stretching you out on two thick fingers. Your hands scramble for purchase, one clutching his arm against you and the other holding on to the side of the tub as he begins to finger fuck you slowly but determinedly.

“Gotta stretch you out.” He croons in your ear, his breath washing over your skin. “Get your tight little pussy ready for me tomorrow.” He curls his fingers up and continues the slow circles on your clit.

"Knew those fingers would feel amazing inside me." And after thinking about it for about two weeks solid, you're thrilled to find out exactly how right you were.

“Been thinking about that a lot?” He asks, deciding your ear lobe needs to be nibbled on.

"So fucking much." Every time his fingers dive back inside your cunt you give another wanton moan. "Almost as much as I've been thinking about your cock."

“Now that you’ve seen it, what do you think?” He’s curious because he knows you wouldn’t lie to him, he knows enough women have enjoyed him to not be too self-conscious, but you are his soulmate. Hopefully you will be pleased with the body the universe chose for you to share.

“I think I my imagination didn’t do you justice.” If it weren’t for his fingers moving inside you, you’d be riding that cock, but you can’t find it in yourself to be disappointed when he’s so fucking good with his hands. Instead you twist around, chest having as you claim a demanding kiss.

He groans into your mouth, cock twitching against your back as your tongue slides into his mouth. You taking control of kiss is incredibly sexy to him, and he pumps his fingers into you faster.

If you were flexible enough to reach in between your bodies and wrap your hand around his hard on, you would have done it ages ago. The angle you’ve twisted into to kiss him almost makes it work, but still not quite. It leaves you whining into the kiss as your legs quake, feeling yourself move closer and closer to that peak that he has aimed you toward.

It’s not as slow as Marcus had wanted. Expecting to coax you into a languid, drawn-out orgasm that leaves you boneless, you are insistent. Not that he could deny you, the entire point is to take care of you how you need it. Kissing you back with just as much fervor as you give him as he pushes you towards that pleasurable cliff.

It probably would have been more like the slow, sensual climb he had intended if you weren’t so hungry for him. So addicted to the way he tastes after barely the smallest sample that you just want to drown in him. It’s passion, and the kind of attraction that makes you feel like you’ll go crazy if you can’t have him burrowing under your skin. In the moment your hazy, pleasure-centric mind is wrapped solely around how he helps and tastes better than perfection, and how you never want it to end.

The kiss tangles deeper, winding through to his soul and squeezing it tights. Grunting into your mouth gently as he feels like he is home.

The whine in your throat gets tighter as you near that peak, glorious tension in the pit of your stomach flooding every other sense you have as you start to cum, except the unerring surety that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. Right here. With your soulmate. Home.

The way you fall apart for him is breathtaking. Marcus moans in tune to your own cries, eyes closed as your walls tighten around his fingers and pulse with a throbbing tempo of pleasure. The water sloshing around you both as you shake for him.

The words stick in your throat, and whether it’s the soulmate connection or the post-orgasm bliss, or what, they hang there as you relax backward against him in a slump. Is it really that easy? Or has it been building since we met? You aren’t sure, but it’s there. Regardless of how or why.

He feels the second you soften, body relaxing against him and his fingers slow down. Drawing out the pleasure but not forcing any kind of overstimulation. Winding down until they are still inside you as he kisses you softly before pulling back to smile at your glowing face.

“You have very good ideas.” A soft laugh tumbles out of you as you work to suppress the instinct to declare yourself to him. This isn’t the right time. Or, at least, you’re afraid that it’s too soon despite the dreams you’ve already shared with him.

“Good.” He hums softly, kissing you again. “Relaxed, sweetheart?”

“Amazingly.” You can still feel him rock hard at your back, though, and your eyes search his. “Are you sure you don’t want a hand? Or any other part of me?”

He snickers the innuendo and leans in to kiss you again. “You don’t know how badly I want you.” He murmurs softly. “But your eyes are exhausted.”

“I hate that you’re right.” Wanting him so badly that it physically hurts doesn’t make you less tired, but it does make you more determined than ever to make sure tomorrow is incredible.

He chuckles softly and kisses your forehead. "You now know how I felt a couple of days ago." He reminds you softly. "It doesn't matter how long it takes, love." He promises. "We will get there and it will be amazing."

“Tomorrow.” The tone of your voice is absolutely certainty, it the yawn immediately after does put a pin in the point. “We will get there tomorrow.”

"Tomorrow." He agrees and shifts you forward slightly as he pulls his hand away from your core. "For now, we need to get some rest so you can party tomorrow without falling asleep."

“What do you want to do tomorrow before the party?” Standing on wobbly legs in the bath takes a second, but when you wipe all the suds away and step out you’re steady enough.

"You have the day off." He hums, getting out beside you and wrapping a towel around you. "We could start off with brunch if you wanted to. Or whatever you want to do? Go to the famer's markets around here?"

“I switched my day off this week to make sure the wedding would go smoothly,” you explain. He’s large and warm and strong, and the feeling of safety doesn’t elude you. “So we have the whole weekend together if we want it.”

"I want it." He immediately tells you, frowning slightly as he towels you off carefully. Ignoring the water dripping off his own body so he can attend to you. "If you do, of course."

“Of course I do.” Grabbing the second towel off the stool, you start to dry him in turn. “Just…didn’t want to be clingy. That’s been a point against me in the past.”

"You don't have to worry about me being upset." Marcus assures you. "I have that same problem sometimes too."

“Jump in head first and get too clingy and it overwhelms them?” To find out he’s the same way is an odd sort of relief and solidarity, if you’re honest with yourself.

Marcus snorts and gives you an embarrassed wince. "I did propose in the hallway at work?" he offers. "Not some of my best romantic work, and after reflecting on it, I was feeling like the relationship was slipping away and I was desperate to save it."

“This was Teresa?” He had told you a bit about his exes — just little tidbits — during your phone calls and you hum when he nods. “No offense, honey? But it doesn’t really sound like she had her shit together in that relationship. That was not your fault.”

"No, but I held on even harder when I should have just let go." He admits, sighing softly. "Too quick to jump in, to give my heart, to plan for the future."

“You’d think I would have learned my lesson when I got cheated on.” You shake your head, drawing your towel around yourself and shrugging. “Oops.”

"I can't fucking believe someone would be dumb enough to cheat on you." He snorts, rolling his eyes at the idiocy of his sex.

“The only good part of the whole thing is that I managed to cut his cheek when I threw the ring at him,” you huff, shaking your head again as the two of you move into your bedroom together. The age-old cliche of finding your partner in bed with someone else had been your horrible reality just a few years ago. “Asshole. I hope he has a scar.”

"Me too." He huffs, "but you don't need to worry about that with me." He knows it's sounding like a complete line, but it's the truth. "I would never – I went to break up with Vanessa because just knowing you were my soulmate, I couldn't give her what she deserved."

“I…I felt like I needed confirmation,” you admit. After giving it a few seconds of thought you simply discard your towel in the laundry basket and climb into bed naked, pulling back the sheets to invite him to join you bare. “Just knowing we both had tattoos in the same place wasn’t enough. It could have been totally different designs, and then I would have been the idiot who jumped to conclusions and ruined both of our relationships for some unfounded crush. And then…at the State dinner…finding out you have my scar, too? I knew that was it. Everything I already felt for you in that moment was more than I had ever felt about anyone else.”

"I understand now." He had been hurt, deeply hurt, but he won't tell you that now. He doesn't want you upset about that, when you needed to take time for yourself to accept the possibility.

“I’m sorry if I…if I did things wrong.” Waiting for him to get in bed makes you a little self conscious but you swallow the idea that you might deserve it. “I don’t really know how to walk up to a person and tell them that the universe thinks they’re my perfect match.”

"Don’t' worry about that," Marcus slides into the bed beside and you and gathers you into his arms. Wanting to fold you against him and hold you close. "All that matters is that we know now."

“I love you.” You might have held it back before, but when you exhale this time the words come out all on their own. “I know that’s a lot, and don’t feel like you have to say it back until you’re ready. But I — I’m very grateful it’s you.”

He stares at you for a moment and then starts to laugh. Leaning in and nudging his nose against yours. "Sweetheart, I love you too." He promises softly through the chuckles. "I think I fell in love with you over board games that first night." He admits. " I just didn't let myself believe it."

Exhaling deeply, you burrow into his side and bury your face, just letting the right release of relieved laughter roll through you. Watery eyes and sniffles are nothing now. Not compared to the elated smile on your face. “You looked like a dream when you came into the inn that day. Like you’d stepped right out of my fantasies.”

"I wanted to ask you out." He confesses. "Until I learned you were seeing Sam."

“It’s all okay now.” It’s perfect now, as far as you’re concerned, and you press your lips to his with a smile curved up at the corners. “We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

"In bed, where you are fighting sleep so you can talk to me?" He teases gently, smiling back into your lips.

“Yes,” you huff at him as adorably as you can.

He laughs again, settling back into the pillows and pulling you with him, humming when you settle down onto his chest like you belong there. "Go to sleep, hummingbird." He urges quietly. "I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere."

______

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. (If you feel like it, no pressure.) Spread the self-love ❤️

omg I'm sorry I'm SO late to answering this but thank you for sending me this lovely ask <3

Answering this made me realize how LITTLE I've actually written on here even though it feels like I've written a SHIT ton lmao

1.) Truth or Consequences (Oneshot) - 18+ - Ted Garcia x ftm! Reader Ironically, this is my fic that's gotten the least amount of notes but it's still the one I'm most proud of. Mostly because of how QUICKLY I cranked it out, I was totally on fire, which is almost never the case when I write a fic. But really, this is the most angst I've ever really written, and I'm very bad at angst, so I love that I stepped out of my comfort zone to write it. 2.) Lions Ain't the Kind (Ongoing) - 18+ - Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader This one is my second favorite because it's the first time I ever just wrote something for me without worrying whether or not people would enjoy it. I was definitely inspired to post it because of @perotovar and their incredible Frankie x NB! OC River and how happy it made me to read it, and realizing if even one person was stoked about the representation then it was worth sharing <3 3.) If You're Crazy Too (Oneshot) - 18+ - Santi x m!amab!reader x Frankie I'm also very proud of this one because it was my first time writing a threesome. I love the poly vibes in this one, and the way Frankie and Santi finally get together. :) 4.) Your Ride, Best Trip (Oneshot) - 18+ - Marcus Pike x F! AFAB! Reader I love this one so much because of the twist no one expected when I first posted it. Seeing everyone's reaction to something... different was really fun and I'm so surprised by how many people actually enjoyed it. 5.) Slipped Through (Oneshot) - 18+ - Joel Miller x F! AFAB! Reader I pondered on this one for a while, but I really do love Joel in this fic. Who doesn't want to hear this big guy whimper and beg and lose it, right?

[trulybetty]

Sunday Week in Review IV

It has been a really weird week this week. One of those weeks where you don’t feel right but you’re not unwell, but you know you’re not yourself. That’s been me the entire week. As a result, I didn’t read or really do much - but I’m hoping this long weekend will get me out of my funk and back to some sense of normality - whatever that is these days lol 🙃

Truly Betty Updates This Week…

Sick Day (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Plans for Gold Rush: I recently had a re-read and got to have a really good conversation with @gnpwdrnwhiskey about Charlotte and Joel this week, and it really made me realize how much I miss them. So, my plan is to go back and have a good edit of what’s posted - (both my writing and editing style have changed and Gold Rush is wordy in places it has no business being). Going to take the next week or so to do that and get back to the story that brought me to this community and even if it’s me and three other people reading it, I don’t mind - because I love these characters and want to see it through ❤️ 

Fics I Enjoyed This Week…

Shared Breaths by @frenchiereading I think I’m up to chapter six on this now, as of this week, complete fanfic! It’s a cute read of Frankie enrolling his daughter into Readers school and two having a magnetic back and forth that they can’t act upon until Frankie’s daughter is no longer in Readers class (boo school rules) and I can’t wait to see what happens when they’re finally able to be together! 

The Layover by @goodwithcheese How are we all doing? Have we all recovered from this chapter? Are we prepared for the epilogue that’s coming? This story has been a joy to read and I will honestly be revisiting this one with a permanent place on my fanfics to recommend list! 🙌

Talk Tonight  by @darkroastjoel Joel Miller. Delayed flight. One night in Paris. Did I mention Joel Miller and one night in Paris? This was a delight to get stuck into the opening chapter this week and I’m a suck for an OC. I’m really excited to see how the night plays out for Camila and Joel on the backdrop of Paris.

Late Night Texts by @mvtthewmurdvck Another series that had its last chapter this week and an epilogue on the way. This has all the hallmarks of a good rom-com and another that will be a re-read in the near future. I had an inkling of how this last chapter would play out, but rather than be predictable it keeps you on your toes to a very toe-curlingly sweet ending that will make you want to hug the screen.

Hungry Hearts | Independence Day by @atinylittlepain This is another that will always be on my permanent fanfic recommendation list. Things are reaching a peak between Cherry and Joel and I can't wait to see how things are going to come to heads between the two in the present day.

Delta Landscaping | Chapter 4 by @rhoorl Just realized I keep thinking this is chapter three and it’s chapter 4 (told you it’s one of those weeks 🤦🏻‍♀️) - anyway, another delight of a chapter from Jess and there’s so much to unpack here with the residents of Mulefall Court - so do yourself a favour and go take a read… or two! 

Supply & Demand by @wildemaven Between this fanfic, @rhoorl’s portrayal of Benny and the influx of Garrett Hedlund posts on my feed this week - I think I’m slowly being converted to the Benny side! This is a truly sweet one-shot that I don’t want to get too into here as it deserves a read to find out yourself how it plays out and how endearing Heidi’s Benny really is. Because even if you’re not a fan, you’re going to want to read more of him! Trust me 🥰

20/20 by @ladamedusoif This popped up on my feed this week and it’s always an instant re-read when it does as it has a place on my favourites list! Joel needs to get his eyes tested and the man needs glasses. However, he really doesn’t want them.

Fics I’m Looking Forward to Reading... My TBR List is still a work in progress, will share it when it’s done 💕

These two I was hoping to get stuck into this week, but mental headspace got away with me and wanted to make sure I gave them the attention they deserve because peep the premises for both! 🙌

Tempered in the Fire by @ladamedusoif Okay, so it’s a Blacksmith Din AU set some time after the Irish Rebellion of 1798 - the creativity in this synopsis alone is enough to have me mentally carving out some time this weekend to devour the first chapter.

Let’s Call this a Win Win by @jomiddlemarch Joel. OFC. No Outbreak AU. Sarah and Ellie at summer camp. Sign me up! Joel is dropping Sarah off at summer camp where he meets camp nurse Meghan. Did I mention that Joel is going to be working maintenance there too? I cannot wait to give this one the attention it deserves and find out what happens! 

Posts I Enjoyed This Week…

Pedro living his best life at a Beyoncé concert this week and everyone living for the pure joy of it. 

Things I’ve Enjoyed This Week…

Marry Me - I am a sucker for a rom-com, and I’m a sucker for a JLo rom-com. Throw in Owen Wilson with a batshit plot line that is absolutely unbelievable and you can just shut up and take my money (which Apple did because I bought it)

Something from Tiffany’s - this was on paper a ‘meh’ kinda concept, but I’m glad I gave it a chance as I adored every second of it and now have all the feels and ideas for seasonal one-shots and mini-series that are way above my ability to pull off lol

Discussing WIP’s and OC’s - got to indulge with both this week with some awesome mutuals about not only my own, but theirs too! It's always oo much fun hearing other people’s thought processes and bouncing ideas around. Highly recommend it!

This Week’s Song…

What's a rom-com without a good pop song? This was the bop of the week as I made my way through the week.

Hope everyone had a great week! Let me know if you have any good fanfic recs or your own lists to share! 💕 xx

[sp00kymulderr]

🎀the WIP (work in progress) list is a place to organise and keep track of my too many wips

🎀any posts or snippets about the wip will be linked

🎀if any spark interest feel free to ask about more details/yell at me to get working on them

🎀once a wip becomes a fic it will be added to my masterlist

DIETER BRAVO

🩷red wine stains

🩷self care day - additional snippet

🩷Icarus - (with reader and m!oc) - additional snippet

🩷Guilty Pleasure - pinterest board

🩷pink pony club - pinterest board

🩷cherry - (with f!oc x reader) - snippet - additional snippet - another snippet - pinterest board

🩷Art History Professor!Dieter

🩷Lost, found pt 2

🩷Ghost!Dieter

EZRA

💚Love, Blood and Rhetoric (actor!Ezra)

💚Professor!Ezra (x Dieter x Reader)

💚cat dad!Ezra

JOEL MILLER

❤️our house of flames part 4 - cinder (ongoing series)- snippet - pinterest board

❤️This Place is Haunted - snippet - pinterest board

❤️you play the part, i'll be the art - additional snippet - pinterest board

❤️Picture You / Pinterest board

❤️gym crush / Pinterest board

❤️ FLESH - additional snippet

MARCUS PIKE

🧡take the long way home part 3 (ongoing series) - pinterest board

🧡The Northern Line - snippet - pinterest board

JAVIER PEÑA

💙Any colour you like

💙a line around your thoughts - pinterest board

MARCUS MORENO

💜Five years

💜Racing towards the sun (x Dieter)

TIM ROCKFORD

🤍Coming up to consciousness (x Dieter)

FRANKIE MORALES

💛Drive fast (x Dieter)

[absurdthirst]

Valentine's Ventures

Valentine's Day stories with various characters. Ratings and Warnings included in individual stories

Pero Tovar:

The Valentine's Dom {Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Marcus Pike:

A Valentine For One {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Dave York:

Late For Valentine's {Dave York x F!Reader}

Joel Miller:

The Last Valentine's {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Frankie Morales:

The Cupid Shuffle {Catfish x F!Reader x Pope x F!OC}

Max Phillips:

Can't Fight Cupid {Human!Max Phillips x F!Reader}

[agentmarcuspike]

writing patterns tag game

rules: share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns! (from most recent to least recent, starting from the top)

thank you @saradika, this is so cool and fun!! i'll include some ficlets too because i want to lol. i'm borrowing your format and divider, j, they look so pretty, forgive me. i can’t find any pattern but is there?!

"a promise softly sung" (joel and sarah miller)

It happens so quickly.

"let me fade away" (javi peña x reader, noncon)

The pad of your index finger rubs the rough texture of your tongue as you wet it before digging into the little plastic bag in your hand.

prompt: leaving notes for them around the home (javi peña x reader)

Javi is tired.

prompt: painting their nails (joel miller x reader)

“What’s that smell?” Joel shouts as he kicks his boots off in the hallway.

prompt: getting the giggles together (marcus pike x reader)

You’ve both worked late every day this week, and your cupboards are as empty as your stomach is when you finally get off in time to stop by the grocery store.

"three’s a crowd" (marcus pike x reader x javi peña)

“There’s this good-looking guy at work.”

"a minute from home" (biker!joel miller x reader)

The chill air of the evening brushes your skin as you push open the door from the restaurant.

"All My Casualties of Love" (joel miller x unnamed f!oc)

Joel had decided to never love again.

"our secret moments in a crowded room" (dbf!joel miller x reader) (part 4 of a series)

It’s been three weeks since you last saw Joel Miller, ignoring the four times he’s been over to borrow your dad’s tools and you’ve only nodded at each other politely, both of you working hard to hide your flushed faces and grins at the memory of your night together.

"i crawl home to her" (joel, sarah, ellie)

When Sarah was little and cried because she’d scraped her knee, Joel always wanted to cry too.

"is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" part 3 (dbf!joel miller x reader)

You try not to roll your eyes as your date, Jack, blabbers on about how much make-up turns him off, how he prefers his women natural, and how much of a womanizer he is.

"Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" part 2 (dbf!joel miller x reader)

it’s been a week since your neighbor, Joel Miller, found you naked in his bed.

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” part 1 (dbf!joel miller x reader)

"so... this is me," you gesture to the house you share with your dad, averting you date's eyes.

do you guys wanna do this?! @swiftispunk @joelscruff @hier--soir @iamasaddie @joelsgreys

[artemiseamoon]

A Year of Whump- Masterlist

Completed!

I’m joining this challenge @yearofcreation2023 by @oonajaeadira and writeforfandoms, which sounds so funnnn! Masterlist at the end of the post. Info below.

This year, I’m serving 12 servings of whump, one for each month. With a side of comfort and fluff. Emphasis on comfort! I’m also interested in trying some new characters for me.

Inspirations: A (what do you need), B (hurt/comfort prompts), C (emotional prompts), D (intimate moments), E (intimacy/fluff), F (difficult recovery), G (desperate prompts), H (dialogue prompts 💔)

What will this include?

Each month there will be one piece based on one of the prompts (drabbles or one shots, each with their own moodboard)

Which characters? Fandoms?

Assorted. Check out my masterlist to get an idea of what I write and who I enjoy writing. As a queer women, I’d love to make this diverse! So pairings will be a mix of m/f, f/f, and gn. Possibly m/m too. Pairings will range from platonic to romantic.

How about warnings?

Will be listed individually for each work. Overall this is an adult 18+ account.

How to follow? Get updates?

1. Save and follow this post! This is the masterlist!

2. Check out @artemiseamoon-updates (I do not do taglists)

3. A03: artemiseamoon| Series name: Arte’s year of whump (you can subscribe to this)

*Important*

My A03 is open to subscribers only at this time. I only post previews of work on tumblr, for full access, you can only read that on A03.

Other

Each work will be added to the characters masterlist as well. For example, any Pedro characters will go to my Pedro character list (here on my masterlist).

Thank you for checking this out, and for your support! Please to share, reblog, add kudos on a03 and/or comment if you feel inclined.

My general mastetlist

〰️ 〰️ 〰️

The Masterlist

🌟 ongoing, or a double shot

January

From there to here (Fennec Shand x ofc)

February

A casino on Valentine’s Day (William Tell x ofc)

March

As long as I’m alive (Tf guys, ofc, Tyler Rake)🌟

April

Is this how it ends? ( Tf guys, oc) * dark pope (ongoing) 🌟 (follow on A03 to get updates for all chapters)

May

Dial up the Jack, Dim the Whiskey (Jack x ofc) 🌟

June

Update: is this how it ends? | chapter 3

July

Update: Is this how it ends? | Chapter 4 (actively ongoing, find updates on A03)

August - October (No fics)

November

The thing about second chances | (Marcus Pike x ofc) | A03 🌟

December

A light at the end of the tunnel | Ezra, ofc, Cee | A03

〰️ 〰️ 〰️

POST CHALLENGE

at some point…

Dial up the Jack, dim the whiskey - pt 2 of 2

The thing about second chances - pt 2 of 2

Is this how it ends? - Multi chapter & ongoing

[booburry]

WIP title game

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

@sp00kymulderr - you are a gem to the tag ♥♥

I thought to keep it on theme and include my Pedro Boy WIP's and I included a littler summary of the plot, or the OC/connection for each.

Double Trouble - Dieter x Javi G - the monster is 15k words already and I have 2 more positions to write and then it's the final edit. I also want to turn this into a Slice of Life series with Reader, Dieter & Javi being a throuple cause this idea has absolutely latched onto my soul

Find Me In the Dark - Din x F!OC (Miri) - they were Din's childhood best friend, force sensitive and taken to be trained (as limited as she could in exile) on the ways of the force, but she left that behind, feeling the pull to the dark side too strong from her past, and instead sets up an orphanage for children caught in war and saving them from being recruited into the many factions across the SW universe.

Heiress - Marcus Pike x F!OC (Izzy/Isabelle) - Marcus gets a lead on an art crime ring him and his European counterparts have been tracking, being told they are targeting a prevalent and wealthy old old money family estate in Belgium. It's to his great shock when he finds the heiress to this estate is the girl he so affectionately had nicknamed 'Waffle Girl' from his favorite diner.

Dream a little Dream (of me) - Outbreak!Joel x F!OC (Annie) - Few years into the outbreak, pre QC, Annie finds Joel in one of her traps, Tommy's leg broken, she agrees to help the Miller brothers out, helping Tommy recover and heal with Joel does manual labor to keep her farm in good condition. With time Annie and Joel's hardened hearts soften for the other, but what's to happen when Tommy feels the need to move on and a group traveling to the Boston QC pass by?

Pedro Secret Santa Fic - [REDACTED]

Also my brain wants me to write a Frankie x OC fic where the OC is a flight instructor and Frankie takes up a job where they work.

It ALSO (very unhelpfully) gave me a SpaceCampCounsellor!Ezra AU idea that I am slowly becoming very attached to where the OC or Reader is the Camp Cook that also teaches the kids how to cultivate food in different space habitats.

Don't know what to do with those two except let them fester.

I keep struggling to think what WIP I will jump into after Double Trouble and I finish my Secret Santa. It's probably either Din or Marcus if Ezra doesn't take me by the pussy first.