#D.C. flag

[emaadsidiki]

Washington D.C. 😎

[city-flag-tournament]

✯ Round 2 ✯ Match 56 ✯

The current flag of Anadyr, Chukotka Autonomous Okrug, Russian Federation

Propaganda:

Cutest bear ever

vs.

The current flag of Washington, D.C., United States

Propaganda:

None

Tournament Policies: ✯ Choose the flag that's more meaningful to you! ✯ Be respectful of place names and cultural symbols in your commentary! ✯ If you want to submit propaganda, you may do so at the submission form linked in the pinned post. It will only be included if it is submitted before the next post with that flag is drafted and will be included in all subsequent posts the flag is featured in.

[spaceaudyssey]

Fontaines Fans, Should I wear this to the concert I'm going to, or do you think that this would be insulting to the band if they saw it ? I made it in Printify for laughs, and because of that one Interview where they were talking about being called "the spice boys". I love both this band and the Spice Girls, so I mashed them together. I would ask reddit, but I fear they would be too harsh, idk why.

Also I did buy merch from the band already and plan on getting more at the concert . I'll also be layering, so at least a different top won't be much of a problem. I'll also head to a mall earlier that day.

[nationcats]

NationCats Flag Cards - Washington D.C, United States

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that you’re not good enough for him. 5k

c: fem, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive theme (non-graphic implied sex scene). hotch is a good husband. requested here  

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“Honey, this is Clint McMoore. We went to college together.”

You step into Aaron’s side. Clint McMoore is a handsome older man with silvering hair and a beard that looks out of control. His bowtie is loose around his neck, and his cheeks are blotchy with drink, but Clint smiles at you and offers his hand. “How do you do?” he asks. 

“Quite well, thank you.” You’ve been practising fancy dinner talk with Aaron’s friend Emily for weeks. She has all the political background you’d needed to see yourself into the culture. “It’s nice to meet one of Aaron’s school friends.” 

“While you still can,” Clint says with a chuckle. Something about being in your forties is obscene to these men, as though death waits for fifty candles to snuff them out. 

“Clint and I were in the Student Theatre club together, our first year.”

You grin, smile laced with teasing. Each time you’re reminded of Aaron’s young interest in drama, you have to focus very hard on not laughing; the Aaron who has his hand to your shoulder isn’t one you could envision on stage. “Did you perform together?” you ask. 

“Saturday Night Fever,” Clint says. 

They laugh and reminisce. You find these sorts of events hard to keep up with, but you come when Aaron asks because he so rarely asks you for anything. He hasn’t mentioned knowing that you don’t like coming, But perhaps he hasn’t noticed —it’s not like you to frown, not when you’re with Aaron. The way he treats you, he probably thinks you’re the happiest girl in the world. 

There’s a contentedness to be found when he touches you. He spreads a hand against your lower back and you let yourself sink into his side, curled into his embrace and amazed at the giggly laugh he lets out as Clint brings up the ‘King of the River’ tattoo Aaron has hidden beneath his shirt. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek.

Clint asks, “Isn’t that right?” and forces you back into the conversation. 

You’re wearing a dress you panicked over for days. It’s black, cut playfully just above your knees with small petal sleeves. Your necklace is of a delicate chain and a not so delicate pearl —a black Tahitian South Sea pearl that glows pink and green in the light. For you, Aaron wrote, his pretty scrawl inky across a square of scalloped card from atop the box. I’m in love with you. Forgive me for not having the courage to tell you in person. 

Your Aaron is quiet. Some days he comes home from work and doesn’t manage more than a sentence. Some days he can barely speak at all. But there are nights when he holds you to hold you and talks in murmurs against your ear, and he’s good at making calls when he’s away. Talking or not, smiling or otherwise, Aaron finds a way to let you know he loves you, and that’s all you care about. 

“Excuse us,” Aaron says, giving Clint a rare, warm smile, “I’m being flagged by my boss.” 

Sure enough, Erin Strauss is beckoning Aaron with a strange pained look.

“Nice to meet you,” you say quickly to Clint. He repeats your goodbye, and you and Aaron swerve around him. 

“He was nice,” you murmur. 

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

“How come you fell out of touch?” 

“Oh, you know how things go, honey, you forget all the people you meet and make room for new ones.” He kisses your cheek. “And besides, he used to gossip like my mother. Why don’t you go find JJ?” 

“You’ll be alright?” 

“No, maybe not.” He squeezes your elbow quickly. “Go, find some hors d’oeuvres, at least.”

You find neither JJ nor finger foods. The gala you’re attending is being held in a hotel in the richest part of D.C, and the events hall is huge. The ceiling is a fantasy, glass and miles upward, overhead chandeliers dangling lower, dousing the crowds below in a light that’s clean. The rich and powerful gather at the edges of the room, though the performance toward the back of the room is watched by a few tens of couples with flutes of champagne held in gloved hands. 

You hadn’t worn gloves. Hadn’t thought about it until you got here. Honestly, you felt grateful enough that JJ texted you to tell you to buy a shawl; if you weren’t wearing one you’re sure you’d feel bare. 

What you’re lacking in fancy is made up for by your earnestness, or so you’d like to believe. You aren’t rich nor powerful, but Aaron’s a good man and you his good wife. You work hard, which is more than some of the richest in the room can say. You hold your head high without a second thought. 

The hall is confusing. Tables are set but you aren’t sure Aaron said anything about a dinner service. Wait staff carry silver platters and hold bottles of champagne, but each time you approach one they seem to have already headed in another direction. JJ and Derek are both supposed to be here tonight, but you haven’t seen either of them since you arrived. You cast your gaze for Derek’s figure, searching for an easy gait and a strong set of shoulders. You cock your head waiting for a hint of JJ’s practised, polite laughter, but any familiar signs are gone. You can’t even find Aaron anymore, and your shoes are pinching your toes.

Disaster. You should’ve listened to Aaron when he told you to size up, just you doubted his knowledge of ladies shoes considering how rarely he wears them. Stupid man, you think to yourself, lovingly yet ruefully as you sit down at one of the uninhabited tables to the very side of the room. Knows everything. Tonight, you’ll limp back to the car and he won’t bother saying I told you so, he’s too good for it, which is worse. He’ll give you one of his amused smiles. He might offer you a massage. 

Ridiculous man, you further to yourself, biting back a cheesy smile as you peel your shoe from a sore foot. If you shove your hand deep enough into the toe you can stretch them out a little. 

“Darling.” 

You look up. Clint McMoore’s resurfaced just a table away with his back to you. A sweet-faced woman with brown hair sits adjacent to him, her shoulder under Clint’s hand. 

“You’ll never guess who I just bumped into,” he says. 

Me, you think. 

“Aaron Hotchner and his new wife.” 

“You didn’t,” the woman says. 

“I knew you’d be envious of that,” he laughs. “Charlotte, she’s unbelievable.” 

Your stomach does a strange flip. He’ll say something nice, you insist, but you know his tone is a precursor for gossipy nonsense. 

“I’ve never seen such a mismatched pair,” he says. 

Charlotte rolls her eyes at him. “Well, what were you expecting? They were married after six months of knowing one another. I couldn’t so much as tolerate you until our first anniversary.” 

“Hardy-har.” 

“What’s wrong with her, then?” Charlotte asks. 

“Nothing like that, Charlotte. She seemed perfectly pleasant–”

“But?” 

“But, she’s nothing like Aaron’s usual woman.” 

“Hm, I said as much when we saw their wedding photos.“ They both laugh. “It’s not like she had much of a chance. First Haley, and then that Beth, the designer, she’s in Milan now–”

“He seems rather besotted, in any case,” Clint says. “Very lady and the tramp.” 

“Gentleman and the tramp.” 

“Don’t be cruel, Charlotte.” 

You know in a way that Charlotte is kidding, but you boil up with anger the moment you recognise what it is they’re implying. Then they laugh, and your anger quickly finds itself taking a crueller shape. 

You slip your foot back into your shoe slowly. Your throat feels dry and then warm, like a crux of smouldering coal stuck in your windpipe as you stand, jerkily, hand stiff where it holds your weight on a silken tablecloth. 

You blink and stare at the floor. It’s marble. It’s shot through with dark veins like a drop of ichor in water. 

What the fuck? 

You aren’t sure why you’re leaving the hall until you’re walking down the steps of the hotel and turning along the skirts of a hedge. A low brick wall lies in front of it, just short enough to sit on with your heels. Your coccyx stings with the force of how hard you go down. 

Your head races with hurt feelings. 

You’re not unaware of your husband’s past loves. It comes as no surprise to you that people regard Haley and Beth highly —Haley was extremely beautiful and veritably brave, intelligent, kind-hearted. Beth was funny, Aaron said, and not too much else. Being a designer in Milan hasn’t been mentioned before, but it’s impressive. They’re both impressive, and– and his usual woman. 

You rub the starchy stockings stretched over your knees. 

What had they meant by usual woman?

Mismatched? 

It hadn’t felt mismatched when Aaron asked you to marry him. It wasn’t six months after knowing one another as Clint’s wife suggested, but it wasn’t much more than that. He proposed to you after eight months together, and you were married two months later, which is incredibly fast to some people but it just hadn't felt fast when he asked. It was exciting —it still is. 

“Would you marry me, if I asked you to?” he’d said, some seven months after you’d agreed to be his girlfriend. Your head in his lap, his fingers rubbing at the soft skin of your nape. A sleepy Sunday morning like any other, you suppose that was a proposal in itself, but you hadn’t realised that when you murmured, “Yeah, handsome. I would.” 

You thought it was just love. Making innocuous comments about the future is part of falling in love. It’s terrifying to tell someone that you’d like to live life in their lap, but you tell them, and they tell you to go ahead if you’re lucky. 

He asked you to get married a few weeks later. “I had to talk to Jack,” he explained, “or I would’ve asked you then and there.“

You’re a wife suddenly, a step-mother, a partner. Aaron would’ve sold the house and bought you a new one if you wanted him to, but you like his life. You’ve always felt like you fit right in. 

Angry again, you scrub at your knees with itchy palms and practise how you’re going to tell Aaron about his cruel friend. Gossipy was right, what a lark, and you’re not perfectly pleasant, you’re a delight, you hadn’t said one bad word to Clint and you didn’t deserve to be whipped and twisted into a bad joke between sips of Cristal. 

Your eyes burn with the injustice of the thing. 

Rawness overtakes. A thudding in your chest turns painful, neck wrought with tightness as you hang your head. Hiding from the cold air. November brings with it a promise of chapped lips the longer you stay there, biting into your thighs as your hands turn stiff with disuse. 

She was unbelievable. 

“Y/N!” The shout is sharp. You’ve never heard Aaron’s voice at that level or with that level of formidability, carrying from the bottom of the hotel stairs. You twist in shock on the wall and watch in real time as his face fills with relief. “Honey,” he says, calling but not half as scary as he jogs to you, “are you alright?” 

“What?” 

“You scared me,” he insists, bending down to hold your shoulders. “Nobody’s seen you for the last fifteen minutes, sweetheart, we talked about this. You can’t just disappear, you left your purse on the table, I thought something happened to you.” 

You startle at his scolding. “I–”

“You should feel my heart.” 

“I didn’t mean to come out here.” 

“I wish you would’ve let somebody know,” he says. His frown softens slowly, but the concern around his eyes remains. “What?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

His eyes finally soften. “No, I’m sorry. It’s alright, I just worry when you’re not with me.” 

“That’s romantic.” 

He holds your cheek, pulling you in, and gives you two gentle kisses. Your lips part instinctively to receive them. “We’ll get our things and go home. It looks as though dinner isn’t happening.” He smiles. “Why were you out here?” 

“Scavenging for food.” 

That gets a laugh out of him, and another nice kiss. “You tried your best.” 

—

Aaron takes you home, and when dinner’s been cleared away, when you’ve showered and he’s undressed, he pulls you toward the bed and kisses you warmly. His eyes track from your face to the tucked corner of your towel, a silent Can I?

You let him take it off. He lays you out, and for a while you’re only his. His wife, his half, his to tease and turn and delight. He says “Beautiful,” against your thigh, says, “Honey, is that okay?” says, “Please, I’ve got it, I have you, just let me have you…” 

After, he tells you he loves you, his voice still ever so slightly high in contrast to usual dulcet tones. 

“I love you, too,” you say. 

His breath comes fast. Your lap is a mess he’d wiped as clean as he could manage, the memory of him bearing down on you yet to fade. He lies on his stomach beside you with his arm over yours, his face turned into you, his nose on your cheek. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. “You feel tense.”

“Mm.” 

“No, did I hurt you? You’re rigid.” His hands fret a line down the side of your chest. “You didn’t…” 

You hadn’t said anything, because he really hadn’t hurt you. But the thoughts you’re having now are intrusive —am I okay? you think. Do I measure up? He’s never made any indication that you’ve let him down, not in sex or anything else, but you’re unbelievable. 

You swallow a lump. “Sorry,” you say, the lingering ebbs of pleasure twisting into tears faster than you can stop it. 

“Are you crying?” he asks under his breath. 

You suck in a breath as he pushes onto his hands. 

“These aren’t good tears,” he says. 

He’d know. They’re not. 

Aaron reaches over you to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before settling, his hand cupping your waist. It’s too much suddenly, too bare, he’s too much to look at as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Sorry,” you squeeze out. 

“What did I do?” he asks, holding you carefully. “Please, sweetheart, what’s hurting? I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not you.” 

“But something does hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m okay.” You cover your face with your hands. When you start to sob, it shakes the entire mattress, Aaron’s hand wobbling where it cups your ribs. 

“Please.” His thumb works a soft spot into your skin. “Honey, please, you can’t cry now without telling me what’s wrong.” He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. “Honey. Honey.” 

It wasn’t the sex. He never does anything wrong, he’s so gentle even when he isn’t, and if he did you’d only have to tell him, but the rush of being touched by him so nicely, fuck, the way he’d been looking at you, the way he took your face into his hand as he moved —you’re not trying to be a crier, but he makes you feel like you’re everything and you’re just not. 

He looks sick. 

“It wasn’t you, it was at the gala,” you manage. 

For a long while after, you can’t get a word out. You shiver and sob as Aaron scoops you into his chest, his nose in your shoulder waiting for you to calm down. He rubs your waist, fingers parted and waving slowly as he shushes you. Not to make you stop, though. He’s reassuring. 

“What happened at the gala?” he asks quietly. 

“It’s so stupid.” 

“No, it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?” 

You wrap your arms around his head. It really is stupid, you feel smaller than an ant under the shadow of a giant heel. Aaron doesn’t waver when you struggle to answer, feeling around behind you for a pillow and helping you against it. He kisses your forehead. “Let me get you something to wear.” 

You catch his wrist. “It wasn’t you, wasn’t–” You lift your chin. 

He kisses you. “Okay,” he says simply. “Let’s get dressed.” 

He dresses quickly, bringing you underwear and one of your sleep shirts, a loose fit. You shuffle into them and watch him patiently as he cleans the small mess of the evening away. You’re sniffling softly when he returns to you, sitting with his back to your thighs. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry if I read things wrong. I never would’ve initiated anything if I knew you were feeling like this.” 

You laugh weakly, worriedly, looking at him through your lashes. “It made me feel better,” you admit.

“If this is better, you must’ve been feeling awful.” 

You relax as he puts his hand on your thigh. 

“In the time I left you to talk to Strauss, something upset you. JJ and Morgan didn’t see you. So someone in the gala said something or did something that made you leave. If you tell me who it was, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“You’re trying to bargain with me,” you mumble. 

“I’m just telling you what can be done. I can take care of things.” 

“It’s nothing… nothing so severe. You’ll wonder why I–” You give an unexpected sob. “Made all this fuss.” 

“I don’t think I’ll wonder,” he says. 

You laugh through tears. These ones are slow, your eyes already itchy from crying. 

“Please tell me.” He tries teasing instead of sternness, lowering his face to yours. “Or I’ll cry too.” 

“Aaron.” 

“I will. You think I can’t, but seeing you crying like this, it’s more than enough ammunition.” 

You let out a breath, admitting defeat. “Your friend, Clint? I overheard him with his wife. He didn’t have very nice things to say about me.” 

“What could he possibly have to say?” Aaron asks with a frown. 

You pull the sheets up your legs. “He said I’m… unbelievable, and I don’t think he meant it kindly. Said that I’m not your type, and that I… I had no chance of measuring up, because of who you’ve been with before. They were laughing about our wedding photos.” Your throat feels pressed into by a hot poker. “They said we were the gentleman and the tramp.” 

His eyes squint. He looks disgusted, and for an uncomfortable moment you feel like it might be directed at you, but then he scoffs. “What a crock of shit.” 

“Aaron!” you laugh. 

“What could Clint McMoore possibly know about marriage? This is his fourth wife. And to imply that you’re any sort of calibre below the women I’ve dated before isn’t just misogynistic nonsense, it’s not true. You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and what’s that supposed to mean, gentlemen and the tramp?” He gives you such an earnest glare of confusion that you can’t for a second doubt what it is he’s saying. “I’m sorry, honey, I think he’s allowed himself a few too many nightcaps over the years. Perhaps he’s suffered a stroke.” 

“Aaron, don’t say that,” you chide, secretly very pleased. 

“Our wedding photos,” he says, his hand drifting further down your leg to rest just shy of somewhere more intimate, “are beautiful. You look beautiful. Clint would’ve writhed in jealousy in the pews if he’d been invited, because he would’ve seen it for himself.” 

“I just sat there while they laughed at me,” you mumble.

“What were you supposed to do?” His hand travels out, to your hip, and then he holds you by the waist with both of his hands. They have a way of making you feel encapsulated, big and strong and careful on the bump of your hips. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Nothing,” he says, meeting your eyes with his usual tender-hearted compassion. “You weren’t supposed to do or say anything.” Aaron appears younger than he is for a second, his eyebrows raised, eyes big and brown as they track over your lips. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he was like that. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” 

“I guess I’m just worried he’s right.” 

“He’s not right. You are everything to me.” Again, he puts weight on the word, roughly said, like it takes a lot from him to say it. “I’m lucky to have been with women who were beautiful, and intelligent, but if there’s a question of you measuring up, there’s no competition. I’ve never been this in love.” 

You take a shaky breath. “Never?” you ask. 

He holds your gaze. “I knew it when we met. That's why I couldn’t wait to ask you to marry me.” 

“You said you weren’t getting any younger.” 

“Well, I’m not, but not everything’s about my age, you know,” he says, giving your waist a playful squeeze. 

”You said it.” 

“I did. That felt easier to say than, if I don’t marry you soon I might implode,” —he shuffles forward, encroaching on your legs and pressing his lips to your cheek— “would’ve just,” —he kisses your cheek, before turning your head— “wasted all that time waiting for someone else’s idea of the right time,” —and he kisses the other cheek, his nose skirting up your face— “wishing I was your husband when I could just,” —he smiles into your eyebrow as his hand slips under your shirt, holding your bare back— “ask.” 

“I’m glad you asked me.” 

You’d cried then, too, but it was less to do with a rush of adrenaline that knocked you out of balance and more to do with how lovingly he’d taken your hand as he asked. You knew from that moment on that someone was going to take care of you for the rest of your life. He’s doing it right now. 

“I love you,” you say, forcing your arms over his shoulders. 

He pulls you in so much that you lift from the mattress. 

“I love you. Are you sure it wasn’t me that upset you? I have to check.” 

“No. What you did to me wasn’t particularly upsetting.” 

He laughs. “Are you sure? You can look a little teary–”

You shush him quickly.

He tips your head to the side to kiss your ear. “Maybe next time, you can tell me about whatever upset you beforehand.” 

“And you can make me feel even better.”

His laugh is nearly inaudible, but his lips are by the side of your head. You hear it, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of your ear. 

—

Aaron likes to see you in your sweatpants. You look nice in everything, especially your dresses for the evening events he often drags you to, but he likes it when you wear sweatpants because it opens a window. You’ve purchased the wrong size, too big and too long, but you’ve tied them at the waist and you make do. You’re wearing the big shirt he helped you into the night before, sitting on the couch with your ferried breakfast. 

The night before has been washed away, no sign of tears or upset. You have a clean, bright face, one he’d quite like to kiss, or hold, or have pressed to his neck, but none of this is unusual. Your eyes look sore, if he really looks. He’ll make you a compress after breakfast. 

Dropped off by Jess an hour ago, Jack sits beside you picking at the breakfast tray. You’re sharing a plate. You don’t ever mind. 

“Are you eating that one?” you ask. 

Jack immediately nudges half of a chocolate chip pancake your way. “Was the gala fun?” 

“Uh, sure. Saw your dad’s friends. But they had a weird thing with the caterers and we had to get dinner on the way home.”

“You could’ve made dad cook.” 

“I guess, but we were tired. What did you have for dinner?” 

“Jess made spicy chicken. It was amazing.” Jack squints at you. “Your eyes are puffy, Y/N. Are you sick?” 

“I think I might be a little. Not enough to make you sick too, don’t worry.” 

Aaron piles the last of the pancakes onto a plate and carries them to you in the living room. “Here, you two.” 

“Did you eat?” you ask. 

He loves you, bending over to kiss your forehead right in the middle. “Yes.” 

“How come they didn’t have dinner at the gala, dad? I thought that was the whole point,” Jack says. 

He sits down next to Jack on the couch. You cut a big square of pancake and grin at him, seemingly pleased with your breakfast and Jack’s sense of humour. 

“It was a disaster, that’s all. No food, barely any wine, and terrible, awful company.” 

“I thought Miss Jareau went?” 

“She did. But besides her and a handful of others, it was a party for sad old people.” 

“And you didn’t have fun?” Jack asks. 

You laugh so hard tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Aaron cups Jack’s shoulder, surprised when his son doesn’t duck away from the touch. The older he gets the less affection he requires, so it’s nice for Aaron to hug him sideways and be allowed, better that you finish your choking laugh with a hug of your own. “Jack, thank you for that. I think you cured whatever illness I had,” you say.  

“Hey,” Aaron says. 

You run your hand up his neck. Your wedding ring catches against his jaw. 

“It was worth going, though, to see your step-mom in her nice dress,” Aaron says, peeling away from Jack so he has room to breathe. 

Jack turns to you, and his smile is audible, “Do you have any pictures?” 

“I didn’t take any, sorry.” 

“Just think of her now but in a dress, and that’s how beautiful she looked,” Aaron says. 

“Dad, don’t be gross,” Jack says, cutting into the pancakes with his fork.

“It’s not gross, it’s just a fact.” Jack drops pancake down his front. Warm chocolate chips stain his t-shirt. “Missed your mouth, bud. I’ll get a rag.” 

He’s up as quickly as he sat down, running his fingers along your arm and to the palm of your hand, touching you until he can’t. He heads back into the kitchen. His phone is beeping on the table, screen flashing with each new text. 

Penelope: boss, I think the thing you asked for is illegal 

Penelope: also, I assume you were kidding? 

Penelope: so while making it that every link on McMoore’s computer freezes the desktop would’ve been very very funny, I didn’t do that 

Aaron had been kidding, emphatically, because illegal activities aren’t his style. It was a sarcastic suggestion, and yet he’s disappointed nonetheless. 

Penelope: I just signed him up for a bunch of recovering narcissists forums and an email subscription for self help, and maybe also a free online class about manners and etiquette 

Penelope: And I ordered that big canvas for you. It was the one of you guys cutting the cake, right? 

Aaron texts her back quickly: Thank you, Penelope. I couldn’t work out the dimensions online. 

Penelope: You’re welcome! I live to serve :D 

The canvas will look good in the entryway, Aaron believes. Somewhere you can see it, and remember exactly what it is he thinks of you; his eyes glowing with love where he’d been staring at your face, his hand guided yours atop the knife as he traced your features, and you cut that first, fat slice of cake. 

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thanks so much for reading! please think about commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed I love knowing what you think!❤️

also small note: this fic is in no way meant to diminish haley im a haley supporter usually (these days at least!) and I just didn’t mention her for brevity’s sake

[thoughtportal]

This is a developing news story and may be updated as more information is obtained. If you value such information, please support this Substack.

On Dec. 1, a woman immolated herself with a Palestinian flag outside the Israeli consulate in Atlanta.

Now, according to the Atlanta Fire Rescue Department, the woman — referred to in their report as “Jane Doe” — is alive and “in stable condition” at Grady Memorial Hospital, where she has been since the immolation.

After repeated requests for her name, the department stated to this reporter in an email that it “does not disclose the identities of victims”. Repeated inquiries to Grady, which is a public hospital, went unanswered. The hospital houses the Walter L. Ingram Burn Center.

“Jane Doe” is 27.

When asked if they had made any comment to tell the public that she was still alive this entire time, the official at Atlanta Fire Rescue Department said they “shared the last updated with local media via email on 12/21/23. The release stated: ‘The victim remains hospitalized in critical condition. The security guard, who attempted to assist the burn victim, has been released from the hospital.’” Several internet searches on that quote produce no results. This would also indicate that "Jane Doe" went from critical to stable condition without public notice. 

Aaron Bushnell immolated himself at the Israeli embassy in Washington, D.C. on Sunday, explaining “I will no longer be complicit in genocide” and shouting “Free Palestine!” repeatedly as he burned alive. So, his case — unlike many other self-immolations including Gregory Levey, Raymond Moules, Timothy T. Brown, Malachi Ritscher and others — has received some attention. Thus, “Jane Doe” being ignored fits with the usual pattern. Bushnell is the exception — probably because he livestreamed it. See “Ignoring Immolators Lulls the Society to Sleep.”

As Bushnell was burning himself alive, an officer pointed a gun at him, barking orders as if he constituted a threat. A security guard, Michael Harris, sustained injuries working to rescue “Jane Doe” — but there were similarities, where she was actually viewed as a potential threat.

At one point, the police report for “Jane Doe” refers to it as being a case of “arson”.

Much of the media coverage and general discussion of her self-immolation in December focused on if she had done damage. The Atlanta Police Chief said: “We believe this building remains safe, and we do not see any threat here.” The Israeli government released a statement: “It is tragic to see the hate and incitement toward Israel expressed in such a horrific way.”

Police records indicate that they obtained a search warrant and entered an apartment they believed to be associated with “Jane Doe” — initially using a drone:

The drone was able to relay information as to the layout and the belongings inside. After it was deemed "safe" entry was made with bomb technicians. While clearing the apartment no improvised explosive devices were located.

The police report also noted:

During the search a Quran was found in the bedroom along with a [sic] Arabic dictionary and a Hebrew dictionary. The bedroom bookshelf contained books related to fiction and fantasy. A "Drug use for grown ups" book was on the bookshelf as well. Two journals were seized from the bedroom. A thumbdrive was seized from the bedroom as well. A laptop computer was seized from the kitchen counter. A copy of the search warrant was left in the living room of the apartment. The front door [of] the apartment was secured before law enforcement left the premises.

When pressed for more information in compliance with an Open Records Request under Georgia law, Atlanta Fire Rescue Department claimed: “There is an ongoing and active investigation for the incident in question, which is why the only releasable information has been shared via the incident report. Investigative documentation is not available for release until the investigation is closed.”

[emaadsidiki]

U.S. Department of Justice ⚖️

[sortagaysortahigh]

Lovefool | James 'Bucky' Barnes

A/N: Guys ive been writing ts for like four days and lemme tell you im so glad it's over. Ugh everyone say thank you to @anxietyandtacos for making me into a bucky girl, and thank you to @love-chx for feeding into my bucky dellusions and beta-ing this monster of a fic <3. I was gonna split it in 2 but I'm too lazy to edit that out so I prese,t idiots in love! Minor TB/CABNW SPOILERS

Summary: James Barnes is a terrible congressman, hence Sam sending you to be his assistant. You keep him on a tight leash, and you both do a horrible job at hiding your feelings for one another. Add jealousy and alcohol to the mix? what could possibly change?

Warnings: 2nd person POV, use of Y/N, being a D1 John Walker hater, mentions of bipolar parents/family trauma (minor), forced super soldier serum injections (mention, not depicted!), reader is also a super soldier lowkey but she's just a girl ok!, cursing, spelling and grammar errors probably idk fr, jealous!bucky and jealous!reader, SMUT: hair pulling, choking w that vibranium arm, spitting, hickies, kissing, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected P in V, creampie, swallowing, reader gets a facial (im going to hell guys), minor handjob, whimpering (MEN WHIMPERING UGH!!)

Word Count: 18k. PART 2

Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Secretary!Fem Reader (reader has vague descriptions regarding having STRAIGHTENED hair/curled hair, reader is shorter than Bucky)

UGHHHHHHHHH LET ME AT HIM! FUCK! anyways MINORS DNI!

James Buchanan Barnes is a terrible congressman.

How he managed to get elected to represent Brooklyn? You had absolutely no idea. Sure his campaign made sense, it aligned with his long-term goals of making amends for the tragedies he’d committed as the Winter Soldier, but outside of his initial campaigning,he hadn’t done much. 

He hadn’t had any major bills passed and he had a terrible media presence. Anytime anyone wanted to interview him or ask any major questions following a congressional session, he would mutter the same ‘yeah uh huh, it’s super important, oh I think we should care about this- blah blah blah’. 

It made zero sense.

That’s the entire reason you were hired. Then again, it was also because you owed Sam Wilson a major favor after he opted not to arrest you following the whole ‘Flag Smashers terrorism’ ordeal. It’s not like you were voluntarily involved with the group, but you were a major part of the brains behind the tech-based operations.Plus, you knew how to talk to people. Most importantly, you knew your ins and outs of politics and had a vast network of connections.

“Bucky, can you just listen to me for once! You’re gonna fuck up your entire career if you keep bullshitting responses to the press!” 

You let out a frustrated sigh, two fingers pinching your nose bridge as you shut your eyes. You’re doing your best to remain calm and avoid screaming at him for the fourth time this week—it’s only Tuesday. 

Working with Barnes was like your own personal hell. 

It made sense that he was over a hundred years old. He's stubborn and rude and since the beginning, it was apparent that he didn’t trust you. He even vouched for you to be arrested a few years ago following the takedown of the Flag Smashers, but that was mostly because you had kicked his ass and clearly bruised his ego.

Things were better now…well, if you didn’t count the constant arguments. He was just too nonchalant at times.

Bucky nodded his head, clearly ignoring you as he focused on buttoning up his white shirt. 

The both of you were in his Washington D.C. penthouse. It was a nice place all things considered, a luxury awarded to him by the government, and, of course, being a national ‘hero’ recognized by Captain America himself did come with perks. 

You lean against the island counter, arms crossed in front of your chest while you glare at him. Meanwhile, he was focused on his own reflection in the large circular wall-mounted mirror across the room. 

You were due for a briefing surrounding the Foreign Affairs congressional committee soon, but based on the way he couldn’t answer any of your questions, you knew he’d either be making a fool of himself or you’d have to swoop in and save the day again.

“Would you relax for five minutes? All you do is yell at me, I get you’re supposed to be my know-it-all secretary but Christ, you need to calm down.” 

Your right eye twitches at his response, then you grab the nearest item to you, a glass vase, and launch it in his direction.

Bucky caught it with ease, shaking his head at you as he eyes you from the reflection of the mirror.

Admittedly, Bucky had no issue with his wandering eyes when it came to you. His gaze trailed from your irritated expression, a smirk on his face at the sight of your ever-present pout, then he eyed the few thin gold chains you always wore tucked into your shirt. Today, you hadn’t buttoned your shirt all the way up just yet, leaving quite the eye-full of cleavage out. 

It didn’t help that you were practically pressing your tits together with your arms crossed below them. Bucky took in the rest of your outfit, one of your black pencil skirts that was deemed as work appropriate and modest--even though it hugged all of your curves perfectly and made your ass practically irresistible. Finally, he landed on your shoes, the pointed toe stiletto heels that he knew made your feet hurt, yet you always had a pair on.

They did wonders for your legs.

You ran a hand through your perfectly straightened hair. Usually every strand was laid perfectly and you’d spend too much time making sure it wasn’t frizzy in the slightest-which was like hell during D.C. summers. Now it was messy, but it was messy in a way that made Bucky’s brows raise slightly.

“Don’t tell me to fucking relax Barnes. Your political career is a direct reflection of my political career. I hate to break it to you, but us being two ex-enemies of the state already have us on thin ice constantly! Presidential pardons don’t mean shit in the eyes of the public—a public which you’re supposed to serve!”

You were raising your voice again, he shook his head at that, now finally turning around to face you while he grabbed his tie.

“Just come help me with this tie so we can go. I read the files. I get it, if I fuck up it’s a problem, blase blase blase. I’ve got speech writers, advisors, and most importantly—you.” 

You sighed again, hands now on your hips as you stared at him while clenching your jaw and shaking your head. You hated when he said things like that to you, things that were a little too sweet for a supposed strictly professional relationship.

Sure, you’d known him before he was a Congressman, but you weren’t close in the slightest. 

Then during the aftermath of the Flag Smashers, Sam had you in constant therapy sessions, and after pulling several strings, he had you working side-by-side with him. That’s what really launched your political career.

People liked to argue that Captain America wasn’t political, but he absolutely was. The mantle itself was propaganda, and honestly, you were glad it was Sam holding the shield, he was the best fit for the job regardless of what idiots thought. 

Sam brought you into the world of politics, and it was easy for you to build a network, plus you were able to spin your own narratives regarding your past, playing into people’s emotions, and sure, it was a little manipulative, but you were smart. 

Y’know what they say—work smarter, not harder.

You had started working with Bucky because Sam had cashed in on the ultimate favor after watching Bucky during his campaign trail. His speeches were all amazing, but then when anyone would ask him a candid question, he would struggle, or he’d be dismissive and it was evident he didn’t want to answer questions or be there.

That’s when you showed up, and following his election, you were at the forefront of his public appearances. Answering questions on his behalf, assisting in briefings, and even being with him during any congressional sessions, especially committee sessions. Most representatives didn’t have their assistants with them at all times, but things were different now, and as the world continued to adapt and change, so did the sphere of politics.

You rolled your eyes as you approached him, stopping less than a foot away, ignoring the ever-apparent butterflies you’d feel in your stomach anytime you had to stand in close quarters with him. It wasn’t that being next to him flustered you, it was being face-to-face with him. There was a height difference, but the heels helped with that.  

However, the heels did not help with his wide stature. Bucky Barnes is a wall of muscle, and some days it felt like his biceps alone were the size of your head.

You knew he knew how to tie his own tie. But you also knew he liked when you did it.

He looked down at you, a smirk on his face while he watched your hands work against his royal-blue tie. Your jaw was still clenched, and you were very clearly annoyed with him.

Bucky knew you had a soft spot for him. Just like he had a soft spot for you.

You know this because he’d already fired two assistants prior to Sam ushering you into the role.

You were the only person he’d ever let scream at him over anything. Admittedly, he kind of liked it when you yelled at him too, but he wouldn’t tell you that. It was attractive because, well, you were attractive. But you were also his assistant that was around eighty years younger than him.

“Can you at least pretend you want to be there today?” You glanced up at him as you finished adjusting his tie. Your faces were inches apart as you searched his icy blue eyes for an answer.

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try for you.”

You nodded at that, moving away from him and walking towards the sofa to  grab his suit jacket and your purse. Then you glanced down at your watch, muttering a few curses at the time. 

He watched you walk towards the door, snapping your fingers a few times at him. He smiled and shook his head, grabbing his briefcase and keys as he followed you. Before the both of you could leave, you handed him his jacket, raising both brows.

“Put it on, Barnes.” 

He nodded at that, shrugging it on then buttoning it. You were quick to run your hands along the front of his chest, straightening out any potential wrinkles—the motion felt natural to you. The first time you’d done it, it left you flustered and blushing, but now it didn’t bother you. The quicker it was done, the quicker you’d actually be able to make it out of the building and to the car that had been waiting on you both for ten minutes.

Bucky didn’t like being driven around, it was something he was still getting used to. It wasn’t like he couldn’t drive himself. Then again, the drivers usually had bulletproof trucks to avoid any potential Kennedys happening.

Yeah, his career as the Winter Soldier was extensive and most likely resulted in several of the current governmental security measures. 

Besides, at least he knew you would be safe by his side in the blacked out suburban.

On the drive to the capitol building you were talking non-stop, running him through every agenda that had been previously reviewed and would most likely be circled back to today. You also went on and on about him needing to actually answer questions with real information, not his typical half-assed responses brushing everything off.

When the SUV was finally parked and stopped, you grabbed his forearm before getting out of the car. 

“Don’t piss me off today, Barnes.” 

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he nodded his head. “No promises, Sweetheart”.

When he said no promises he meant it.

The both of you hadn’t been in the hearing for longer than twenty minutes before he’d managed to irritate you. It didn’t help that this hearing was scheduled to last three hours. 

You prayed that the three hours would go by fast, especially with Bucky already brushing off another congressman. The entire reason he was on this specific committee was because of his experience overseas working with the former Avengers, and several foreign threats, plus his ‘stellar’ work with groups such as the Flag Smashers.

All he was asked to do was give his input on the current situation regarding Celestial Island. That was it. 

It was a simple question, with an even simpler response, and he’d manage to start his bullshit fiasco again.

You were quick to cut him off, a bright smile on your face as you leaned into his space, pulling the small microphone in your own direction.

“What Congressman Barnes means is that we’re very concerned with the potential threat of any foreign militant uprisings pertaining to the discovery and appearance of Celestial island. Alongside that, it’s evident that with the newfound and limited natural resources on the island, there are several concerns regarding the legal boundaries of mining on foreign territory.”

You sat back in your seat, glancing around the room while several officials nodded and took notes. Bucky was staring right at you, his eyes slightly squinted while he tried not to make a scene. He then subtly pinched your thigh, which led to you swatting his hand away. 

When he leaned into your space, you were practically enveloped in the smell of his cologne. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t relax you slightly. 

Bucky whispered into your ear, “Can you not shove me out of the way to correct me every five minutes.” 

Your jaw clenched at his words. His breath against your ear sent a shiver along your spine, and quite frankly you wanted to slap him. Not because he was wrong to address you in a private manner, but because he was making a fool out of himself and pissing you off.

As he pulled back you offered a smile that was very clearly fake. Well, at least to him it was fake.

“Of course, Congressman.” 

The rest of the hearing was spent the same way, you taking notes while he took half-assed notes. Telling him what to say and what not to say, and correcting him a few more times when he couldn’t provide enough detail on the matter.

Once the meeting was adjourned and the both of you were out of the room, the press were everywhere, surrounding each member, asking a million questions, and when they crowded around you and Bucky, you let out a deep sigh, glancing up at him as he smiled and nodded at the reported forcing microphones into his face.

“Congressman Barnes, what is your opinion on the ongoing Celestial Island expeditions and the potential interstellar crisis right now?” He glanced over at you for a brief few seconds. Then he looked around before clenching his jaw and taking a deep breath. He then leaned closer to one of the mics.

“No comment.” 

With that, he was quick to guide you through the crowd and out of the building.

The two of you stood at the top steps of the capitol building, your gaze focused on a series of notes that you’d taken, eyes trailing each sentence, trying to compartmentalize all of the major points of the meeting. Meanwhile, he was shooting the driver a text, letting him know that things had wrapped up.

“You said you wouldn’t piss me off today, Barnes.” 

He shrugged, now looking at you, eyes taking in the way that the sun practically radiated off of your skin. God, you were so beautiful—if only you didn’t talk so damn much. “I said no promises.” 

You shook your head, now squinting as you looked around, the sun brighter than ever. Without even thinking about it, you were using your free hand to fish in Bucky’s jacket pocket, pulling out his black aviator sunglasses before slipping them on and going back to your reading.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little too comfortable?” 

You blinked a few times, shrugging the same way he always shrugged when people asked him questions. “You’ll be fine Barnes. Also, don’t forget we have a fundraiser to attend tomorrow, black tie event, I think Sam’s an honored speaker there. And if you’re bringing your team of miscreants, make sure to keep them on a tight leash.” With that, you started descending down the white stone steps, leaving him confused.

He watched as you walked off. At first he thought maybe you were messing with him, however, after you’d made it to the bottom and continued walking down the cement path, he knew you were on the way somewhere. It was a nice day outside, so maybe it made sense that you’d go for a walk on Capitol Hill? But that usually entailed you needing to get something, or speak with someone.

“Where the hell are you going?!” he called after you, leading you to pause and spin around, pushing his sunglasses to the top of your head, moving your hair out of the way.

“To get lunch, what am I supposed to photosynthesize?” 

He shook his head, following after you and ignoring the looks he was getting from tourists, locals, and other political figures.

It didn’t take long for him to catch up to you, his long strides quicker than yours as he descended the stairs. That and he wasn’t wearing a pair of four inch stilettos on. Some days when you moved too slowly he’d debate throwing you over his shoulder to get somewhere quicker.

But that was both unprofessional and embarrassing for the both of you. He knew for a fact that you’d make a scene, most likely shouting at him, switching between his military rank to his political title while hitting him.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair before glancing at you as the both of you walked in sync. He took a second to look around, observing the area to ensure there were no major threats. An old habit that always seemed to surface anytime he was with you in public. 

“So, where exactly are we going?” 

You shrugged, now holding a manilla folder above your face to further block the sun, squinting behind the black aviators before crossing the busy street. It wasn’t uncommon for secretaries to walk around the Hill, especially during lunch or recess. You knew your way around the city relatively well.

However, it was clear Bucky did not, considering you were guiding him in the direction of the Vietnamese restaurant that the two of you frequented during the first few months of working together. There wasn’t any point in trying something new, not when you had several pages of notes to sort through and reiterate to Bucky.

“To 54, y’know the cute little mom and pops place we used to go to all the time? Best summer rolls in D.C.” 

He nodded as you spoke.Truthfully, he had no idea what you were talking about. Sure, he knew that when you first started working for him you had dragged him to lunch, claiming that taking a break from the ‘seriousness’ of the job was important, but outside of that, he couldn’t remember half of the places you dragged him to.Usually the food was good, though.

After about ten more minutes of walking alongside Bucky, who was constantly grabbing you and pulling you away from incoming traffic when you’d been too focused on the hearing notes to actually look before crossing the street, you’d finally made it to the restaurant.

The second you opened the door, you spotted Ms. Minh, the older woman that owned the restaurant. Within a few seconds she’d noticed you and Bucky, a wide smile on her face as she approached the both of you with menus.

“My favorite customers! Tell me Bucky, are you two engaged yet?” 

You blinked a few times, eyes wide at the insinuation that you and Bucky were together. When you glanced over at him, his brows were knit together as his eyes met yours. 

Neither of you would acknowledge the rosy flush on his face.

“Now, Ms. Minh, you know we’re not together romantically. He’s my boss, and between me and you, the biggest grouch I know. Plus, he never listens to me! I can’t be with a man who doesn’t listen.” You spoke as you followed her to a table that was a bit more secluded in the back corner of the dining area. 

She shook her head, scoffing a bit before elbowing you, leaning closer to you.“Men never listen, but he’s a good one, can’t let him slip away.” 

You gasped at that, laughing and smiling at her as you sat down. He slid into the seat directly across from you and smiled at Ms. Minh when she handed him his menu, lightly slapping his shoulder and winking before walking off.

“I remember this place now.” 

You nodded your head, smiling as you read through the menu. You knew exactly what you were getting, but you also didn’t want to look into those baby blues right now. Not while you tried your best to ignore the butterflies—scratch that, it was like an entire team of olympic gymnasts were doing somersaults in your stomach.

You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t ever thought of Bucky romantically. Outside of being an absolute moron in the realm of politics, he’s a genuinely good guy. He’s done the work to make amends, he understands empathy, he’s kind and giving, and in the words of the other assistants you had the displeasure of working with, he really was a tall glass of water.

“Are you gonna take the sunglasses off, Sweetheart?” 

You blinked a few times, finally registering that everything still had a dark blue-ish hue. You were too lost in thought to actually take off the aviators. He already had his hand out, waiting for you to place them in his palm.

Once you returned the glasses, one of the servers came around to take your order, and without any hesitation you were ordering for yourself and for him. When he opened his mouth to say something you quickly shushed him before finishing the order. “I know what you like, Barnes.” 

He nodded slowly, looking from you to the glass of ice water on the table. Sure, you did know what he liked to a certain extent. 

He also liked you, a lot more than he should’ve. But he was positive you didn’t know that, even if you were the biggest know-it-all on the goddamn planet.

You finally looked up at him, now stirring the thin plastic straw in your glass of water, taking a second to push the lemon wedge to the bottom of the glass, lightly squishing it with the straw.

“So, after the term is over, what’s next for you Congressman Barnes?” 

He shrugged, one hand reaching for his phone, the other on the tabletop, fingers tapping against the worn wood. The white, green, and red hues from one of the bright neon signs on the wall reflecting against his skin ever so slightly as he looked at you.

James Barnes needed to be painted. He was too handsome to not be preserved forever in art. Then again, anytime you’d ever mentioned anything about him being preserved, he’d make a joke about being in cryostasis that would leave your jaw dropped.

“I dunno, probably go back to being a hero or something, who knows. Got the whole ‘New Avengers’ thing to address. Maybe, keep working on the whole making amends thing. Not sure if politics are for me.” 

You tried to hold in your laugh but it easily slipped past the cracks in your stoic expression. “I’m gonna say this as your friend, not your assistant so don’t fire me. But you’re really shitty at your job.” 

He laughed at that, shaking his head lightly, his hair had a slight bounce that made you want to run your fingers through the chocolate locks.

“You’re probably right Sweetheart, but the Winter Soldier turned politician looks good on paper. Sam’s always talking about history remembering names, guess it was the best way to redeem myself. Y’know serving the people.” 

As the both of you spoke, your food was brought out. The two bowls of pho were placed on the table, alongside your side of summer rolls. You absentmindedly grabbed the few bottles of sauce on the table. Immediately adding some hoisin sauce and a dash of sriracha to his, the way he always liked it.

Then you moved onto your own, throwing bean sprouts, mint, and jalapenos into the bowl.

“Y’know I can do things on my own.” 

You shrugged, now raising a single brow. “Then I wouldn’t have a job.” 

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was evident, a large toothy grin that was typically reserved for the people closest to him. Bucky let out a boisterous laugh as he picked up his chopsticks, mixing his pho. “Fine, you got me there I guess.” 

You nodded at that, then added, “Besides, I like doing stuff for you. Actually, I think I just enjoy doing things for people in general, I guess it’s my love language or whatever Joaquin says.” 

The mention of the new Falcon bothered Bucky, not because he didn’t like the kid, but because it had an angry green emotion swirling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t envy, no it was blatant jealousy.

“Ah, how is Joaquin anyways?”

You raised a brow at him, swallowing the food in your mouth before answering. “Well, after crash landing into the Indian Ocean, his recovery is actually going really well. Been in physical therapy and rehab for a while, still doesn’t shut the hell up, and is constantly yapping Sam’s ear off—and mine—when he calls. I think he’s back in the air now too, last I heard from Sam at least.” 

He nodded as he ate. Then, he couldn’t help himself  “So…are you two still close?” 

Your brows knit together as your head craned back a bit. 

“It’s pretty unprofessional to ask about your assistant's love life, hmm?” you were teasing him, pointing the chopsticks in hand at him, both brows raised now. Then your smile cracked. “Good  thing we’re friends-ish. But no, me and Joaquin are a negative, sure we’re around the same age, but I dunno, he’s a great friend, but not my type y’know. I usually go for the whole tall, brooding, kinda mean, type.”

Bucky bit his bottom lip slightly as you spoke. Externally, he was focused on you and his meal. Internally he was jumping for joy at the fact that you weren’t remotely interested in Joaquin Torres. Plus, hearing your usual type, he was right up your alley. But once again, it was incredibly unprofessional to fraternize with your secretary.

“So, what about you, Barnes? Seeing any ladies when I’m not around?” You wiggled your brows at him. He shook his head, laughing while you practically stuffed your face with a summer roll. He was glad you were comfortable around him, but that comfort also fed into his delusions he liked to keep to himself.

Plus, you were annoying. But he kind of liked annoying these days.

“Yeah, no. All I do is work, don’t have much time for a social life, sure as hell don’t have time for a romantic one at this point. Besides, I’m a bit old to be going back into the dating scene.” 

You scoffed at that. “Not true at all! Sure on paper you’re like a century old, but I mean c’mon you’re like what thirty-six? Thirty-seven? And I mean this in the most professional sense, you’re not exactly ugly or unattractive. Sure you’re mean, a politician, and have a history of being a war criminal! But we all have flaws!” 

He blinked several times, head tilting slightly while shutting his eyes and pinching his nose bridge while taking a deep sigh. “You’re a terrible relationship coach.”

You shrugged at that, biting into the second summer roll before pausing, food clearly stuffed into your right cheek like a hamster. “That’s why I’m in politics, duh.”

Then your phone was ringing, and Party in the U.S.A. was on full blast, earning several looks from people around you both. You sighed, putting your spoon down before grabbing the phone off of the table and answering while looking directly at Bucky who had a single brow raised.

“Sam, please tell me this isn’t a work related call.” You sighed, as you listened to Sam speak, running a hand through your now frizzy hair. Then, you placed the phone between your cheek and shoulder, digging through your bag in the empty chair beside you until you were able to pull out your planner. The same planner which several people made fun of you for using, stating that you needed to just use google calendar or some other app.

The apps never worked for you, so you stuck to pen and paper.

Then you were flipping it open to this week, eyes scanning the different hearings, meetings, press releases, and scattered notes. Brows knit together as you dug out a pen.

“So, it’s mandatory? Like this isn’t one of those ‘oh we wish we could’ve made an appearance, so sorry for missing the fundraiser’?” You let out another sigh at Sam’s response, now looking up at Bucky who was focused on drinking his water and attempting to read all of your scribbled notes upside down.

“This is way beyond short notice Sam, y’know one day can you just call to invite us to one of Sarah’s cookouts again? Or maybe a fishing trip? Hell, even saving the world would be better.” 

Bucky groaned as he finally registered that you were making note of a charity fundraiser event happening in two days.

“Okay Sam, yes I’m fine! Yes I’m safe! Wha-what?! Don’t ask me that oh my god! Goodbye Sam!” You quickly hung up, a bit flustered over Sam’s last question, and as much as Bucky wanted to ask what it was, you were already focused on the schedule. Sometimes you were like a robot, immediately switching into work mode, hyper fixated on a task until it was fully complete.

This was one of those instances, or at least, from his end, that’s how it seemed.

Meanwhile, you were just avoiding his gaze after Sam had asked if you and Bucky and finally ‘dealt with that sexual tension’. It wasn’t like you had sexual tension! He was just your very attractive boss that fit right into your typical archetype of men that you’d go after, plus he was older, which was an added bonus. 

But he was also stubborn as ever, mean, unprepared, unprofessional at times, and obnoxious when he wanted to be. 

Everyone has flaws, you just had to fixate on his to remind yourself that Bucky’s your boss not your potential husb—boyfriend. The first option would be too far fetched, even if Ms. Minh was your biggest supporter in the matter.

“Okay Barnes, turns out we have a mandatory charity fundraiser to attend this weekend, and since today’s Thursday, I’ve gotta book us some flights for tomorrow to be back in New York. Turns out it’s in Manhattan, and apparently it’s at the old Avengers tower, also known as your future home.” 

He sighed, shaking his head at the reminder of Valentina’s ‘New Avengers’ scheme. He would be finishing his term before being fully acclimated into the misfit group of ex-criminals. But when the two of you were in New York, or he was needed, he would show up with you in tow. By technicality, you were also a part of the rag tag group of anti-heroes.

“You mean our future home?” 

Something about the way he emphasized the word ‘our’ sent heat along your neck and cheeks. 

“Please, I’m not a damn Avenger. I’ll probably stay in the political sphere, even after your stint as a Rep is over.” 

He shook his head at that, a ‘tsk tsk tsk’ leaving his lips. “That’s what you think, you were there at the press conference a few months ago. Plus, we’re still going back and forth with Sam about the whole Avengers fiasco. Pretty sure he’s just gonna form one gigantic group eventually, sift out the nutcases and move from there.” 

You reached across the table, lightly smacking his arm. “Don’t talk about Bob like that!” 

He sighed, shrugging again. “You’re always quick to defend him y’know that? You don’t defend Walker—” 

You cut him off. “Yeah cause he’s an asshole! But Bob is really sweet! He’s just, like, super bipolar. Besides, he reminds me of my mom, y’know, before she went totally psycho after the blip.” 

You cleared your throat at the mention of your mother, it was a sore subject, one that was typically only brought up in therapy.

“But you need to stop calling him a nutcase! And that also applies to Alexei! He’s also super nice! A bit much at times? Yes, but he cares! Don’t be so mean to your team.” 

He raised a singular finger, pausing your rant. “Actually, you’re the only one on my team, literally and legally. But fine, you’re right I guess, I’ll be nicer to them. Even if they’re all in need of some serious court mandated therapy.” 

You smiled at that, now closing your planner and shoving it back into your purse.

“Good. Besides, not everyone gets to be like Sam and recruit a bunch of happy-go-lucky people who have aspired to be heroes their entire life. I mean Joaquin and Kate are always so happy, they’re like golden retrievers. Peter’s also pretty positive, granted he’s still grieving, but I’m glad he’s managed to see the good in people again. But Stephen Strange can count his days, next time I see him, I’m kicking his ass on principle—off the record.”

Bucky let you rant, it wasn’t necessarily an ‘in one ear, out the other’ situation, but you looked so pretty as you spoke, the sunlight beaming from outside highlighted the soft angles of your face, then the LED signs on the wall had small hues of color dancing along your features, and your smile was always so vibrant and full of life.

He was whipped.

Sam was completely right.

“I’m charging this to your card by the way, and I’m tipping the same as the bill. You can afford it.” With that you winked, now walking towards Ms. Minh who sat behind a small counter that blocked the entrance to the kitchen. 

The next day was a whirlwind for Bucky, he knew he had to travel today. He was used to the constant back and forth. It was his last year as a Representative, and because he represented Brooklyn, the both of you were always going back and forth between New York and D.C.

However, you were the one who always organized the travel plans, and usually you both avoided early morning flights because you didn’t live together, meaning you were likely to make it, and he wasn’t. At this rate he should’ve been used to the travel, but he wasn’t and you constantly reminded him that he was on thin ice.

Today he’d finally fallen into the frozen lake.

Yesterday at about seven thirty you’d sent him the flight details. You were set to take off at eight in the morning, meaning you had to be up around five and at the airport by six forty-five. That would’ve given the both of you enough time to actually make your flight, then head over to the tower early to help with preparations for the fundraiser, and to go over a few important details with Yelena about the impending galactic crisis, the same crisis that you’d gotten a plethora of information on from sitting through the Foreign Affairs committee meetings over the past two months.

Bucky woke up at eight forty-five with twenty-three missed calls, fifteen very angry text messages, and three even angrier emails. He tried to call you back, and you purposefully ignored the first two calls, finally answering on the third, thankful that you’d purchased the in-plane wifi as it gave you the opportunity to yell at him.

Then, you were texting him flight information for eleven in the morning, which led to him rushing to pack a bag, almost missing the pile of documents that you’d left on his kitchen island for him with a neon-pink sticky note on top that said ‘Take Me’, and rushing out of his townhouse.

He didn’t have time for a driver, so he opted for his motorcycle which he knew would piss you off once you found out. Especially because he also wasn’t in his typical suit and tie, no he was in his black jeans, a t-shirt, and his leather jacket. 

That would inevitably get him yelled at. He’d seen the schedule you emailed to him, specifically stating that the moment he got off of his flight, he needed to haul ass—your words not his—to the tower to be remotely present at a meeting regarding a potential impeachment hearing. It wasn’t his impeachment—thankfully.

Bucky would also probably have to deal with more press on the issue circulating who the ‘real Avengers’ were, which was also a previous major point of contention between him and Sam, to the point that Sam had threatened a full-on lawsuit, followed by a copyright of the ‘Avengers’ title itself.

But under your guidance, also known as you forcing him and Sam to sit down and talk things over like ‘real adults’, they were able to come to a temporary agreement solely based on the fact that the galactic threats, celestial island, and global terrorist movements were a bigger issue than who got to ‘play hero for the day’. Once again, your words not his.

To be fair, Bucky wouldn’t have missed his flight if you lived with him. But you were hellbent on not living in the same house as him, even if you were his assistant, you called it ‘highly inappropriate and fully unprofessional’. Which, in theory it was, but he didn’t really care about theory.

It made perfect sense to him, you were already always with him, what was moving in going to change? Or rather, what would moving in change, negatively.

Now, he had to figure out how to grovel for your forgiveness. He had a few ideas, but they were far from professionally appropriate. There’s that very obvious line that Bucky is well aware of, the line that he can’t cross, even if he’s constantly contemplating it.

He’d barely made it to the airport on time, and he’d paid extra to park his motorcycle, which pissed him off. Then he was practically sprinting through the airport to make his flight, which he somehow managed to board at the last possible minute.

By the time he landed in New York, you were already ready to curse him out. Now standing in the airport outside of his gate, arms crossed in front of your chest, foot tapping against the tiled floors while you stared directly at the crowd leaving the flight.

He spotted you before you spotted him. He knew he was in deep shit based on the way your jaw was clenched and your usually pristine hair was thrown into a hairclip, loose strands framing your face, frizzy bits and pieces sticking out of the clip, and you weren’t in your heels.Instead you had on a pair of flats. 

Flats were never a good sign. 

Plus you ditched the pencil skirt for pants, and a black blouse. 

“Listen, Sweetheart, I’m sorry—” 

You easily cut him off, immediately shushing him and taking a deep breath. “Let’s go before I cuss you out and lose my goddamn job.” 

He slowly nodded at your cold demeanor.

This was different.

You walked ahead of him, he wasn’t used to that. Usually you kept the same pace, but not today, not when you were in your angry flats and exhausted outfit. 

It wasn’t until the both of you were in a cab that you finally broke.

“Are you freaking kidding me, Barnes?! Can you not piss me off for one day? One day! It’s not like I asked something major, I sent you the flight last night at seven! You had more than enough time to set a damn alarm! And why the hell aren’t you in a suit?! Did you miss the fact that the millisecond we get back, you need to be present as a Congressman?! Not as yourself—” you took a deep breath, looking up at the roof of the car as you shook your head.

You looked over at him, and he finally noticed how stressed you really looked, his eyes trailing your fatigued features. This job was difficult, he knew that, but something else was clearly bothering you.

“I get it. You’re tired, your job is hard, okay fine. But Jesus Christ. You just act like shit doesn’t matter, and fuck—it fucking matters. Everything fucking matters, Buck—” 

His right hand was on the side of your face, pulling you closer to him as he leaned forward to kiss you. 

It took you a few seconds to process the fact that James Buchanan Barnes was kissing you. The same James Barnes that was your boss who you were incredibly irritated with. But you didn’t pull away, no, you kissed him back.

Your lips moved in sync, and for a second you let yourself slip into a land of delusion where this would work. But this was real life, and you were not about to risk everything you’d worked hard for to screw your boss. So you shoved him off of you.

“What the fuck!?” 

He stared at you, lips slightly parted as his gaze was focused on your lips for a few more seconds. You tasted like strawberry chapstick and mint. Then his eyes met yours.

“Uh, something came over me, I guess?” his nonchalance made your eye twitch. Then you were shoving a folder full of paperwork into his chest.

“Focus on that or something, Jesus. Once again, I’m your assistant and that just crossed so many boundaries it’s not even funny. It was a mistake, plain and simple, we’re not circling back to this ever again, got it?” 

He slowly nodded at you, taking the leather-bound folder from you while rolling his lips inward.

The rest of the ride was silent. It wasn’t your typical comfortable silence, it was tense and awkward and you did your best to not look at him. Your gaze focused on the moving traffic in the streets and anything that wasn’t James Barnes. 

“So, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? Outside of your never-ending rage about my morning fuck ups—” 

You gasped slightly at the sound of him cursing. You knew he swore, but neither of you ever moved past words like ‘hell’ or ‘damn’ with one another, now you were both diving off of the deep end of cursing and kissing. This couldn’t possibly end well.

“Nothings wrong. I’m just tired.” 

He shrugged, flipping a few pages in hand, focused on the briefing notes that you’d reorganized. “No, something is definitely wrong, you have on one of your ‘having a bad day’ outfits. Down to the shoes.” 

You sighed, slumping into the seat with your arms crossed again. Eyes now on the street ahead. “My mom called.” 

He looked at you, noticing the way you were picking at the skin and cuticles around your thumb. It made sense, sure he knew you had a lot of pent up rage that was specifically reserved for him, but he was used to that, this was different. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged. “Not much to talk about. She’s having one of her ‘high on life’ phases again. Told me she’s off the pills. Won’t take them.” 

He nodded, he knew you had issues with your mom, but he also knew you really cared about her, even if you had an odd way of showing that. Not everyone was raised with ‘I love yous’. “Y’know you can always take time off to go see her, the worlds not gonna end.” 

You shook your head at that, gaze now on your hands. “I’m not putting myself through that again. You can’t save everyone, I’ve learned to accept that. Guess it makes me as depressed as the rest of the Thunderbolts, hmm?” You tried to crack a joke, but your usual laugh and silly expression was missing. He placed a hand on your knee, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Once the two of you had arrived at the Avengers tower you were back in ‘work mode’ rushing Bucky into the building, rolling your eyes at some of the half-assed security measures on the first floor. More specifically the DNA based retina scan you were required to do in order to gain access to the higher levels where everyone lived.

You rushed him into a conference room, muttering a series of curse words that would for sure get you blackballed from politics if they were ever heard aloud. Especially in the context of cursing out other politicians.

Then, you were forcing Bucky into a seat, rolling your eyes at the sight of his appearance, sure he looked good in the leather jacket and fitted t-shirt, but that was the least professional thing he could’ve put on. You wanted to smack him with a book.

You didn’t need to be present for the impeachment proposal, so you gave yourself the hour to breathe. An hour of alone time, spent on the rooftop with your legs hanging over the edge, shoes already off and sitting to your side. At first you opted to put your earbuds in, listening to music as you glanced along the skyline, gaze moving across Manhattan, then you took them out.

Finding comfort in chaos was normal for you. It was easy. It’s the entire reason that you worked so well with the Flag Smashers in the first place—you were the brains they needed, and they were constantly on the move, constantly doing something. They never stood still.

Then, of course, they’d injected you with a super soldier serum against your will, but that was neither here nor there. Some days you missed working with organizations like that,they were fundamentally righteous and overzealous, but the people had passion, they cared. They had a problem and wanted to create their own solution, even if it was extreme.

You’d always wanted to do that, find solutions to the problems in the world. It made slipping into politics easier, especially at Sam’s side, and now at Bucky’s. 

But Bucky Barnes knew how to tick you off. 

Yet even on your shittiest days, he still managed to make you smile. Your fingers gently grazed your lips, as if they could feel the ghost of his against them. 

It was morally wrong for you to want to kiss your boss. Just like it was wrong to want to run your fingers through his hair, to trace his jawline, to feel his back muscles, and to imagine what it would be like to sleep with him beyond the realm of cuddling. Bucky kissing you was like opening Pandora’s box. 

You knew you were attracted to him, and he gave you butterflies from time to time, but now as you thought about him, you were thinking about more than just a simple kiss. 

The sound of your phone’s timer going off caught your attention, knocking you out of your sex-filled thoughts as you got up and slid your shoes back on. 

Once you made it back to the briefing room, he was no longer there, so you opted to look for him without screaming like a maniac. You’d run into Bob, Yelena, and Ava before finally finding him in one of the larger common spaces, now looking at his newest Winter Soldier tactical suit as it was laid out across a table.

“What, you wanna play dress up now?” 

He turned to look at you, shaking his head at the question. “Meeting went well, they asked me one question. I said yes to the trial.” 

You shook your head, cracking a small smile. One of the Texas representatives was going on trial for misconduct and for going against the constitution, he deserved to be impeached in your eyes, and after reading your very irritated notes on the matter, Bucky agreed with you.

“So, care to explain why you’ve got your gear?” 

He shrugged, now looking back at the black suit. “Well, turns out, I’m hanging up the mantle until my term is officially over. Talked it over with Yelena while you were decompressing. Besides, they seem to be doing alright without me all the time.” 

You slowly nodded, brows knit together as you moved to stand beside him, now looking at his suit as well. “That's it then? What if you end up severely out of shape and can’t run a mile?” 

He blinked a few times, shaking his head at the joke, then he lightly elbowed you. “Then I’ll have you to yell at me. Besides, I've already put on some weight.” 

You scoffed at that, responding without even thinking about it. “Barnes, you’ve got the dad bod that makes ovulating women foam out of their mouths. You’ve got that muscular frame that would keep someone warm at night.”

Your eyes widened when you looked up at him, he looked taken aback, lips slightly parted while he processed what you said. Then you had to process what you’d said as well.

“For the record, I mean that in a totally platonic, hype-woman kind of way. Oh and here—I found these, figured you might want them back.” 

He watched as you dug in your pocket, pulling out a thin silver chain, then he noticed the silver tags on them.

You held the necklace up, his military dog tags hanging from it. “Sergeant Barnes, you really should keep an eye on your things. They were in one of my purses. Honestly, not gonna lie, I had them on walking through TSA so I didn’t lose them.” 

He nodded at that, biting his bottom lip at the thought of you in his dog tags with nothing else on.

Then you snapped with your free hand. “Hello? Earth to Barnes? Take your tags. I don’t even know why I had them in the first place. Considering you almost never take them off.” 

He blinked a few times, shaking his head before running his hand through his hair. That brought your eyes to his hair, sure you’d made fun of the mid-length long hair a few times, but with the way his hair was parted down the middle, a bit voluminous, and managed to frame his face perfectly, he looked like prince charming.

If Prince Charming was a half-decent Congressman and former war criminal that managed to irritate you every twenty-seven minutes. 

“Keep them for me.” 

You raised a single brow at that, glancing between the dangling chain in hand and him.“Am I your closet or something?” 

He scoffed at that, shaking his head while placing his hands on his hips, the motion drawing your attention directly to his waist. It was a terrible thing to focus on, not because he was unattractive, but because it reminded you of every inappropriate thought and fantasy that had surfaced on the rooftop earlier.

“No, but consider them a good luck charm, besides, if I had taken them off and left them with you, clearly I trusted you with them. I’d be a liar if I said I remember the exact day that I left them, but I had to have a reason. Now c’mere—” he paused, gently taking the chain from you before facing you fully. 

He took a second to look down at you as you turned to face him. Then, he was slipping the necklace onto you, taking a moment to properly adjust the tags once they were dangling against your chest, the motion making you blush as his hand brushed against your clothed chest.

God, you felt like a bumbling virgin. 

This was his fault, all of it was his fault. If he hadn’t kissed you in the car none of this would be happening, you would’ve been able to keep any and all sexual thoughts about him locked in the deepest pits of your mind. Nothing would’ve changed, or shifted.

Hell, you weren’t even sure if something had shifted or if you were overthinking everything.

You made eye contact with him, getting lost in the ocean blue of his irises.The moment was intimate, too intimate. His tongue grazed his bottom lip as he held eye contact with you, a storm of emotions flowing through his eyes and wrecking his entire being.

Part of him wanted to kiss you again, the other part was afraid that if he did kiss you, you’d up and quit your job.

Bucky knew he needed you in his life. Not just because you helped elevate his political career in every sense, but because you kept him in check. You weren’t just his assistant, you were his friend, and even if he hated to admit it sometimes, he really did appreciate everything that you’d done for him.

The moment was interrupted by a door slamming, both of you jumping apart as you looked towards the far end of the room, Alexei walking in with Yelena in tow, the both arguing over her childhood soccer team’s sponsor once again. When they spotted how close you and Bucky were, they both paused, sharing a look before turning around and leaving the room.

You cleared your throat, glancing down at your watch. 

“I have to uh—shit sorry. I’m a little all over the place today, but I have to make a personal call. You don’t have much else to do today, there’s a few emails I need you to respond to though, and I forwarded you a request for a congressional scholarship. The kid lives in your old neighborhood in Brooklyn, and honestly, it’s a pretty convincing piece. I need your approval before moving forward in that process, lots of paperwork involved.”

You paused, pulling your phone out of your right pocket, glancing down at the screen while reading several text messages and a few subject lines from several emails forwarded to you.

“Turns out I have more than a few emails I need you to read. Oh, and I need to type up an outline for a briefing about the whole space war thing. I’ll forward everything over to you, and can you please,for the love of Christ himself, make sure to actually docusign the pdfs I send? Without your signature there’s no legality.” 

He shook his head, a small smile on his face as he watched you slip right back into ‘work mode’. It was all so natural for you, and your seriousness was adorable. 

“Are you even listening? I need to go call Sam and find out when he’s flying in. He should be here tonight, hopefully sooner than later. Also, Valentina’s been pissing Yelena off with her lawyers. I’ll be dealing with that fiasco today, honestly I’m probably just gonna threaten to blackmail them, works every time.”

“You talk a mile a minute.” 

You raised a brow at him, now looking back at him, slipping your phone back into your pocket. 

“You’re already on thin ice today, Barnes. Don’t start irritating me again. Oh and Mel wants to talk to you.” 

He noticed the shift in your tone at the mention of Valentina’s assistant. If he wasn’t so unsure of his feelings towards you, he would’ve been able to easily identify the jealousy in your voice. But, he was too busy internally debating whether or not kissing you again was a bad idea and simultaneously debating on resigning from his position as a Congressman.

Things would surely be a lot less stressful. 

Then again, you’d probably incinerate him.

“What’s she want to talk about exactly?” 

You simply shrugged, arms crossed in front of your chest as you tried to remain neutral. “I dunno, maybe call her back and find out, since she won’t tell me directly. She’ll only send me passive aggressive emails and texts about needing to reach you. I don’t even know who the hell gave her my number.”

Your irritation was seeping through, so instead of staying on the subject of Melissa Gold you chose to turn around, heading towards the doors, ready to head to your temporary bedroom (which Yelena said would be your permanent room once you settled into the tower) and work. 

He watched you walk away, eyes trialing your figure, stopping on your ass. Even in the wrinkled slacks it still looked good. Bucky’s head even tilted to the side a bit as your hips moved back and forth, 

“Call me if you need me, Barnes.”You hadn’t even turned back to look at him, then you were gone and he was still staring. 

Sam Wilson arrived at the Avenger’s tower at almost two in the morning. 

Naturally, you were still awake, sitting in an empty living room area.The only light in the room streaming in from the large floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Manhattan’s night-life. The room had a deep blue-ish purple hue to it, a few small golden lights shimmering around, emphasizing items that were plugged in or left out. 

Then there was your laptop screen that illuminated your features as you angrily typed up all of your unorganized committee notes into streamlined documents,not only your boss, but for the rest of his and Sam’s team. 

You recognized the footsteps in the room, three distinct sets, one lighter than the others—Kate’s, one with a bit of a wider stance and a slight sway as if their feet weren’t firmly planted on the floor—Joaquin’s, and finally, one that was louder, steps heavier—Sam’s. 

They hadn’t noticed you at first, not until the lights were turned on. Thankfully they were dim, not the typical bright fluorescents that would have driven you into a state of rage. Then the three of them saw you, seated on the large black sectional, a green knit blanket wrapped around your figure as your computer rested in your lap and one of the side tables had been pulled to your side, covered in files, paperwork, and pens. 

“Jesus kid, late night?” 

You sighed, nodding your head, not even bothering to turn and face Sam.“Working for the U.S. government is exhausting in an inexplicable way. But I’m glad you guys got in safe.”

Sam nodded at that “I’m gonna hit the hay, we’ll debrief in the morning? Actually, maybe in the afternoon. Gives you some time to sleep, I know you’ll be up for a while. Don’t worry about Buck either.”

You finally turned to look at him, a small smile on your face while you nodded at that. “I’d get up to hug you but I’m finally comfortable.” 

Kate laughed at that, moving to the couch, leaning over the back of it, wrapping her arms around your shoulders in a warm embrace. “I missed you! We’ll catch up tomorrow or the day after! But I gotta go find Yel. Pretty sure she waited up for me.” 

You used your right arm to hug her back.“Yeah, she’s on the eighth floor, go down the corridor, last door to the left. She’s most definitely waiting on you, earlier today she was talking Bob’s ear off about you, Bishop.” You both laughed at that, then she kissed the top of your head, a dramatic ‘mwah’ leaving her lips as she gathered her things and left the room.

Sam followed suit, saying his ‘goodnight’s’. It made you contemplate packing things up and trying to head back to sleep.

Truthfully, you’d fallen asleep at around seven, a distinct lack of sleep the night before causing you to crash. But of course, you weren’t able to sleep peacefully through the night, rather you jolted awake in a cold sweat at 11:23pm, eyes wide as you processed the very explicit dream about Bucky. Not only was it explicit, but it left a noticeable damp spot in your panties.

That pissed you off.

The cold shower that followed also ticked you off.

You wanted to stay in your room, however it was too hot in there, and you couldn’t figure out how to work the air conditioner, which led to you migrating to one of the living room-esque common spaces on the floor that held several guestrooms.

It was always cold.

“Well hello to you too!” Joaquin smiled as he rounded the couch, opting to sit right beside you, leaning into your space while he looked at the laptop screen, brows raised at the side-by-side page display showcasing a numerical outline with different bolded headings, subheadings, and specific details regarding each categorized issue. 

“Damn, sometimes I forget how smart you are.” 

You yawned while nodding. “This is literally my own personal hell. I hate organizing my notes, but I can’t just force everyone to read my scribbles. I only force Buck to do that.”

He elbowed you, earning your attention as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down, signature smirk on his face. “So…you call him Buck now I see?” 

You groaned, lightly shoving Joaquin. “Don’t even start! He’s my boss! That’s it.” You felt the heat in your cheeks as you attempted to lie to Joaquin. It didn’t help that the man was one of your closest friends, and could see right through you. He was quick to scoff, lightly elbowing you again, over and over.

“Yeah right, just your boss my ass! That’s like when I said my physical therapist was just my therapist. You’re full of shit and you know it!” 

You sighed, saving the document you were working on before shutting the laptop, placing it on the table in front of you, s.hoving him away to get comfortable again, you now face Joaquin with your legs criss-crossed on the large sofa cushion. “That is not the same thing!”

He nodded his head, scooting back some to face you, the positioning very familiar to you both. When you first started working with Sam, Joaquin had welcomed you with open arms. He hadn’t judged you, not after hearing your story, and after witnessing your peaceful surrender. Well, it was somewhat peaceful, you’d fought Bucky first, eventually managing to take him down—but that wasn’t important.

It was easy to bond with Joaquin, mainly because he never stopped talking. He’d easily gone from being just your co-worker to your friend, and now one of your best friends.

“Uh yes it is, we literally went back and forth for like years. Pretty sure I fell in love with her the moment I laid my eyes on her, then had to do the whole ‘this is strictly professional’ thing forever. Bullshited reasons to be around her, fought with her constantly, but in the end she was right—still is right most of the time, and we’re completely and utterly in love. Plus the sex is great? Wait—have you and him hooked up yet?” 

Your jaw dropped, eyes wide as shock painted your features. Then you were leaning towards him, smacking him on the bicep a few times.“Hell no! Once again he’s my literal boss. What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

Joaquin raised a single brow at that. “So something did happen. Your left eye twitched a little! What aren’t you telling me? Wait, are you still jealous of that other assistant that he talks to sometimes?”

You smacked him again.“Joaquin Torres, keep your freaking voice down! Jesus! And no I’m not jealous of Mel. What’s there to be jealous of?!” You were being too defensive, and your voice had gone up an octave.

“Stop bullshitting me! You’re so into him and you hate how caring he sounds when he talks to her, or do I need to pull the series of spam texts you sent me telling me how much you hated her and hated him. Or the drunken voicemail?” He held his phone up, staring at you while your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.“Now, tell me what happened between the both of you!”

You sighed, nodding your head, running a hand over your face before giving in and divulging him on everything that had gone on in the past forty-eight hours. Even letting him know about the car kiss, followed by the sexual tension that you knew was obvious, and finally, the most embarrassing detail being your wet dream about him.

Of course you didn’t go into detail about the dream.

“Damn, you’re more whipped than I am, and I’m in an actual relationship.” That earned another smack. “Hey! Okay, shit! Stop hitting me woman! Wait—what’s that—” he pointed to his neck, then to yours.

Your eyes widened as you reached a hand up, the blanket had fallen off of one of your shoulders, exposing the loose U Miami crewneck that you had on, except you’d cut the neckline so it sat off of your shoulder. It hadn’t occurred to you that you still had Bucky’s dog tags on. Then you felt around your neck and upper chest, hands finally grasping the tags.

“No way in hell he gave you those and you’re ‘strictly professional’.” He spoke with air quotations while watching you grasp the tags in one hand. “Yeah, that’s definitely your man, are you kidding me? The only person I’d ever trust with my tags is my girl. Here's some advice though, when you two finally go at it, and you’re on top of him make sure they’re in his fac-” 

He was hit in the face by a throw pillow. 

The two of you spent the next hour and a half talking. Joaquin kept trying to convince you that you were clearly in love with Bucky and vice versa. Meanwhile, you argued the entire time, and tried to turn the subject towards anything else.Eventually, the both of you settled on his current relationship, and it was nice to see him gush over his physical therapist turned girlfriend. 

You even told him that you were proud he’d managed to find someone who loved that he never shut up, the two of you in a fit of laughter after that.

The next afternoon had passed by fairly quickly, mostly because you were extremely busy.

You’d barely seen Bucky, only speaking with him during your debrief on the current galactic issues, but that hour and a half was mostly focused on answering Yelena and Sam’s questions based on the information provided by the U.S. government.

Sure, some of it was technically top secret, but you all technically were employed by the government, and did also hold the security clearance to know about the ongoing monitoring. 

He wasn’t in a suit again and you weren’t in your heels. Actually, you’d foregone any professional attire. It was a rare sight for everyone to see you in a t-shirt and sweats, not to mention the white fuzzy slippers. Your hair was pulled into two braids and you lacked any makeup, even wearing your prescription glasses that you usually left at home.

Bucky didn’t focus on a single thing you said during the briefing. His gaze was fixated on you and all he could think about was how comfortable and casual you looked, and that flooded his mind with domestic fantasies about you. Said fantasies almost spiraled into the thought of you with a ring on your left hand, a round belly, and a baby on your hip with eyes as blue as the clear sky.

He had to snap himself out of it several times. The fantasy was just that, a fantasy. You were still his assistant, and you’d already made it plenty clear that you were not interested in any semblance of a romantic relationship with him. Things were strictly professional, and once his term was over, you’d go your separate ways.

You’d practically sprinted out of the conference room once the hour and a half had passed, and he knew you were supposed to be helping in preparations for the fundraiser with Sam and Joaquin. He didn’t care that you and Joaquin were ‘just friends’, the thought of you spending your time with him irritated Bucky in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

By the time the fundraiser itself was starting, you were nowhere to be found and he was stuck making small talk with local politicians. Most of what they discussed surrounded Bucky’s future plans once the term had settled, he’d made a few comments about running for re-election and being an Avenger, stating that it might clash, doing his best to warm people up to the idea of him having to choose one over the other.

It was an obvious choice for him.

Well obvious outside of the fact that if he chose to be an Avenger, he might lose you, but then again, you were also technically an Avenger, whether you liked it or not. You’d been there that day in Manhattan, you were in the void, and you were at the conference, standing right beside him.

Then Mel had finally tracked him down, pulling him into a more secluded area, showing him a series of top-secret footage that Valentina had been trying to fully erase regarding the Sentry project. She was giving him useful information that would not only help Bob better understand who and what he was, but information that could be leveraged over Valentina if needed.

It was classic blackmail, something that you often shrugged off. It wasn’t that you were blackmailing people all the time, but you said it was part of politics, and he fully allowed you to do whatever you wanted. He trusted you to make the right decisions for both of your careers, and time and time again, you did.

“Oh, hey Y/n, you look beautiful tonight!” Mel’s chipper voice irritated you. 

You’d stumbled across them accidentally. You’d been looking for Sam, and instead you managed to find Mel and Bucky, leaning close together, in a quiet dimly lit area. You could clearly see the phone in her hand that she was showing to him, but she was too close to Bucky.

He turned away from Mel, gaze now on you, his brows raised a bit while his lips parted, eyes practically burning a hole into you while he took in every inch of your appearance from head to toe.

Your hair was voluminous and clearly curled, the now loose-waves framing your face perfectly and cascading along your shoulders and back. Your makeup was minimal, almost identical to your typical look, except your lips were a deep crimson and your waterline was emphasized with a black smoked-out eyeshadow look (courtesy of Yelena).

He bit his bottom lip while taking in your dress, the black silk practically hugging all of your curves perfectly. The swoop neckline leaving little to the imagination, and you had on his dog tags, the lengthy chain disappearing into your obvious cleavage, tags clearly in the valley between your tits.

You had on your heels again, black pointed toe stilettos with some golden designer logo for the heel. He didn’t care about the designers, all Bucky cared about in this exact moment was controlling himself. If Mel hadn’t been there he would’ve had you pinned against the wall with his lips on yours already. 

“Thanks Mel. Barnes, I’ve been looking for you” 

He slowly nodded, unsure of what to say, too focused on what not to say.

You were quick to grab Bucky’s forearm, pulling him in your direction before offering Mel a forced smile. “Mind if I borrow him? Got a few things to go over.” She nodded, giving you a tight lipped smile as you made eye contact. Then, you were dragging Bucky away from her, rolling your eyes the second you knew she couldn’t see you anymore.

“So what exactly do we need to talk about?” 

You shrugged at the question, finally letting go of his arm, then facing him.“Some district court judge told me that you’re debating on running for re-election and fully committing to the Avengers? The hell is that about?” 

You honestly didn’t care, but it was the easiest thing to come up with.

He wondered if you were jealous, but maybe he was reading too much into the situation. Usually you’d know that he was bullshitting, most of your job involved calling him on his bullshit, there was no way in hell Bucky was running for re-election.

“Gotta warm them up to the idea, you’re always saying it’s important to ease people into dramatic changes aren’t you?” he put his hands in his pants pockets, raising his brows while he waited on a response. 

“Okay…that’s actually a good point. I dunno, I just had to double check that with you. Sorry for pulling you away from Mel, feel free to go talk with her.” Then you spun around, heading in the opposite direction. 

Bucky knew you were jealous. That confirmed it. He wasn’t losing it, you were one hundred percent jealous of Mel and he had no idea why, anyone with a pair of eyes would know that he wasn’t remotely interested in the woman romantically. 

Sure Mel was pretty, but she wasn’t you. 

The open bar was a bad idea.

Two hours had passed since then, and you’d managed to do all of your networking within the first half hour. Kate and Yelena had peer pressured you into getting a drink, and one drink quickly turned into two, then three, then Joaquin was bringing you a drink, and it spiraled from there.

It took a lot to get you drunk. The whole ‘super soldier serum’ issue made your metabolism much, much faster. At the rate that you were drinking, any normal person would’ve needed their stomach pumped at the emergency room. But you weren’t a normal person, not anymore at least.

You were one hundred percent drunk. There wasn’t any debate on the matter.

Which led you to being a lot friendlier than usual, laughing and flirting with other guests, a playful aura to you while you mixed and mingled with everyone.

It wasn’t until you were laughing with Joaquin, head leaning against his shoulder while you sat near the bar, talking about his girlfriend, that Bucky had finally found you.

He knew that you were networking, what he didn’t know was that you’d been drinking. 

Then again, he’d also been drinking, and the typical spark of jealousy he felt when you mentioned Joaquin was now a raging forest fire as he took in the sight of you leaning into Joaquin, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, both of you smiling and laughing at something that Kate had said. 

Joaquin nudged you a bit, earning your full attention, a hazy smile on your face while you moved to look at him. His brows were knit together as he tried to look serious.“Your boyfriend is staring us down.” 

You blinked a few times, now glancing across the room, eyes scanning the crowd of people, only to land on Bucky who held a champagne glass in-hand while he stood in a group of four men, all of them clearly in a conversation. Except now his attention was fully on you, holding eye contact.

“Please, if he was my boyfriend we’d be having freaky sex all the time.” You both bursted into another fit of laughter, your gaze now on Joaquin, then on Kate who looked absolutely shocked.

“Wait?! What! You and Bucky?!” 

You shrugged, then shook your head at her. “There is no me and Bucky! He’s my boss who’s bones I can’t jump!” 

She laughed at that, shaking her head while sipping her long island.“Why can’t you do that again? I know he’s like technically your boss, but that man wants you girl, like, he’s always eye-fucking you. I think he’s eye-fucking you now not gonna lie.” She looked over at him, and you mirrored her.

His eyes met yours again. He didn’t care what you were talking about, nor did he care what the men around him were speaking about. The topic having gone in one ear and out of the other. 

Bucky Barnes’ sole focus was now on you.

You and that black satin dress that would look so much better on the floor.

You who sat smiling and laughing with Joaquin Torres. 

Bucky was beyond jealous, the liquor flowing through his veins easily letting his composure slip. He swore that if he watched you lean any closer to Joaquin that he’d storm over there and throw you over his shoulder.

Then you did just that, laughing again and rolling your head forward a bit, forehead resting in the crook of Joaquin’s neck while your body shook with laughter.

Bucky easily excused himself, mumbling something about having to speak with his assistant, which earned a few wolf whistles when the men noticed you across the room. Specifically, they noticed the way you sat up now, two hands on the front of your dress, grasping the fabric and adjusting it slightly-your very present cleavage now a bit more tamed.

It had taken him exactly forty-five seconds to get to you.

Joaquin noticed him first, slipping his arm away from you, offering Bucky a tight-lipped smile.

Then you made eye contact with Bucky again, his typical icey-blue eyes were a few shades darker, pupils a bit dilated while he looked directly at you.

“So, you’ve been drinking on the job I see?” His tone was laced in venom, your brows knit together at the harshness of it, sitting up a bit straighter, glancing at Kate, then Joaquin, just to make sure you weren’t losing your mind. They both gave a subtle nod, then you were standing up and grabbing Bucky’s right arm, pulling him with you.

He let you guide him, then you two were in a crowded hallway, taking a left turn, then a right, then finding the elevator that would lead you directly to your designated floor.

“What’s your problem, Barnes?” 

He scoffed at that.“Let’s see, my assistants drunk, not working. I’d say that’s enough of a reason to be irritated.” 

You blinked a few times, looking around as if you were on the Truman show, or maybe this was an episode of Punk’d and Ashton Kutcher would jump out at you.“Everyone’s drunk, what's the issue? It’s a charity fundraiser, we raised like ten million tonight. Can I not celebrate?! I’ve done my job for the night, I just want to spend the rest of it as me—not your fucking assistant.” 

You were getting loud now, angrily pressing the elevator button, a surprised gasp when the doors immediately opened. Then without any hesitation you walked right in, leaving him in the hallway. 

Bucky wasn’t having it, not tonight.

He followed right behind you. “You’ve never had an issue with being my fucking assistant before. It’s always about professionalism with you! Boundaries and shit like that!” 

You rolled your eyes again, hitting the button for your floor while shaking your head.“Because professionalism is important! We all can’t be you, Bucky! Not all of us can be America’s fucking sweetheart!” You didn’t even look at him as you shouted, gaze focused on the small digital screen above the elevator doors, the red numbers switching as the elevator ascended into the higher levels of the tower.

Then it stopped on your floor, and you were shoving past him, shoulder checking him while storming towards your room.

“Seriously?! That’s it, just gonna run away? What, suddenly all that bullshit about communication doesn’t matter?!” He ran a hand through his hair as he yelled after you, hot on your heels.

You turned on your heel, brows knit together as you stared at him, only a few feet from your room.“What the hell is the real reason you’re being a massive asshole tonight?! I know it’s not because I’ve been drinking. I’m a grown ass woman, Bucky! I’m not some little kid you get to yell at and fucking criticize and treat like shit! Or like a personal punching ba-” 

His lips were on yours. You hadn’t registered how close he actually was to you. He had a hand on your forearm, pulling you flush against his chest as he collided his lips against yours. 

Your hands were immediately on him, one hand grasping his suit, the other in his hair.

Then he was backing you up into the wall, his left hand on your jaw—holding you in place. You whimpered at the feeling, not because it bothered you, but because his vibranium hand was cold, a shock against your warm flushed skin. Bucky’s lips led yours, his head slightly tilting, giving himself the opportunity to get even closer to you, his hair brushing against your face.

His lips were soft, he tasted like champagne and mint with a hint of tobacco. 

It was almost soothing, but it also made you feel hazy.

Instead of asking for entrance, he pressed his thumb against your chin below your bottom lip, applying minimal pressure as he tugged in a downward motion. 

You easily parted your lips, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss while he swallowed your soft whimpers. 

It didn’t help that one of his thighs was directly between yours, pinning you against the wall. He felt your thighs clench around his, pulling back slightly, heavy breaths hitting your parted lips.

“Tell me to stop and I will—I swear.” He brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, thankful that the Wakandan technology in his arm and shoulder actually allowed him to have a sense of feeling. It hadn’t mattered to him before this moment, watching as you looked up at him, feeling your soft, swollen, and spit-slick lip. 

“What if I don’t want you to stop,” your words were quiet while you looked at him, hand grasping against his suit even tighter. The hand that had been in his hair now slowly grazing against his cheek, fingers moving to his jawline, tracing the sharp ridges before sliding down his throat.

“Y’can’t say shit like that to me Sweetheart—makes me think you care.” He let out a deep sigh, eyes moving from yours down to your lips again.

“James, I do care.” You’d said his name so tenderly, so lovingly. Then you leaned into him, now kissing him first, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

Both of his hands now on your waist, your bodies flush against one another while your lips move in sync. The kiss should’ve been angrier, should’ve had more teeth, but it was surprisingly soft, sweet, and even slow. He kissed you with passion and hunger, as if he wanted to leave the imprint of his lips against yours. 

You grinding yourself against his thigh had the both of you breaking apart, gasping for air, then he took a singular step back, doing a short half-squat, hands on the backs of your thighs before he scooped you up, holding you against his waist, lips back on yours as you locked your legs around his waist, hands in his hair.

The next few minutes involved more kissing and fumbling through your bedroom door. He kicked it shut before pressing you against it, lips moving from your own, to your jaw, planting open-mouthed wet kisses along your soft skin. 

Your entire body was on fire, and truthfully, you’d never been hornier. 

“Buck—as much as I want to go slow with you—I need you to fuck me.”

He laughed against your skin, teeth nipping a mark in the crook of your neck, earning a whimper. Then he licked a flat stripe along your pulse point, making you shiver.

“You’re always so mean and demanding, now you’re needy? C’mon, Sweetheart, you’ve gotta throw an old dog a bone.” His tone was so flirty, voice gruff and deep as he spoke between kisses. His hands sliding from your upper thighs to your ass, using his lower body to help stabilize you.

Then he was moving one hand, slipping it between your legs, below your bunched up gown. His rough fingertips moved against your inner thighs as he sucked on your pulsepoint. Then his fingers paused, lightly brushing against your clothed core, the motion making you whine, your hands tugging on his hair while he remained still.

“Ask nicely, baby.” He smirked against your skin.

You groaned, now looking at him, tugging harshly on his hair, practically ripping him away from your throat so you could look at him. Holding eye contact as you spoke. “Please fuck me, with your fingers, your tongue, your cock—I don’t give a shit—just please fucking fuck me.” 

He bit his bottom lip, still smirking at your request, then his fingers were gliding along the damp fabric of your panties, up and down—over and over again. Bucky was clearly teasing you, and it was driving you insane. But he caved when you moaned his name—not Bucky—no you moaned a low pitched ‘James-please’.

Bucky didn’t let anyone call him James, you were the only one that had ever really used his first name and usually it was on rare occasions, but clearly the liquid confidence and horniness brought out a different side of you. 

His hand slipped below your panties, finding your slick folds, two thick fingers teasing you, sliding along your cunt, spreading your wetness from your sopping hole to your sensitive clit, then back down again. The sounds of your moans were music to his ears, that in combination with your hands tugging at his hair and your hips grinding against his hand was sending him into overdrive.

Eventually he stopped teasing you, lips back on your own, swallowing your moans while his fingers rapidly fucked into you, two thick digits stretching you perfectly, the feeling had your toes curling, one of your heels already on the floor behind him. It wasn’t long until you were kicking the other one off as well.

You were rolling your hips into his hand, whimpering his name like a prayer while his fingers curled inside of you, reaching the spot that usually made you see stars. A spot that you could never quite hit on your own, meanwhile it took Bucky little to no effort to get to it. 

“Just like that Sweetheart, c’mon give it to me, I deserve it.” His voice was deeper than usual as he spoke.

You nodded desperately, back arching while your head leaned against the wall, loudly whining as your orgasm crashed through your body, all of your nerve endings practically on fire.

“That’s it baby, gonna have you creaming on my cock next.” He went back to kissing along your throat and any exposed skin he had access to, fingers still fucking into you, prolonging your orgasm and ushering in a wave of oversensitivity.

“Fuck me, please,” your breathy words were quieter than usual as you looked at him, one hand toying with the hair closest to the base of his neck, the other gripping his suit again. 

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, in seconds you were laying flat on your bed as he unbuttoned his jacket, tossing it aside, then undid the buttons of his shirt. Your stare was driving him mad.

Then you were sitting up, now standing right in front of him, taking a moment to appreciate your height difference before shoving him onto the bed. He looked shocked at the motion, blinking a few times as he watched you slip out of the dress, the black fabric now nothing more than a pile at your feet. 

His eyes trailed your figure, practically memorizing every single detail of your bare body. 

The moment was much more intimate than either of you had expected.

Well, until you were practically climbing on top of him, straddling his waist and pulling him into a sloppy drunk kiss. This time it was all teeth and tongue, your mind already hazy enough from the first orgasm and all hesitation had been thrown away. Your hands were all over him, sliding along his bare chest, feeling the faint definitions of muscle along his abdomen.

He let out a strangled moan the second your hand moved into his pants, now palming his thick cock for a few seconds before sliding it out of his pants. His hips instinctively bucked into your hand, and for a second you debated on taking his girthy length down your throat.

“Fuck-don’t even try it-need to be inside you.” His words were strained, pulling away from the kiss slightly as you pumped your hand on his shaft, thumb spreading the beads of precum around his tip, smiling against his lips while he moaned.

Then you were pulling away, biting his bottom lip and tugging at it. “But I wanna taste you.” You trailed your tongue along his jaw before lightly biting against it, then trailing kisses down his throat. 

He watched as you kissed along his exposed chest and abdomen, eventually slotting yourself between his thighs. You were going to be the death of him, his eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of you arching your back, ass in the air, face inches from his throbbing cock. 

You spit on it, biting your bottom lip as you used both of your hands to jerk him off, moving in a twisting motion, spreading the mixture of your saliva and his precum along his veiny cock. 

“You’re so big Buck—or would you prefer Congressman? Since you want me to be your little secretary forever.” 

He moaned, running a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath and control himself. It’d been a while since he’d had sex, and at this rate, he was about to cum all over your face if you kept your mean facade up.

“Can’t wait to feel you inside of me Congressman Barnes.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, how you managed to sound so demeaning while fisting his cock was beyond his comprehension. He let out a choked moan the second your mouth wrapped around the flushed red head of his cock.

Then you were moaning around him, taking more and more of him into your warm, wet mouth. His metal hand was now in your hair, grasping the frizzy strands, pulling them away from your face as you hollowed your cheeks in and started to bob your head—only really taking half of him at once.

Your tongue swirled around his cock as you sucked him off, moaning at the saltiness of his precum coating your tongue. This was downright sinful, and it was everything you’d wanted over the past few months. When you finally decided to take him out of your mouth, you laughed, smiling as you caught your breath, a string of spit connecting his cock to your lips.

The sight had him moaning your name like a prayer.

“Shit baby—fuck you gotta stop ‘m gonna cum.” 

You bite your swollen bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes for a few seconds. Then you were pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, using the head to spread his precum along your lips before wrapping your lips back around it. One hand slowly moving along his thick shaft while you focused on the most sensitive part of his cock.

The way he was pulling your hair burned in the best way, the sting from your scalp plus the taste of his cock had you moaning and whimpering against him.

“Shit—fuck—oh shit, Sweetheart.” He was practically whimpering as he came, cum coating your tongue and mouth, and you swallowed, then moved back, now sticking your tongue out, jacking him off with one hand as thick ropes of cum shot from his cock onto your tongue. A few missing slightly, painting parts of your face.

This was downright sinful. Sure Bucky knew that if Heaven truly did exist then he’d most certainly be going to Hell, but this? This earned him a spot in the deepest layer of Hell.

He moaned your name as he came, watching as you drunkenly giggled and let him give you a partial facial. This was straight out of a porno, if you were a pornstar he wouldn’t be surprised.

You smiled at him, taking your thumbs and index fingers, dragging them along your cum-stained face, gathering his spend before licking it off, one by one. 

He’d sat up so fast he hadn’t registered it, not until he was pulling you further into his lap, his metal hand squishing the bottom of your face slightly as he grasped your chin, pulling you into a rough, sloppy kiss. 

“You’re fuckin filthy,” he spoke against your lips, hand now on your throat, the cold vibranium a stark contrast to your warm skin. It made your head fuzzy. 

One thing Bucky was thankful for was his stamina, he’d always had pretty good stamina, but post-serum some days he felt like he could fuck for hours on end.

He hadn’t registered your movement until your hand was grasping the base of his cock and you were easing yourself onto him, gasping against his lips. He bit down on your bottom lip, and he knew he’d broken a bit of the skin based on the taste of iron in his mouth. But you were so tight around him, if he hadn’t been drunk before, he sure as hell was now.

“F-fuck ‘ts so big,” your words had a slight slur to them as you sat flush against him, forehead now leaning against his shoulder while you let yourself adjust to his sheer size. After a few seconds you started grinding your hips on him, back and forth, whimpering against his skin.

“C’mon, Sweetheart, I know you can do better than that.” His hands were on your waist now, loosely holding you, slowly guiding your movements, helping you build a rhythm.

You nodded, now sitting up a bit straighter, slowly pulling your hips off of him, then sliding back, taking each inch of his cock until you were filled to the brim. 

He bit his bottom lip as he looked at you, then he was nipping and sucking marks into your chest, focusing on each of your tits as they started to move more and more the faster you bounced on his cock.

“Just like that, keep going baby, know you can take it.” 

You nodded, your head leaning back slightly as you placed your hands on his thighs, back arching even more, using his body for leverage to help ground yourself and build your pace. 

The mixture of your moans practically echoed off of the walls, alongside the sloshing wetness of your cunt and the sound of skin slapping as you continued to take his cock. All you could focus on was the feeling of his thick shaft deep inside of you, stretching you deliciously, and the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, not exactly bruising, but the pressure added another level to your pleasure that you hadn’t experienced in the past.

His lips were parted as he held onto your waist, hands moving down to your hips, fingers bruisingly tight as he kept your movements up, not letting you falter for even a second. Bucky’s eyes focused on your cunt taking him, a ring of your wetness evident on his girthy length each time you moved up, then slammed your hips back down.

It had him salivating. 

Bucky’s eyes were stuck on you, fixated on your every movement, but what really got to him was the sight of you in his tags, the thin metal moving with you, and in this exact moment he knew you were it for him.

“You’re so fuckin beautiful,” his voice was gruff and strained while, he felt himself teetering closer and closer to the edge, meanwhile you were lost in your own world of pleasure, taking everything you could from him—using him.

It made him delirious in a way he couldn’t describe.

“‘M gonna cum-fuck Bucky—oh my god-” you moaned and whimpered, words coming out as a high pitched whine. Your rhythm was faltering, but he kept you moving, your hands now leaving his thighs, instead they were overtop his own that were holding your hips. Your fingers gripped his hands, nails practically digging into his skin as you moaned his name.

“Bucky…Bucky…oh shit…Bucky!”

It was music to his ears. Then he felt you fluttering against him, clenching down on his cock, tight walls practically milking him as you gushed against him. Your body trembling slightly, still moaning a mixture between his name and curse words.

Then you said it, “Oh fuck—right there—James!” 

That’s all it took for him to let out a deep, guttural moan, your name slipping past his lips as he came. Warmth spilling inside of you, as he bucked his hips into you a few times, losing himself in the moment.

You both sat in a breathy silence for several minutes after. You didn’t even bother getting off of him, instead you shoved his upper body down onto the bed and laid right on top of him. You weren’t ready to leave and let the fantasy shatter. Not yet at least.

He traced small shapes into your back as you laid against him, your head resting against the right side of his chest, your fingers slowly gliding along the ridges of his arm, then you paused before hesitantly moving to the scars along his left shoulder leading into his arm. You always knew they were there, but you hadn’t ever seen them up close. 

“Did you do this to yourself?” your voice was quiet and soft, much softer than usual.

“I think so, it was so long ago, it’s all kind of fuzzy. I think I tried ripping the metal out, or digging it out of my skin. I wanted to read the records on it—on me. But I never could bring myself to do it” He let out a deep sigh at the vague memories, but before he started mentally spiraling, you moved again, this time leaving a soft kiss to his jaw.

“I’m sorry that you were put through hell and back Bucky.” 

“Don’t be sorry, I wouldn't have met you if that hadn’t happened to me.”

You didn’t respond, the intimacy of the moment finally getting to you, especially considering his cock was still inside of you. So you moved off of him, wincing at the soreness of it all. Then you were practically sprinting to your ensuite. 

He thought you’d be kicking him out, so he opted to start getting up, but when you walked out of the bathroom, hands now on your hips with an oversized grey t-shirt that read ‘ARMY’, he blinked a few times.

“Where the hell did you get my shirt?”

You shrugged, glancing down at the shirt. It had to be one of the few shirts he owned that wasn’t fitted. Honestly, you don’t remember when or where you’d gotten it, but it was most likely something that Sam had given you after a long night of sparring.

“Why are you getting dressed?” The question sounded almost meek, you internally cringed at how clingy it made you feel. If he wanted to leave, he could leave. It would hurt your feelings, but this wasn’t your boyfriend. Bucky was your boss, and you’d be internally scolding yourself for the next week about tonight.

“Uh, I assumed you wanted me to go,” he motioned towards the door.

“Don’t be an asshole and just ditch me after you fucked me.” 

His jaw dropped at your words, brows now knit together, head tilted slightly. “Don’t make it sound like this was more than just sex, Sweetheart.” Bucky knew he was being a bit harsh, but he had to keep his heart guarded, the risk of you completely rejecting him was still there, and he knew he couldn’t handle that tonight. 

You scoffed at that, arms now crossed in front of your chest as you glared at him. “Excuse me? Are you serious right now?! It’s not like I blatantly admitted to caring about you before you damn near fucked me in the hallway!” You were louder than expected, practically screaming at him. Anger coursing through your veins as you stared at him.

“You’re the one who always wants to be professional! Then you get drunk and things are different! What happens when you’re—when we’re sober! Then what?” He ran a hand through his hair, holding eye contact with you as his breathing picked up. Bucky braced himself for rejection. At least if you rejected him, he’d finally be able to move on—or that’s what he told himself.

Bucky knew for a fact he’d never be over you. Not while you worked for him, and even after his term as a Congressman ended, he knew he’d never be rid of his feelings for you.

You were a once in a lifetime kind of love, that much he knew. Anytime someone spoke about the love of their life with him, they’d ask if he knew what it felt like. If he knew what it was like to care so deeply for someone that none of their flaws mattered. It didn’t matter how angry you made him, or how annoying you could be, James Buchanan Barnes would forever be in love with you.

You’re the first woman that he’d met that had pissed him off within seconds of speaking to one another. Bucky would never forget the day that the two of you met for four distinct reasons:

The first being the long-winded chase that he and Sam had been on in attempts to takedown the Flag Smashers. They’d bickered the entire time, but it ultimately brought them much closer, to the point that Sam was family now. It also helped that they shared an equal dislike for John Walker, but that wasn’t relevant.

The second major reason was because the second he’d spotted you, he was taken aback, you stood beside Karli, attempting to calm her down, but it wasn’t working. Then you were arguing with her, and all he’d managed to catch on to was the fact that you knew Sam was right. He also realized how smart you were in that exact moment.

The third reason that he’d never forget that day—outside of you being incredibly beautiful—was the feeling of your fists colliding directly with his ribcage, followed by a swift kick to the gut that had him on his back. He tried to keep up with you, but he’d been a bit out of practice and with his ongoing struggle of making amends, the last thing he wanted to do was fight a woman he was eighty years older than.

The fourth and final reason though, was the blurry sight of you squatting next to him, asking if he was alright and apologizing profusely for knocking him to the ground. You’d grasped his face, taking in the damage, grimacing at the sight of his bruised and bloody features. You then proceeded to clean him up, calling him an ‘idiot’ for not properly fighting back.

Bucky stared directly at you, his brooding silence made your eyes water. Maybe this was it, maybe he really didn’t care as much as he let on.

That pushed you over the edge.

“I had to be fucking professional Buck! I’m so sorry that I have a job, and ambitions for a career that I don’t even think I want anymore! I’m sorry that I didn’t want to be known as the girl that fucked her way up!” Your voice was loud as you shouted at him, your voice started cracking and the tears started falling. You were quick to wipe them away, chest rapidly rising and falling as you shook your head.

“You don’t get it, Sweetheart. I know you have ambitions, I know you have goals, but I’ve spent the past year and a half swallowing my own goddamn feelings for you! I know you don’t want to be the girl that sleeps with her boss! God damnit for once—for once I just thought that tonight we could be us. Not a congressman, not a secretary, just two fucking idiots in love!” 

He was yelling back now, running both hands through his hair as he looked at you. The sight of you in tears had his heart breaking, he wanted to kick his own ass for making you cry. 

“Then why are you trying to leave?” You sounded so small, so weak. Then you looked down at the ground, avoiding his stare. You’d always struggled with vulnerability, and right now you felt as if you were about to explode.

You were so focused on the ground and tuning everything out that you hadn’t noticed him getting off of the bed and walking towards you. Not until he nudged your foot with his, even then you didn’t look at him, shaking your head a bit. “This is embarrassing, just go Bucky.”

“I need you to look at me, Sweetheart.” He was looking directly at you, ready to pour his heart out.

You slowly lifted your head, cringing at the closeness and intimacy.

He took a second to use his right hand to brush some of your tears away, now caressing the side of your face. “I don’t want to leave. I thought you’d want me out, thought this was a one night stand, never speak about it again, or as you would say ‘never circle back to this’ again.” 

Bucky tried not to laugh at you clenching your jaw, clearly cringing at your own words being used against you.

“Tonight we’re just us. You’re y/n and I’m Bucky. You’re not my secretary, I’m not your boss. We’re friends, hell we’re way more than friends. Tomorrow we can figure out the logistics of it all, but tonight—tonight I’m telling you that I’m so desperately in love with you that I go to sleep dreaming of you and wake up missing you.” 

He paused, thumb caressing your bottom lip slightly, running along the evident split he’d caused. 

“Everytime I see you with another guy I feel like I’m about to implode. That includes Joaquin and I know you feel the same way, I saw how you got with Mel. You make me crazy in the best way. I’ve never felt like this about anyone in my life—and don’t even think about interrupting me to call me an old man. I love you. I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since the moment you called me an idiot after kicking my ass in Germany. I loved you when Sam sent your reluctant ass to be my secretary. I love you every second of every day and I don’t care about being professional or being anything other than yours. I’m yours.”

You blinked a few times, astonished at the confession, lips slightly parted as you looked up at him. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest. 

“You don’t have to feel the same way either, it won’t change anything. You’ll still be my mean, bossy, and obnoxious secretary tomorrow, and I’ll be your idiot boss that hates answering questions.”

That made you laugh, shaking your head and rolling your teary eyes. “If I’m being honest, I don’t want to be your secretary anymore—it’s not professional to be in love with your boss.”

He smiled at that, leaning into your space, connecting his lips with yours. The kiss was soft, sweet, and full of love. 

The next morning the sunlight streaming through your windows woke the both of you up, you rolled into his space, trying to bury your head on his chest, using an arm to block the sunlight. Your entire body was sore and your head was pounding.

“Morning, sunshine.” 

You blinked a few times, eyes widening at the realization that you were in bed with Bucky, the moment of shock easily wearing away at the memories of the night prior flooding in. Then you were picking your head up slightly, glancing at Bucky as he squinted, eyes adjusting to the bright light in the room before landing on you.

“I had a dream last night that would solve your professionalism debacle.” His voice was raspy and deep, it made you blush.

You nodded at him, “Okay, let’s hear it Buck.”

“You don’t need to be a Congressman’s secretary if you’re his wife.”

-

Thanks for reading sexies <3 as always feedback is appreciated!

[city-flag-tournament]

✯ Round 1 ✯ Match 103 ✯

The current flag of Washington, D.C., United States

Propaganda:

it's cute and i like it :]

vs.

The current flag of Cochabamba, Cochabamba Department, Bolivia

Propaganda:

None

Tournament Policies: ✯ Choose the flag that's more meaningful to you! ✯ Be respectful of place names and cultural symbols in your commentary! ✯ If you want to submit propaganda, you may do so at the submission form linked in the pinned post. It will only be included if it is submitted before the next post with that flag is drafted and will be included in all subsequent posts the flag is featured in.

[fairuzfan]

"hate and violence of any kind have no place in our nation except when its state sanctioned."

[2knightt]

— REAL SWEET (but i wish you were sober!)

…IN WHICH—reader tells the greasers the things they want to hear. if only they were sober. (Greasers: J.C, D.W, PB.C, SP.C, D.C.)

tags/warnings: gn!reader, reader is depicted either high or drunk, reader is toxic, greaser(s) miss reader/miss the familiarity of reader, angsty, story-focused, rather long.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ red flag!reader, oh how you will always mean so much to me! this was supposed to be posted in august LMFAO

dallas winston

he should’ve never picked up that call.

if he knew that it was you calling him from a payphone, so drunk that you didn’t even know your own name, he would’ve let that phone ring.

“dally? oh, dally. i-i’m scared, i dunno where i am. it’s dark an-and i miss you.”

you slurred your words accidentally, trying to act sober in hopes that it would incline him to come and pick you up more.

“y/n, i’m busy. take this shit up with someone else.”

“dally-“

“dallas.”

he corrected you with a stern tone. he wasn’t your dally and he hadn’t been for a long time. not since your break-up. you hadn’t been his baby and he hadn’t been your dally.

“dallas, please. come and get me. i-i’m by the old gas station. please,”

you pleaded some more, no longer hiding the desperation in your voice.

the screeching from the other line was deafening. dally—dallas, had hung up on you.

wearing thin pants at a night like this, during the cold oklahoma fall, was stupid of you. it only hit you when you sat on the curb, the cold concrete hitting you like a truck.

it sobered you up; only for a second. then, just as before, it was back to every wind that rustled past, every slight movement you made was met with a familiar dizziness.

dallas kept on muttering to himself as he drove to the gas station. “can’t believe i’m doing this, man,” “they’re drunk outta their mind,” “they’re using me. it’s clear as day.”

he saw you sitting on the curb, the gas station lights illuminating your figure in the dark night. you were tightly hugging your knees to your chest, covering your face from the wind.

dally chuckled as you jumped from him honking the horn of the curtis’ ford. he leaned out the open window, not hiding the sheer annoyance he felt.

“hurry up! i got shit to do!”

watching you stumble to the truck made him feel bad for you. it’s been awhile since you’ve been this drunk. and you smelled disgusting when you got into the truck.

he rolled all the windows down.

“god, dallas. you’re so good to me—i dunno why i left you. i miss you, y’know?”

you rambled, tears already forming as you spoke. never were an emotional drunk until now.

dallas’ knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel harder, holding back from snapping at you.

‘if you missed me so goddamn bad, why is this the first fucking phone call i’m getting?!’ he thought, wishing he had the guts to shout it at you.

“you were s-so nice to me. so handsome, so funny. i’m such a fucking idiot..”

“where you goin’?”

dallas cut off your sobbing with a question, trying to stop himself from either yelling or crying.

he didn’t know why he was like this when it came to you. he hated it, almost as much as he hated you.

“home.”

you mustered between hyperventilating, tears streaming down your cheeks. you didn’t know where home was anymore since you drank yourself silly.

you two drove in silence for the rest of the ride. it was only until he pulled into the driveway did you speak again,*

“i still love you.”

god, dally wished his baby was sober.

johnny cade

“y/n, i thought you quit smokin’ mary jane.”

“i dunno where you heard that from.”

you giggled, too high to realize the seriousness of the situation.

crossing paths with you after the break up you had was unfortunate. smoking by yourself in the lot where you two hung out before was even more unfortunate.

johnny getting caught trying to go to your guy’s spot was the most unfortunate. he smelled the weed on your clothes, he seen the stub of the joint on the ground, and he seen your eyes that were red and tired.

he wished he could’ve said no when you patted the spot beside you, telling him to sit down.

“isn’t it funny that-that we meet here? i mean, accidentally, of course. unless..?”

johnny hated that you were joking with him. he knew that it could never go back to the normal bickering you two had.

“i just wanted to clear my mind.”

“yeah, me too.”

you mumbled, finding yourself in a trance with how your hair felt between your finger tips. you missed this feeling.

“is that why you started smoking again?”

the dark haired boy asked, only now realizing that he was asking too many question, getting too comfortable with you again.

god, what the hell was wrong with him?

“no.”

“then why?”

johnny couldn’t help himself from asking.

“i missed you too much. my..my mind was jus’ racing n’ racing with you. i needed to smoke.”

you admitted, dragging out the sentence for longer than it had to be.

that’s how johnny knew it wasn’t you talking anymore. the weed took over your brain, it took over your senses, it took over your mouth—it took over you.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear those words, though.

johnny just wished you were sober when you said it.

ponyboy curtis

“why’re you here, y/n?”

“why are you here, ponyboy?”

the alcohol on your breath reeked. the way you slurred your words made him cringe.

he hated you when you were drunk. pony hated it so much to the point where you stopped drinking all together.

you were clearly back into the habit now. he scoffed, wishing he hadn’t come out of the house party to sit outside. if he knew you were on the steps too, he’d have done a u-turn.

too late, though. you seen him and ponyboy couldn’t hold back a sarcastic comment.

“my friends are here.”

“you got friends?”

“yes.”

you chuckled at his answer. despite the alcohol in your system, you laugh reminded him of the good times; when you were sober.

“i thought you quit.”

ponyboy kicked the red solo cup beside you, watching it roll down the steps.

“nope.”

you replied, popping the ‘p’ in the word. he scoffed, walking to sit beside you. the steps creaked as he sat down.

your movements were slowed as you turned your head to face him, your chin in the palm of your hands as the other gripped a half-full cup tightly.

it was an awkward several minutes of you borderline admiring him while he looked up at the stars in the sky.

after awhile, he finally snapped and asked you in an agitated tone,

“why are you looking at me?”

“i miss you, y’know. i’m sorry.”

ponyboy paused, feeling like a little kid again. only for a second, however. then the irritation came back.

why can’t you say this sober? pony would’ve done anything to hear you say that sober.

sodapop curtis

“you’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep wandering off,”

he warned as he held your wrist tightly, pulling you away from the road. even when you were tipsy, you stumbled over your feet.

being blackout drunk, however, made it hard for you to even process that you had legs attached to your body. you walked like a rag doll.

“sorry..”

“i don’t want ‘sorry’s, y/n.”

“i’m sorry.”

sodapop doesn’t even know why he bothered. you wouldn’t take in anything he told you.

he was walking you home. you were so drunk at the party steve dragged him to, he had to make sure you were good.

even if it meant walking your ex home at midnight.

“you smell nice, soda.”

“thank you,”

he mumbled in response, keeping his head straight forward. if he looked back at you, he didn’t trust himself to not cry or engulf you in a hug.

sodapop hated the way you two ended things, but he hated the relationship more.

as you two neared your house, he seen your porch light on and audible sighed. at least someone was home to care for you in this state.

“i’m so, so sorry, soda. i’m such a fucking idiot-”

“no, you aren’t.”

“yes, i am. i lost you.”

tears brimmed in your eyes as you thought back to your mistakes, the vodka making your emotions 10x stronger. the alcohol made you say stuff you didn’t mean or believe.

and soda knew that.

an apology was all he wanted. but, he wished you were sober to tell him that.

darry curtis

“you should know better by now.”

“i’m a grown woman, darry.”

he knew that. he seen the joint between your fingers as you sat out on your steps. he was scolding you like he was your boyfriend again.

“that doesn’t mean your lungs won’t be effected.”

it felt nice to be taken care of again. you missed darry.

“i miss you, dare.”

“no, you don’t.”

he replied sternly. he was, also, a grown man. he knew damn well that it wasn’t your actual feelings.

darry was the first person to call you out on your bullshit; always.

“i’m sorry,”

“be better, y/n.”

darry had to walk off before he did something stupid. he had to before he started to console you, before he started to treat you like a girlfriend again.

hearing you apologize, hearing you say you miss him wasn’t what he needed.

but god, he wanted you to be sober when you said those words so bad.

[goalhofer]

George H.W. Bush and his dog in the oval office on the morning he left office January 20, 1993 in Washington, D.C..

[absurdthirst]

The Rebound {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 28.1k

Warnings: Drinking, despression, flirting, sexual overtures, going home with a stranger, one night stands, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, multiple positions, spanking (slightly), giving Marcus his confidence back, multiple orgasms, post sex snacking, miscommunication, hard feelings, pregnancy, yearning, idiots who don't talk, repressed feelings, childbirth, post baby body issues

Comments: Going out for a drink lands you in the same space as newly dumped Marcus Pike. Sharing a drink and going home together changes both for your lives.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Pike MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Your glass of white wine isn’t that great, but it’s better than the whiskey sour that some suit that looked like one of those Wall Street wannabe bros who had started taking over the happy hours here, sent over with his number on a napkin. The band was playing, although there weren't a lot of people listening, everyone was having their own conversations. Except one. 

He’s sitting at the bar by himself. A glass of whiskey and a beer sitting in front of him. You’ve seen him already down one of each, so it seems like he’s on a mission to get drunk. Looking miserable and lost as he stares at the wood grain on the bar top and continuously looks at his phone. Like he’s waiting for someone to call, or hoping they do. He’s handsome. Neat, short, slightly wavy brown hair. Clean shaven, wearing a suit, although the jacket is thrown over the back of his chair and his sleeves are rolled up. Like it’s been a horrible day. You aren’t close enough to see what color his eyes are, but you pick up your wine glass and walk towards him, headed for the empty seat beside him. He looks like he could use a friend. 

Marcus looks up as you sit beside him and his eyes widen. You’re beautiful. He doesn’t know what to say. Apparently he’s terrible with women. Teresa dumped him two days ago for Jane and all his dreams of a wife, two kids and a dog in D.C went up in flames. “Can I help you?” He asks, genuine and not rude. Marcus can never be rude. Unless he’s really pissed off.

You smile at him, pleased to know that your theory that he had warm brown eyes was right. They look like they are normally kind, although right now they are clouded with confusion and sadness. “That’s funny.” You tell him, taking a sip of the wine. “I was just about to ask you that same question.” You settle into the seat beside him and turn your body to face him. “You look like you could use a friend right now.” 

Marcus sighs, rubbing his cheek, “am I that obvious?” He asks and you offer him a sympathetic smile. You are even more gorgeous when he’s looking at you. “I- I just got dumped and my pathetic ass is trying to find happiness in a beer which I know isn’t the right place but a man has to do what he can, huh?” He asks, picking up the bottle and tilting it towards you.

“Hmmm.” You shake your head and lift your glass to the mouth of his bottle and tap it gently. “Unless there are some serious red flags that I am missing, I have to wonder what kind of idiot you were dating?” You snort and tilt your head curiously. “Because I see a really handsome man who looks like he’s a decent person and…” you lean in and take an exaggerated sniff. “Yep, smells great too.” 

Marcus can’t help but chuckle, you are making him feel better which he didn’t even think was possible. “I - uh, she was in love with someone else. I proposed. She said yes. We were gonna move to D.C and then she called me and said she wasn’t coming. I bought a three bed townhouse and she dumped me over the phone before getting with the man she loved.” It sounds pathetic to his own ears.

“Damn.” You wince and shake your head. “You poor bastard. You were the hook character.” He frowns in confusion and you shrug. “You were the catalyst for your ex-finacée and her boy-toy to realize their feelings for one another.” You hate that he was hurt, it seems like he had plans for a life and the confidence to back it up. “An innocent that was sacrificed for their story line.” 

You talk about him like he’s a character on a show but you’re not wrong. “Ouch. When you put it like that-” He waves down the bartender, “another round and whatever the lady is having.” He says and you order another glass of wine. “What about you? What’s a beautiful woman doing talking to me and not going out on a date?” He asks, certain that you are taken. Anyone with eyes would be an idiot to not take you for their own.

“Bored.” You shrug slightly. “My apartment was driving me crazy tonight for some reason.” You smirk. “A pizza and re-runs didn’t sound appealing and so I’m here, with you.” You make it sound like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world and you tell him your name. “What’s the name of my new friend?” You ask curiously, interested in learning about him. 

He smiles and says, “Marcus Pike.” You love how he says his full name and he bites his lip, “so you’re single? I find that hard to believe. Surely you have someone. Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” He questions, knowing that you could have someone at home. The thought makes his stomach twist with sadness but he pushes that aside.

“Unless you count the pet rock named Steve, I’m hopelessly single.” You like the sound of his laugh, his smile is nice and his teeth are white and pretty damn straight, at least on top. You always appreciate a nice set of teeth. The way his eyes crinkle makes you think that laughter is one of the little things in life that he enjoys. “Too busy for relationships.” You admit. “I work for myself and spend too much time doing it.” 

His brow furrows, “you must be busy. You gotta be getting hit on, left and right.” He says with sincerity, knowing that he’d be flirting up a storm if he wasn’t jilted but he’d come to realize when Teresa dumped him that maybe he jumps in too fast. “Well, hopefully you enjoy your work and you’re good at it.” He says and you nod, “I like to think so.” The bartender sets the drinks down and Marcus pushes his empty beer bottle aside to grab the new one. “To being single.” He toasts and you clink your wine glass against his bottle.

“To being single.” You take another sip of your wine and then decide to ask. “So what is it that you do, Marcus Pike?” You ask, smiling at him.

He smirks, tilting his head slightly, “if I tell you, I might have to kill you.” He teases and you giggle, “must be top secret.” He chuckles, “I, uh, I work for the FBI.” He confesses, “art department.”

"The art department." You are impressed and you lift your brows to show it. "Surrounded by beauty all day, I'm assuming you must spend a lot of time looking at naked paintings." You tease, giving him a playful wink. "The porn of the ancient world."

Marcus blushes a little, knowing he might’ve spent a little too much time studying those pieces that were revealing too much. “Exactly but it’s…it’s not just one type of body. It’s every body type. All walks of life are depicted in beauty and painted with passion. It’s - it’s not heartless and pre-produced. It’s raw. It’s - it’s emotional.” He says passionately, knowing that the pieces he rescues are worth it.

“I don’t blame you.” You agree. “I love real artwork. Reality of bodies, of beauty.” You shrug. “Sometimes I wish that more people produced something real rather than filling their houses down the latest little trendy knickknack.” You take another sip of your wine. “It sounds like your job is a perfect fit for you.”

Marcus likes the way you talk and the way you look. A normally intoxicating combination for him to be flirty but he holds back a little. “I love it.” He confesses, “it’s tough but so rewarding.” He takes another sip of his beer, “you asked about my red flags earlier…mine are that I jump in too quickly, put my heart on the line, and act like a lovesick fool. What about you? You’re single. You got a dead body in a closet or something?” He teases, offering you a wink.

“Boy, it would be a mistake to tell the FBI about the bodies in the freezer!” You joke, reaching out and giving him a playful shove. “You don’t put them in the closet until they are skeletons. That way they don’t stink.” You snort. “No, my red flags are that I don’t really trust myself.” You admit. “I manage to find assholes. They talk a good game, treat me well to start and then it’s just a classic bunch of lying, cheating assholes.” You shrug. “So I’ve stopped looking for now. Taking a break and just having fun.”

Marcus likes you and that scares him. He just got his heart crushed but you’re making him believe that maybe there’s hope for something good in his life. “So no dead bodies.” He hums, “beautiful. Funny…sexy.” He adds after a pause, “and you don’t like cheating assholes. That’s it. You are too damn good to be having a drink with me.” He declares and you scoff but he continues, “let alone come home with me.” He says that without thinking too much, hoping you don’t slap him and laugh in his face.

You’ve told him that you just wanted to have fun and he’s obviously on the rebound from having his heart broken. This wouldn’t be a permanent thing, but it could be a good night for you both. Maybe a little self confidence booster that both of you need. “My place or yours?” You ask curiously, tilting your head and smirking at him.

He raises his eyebrows at your confident response and he smirks, gesturing the bartender over without taking his eyes off of you. When the bartender arrives, he briefly looks at him to ask to close out his tab, “add her drinks to it.” He says and turns back to look at you, “whatever you’re most comfortable with.” He responds, knowing you might feel better in your own space. He’s not unfamiliar with a walk of shame.

Biting your lip, you reach out and pat his chest, feeling a little bit of firm muscle underneath. He’s not just a suit, but he’s also not a meathead. “I’m assuming your ex spent plenty of time in your bed?” You ask, smirking when he nods. “So we will go back to yours and the next time you go to bed by yourself, you’ll be thinking about how I looked sprawled out and moaning your name.”

He almost wants to ask if you’ve fallen out of his dreams and he offers you a slightly cocky smirk after he hands his card to the bartender when he returns with the check, “and hopefully you’ll leave my bed thinking about how I made you moan my name.” He drags his tongue along his lower lip, “even when you are married with kids in years to come.”

Standing up, you finish your wine and grab your purse. “Why don’t we go find out, Mr. Pike?” You ask playfully. “I need a new fantasy to replay in my head when I’m all along with my vibrator.”

He quickly signs the check and puts his card in his wallet before he stands and wraps his arm around your waist. “You drive here?” He asks and you shake your head, “me neither. Let’s get an Uber and I’ll drop you home in the morning. Or pay for your cab.” He promises, wanting to be a gentleman first and foremost.

Smiling as you walk outside, you turn and press your lips to his. “Green flags so far.” You tease. “Order that Uber so we can get there faster.” You order him, eager to see about making this sweet and handsome man have a fantastic ending to his night. “Faster we do that, the faster I am sucking your cock.”

He groans and fumbles with his phone to order an Uber and when he does, he reaches for your waist, dragging you against him before his lips press against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck and he smiles against your lips for a second until he’s tilting his head to deepen the kiss by sliding his tongue into your mouth.

People coming and going from the bar see you, but you don’t care. Let them see. You moan softly and kiss him back, finding that this man has some passion to temper his sweetness and that turns you on. You press against him and smirk into the kiss when you feel that he’s already starting to harden against your stomach.

His phone buzzes a few moments later and he nudges his nose against yours before he pulls his phone out and looks up, “Uber is here.” He says and looks out for the Toyota Camry. He reluctantly lets you go and takes your hand to guide you over to the car. He checks the plate before he opens the door and the driver says “Marcus?” Your drink buddy says yes as he slides in beside you in the back seat and shuts the door. The driver nods and pulls away from the bar while Marcus rests his hand on your thigh. “You know…I don’t usually do this. I’m more of a relationship kind of guy but you…you make me wanna be spontaneous.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not judging you.” You promise, smiling at him, “honestly? I don’t do this often either. But I think that tonight, we need this. Both of us.” You lean in and nip the edge of his jaw. “And what’s that old saying? To get over someone you need to get under someone new? I’ll ride you and make that reality.” You whisper in his ear before you lick the shell playfully.

He groans, squeezing your thigh and he turns his head so he can kiss you. His tongue slides into your mouth again and his free hand cups your cheek. He doesn’t care that this might affect his 5.0 Uber rating when you feel so good.

You spend the rest of the ride kissing Marcus. Neither one of you starts groping, that would be too much, but the kisses are passionate and promising so much more to come. When the Uber slows down, you pull away reluctantly. “We’re here?” You ask breathlessly, eager to be at your destination.

Marcus pecks your lips, loving the look on your face as he thanks the driver and mentally makes a note to tip the man a little more as he opens the car door and holds his hand out to help you out. “We’re here.” Marcus says, looking up at the townhouse he bought with Teresa in mind. He fumbles for his keys in his pocket and guides you to the steps to the front door.

“Oh this is lovely.” For a townhouse, the place is quite spacious. It reminds you of the old Brownstones in New York. “You must have gotten a hell of a deal. I’ve been looking for a place for forever.” You tell him, setting your purse down. “Reason four hundred and fifty-five that your ex is an idiot.”

Marcus chuckles as he takes his shoes off near the door and locks it behind you when you are in his hallway. “Four hundred reasons so far?” He teases and you take off your shoes to leave them next to his. He looks down at that for a second and his heart aches, knowing they will be there for tonight but he wants to have someone’s shoes next to his for the rest of his life. “You want a drink?” He asks, walking ahead into his living room with the open plan kitchen. This place was a hell of a deal. A tip off from a coworker living in D.C whose friend was thinking about selling so he got the place before it even hit the market.

“Whatever you are having.” You don’t miss the way his face falls for a second and you follow him. “Tonight I’m completely open to whatever you want to do.” You grin when he looks back at you. “Charades, using your handcuffs. I’m assuming you have handcuffs?” You waggle your brow. “I’m down for whatever.”

He chuckles, “I do have handcuffs.” He pours a glass of wine for you and one for himself, happy to have a glass of Chardonnay. He hands you the glass after you sit down on his sofa and he takes a sip once he’s sat beside you. He’s still half hard and he watches you for a second. “Anyone ever told you you have gorgeous hands?” He asks, his eyes dropping to your fingers wrapped around your glass.

That’s a new one for you and for a moment, you pull your hand away so you can look at your hand and the glass. “I can’t say that I have.” You admit, smirking slightly as you take a sip of your wine. “Want to see them around your cock?” You ask, reaching over and sliding your hand up his thigh. 

Your hand on his thigh makes his cock twitch in his pants and he groans softly, leaning over to take the glass from your hand and he sets the glasses down on his coffee table. Turning back towards you, he reaches for your hand to place it higher on his thigh as he cups your cheek to press his lips to yours.

There’s always that little fluttering of anticipation in the beginning, swirling in your stomach and turning into slick between your thighs. Kissing him back, you slide your hand up to cup his hardening cock through the slacks of his suit and moan when you feel him twitch and thicken even more. He’s got a great cock, you can just tell. You manage to grip him through the material and squeeze before moving to his belt buckle. He’s gotten dumped and feels down, and you know that a blowjob would make him feel better.

He moans into your mouth when you fumble with the buckle of his belt and he pulls back, eager to help as he reaches down to undo it and you grin, “eager?” He chuckles, “you have no idea.” He is excited by you, by the way you touch him and he wants more. When you unbutton his pans and pull the zipper down, his groan is muffled against your jaw when you reach in to grip his cock. “Fuck.” He hisses as you pull him out and he loves how hot your hand is around him.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes widen and you look down at the thick length that is already red and leaking around the head. “Her new boy toy has to be hung like a fucking buffalo.” You snort, shaking your head and looking back up at him. “Reason four fifty-six.” You hum before you lean in to kiss him roughly as you slide off the couch to and to your knees between his spread thighs.

He watches you with rapture, unable to push you away when you look so hot on your knees between his spread thighs. His cheeks are flushed and he watches as you take him into your hand again. “Fuck. You look so pretty like this.” He compliments breathlessly, his hands turning into fists when you lean closer.

You hum in delight and start to slowly pump his cock. Kissing the tip before you run the flat of your tongue over it. Groaning at the salty taste of his precum. Dragging your tongue around the perfectly cut head and looking up at him as you start to take him into your mouth.

Marcus tilts his head back slightly, groaning your name as you take him deeper and he closes his eyes before he decides he wants to watch you. He rolls his head back to rest his chin on his chest as he watches you, your eyelashes fluttering as your mouth engulfs his length.

Especially the first time you blow a guy, you want it to be good. Nice and wet and slow as you take him deeper and swallow around the head. Marcus looks completely enthralled and almost starry eyed, making you wonder when the last time his ex had sucked his cock. You’ve always enjoyed it, it turns you on, and you can’t imagine he’s the type of man that never reciprocates.

“Jesus.” He hisses as you swallow around him and he reaches out to caress your cheek. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He coos, complimenting you as you suck his cock like you love it. “You like having my dick in your throat?” He asks, his voice raspy with arousal and his cock twitches when you moan around him.

Fuck, his voice goes straight to your pussy and you imagine how he would sound while he’s buried deep inside you. You shift to cradle his balls in your hand gently while you start to bob your head up and down on his length.

Marcus hisses, his fingers curling around the edge of the sofa as you start a pace that has his toes curling against the rug. It’s so good. Teresa never gave him a blowjob. Said it wasn’t her favorite thing and he never pushed her to do it but you seem to love it. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh shit.” He gasps, feeling his balls tightening in your grip as you roll them in your fingers.

He’s about to cum. You can tell and you hum around him, encouraging him to cum down your throat. Sucking a little harder and swallowing around him, you keep your eyes on his wrecked face.

"Jesus Christtttt." He hisses before he falls over the edge. His cock twitches in your throat before he starts to spurt hot seed into your mouth and you swallow around him. His groan is wrecked as he squeezes his eyes shut and nearly rips the sofa cushion.

You swallow him down, trying to keep any of it from spilling out of the corners of your mouth. Working him until he is slumped down into the couch with a soft moan. Only then do you finally let up, pulling off him with a small pop and smiling as he gives a huge sigh.

He inhales deeply, feeling like he’s outside of his body, until he opens his eyes and looks down at you. You have a cocky grin on your face and he growls, suddenly desperate to touch and taste you. “Strip down. Now.” He demands, wanting to see you.

You lift your brow at the command in his voice, finding it sexy and you push off your knees to do just that. Since you had gone out tonight, you had decided on a dress and now reach behind you to unzip it. “Everything?” You ask, happy you had worn sexier undergarments than usual as your dress falls to the floor and you step out of it, revealing your lacy bra and matching panties.

He groans at the sight of the lacy bra and panties, leaning closer as he unbuttons his shirt after pulling his tie from his collar. “You expecting to be going home with someone?” He teases as he shrugs his shirt off and he stands to shove his pants and briefs down his legs so he’s standing naked before you.

“Not really.” You admit with a smirk. “But I wanted to feel sexy.” Your eyes slide up and down his body and you lick your lips. “Fuck, you are handsome.” Reaching behind you, you unclip your bra and toss it down on the floor. “Where’s your bed, handsome? I want you to fuck me in it.”

He reaches for you to drag you against him, his lips pressing to yours as he slides his tongue along your lower lip, loving the way your breasts feel against his chest. His hands slide down to your ass as he guides you to the stairs that lead to the bedrooms in the townhouse. “Upstairs and to the left.” He says when he pulls back, wanting to watch you walk up his stairs.

You smirk over your shoulder, knowing he’s watching you and when you turn back to watch where you are going, you wiggle your ass at him playfully. “Come and get me, g-man.” You tease, starting to rush to get to his bed. This is the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

He growls, gripping the bannister as he makes his way up to his bedroom to find you sprawled out on his bed, a cheeky smirk on your face. He chuckles and strides over to the bed, grabbing your ankle to pull you down to the edge and he leans over you to take your nipple into his mouth, his other hand squeezing your breast.

“Oh fuck, Marcus.” You moan softly, closing your eyes as your fingers dig into his hair. “That feels so good baby.” You whimper. “Bite it.” You don’t mind it being a little rougher and you want to see what this man can do to you.

He follows your demand, biting down on your nipple, his other hand pinching your other nipple and he loves the way you cry out his name. He cups both breasts and alternates his mouth between them, loving the way you throw your head back.

Marcus apparently loves to lavish attention on his partners and you are enjoying it. Your legs pull back, feet propped up on the edge of the bed and you roll your hips up wantonly. “Fuck. Shit, I love having my tits played with.” You admit breathlessly.

He groans and lets go of your nipple, deciding to kiss down your body until he’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, his fingers digging into your thighs as he drags you down until your pussy is in his face. He kisses your inner thigh, loving the way you whine and he chuckles, his hot breath washing over you until he’s sliding his tongue through your folds.

“Yesssss.” You moan, eyes rolling back from the feeling of his tongue carving a path through your core. “God, I-“ his tongue flicks over your clit and your body shivers. “You’re good, Mr. FBI. Fuck, you are goddamn amazing.” You whine, pushing your hips down and begging for more. He’s just as eager to lick your pussy as you had been to suck his cock and your folds are soaked slick with arousal.

He pushes your thighs further back, eyes closed as he flicks his tongue over your clit and groans when your fingers tangle in his hair. He wants to hear you cum. Wants to feel you cum on his tongue so he pushes his tongue deep into your pussy, his nose pressed against your clit.

You keen in pleasure and look down to see him between your thighs. His eyes seem to be smirking when he opens them, well aware of what he is capable of and how he is going to take you apart. Some ego coming out and you find this just as sexy as everything else about this man. “So good, baby.” You praise in pants. “So good, oh fuck!”

Your praise makes his cock harden and he laps at you, shaking his head back and forth as his hands explore your flesh. He laps at your clit and slides one hand up to squeeze your breast, pinching your nipple.

You groan in pleasure and bite your lip. Tugging on his hair sharp enough to make him hiss and it makes him double down on his efforts to make you cum. “Oh fuck, I’m so close.”

He hisses into your flesh as you tug on his hair and he loves it. Groaning, he pinches your nipple again and sucks on your clit, loving the whine you give him in response and he knows you’re so close.

Your core twists in pleasure and you are making these little sounds that come out when you are about to cum. “Marc-“ you gasp out, right before your entire body lurches at the next flick of his tongue. “Marcus!”

He smirks against your flesh at the way you cry his name and he flicks his tongue, working you through it as his hands caress your body, his cock now hard and pressing into the foot of his bed.

You moan, your thighs tightening around his head and you jerk your hips away when it becomes too much. “Fuck- fuck baby, come here.” You beg, desperate to kiss him again.

“Do we, fuck, need a condom?” He asks you, feeling desperate to be inside you. He’s aching again despite you making him cum earlier and he hasn’t felt this passionate during sex for a long time.

Normally you insist on it, but right now the idea of feeling him hot and bare inside you is intoxicating. Not smart considering he’s just out of a relationship with someone who might have been sleeping with someone else. You aren’t thinking about that right now though. “I’m safe.” You promise, reminding yourself to take your birth control in the morning.

He should be sensible but there’s something about you that has him throwing caution to the wind. He nods, trusting you even though he doesn’t know anything about you except how you taste and sound. He grabs you, lifting you up the bed to place your head on his pillows before he kneels between your legs. His cock in his hand as he strokes himself while he looks down at you. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs as he shuffles closer to slide his cock through your soaked folds.

“So are you.” You promise, looking up at him and spreading your legs wider. Propping them on his hips as he moves to hover over you. “Fuck me, Marcus.” You beg.

How can he deny you when you beg him? He groans as he notches his cock at your entrance and starts to slowly push into you. Shifting to press his body into you while keeping his weight on his elbows, he hisses when your hot velvet walls engulf him.

His cock feels even better than his tongue. Your head pressed back into the pillow, you moan his name as he breaks you open. Sliding silkily inside you and scrubbing wonderfully against your walls as he bottoms out. “Fuck.” You gasp out. “This cock- fuck, baby, you could win awards with it.”

He blushes as he looks down at you, his lip caught between his teeth until you press your lips to his. “You are  - you feel fucking perfect.” He groans against your lips, “so tight.” He moans as he starts to rock his hips, his pace sedate to allow you to get used to him.

“Everyone had to be tight to you.” You huff, turning and kissing along his jaw. “But you’re so deep inside me. Later I want to feel you in my guts.” You whisper and lick his sweat slick skin, tasting the salt there.

He groans as rocks his hips a little harder, pushing deep inside you, and he turns his head to press his lips to yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth and it’s messy but the hottest kiss he’s ever had as you wrap your legs around his hips.

You don’t let him do all the work, rolling your hips up to meet him. Using your legs to push him down into you. Telling him exactly how good it feels every time you whimper and moan into the kiss. He fucks like a god and if it wouldn’t hurt him, you would remind him exactly how stupid this woman is to have left him. Instead, you just try to show him how eager you are for him to be pounding into you.

Marcus groans, rocking into you, and his mind is clouded by you. How you feel. How you sound. How you smell. He’s overwhelmed in the best way and he pulls out of you after a moment, making you whine. He shifts to lay down beside you, dragging your body back against his, and he grabs your leg to lift it over his hip. He grips his cock when your leg is hooked over his and positions himself back at your cunt, pushing into you in one swift movement.

“Fuck.” Your eyes roll back, grabbing onto his arm around you. He’s deeper in his position . He likes to change things up and not just keep to one position. “Marcus.” You reach down and push in on your stomach, feeling him move inside you. “Fuck- that’s- holy shit you’re so deep.” You whimper, loving how the pace has changed, gotten rougher.

He lifts his leg as he thrusts into you, harder and  faster than before, his skin slapping against yours and he grabs your leg, wrapping his arm around it to keep it lifted so he can look down and see where he’s disappearing inside your tight cunt. “Feel - feel so good. Taking what I give you.” He grunts, his jaw clenched as he watches his cock push into you.

That cocky confidence he is displaying is fucking sexy. You moan in agreement, panting slightly as he pushes into you again and again. Scrubbing against your walls and making that tension coil inside you and your head rolls back to lean against his shoulder.

He lets go of your leg and slides his hand up to squeeze your breast, pinching your nipple as he rocks into you. You moan and your head lolls against his shoulder as you take his cock, and he knows what you need. He slides his hand down to your clit, rubbing circles there and he chuckles when your walls flutter around him. “That what you needed baby?” He asks, voice rough and raspy.

“Fuck yes.” You roll your hips into his touch and shudder in pleasure. He knows how to touch a woman, apparently aware that not all women cum from just a cock ramming into them. “Fuck, you- you’re gonna make me cum, baby.” You babble. “So good, I’m gonna cum all over you.”

“Do it.” He demands, “I wanna feel it. Wanna hear you.” He rubs your clit a little harder and you whine, arching your back into his chest, and he loves it. “That’s it. Cum for me, baby.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

It doesn’t take many more thrusts for you to do just that. Stiffening in his arms, you cry out his name while your cunt clenches down around him, soaking his cock in your juices. “Marcus! Fuck- fuck baby!”

He groans at how tight you grip him, how wet you are when you gush around him. His chest tightens and he works you through it with a hiss when you squeeze him so tight he can hardly keep moving inside you. “Oh shit.” You pant and he growls, moving again without pulling out of you. He rolls you onto your stomach and straddles your thighs, his hands caressing your ass as he starts to move again.

“Fuck me.” You beg, pushing your ass up as much as you can with him pinning you down. “Destroy me. Fuck, I want to feel how hard you can fuck me.” You beg, wanting him to just lose control and take what he needs from your pussy. “Use me. Fuck, Marcus. Move baby, please, you feel so good.”

Your words make his mind cloud with lust and he responds by slapping your ass. Your squeal makes him grin and he rocks his hips harder than before. His eyes rolling into the back of his head at how tight you are in this position. The headboard bangs against the wall and he grabs your ass cheeks, spreading them to watch how he disappears inside you.

Your whines are getting louder, punched out of you by every thrust of his cock. His grunts behind you are sexy, passionate as he rocks into you and you wish that you could see what he looks like right now. “Fuck- more-“ you whimper, reaching up and grabbing the headboard. “More, baby.”

He grunts, bracing his knees as he fucks you hard and fast. Your ass jiggles with each move and he grabs onto the flesh, keeping him grounded as he fucks into you like it’s the last thing he will do. He wants you to cum again for him before he cums.

The way he spears into you makes you squeal. The angle surprises you into another orgasm that makes your toes curl and you scream his name this time, another torrent of your juices coating him while your walls pulse around him.

You cum so unexpectedly and that makes Marcus groan, working you through it and the room fills with a squelching noise until you are boneless beneath him. He pulls out of you and shifts to lean back against his headboard, “come ride me, baby. Wanna see you.” He demands, slapping his thigh and his cock is dripping with your juices, still hard and almost a violent purple from how pent up he is.

You moan and wrap your hand around that thick cock, twisting around to suck on the tip for a second and not caring about your juices on him. Marcus groans your name and you quickly shift to straddle his thighs and lean forward to sink down onto his cock. “This what you need, baby?” You coo breathlessly. “You need to see my tits bounce while I ride your cock?”

He nods, reaching out to cup your tits, and he leans in to take a nipple into his mouth. He groans when you start to rock on top of him and he loves it. You’re so beautiful and he can’t believe you came home with him.

Your arms are around his shoulder, holding him to your breast as you rock on top of him. Grinding his cock deep inside you and then pulling off to bounce back down on it. It’s perfect and sexy, wonderful and erotic all at the same time as your finger curl into his hair and you tug on it. “Yes baby, fuck, suck on my tits while I ride this amazing cock.”

He bites down on your nipple, making you squeal, and he chuckles against your flesh as you rock on top of him. He only had a few beers but he feels drunk on you, on your perfume, on your pussy. He hisses when you tuck his hair and pull his head back so you can press your lips to his.

This kiss is sloppier, wetter than before. Hungry for each other as you kiss. His arms wind around you and pull tight, wanting you close and you can’t believe that woman gave up this man for anyone. Your walls are pulsing around him and you purposely squeeze him tighter as you ride him.

He groans into your mouth, cupping the back of your neck while his other hand slides down to squeeze your ass cheek. "You got one more for me?" He asks, sliding his hand around to rub your clit, wanting to watch you cum.

“God- you’re - insatiable.” You pant into his mouth, eyes rolling back when he rubs just right against the bundle of nerves and his happy trail is grinding against your lips. “Fuck- I’m gonna keep you.” You giggle, tightening up in his arms as another wave of pleasure threatens to wash over you again.

Secretly he hopes you'll agree to a date when you wake up in the morning and he continues to rub your clit. It doesn't take long for you to fall apart for him again, collapsing into his chest and he groans. He wraps his arms around your body, allowing himself to let go as he thrusts up into you, his cock twitching violently inside you as he gets closer.

“Cum for me.” You pant into his neck, kissing his pulse and then up his jaw. “Cum for me. I want to see it. You’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum.” You’ve only seen it once when he was cumming down your throat, but you want to see him in all his orgasmic glory as he fills you up. Your teeth nip his jaw. “Cum, baby.”

He groans, eyes squeezing shut as he follows your order and fills you up. He hisses as he pushes deep into you and starts to paint your walls with his hot seed. Your name choked out as he twitches and his fingers dig into your flesh.

You pet and coo at him as he rides out his orgasm. Watching his face twist in pleasure, you plant kiss after kiss on his lips. He deserves it for making you cum three times. “You’re so good Marcus.” You moan softly.

He calms down but his heart is still racing as you caress his cheek and he slides his hands along your back. "Jesus." He murmurs, unable to remember the last time he had sex like that. You brought something out of him he's never experienced before. "You are incredible." He murmurs, kissing you softly.

“Me?” You scoff quietly and grin against his lips. “I don’t know if I’ve ever cum three times before.” You admit, kissing him again. “Ten out of ten, would recommend this ride.” You tease and playfully clench down around his softening cock still inside you.

He smiles and nudges his nose against yours. “You hungry?” He asks, “I can order a pizza or order you an Uber. Whatever you want to do. You can go or you can stay.” He offers, wanting to be considerate to you.

“Perfect.” You moan, rolling your eyes. “You’re fucking perfect. Now I need to see your closet for those dead bodies.” You joke, winking at him playfully.

He chuckles, "go check. I'll order the pizza and get you the wine we left downstairs." He says as he pulls a pair of briefs from his dresser and makes his way downstairs to find his phone and allow you a moment.

You left your panties downstairs so you walk into the bathroom to use it. His house is stylish and tastefully done, although it is masculine. He really is a wonderful catch.

He orders the pizza on his phone and he realizes your clothes are downstairs so he takes them upstairs to you. “You can borrow one of my shirts if you want.” He says, knowing that your dress is pretty but not that comfortable for laying around in.

“Do you mind?” You don’t wait for an answer, just opening his closet and you chuckle when you see boxes still needing to be unpacked. “I’m going to borrow this!” You tell him, bringing out a large, comfortable looking sweater.

He nods and pulls on a pair of sleep pants and he hands you your glass of wine from earlier. He slides onto the bed and watches as you tuck your legs under you after you put his sweater on.

“So how are you feeling now?” You ask curiously, watching as he leans back and you notice the book he has sitting on the nightstand on presumably his side of the bed.

“I feel…good. Not totally over all the shit I’ve been through but you definitely helped.” He offers you a smile and you chuckle, “a good orgasm definitely helps.” He smirks and takes a sip of wine, “how was it?” He asks, biting his lip, and he’s a little curious because he just got dumped for another man.

Normally, a man wanting you to rate his performance would annoy you, most just wanting the praise. This man wants to know that he’s not lacking. “She’s fucking crazy.” You shake your head. “You are charming, sweet, handsome and fuck like that?” You snort. “She should have been running to Vegas to put a ring on it, baby. That was-“ you hum. “I’m going to feel you tomorrow and even when the ache disappears, it’s gonna be a long goddamn time before I forget tonight.”

His answering grin makes you giggle and he’s relieved that you think he did a good job. It’s obvious that you aren’t lying and he smirks to himself a moment later, “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I definitely did. You- you’re gorgeous.” He compliments you, “and I’m lucky you came home with me.”

“I’m lucky you asked.” You admit with a small shrug and a smug smile. “I was going to have a couple of glasses of wine and probably go home to use my vibrator.” You wiggle your toes and stretch. “This was much better. And now I even get pizza.”

He chuckles and checks his phone for where the pizza is. “It’s on its way.” He promises and reaches for the Tv remote, “I’ve been watching this series…Narcos? Have you heard of it?” He asks, curious if you want to chill and watch TV with him instead of rushing off.

Your grin is wide and you nod. “Yeah, I fucking love it.” Your brows pinch together and you tilt your head as you examine him again. “You know….you kind of look like him.” You tell him as he pulls up the show. “The guy who plays Peña. Hair’s darker, and he has that porn star mustache, but you could be his brother.”

Marcus scoffs, "even I can tell he's hotter than me. Maybe I could grow a mustache." He teases, rubbing his chin, then he works on getting the show on the TV he installed in his bedroom.

“I don’t know…..” you set your wine glass down and straddle his thighs and run your hands down his chest. “He’s an actor, playing a DEA agent.” You lean in and kiss his jaw. “You’re a real FBI agent.” Your hand slides down to cup his soft cock. “And I bet your cock is better.”

He groans, turning his head to kiss your lips. He cups your cheek while one hand slides down to squeeze your ass through his sweater. “Where have you been my whole life?” He asks, “you’re so amazing.” He kisses you again, unable to believe how good this feels when you met in a bar hours ago.

You hum, leaning into the kiss and you would deepen it if it weren’t for the doorbell ringing downstairs. “Oops.” You giggle, kissing him one last time before climbing off of him to let him go get the pizza. “Do you eat in bed, or should we go downstairs?”

“Fuck it. Let’s eat in bed. You stay here and I’ll go get it.” He says, pecking your lips before bouncing off the bed and down the stairs to get the pizza. He’s back moments later with plates and paper towel, setting the pizza down on the comforter. “So, now are you gonna tell me how you’re single?” He asks once you’ve gotten a slice.

“It’s not a very interesting story.” You warn him before you take a bite of your pizza. “My last boyfriend cheated on me, I dumped his ass and decided to say fuck it, I would stay single for awhile.” You roll your eyes. “My friends keep trying to get me to go to some online dating site, but I don’t like those things, it’s so impersonal.” 

He nods in agreement after taking a bite of pizza, “you can’t tell chemistry through an app.” He says and shakes his head, “your ex is a fucking idiot. I hate cheaters. Just have the balls to tell someone you don’t want to be with them instead of cheating and lying behind their back.”

“Thank you.” You roll your eyes and huff. “How is that so hard? I find people attractive all the time, but I don’t have to sleep with them.” You take another bite of your pizza and smirk. “Unless his name is Marcus Pike. I think I’ll name you my Hall Pass.” You tease and shoot him a wink.

He blushes, loving how you have enjoyed your time with him, and he swallows his bite. “Do you want to go on a date with me? Like, dinner?” He asks, flustered but eager to spend more time with you.

Your brow lifts and part of you wonders if this might be a bad idea. He’s rebounding, you should encourage him to be by himself for a bit. But you honestly like him. “That sounds like a hard thing to do.” You admit, taking another bite of your pizza and talking around it. “How the hell are you going to top eating pizza in bed on a dinner date?”

Marcus chuckles, “you’d be surprised. I can be pretty damn inventive.” He promises, reminded of all the first dates he's been on including those with his first wife and Teresa. “Is that a yes?” He asks, biting his lip in anticipation.

“That’s a yes.” You agree, enjoying the boyish grin that lights up his face when you say you will go out with him.

Marcus grins, “it’s a date.” He declares then takes another bite of his pizza while Narcos plays in the background. After Teresa left him high and dry, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel confident in himself but you’ve given him so much tonight. He’s excited to take you out. After you finish eating, he takes the plates and box down to the kitchen and offers you a new toothbrush. “I always keep spares. For me.” He clarifies, not wanting you to think he hooks up with a lot of people.

“Very responsible.” You tease, leaning in and giving him a kiss. “I have about ten under my own sink. Buy them on sale and then I’ve got them to change out and if someone crashes.” You shrug. “My friends. Not hookups. Did you know you are actually supposed to change your toothbrush out every six months? I change mine every three.”

Marcus shakes his head, “I gotta be honest, I just change it when it looks like it needs to be changed.” He confesses with a slight blush and opens his bathroom door. You both brush your teeth in silence, watching each other in the mirror and to Marcus, it’s crazy how easy this feels. He washes his face and leaves you to finish up while he prepares the bed. He has one single decorative pillow that came with the set so he tosses that onto the chair in the corner. When you appear, he pulls the duvet back and pats the space next to him. “Come on.” He orders playfully and he leans over to turn off the lamp when you’re under the sheets. He sighs and shuffles closer when he’s in bed, holding his arm open in a silent invitation and he smiles when you snuggle into his side. “Goodnight sweetheart.” He murmurs, kissing your hair and you smile against his chest, “night, handsome.” He falls asleep with a smile on his face. Maybe things happen for a reason.

****

Checking the time on your phone, you sigh. The morning had been rushed, both of you oversleeping and you had decided to just meet at the bar tonight for your date. You don’t even have his number but maybe that’s a good thing. You’ve been stood up. Finishing the rest of your wine, you stand up and sign the bill before sticking your credit card back in your purse. Marcus Pike had apparently changed his mind about dinner and right now, you don’t know if you’re angry or hurt. All you know is that you are going home.

To say he’s frustrated is an understatement. Marcus went into work with the biggest smile on his face, eager to see you back at the bar, when he was called in and told he’s going undercover. “You’re the only person who knows this kind of network.” His boss had told him about the artwork the mafia was transporting. “The assignment will be for as long as it takes. They have been using the artwork as a cover for drugs and arms. We need to find out the source. You’ll go dark until you uncover it all.” He orders and Marcus frowns, “when am I going in?” He asks, thinking he will be told a few days but he hears, “you’ll be taken to a briefing room and given all the details and then you’re in.” Marcus shakes his head, “but I have plans tonight.” His boss says, “cancel them. From now on, you’re Mario Russell.” Marcus swallows harshly, cursing himself for not getting your number so he can message you. He doesn’t know how long he will be undercover. He’s missing his chance with you and there’s nothing he can do.

Sighing to yourself, you hate that you are still out. Wanting nothing more than to be home in the rapidly too small apartment in comfortable clothes and not wearing a bra, you push the shopping cart through the store and groan at the smell coming from the deli. You need the hot wings, even though you will pay for them later.

Marcus feels like everything is a blur as he’s given the details on his assignment, handed his new paperwork and license and memorized everything about the man he is pretending to be. It’s been a whirlwind and he’s sitting in a van, waiting to meet the man who will employ him to assist with transporting the artwork illegally. His contact, a fellow undercover op, is making the introduction and Marcus can only think about you. He hopes you don’t hate him for not showing up. He was allowed to go home for an hour to sort his place out for his departure and he had swung by the bar to leave a note for you with an explanation. He hopes you got it.

****

“Hi, uh, I’m sorry.” It’s been two months since you’ve heard from Marcus and you need to talk to him. You’ve gone to his townhouse, but he’s not home and you’ve left notes. Now you are pretty desperate and thought it would be a good idea to call the FBI. It wasn’t, but you need to talk to him. “I’m looking to talk to an Agent Marcus Pike.” You are nervous, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “In the art? Department? Art crimes? Art something?” You sound like an idiot, but you don’t have much more to give the operator that answered.

“I’ll put you through to someone who can help you.” She says and the phone beeps before music plays while you’re redirected. “Art Crime Division.” The receptionist answers and you gasp, “yes. Hi. I need to speak with Agent Marcus Pike.” You say and she looks through her notes to show Marcus is out of office. “He’s not in office at the moment. Can I take a message?”

You sigh, closing your eyes and nearly about to cry. “Yeah uh, if you could have him call me.” You give the receptionist your name and telephone number. “It’s really important.” You stress.

“Sure. I’ll leave a note for him to call you.” She takes your name and number and hangs up, looking over at the empty office for Agent Pike. The office that has been empty for 2 months.

More time passes. You had left one more message before you had given up. They wouldn’t tell you anything when you called the second time too, just that they would pass the message and you got the hint. It hurt, but you had known that it should have just been a one time thing when you went home with him.

Marcus sighs as he sits in the van. Another exchange. Another night he pretends to be someone he’s not. The target believes he is who he says he is. There’s no risk of exposure, but he’s growing tired of being undercover. It’s been 4 months and his beard is itching. His eyes widen when he gets out of the van after the truck shows up and the man he is looking for arrives. “I want the money first.” He demands and Marcus presses the phone in his pocket, calling his pre-programmed number to bring in backup. The asshole boss that’s put Marcus through the wringer argues about the money for several moments until cars screech into the parking lot. Marcus had managed to get a message back to the office that he was potentially meeting the target and his backup has arrived. The target tries to run but he’s caught and Marcus holds his hands up, acting pissed that he’s getting arrested even though he will be released as soon as he’s away from the scene. He looks over at the assholes in handcuffs and realizes it’s over. Finally, he can go home.

Life has gone on, you are touring new apartments, trying to forget why you need that extra space but it’s hard when you are showing now. That one night with Marcus had resulted in a very unexpected pregnancy and you haven’t heard from him. You stroke your stomach as you look around the apartment you were viewing. It’s a good size but it’s in a horrible neighborhood and it’s just outside of your budget. “No, I’m sorry.” You shake your head and give an apologetic smile. “This isn’t the one for me.” You explain to the agent.

It’s difficult for Marcus to return back to reality. He went back to Texas to see his family and give his final report and that’s when he saw Teresa and Jane. He got closure knowing that he deserved better and he’s glad she didn’t come to D.C. The night he met you - God he still thinks about it - put everything into perspective and he realized he was never friends with Teresa, he never truly knew her. Returning to D.C, he settles back into his home and the first night back, he remembers the note he left behind the bar with his number. You never called him. His phone was given back and he didn’t have any missed calls from an unknown number apart from spam calls that went straight to the tone when he called them back hoping it was you. He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on things. It wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he will see you again one day. Just as he has that thought, his doorbell rings and he frowns, making his way to the front door to see who it is.

Standing on his doorstep is probably stupid, but you had driven by the townhouse you had spent the night in months ago. Honestly still a little jealous of the room and the potential for a family when you are struggling to find a place so that your baby doesn’t have a closet for a nursery. You had seen the lights on and now you are angry. Angry that he’s been ignoring your messages and leaving you to deal with this. He doesn’t owe you anything, but it would be fucking nice if the father of your baby knew you are pregnant.

Marcus opens the front door and his jaw drops when he sees you standing there. “Oh my God. It’s you. I- holy shit.” His grin is wide, so happy that you came back and he’s so excited to see you until his eyes drop down and they widen at the sight of your belly. “Holy shit.” He repeats with a gasp.

You snort, thrown off guard by his unbridled happiness at seeing you until the shock of your belly breaks through that grin. “Surprise.” You manage to keep the sarcasm out of your tone, but just barely.

He is shocked but he knows you wouldn’t be standing on his doorstep if it wasn’t his baby. He only knew you for one night but he didn’t get the sense that you’re the kind of woman to pass off another man’s baby as his. “You’re pregnant.” He chokes and his eyes drift up to find yours again. “I- shit- why - how - I left a note at the bar for you.” He spits out, his head whirling.

“I didn’t get it.” You don’t know if that’s a cover, but you hadn’t gotten the sense that Marcus Pike lies a lot. It was why you had been so upset. “Um- I- this was a bad idea.” You admit with a sigh. “I was all prepared to rip you a new asshole and it seems like whatever happened, you didn’t get my messages.”

He shakes his head and reaches for you before he thinks better of it and lowers his hand. “You’ve been trying to reach me?” He asks and you nod. He curses under his breath, “I know you won’t believe me but I’ve been undercover. I- shit. I didn’t even have my phone. I was involved with the mafia so I went dark.”

“Undercover…..” His hair is longer and there is some scruff on his cheeks that wasn’t there when he had taken you home. “For nearly six months?”

He nods, “bastards were tricky to lock down and we couldn’t afford to risk going too early and the whole op was ruined. I- I’m so sorry. I just got back. Today. They arrested them in the early hours.” He confesses and his eyes drop down to your stomach again, “and I - wow. You really have that glow.”

“Look- I don’t-“ you sigh softly, at a loss for what to do now. “Can I come in and we talk?” You ask, feeling a little vulnerable out here on his front step. “Unless…”

He shakes his head, "come in." He steps aside and you walk past him while he shuts the door behind you. His heart is pounding and he can't believe this is happening but he's not upset. Freaking out but not angry. "You must hate me. Thinking I got you pregnant and ghosted. You, uh, want some water?" He asks, wanting a whiskey but that would be rude.

“Sure.” You huff out a small laugh. “I would really love a drink, but that isn’t possible right now.” Your hand rests on your little bump. “Although you look like you need one.” You admit as you follow him into the townhouse. “So- uh, the baby is yours. If you want, we can do an in utero paternity test in about three weeks.” You offer. You don’t expect him to just accept your word for this. “And I’m sorry, I guess that two percent caught us with our pants down. Literally.” You snort.

Marcus shakes his head, “this isn’t your fault. I know - we were both there and I said it was okay. Accidents happen and we are both adults. You’re six months along. Did you - did you consider…?” He doesn’t know how to word it without it sounding like he wishes you had gotten an abortion but he wonders why you kept a baby you conceived with a virtual stranger.

“No.” You shake your head and swallow harshly. “I’m, uh- I’ve been told since I was younger that my chances to have a baby were going to be slim.” You shrug and rub your hand over your stomach again. “I couldn’t imagine terminating. Even if it’s not the best case scenario.” You look up at him, “and if you don’t want to be involved, I’m not going to expect anything. I just….wanted you to know.”

He nods in understanding and your face falls, “I want to be involved. This is our child. I’m so sorry I haven’t been here but I’m here now and I’m going to be their father. We can figure everything out.” He promises as he pours two glasses of water and hands one to you. “Have you got everything you need? I want to pay for it. Crib. Stroller. It’s - I have missed so much already.”

You shake your head. “Right now, I’m just having a hard time finding an apartment.” You admit. “The market sucks and I live in a one bedroom that is tiny.” You take a sip of the water.

Marcus frowns, not liking that. “Move in here.” He offers after a moment, not wanting you to have his child living in a one bed or something in a shitty area. He’d never forgive himself and he can’t allow it when he has a perfect home for a child.

You hadn’t come here to beg for a place to live. “Marcus, I can’t do that.” Your eyes widen and you hate yourself for immediately loving the idea. “This is your house.” You remind him. “You don’t want that, you barely know me.”

“It’s my house and it’s too big for just me. I know we barely know each other but I want to change that. I want to be there for our child. Please. Let me - let me be there now. Move in. You can have a room and we can decorate a nursery.”

You shouldn't, you feel like you are taking advantage of him. Biting your lip, you know that this is the best option that you have right now. There is nothing out there that is safe and affordable for you to have your baby live. Plus, it would give Marcus a chance to bond with the baby you will share. "I'll pay rent." You tell him. "That's not up for debate. I won't live off you."

Marcus sighs but nods, knowing he will put the money in an account for the baby. “Do you…did you find out the gender?” He asks, curious because he wants to know how you can decorate the nursery. You don’t have a lot of time to get everything ready.

"My appointment is tomorrow." You admit softly. Glancing at him and seeing the way he keeps looking at your stomach with the gentlest yearning. "Do you want to come? If you can't- I know it's last minute."

He nods without taking a moment to think about it. “I have a couple of weeks off to process after being undercover. They don’t want me back in the office yet so I’m free.” He promises and he can’t believe this is happening but he can’t deny that he’s always wanted to be a dad.

"Okay." You nod. "My appointment is in the morning. They are doing the ultrasound, so I was hoping that I would find out if it's a little boy or a little girl." You bite your lip. "Do you have any preference? Not that it matters, we are going to get what we get."

He shrugs, “I don’t care. As long as they are healthy and safe. I never - I always wanted a child and I can’t believe it’s finally happening.” He confesses and offers you a soft smile. “When does the lease on your place end? We can get your things tomorrow after the appointment if you are ready to move.”

You laugh softly. “I’m month to month.” You admit with a shrug. “I don’t want to put you out though. Do you have furniture in the other rooms? I can pay to store it.” You offer

“Don’t be silly. We can move some things around. I, uh, haven’t really had a chance to furnish everything fully except the living room and my bedroom, a basic guest bed, since I moved in. Don’t really get time to go furniture shopping. Let me organize some movers and we can get your things moved in.” He says, reaching for his phone to start researching. “Just so you know, I don’t have any genetic issues in my family that I know of. We are all pretty healthy.” He says, knowing you have no idea about who he is apart from one night.

“My apartment was furnished.” You sigh softly and shrug. “I just have personal things. So I can buy some furniture.” You smile. “I’ve been saving for all of that, and outfitting a nursery.”

“I planned on a guest bedroom set up, so you don’t need to buy bedroom furniture and for the nursery…I want to buy that.” He says, “let me do something since I haven’t been here for six months.” He pleads softly, “I want to do right by you and our baby.”

You can’t deny him when he is begging to be involved. “If you want, why don’t we go shopping together after the appointment?” You offer quietly. “I took the rest of the day off of work to look at apartments, but I guess I don’t need to now.”

“Good. Yeah. Let’s do that.” He grins and looks back at his phone, “I’ll find a mover that can help us and get you in here.” He smiles, heart thumping, and he’s nervous but the shock is receding. “You hungry?” He asks, knowing he could eat and he wants to care for you.

“I’m always hungry now.” You admit with a small grin. “Can you tell me about your time undercover?” You ask. “I had called and left messages at your office. I thought-“ you shrug. “I just thought you were blowing me off.”

He shakes his head and leans against the counter, “I promise you this isn’t an excuse. I can get my boss to vouch for me. I am newer so I was the only guy for the job as the mafia bosses know our team pretty well here in D.C. they were smuggling painting - rare paintings - out the country stolen from private homes and concealing drugs and guns so I had to go undercover to get involved, figure out their suppliers. The shipment pattern. How they evaded the law. It was…intense. I didn’t hear my real name until I got back to the Hoover building.”

“I believe you.” You admit. He has no reason to lie, he has no reason to do anything for you. Yet he is moving you in and wanting to take responsibility for the child you created together. “I’m not ready to throw something at you anymore.”

Marcus offers you a soft smile, "good. I, uh, I just got back so I don't have any groceries. We can pick up some things tomorrow when we are out. For now, I can order something. You want Chinese food?" He asks, his stomach growling. You groan and he chuckles, handing you his phone, "pick what you want, sweetheart."

You open the app and quickly pick out a meal and hand his phone back to him. “So I guess this isn’t the night that you had expected to have.” You joke. “Welcome home, daddy.”

His stomach twists at hearing that but not in disgust, in excitement. He quickly picks his usual and adds some appetizers before hitting ‘order’. He leans against the counter, "I always dreamed of being a daddy." He confesses and you smirk, making him chuckle, "not like that. I just - most guys want to play the field. Sleep with as many women as possible. I always imagined a family. Settling down."

“And how will your parents feel about you having a child under these circumstances?” You ask, curious about how he had grown up, the relationship he has with his parents. Your own have never seemed to have much of an interest in you. They were just self absorbed and rarely reached out.

Marcus sighs, "they will be surprised but they will support us. They live back in Texas. My dad owns a ranch and always wanted tons of grandkids running around it over the summer. They will be happy to have a grandchild." He nods, "and my mom...she hated my ex. Wanted her head on a spike when she dumped me. She just wants me to be happy and this - this has made me happy."

“You’re happy?” You are pleased to hear it, and grateful. “That’s good to know.” You admit, winching when the baby kicks you. “Quick, give me your hand.” You grab Marcus’s hand and put it over the spot so he can feel the baby. “You feel that?”

His eyes widen as he feels the baby kick against his hand, "oh my God." He chokes, "our baby." He stares at your stomach and his eyes flick up to yours, a grin slowly appearing on his face.

“Our baby.” You murmur, finding him so handsome as he lights up with joy. He really is a good man. “Feeling like they are doing summersaults inside me.” You joke. “And I have to pee all the time.”

He chuckles and caresses your stomach before he pulls his hand away, knowing you probably don't want him touching you for too long. "Don't worry. I am here now for all things baby related." He promises and you nod. The food arrives after you and Marcus settle on his sofa and he asks you about your family.

You shrug. “I’m not close to my parents.” You admit. “They didn’t seem like they wanted kids when I was growing up and after I moved out, I’m like an afterthought.”

Marcus frowns, “I’m sorry. That - some people aren’t built to be parents but I want us to be there for our baby. I’m all in.” He promises as he uses his chopsticks to pick up some noodles.

“It’s their loss.” You have dealt with things as best you could and therapy helps. “I want to be the mom I always wished I had growing up.” Your hand drifts over your stomach again. “And I’m happy you want to be a part of their life.”

He’s pleased to hear you say that. It’s obvious you’ve thought a lot about this baby and he’s glad you’re not just jumping in without thought. He is right now but he knows he will lose sleep tonight going through every scenario. “I’ll be here no matter what.” He promises with a soft smile.

You smile, although you know that he might change his mind. This isn’t fair to either of you and you are practically strangers. “How do you want to raise your children?” You ask curiously. “Are you religious?”

Marcus shakes his head, “not really. I was raised in a Catholic family but my parents never enforced it. I- I believe in God but I wouldn’t force my child to believe unless that’s what they felt they wanted. It’s their decision to be involved in religion. Not my place to force them.” He decides, knowing he thought about this a lot when he worked on a case a few years ago that involved a family who got sucked into a cult.

“Progressive.” You hum in approval. “I like that. I have been studying a lot of different religions, I like to learn about them.” You shrug slightly. “It was never a very big thing in my house, I don’t even know what my parents were.”

He reaches for an egg roll and nods, “so we are on the same page there.” He smiles then takes a bite of the egg roll after dipping it. “So are you- have you seen anyone since you-?” It’s a hard subject to broach but he wants to know what to expect.

“No.” You shake your head. “I felt kind of weird about that.” You admit, taking a bite of your food. “Plus, I never realized how many men had some kind of pregnancy fetish.” You snort. “I’ve been hit on so much since I started showing, but I’ve avoided that.”

Marcus raises his eyebrows, surprised but not entirely at that. You are a gorgeous woman and you are glowing. He has to admit his cock has twitched looking at you in his home. "Me neither. Obviously. I don't - there's no thought about dating. My priority is you and the baby." He promises, not wanting you to think he's going to go out and hook up.

“I don’t expect you to do that.” You protest. “You - I know that this is crazy, but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.” He hadn’t mentioned trying a relationship with you, so you won’t ask for that. Perhaps being co-parents is the best thing.

"I owe you so much." He argues, "I have been missing for six months. I've missed so much and I want to be the best father I can be. I don't need to complicate things by getting into a relationship." He doesn't mention that he still finds you insanely attractive and he isn't sure he can find anyone to match you if he tried.

“Okay, but if you meet your perfect girl, I don’t want you missing the opportunity because of me.” You tell him. “I know how much you’ve been hurt in the past.”

He sighs but doesn't argue any further and he watches you continue eating. You seem to be starving and that makes him frown, wondering if you've been eating enough. "You want to head home or we can go get your things now?" He asks, wanting to see the place you've been living.

“Um-“ you finish your last egg roll with a sigh of happiness. “I guess we could do that.” You make a face. “I have to warn you, it’s a small, dumpy little place. I was saving money to buy a place but then the market went insane.”

Marcus shrugs, trying to act nonchalant and he smiles at you, "don't worry. You won't be there for much longer." He promises and you offer him a smile that makes his stomach twist. After clearing up the food, Marcus drives over to your place, his eyes widen at the shitty neighborhood you live in. He's heard about so many murders and crimes here from his colleagues.

“Yeah.” You huff out an embarrassed laugh when you see his face. “Now you know why I was looking really hard. I’ve not had problems here, thank God, but I wanted somewhere safer for the baby.”

“Yeah.” He nods, “not the best place for a kid.” He admits and he’s heard horror stories. He had spoken with locals about trying to open an activity center but his idea fell flat to the people in charge who don’t give a fuck. When you’re inside your apartment, Marcus frowns even more at how little you have. “Get what you need.” He orders, looking up at the mold by the window and he twists his lips as he places his hands on his hips.

“I haven’t bought much.” You snort, trying to look at this through his eyes. “But I have a lot of money saved up.” You promise, hoping he doesn’t view you as a charity case. “I was hoping to buy everything new when I found a house.” Getting your clothes together takes some time and you ask Marcus to pack up the few kitchen items that are obviously yours from their better condition.

Marcus watches you for a moment before he works on packing up your kitchen items. Most of this can be taken back in his car and he is eager to get you away from this place despite knowing your circumstances.

You stuff your clothes into your luggage, figuring that was the most practical thing and it was a good thing you had a few boxes already to put your toiletries and extra in. Figuring you can just bring the toilet paper over. Now that things are decided, it looks like you won’t spend another night here, which might be a good thing. “I think that I’m mostly packed. I just need to come back tomorrow for the small things, and clean.”

Marcus shakes his head, "I have a friend who owns a cleaning business. We will get her in here and you can relax. You need to put the baby first, sweetheart." He says, knowing it's not good to be around the chemicals, "I'll pay for it." He says without allowing you to argue as he carries your things to his car to load it up.

“I have a feeling this is going to be a regular thing, isn’t it?” You snort, even though you have to admit that it feels wonderful to have someone care about your wellbeing enough to go out of their way for you. “You wanting to pay for everything?”

Marcus nods, a soft smile on his face, "better get used to it, baby. You are carrying our baby. You are gonna be a princess." He promises with a wink and he carries your suitcase downstairs to his car. It doesn't take long to get most of your things in his car and he watches as you lock up and make your way down the stairs to leave your building.

You can feel Marcus hovering behind you, watching to make sure that you don’t fall. It’s sweet and you chuckle quietly when he gets you bundled into the car. “This was not the way I expected the night to go.” You admit with a small sigh as he pulls away.

He slides into the driver's seat after shutting your door, and he frowns, "what did you expect?" He asks, curious about what you thought would happen when you arrived at his home.

“I honestly didn’t expect to see anyone here.” You admit. “I had dropped by a couple of times, but when I saw the lights on, I wasn’t sure what would happen. I was kind of mad until I saw your surprise and happiness when you saw me.”

He nods and sighs, "I never - I wanted to see you again." He promises as he starts the car, "but I got dragged into the op and I barely had time to tell my parents but I put a note behind the bar. I wish you had gotten it." He shakes his head as he puts the car in drive and makes his way through the neighborhood.

“I showed up that night.” You tell him. “I think there might have been some issue with the servers or bartenders or something.” You shrug. “It is in the past. It’s not like you could have contacted me while you were undercover anyway.”

He nods, "yeah, but you would've known that I didn't stand you up." He says and navigates the roads back to his townhouse. "It's been - this year has been a whirlwind for me." He admits with a huff and a shake of his head.

“Engaged, moving to a different state, engagement broken, having an amazing one night stand, going undercover, coming back and finding out you’re having a kid with said one night stand?” You laugh. “Yeah you’ve been having a year.”

"And you. Home shopping in a shit market. Knocked up by a one night stand who ghosted you and left you on your own until he was home one day. I can't even imagine what went through your head when you took the test." He confesses, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“I was shocked.” You admit with a small snort. “I didn’t think I would ever have kids, but I was on birth control to try to help the horrible periods I have with PCOS.” You explain, knowing he will know more about your health than he probably will want to in the coming months. “And we still managed to create this little one.” You look over at him. “Do you want the paternity test now or when the baby is born?” You ask. “I think we should, just so there will never be any question.”

“I don’t need one. I was there. I know what we did and I am a good judge of character after my job description. I feel like I’d know if you’re lying but if you want to do it just in case, that’s fine with me.” He promises, knowing that he won’t deny that he still has a small inkling of doubt but he is pragmatic and knows that it’s highly likely this is his child.

“I want it.” You nod. “I have nothing to hide and would rather everyone know that.” Your worst nightmare would be for his parents to doubt that your child was Marcus’s. “I appreciate your trust in me though.”

“It’s gotten me in trouble before…how trusting I am.” He confesses with a sigh as he pulls onto his street and he turns to look at you, unable to deny how beautiful you are. “You really have that pregnancy glow.” He compliments you.

“Thank you.” You smile and reach out to touch his thigh. “I promise that you won’t ever have any reason to be burned by trusting me.” You promise. “And if for some reason, you feel that changes, talk to me.”

He offers you a smile and pulls up outside his townhouse. “Take my keys and get settled. Alarm code is 1975 and I’ll get started on bringing your things in and up to your room.” He says, reaching for your hand to squeeze it until he lets go.

“Thank you Marcus.” You murmur softly. “I know you don’t have to do this, but I do appreciate it.”

He puts the car in park and turns off the engine, watching you get out of the car and make your way up the few steps to the front door with his door key. He will have to get you a key from the spares he has. He grunts as he gets out and starts carrying your things into his home, now your home.

**** 

The nurse calls out your name and you tap Marcus’s arm. “That’s us.” You grunt, pushing out of your chair and he quickly scrambles to his feet after you. He's been jittery and nervous all morning and you hope it’s excitement and not regret. “Now, I’m trusting you not to go blabbing my weight.” You huff playfully as you follow the nurse to the little area where she will take your weight and blood pressure. “I am growing a kid.”

The nurse chuckles as Marcus averts his eyes to be polite as she weighs you. “It’s our secret.” She winks, “and hopefully daddy is keeping baby fed.” She looks at Marcus and he smiles, his chest tightening as he hears the title for the first time from someone else. “He’s feeding me up.” You wink at Marcus and he chuckles as you step off the scales and the nurse starts to check your blood pressure.

After the test is done, she guides you into a private room. “Gown is on the table.” She knows you are aware of the routine. “The doctor wants to check your cervix, so panties off.” She reminds you and closes the door. “Uh-“ you look over your shoulder at Marcus. “You don’t have to cover your eyes. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before. It’s just a lot bigger in the middle now.”

He nods, nervous and he wipes his hands on his pants as he sits down on the plastic chair and he bites his lip while you take your shirt off. He looks over at the stock photo of the Washington Monument as you undress, wanting to be considerate.

You glance back at him and giggle slightly, amused and touched by his consideration. “Do you want to be in the delivery room?” You ask, wondering his thoughts on that. Maybe he wouldn’t want to be present, but you want to ask.

He nods, “absolutely. If you want me there.” He adds, not wanting to assume that you want him in the room. “It’s our baby. I want to be there with you and be there for the moment they come into the world.”

“I don’t mind you being there.” You promise, stripping down and slipping the gown on with the opening to the front and climbing up on the table to spread the little paper blanket over your lap. “It’s safe to stop staring at the poster now.” You tease.

He turns his head and blushes slightly at all the posters and diagrams of the female body. He’s not prudish but this is outside of his comfort zone, especially when he’s here as the father. The doctor comes in with a smile, “hello mama. How are we doing?” She asks, reaching for the rubber gloves from the box on the wall.

“Feeling like I have to pee every thirty seconds.” You admit with a laugh. The doctor had stressed how important it was to be hydrated and you started carrying a water bottle around with you at all times. “This is Marcus.” You introduce him to the doctor. “He’s, uh, the father.”

Her eyes widen before she composes herself. Marcus shifts, rubbing his hands on his pants, “I, uh, I’ve been out of town for months and I just found out so, uh, yeah. Making up for missed time.” He chuckles awkwardly, watching as the doctor touches your bump over the gown.

“Any spotting?” The doctor asks. “Even after intercourse?” You shake your head. “No.” It’s easier to just say no than to explain you haven’t slept with Marcus again. She hums and nods as the nurse takes notes. “Ohh they are active.” She chuckles when the baby kicks against her hand. “Well, are we ready to see if we can determine if you have a little boy or girl?” She asks, looking between you and Marcus. “Oh yes. I want him to hear the heartbeat too.” You had cried the first time you heard it and you want Marcus to be able to experience that as well.

Marcus is anxious and nervous as he sits, waiting as the doctor opens your gown and he swallows harshly at the sight of your bump. He wants to touch it without the barrier of clothing but he knows that’s inappropriate. He averts his eyes again when the doctor puts your legs up so she can inspect your cervix and he only looks when the doctor chuckles and says “I’m sure you’ve seen it before, daddy.” The doctor grabs the ultrasound wand and you look over at Marcus, holding your hand out, “come here, daddy.” You tease and he stands up, shifting closer to you and his heart thumps as he waits to hear the heartbeat for the first time.

You don’t look at the screen this time. You are watching Marcus as the small screen takes on the shape of a blob and it’s a second before the rapid pulsing beat of a heart coming through, sounding like it’s underwater, which it technically is. You see the tears pool in his eyes and you grab his hand and squeeze. “Our baby.”

He inhales sharply, his chest tightening as he stares at the screen like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen in his life. “Our baby.” He chokes out as tears escape and slide down his cheeks. “Our baby.” He repeats and kisses the back of your hand. “Thank you.” He murmurs, knowing you could’ve made a different decision and you would’ve been within your right to do so but this decision gives him what he’s always wanted: To be a father.

You bite your lip and reach up to wipe away your own tears. You’ve always wanted a baby, to be a parent and that’s going to happen. Even better it will be with a man who apparently wants it just as badly as you do. “Are mom and dad ready to find out the sex? The doctor asks as she focuses on the baby in your stomach and tries to get into a position with the wand to get a good look.

Marcus looks at you and you nod, squeezing his hand, “we are ready.” Marcus bites his lip, eager and anxious to find out. He truly doesn’t mind either way. Just wants a healthy and safe baby. The doctor moves the wand around a little more until she grins, pointing at the screen. “That’s your little girl.” She smiles and Marcus grins, a sob escaping his lips. “Our little girl.” He chokes, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead before he can think better of it.

“Our baby girl.” You murmur softly, emotional and wishing you could kiss Marcus for real. Instead, you squeeze his hand and grin at the screen. The doctor will give you pictures and you can show Marcus the others you have already gathered. “Now we have to figure out nursery themes.”

Marcus chuckles, “you pick. I build and decorate.” He says and the doctor chuckles, “you got a good one there. He knows the drill.” She winks at Marcus who flusters at the compliment, wanting to be the best dad he can be. “I’ll print off some copies and you can get dressed. Everything looks good, mom and dad.” She smiles and presses some buttons to print copies before she puts the machine away, leaving you to get dressed after she shuts the door. “Can you-?” You ask, needing help off the table, and he nods, taking your hand to help you down.

Marcus bites his lip and shuffles slightly. “Can I- uh, touch your stomach?” He asks softly. “Without- without the clothes?” He knows you might tell him no, but he wants to be as close as he can to his child. “Of course.” You are still wearing your bra and you immediately bring his hand to your stomach, his bare skin touching yours. “You can touch my stomach anytime. You can talk to her, cuddle with her.” You smile. “I want her to know your voice too.”

“Our girl.” He grins and caresses your stomach, he’s so happy you are allowing him to touch you. “She’s gonna be beautiful. Just like her mama.” He says, his eyes flicking up to you and you do look gorgeous. Part of him wishes he could kiss you but he knows he’s emotional and that’s not the right thing to do. He shifts to kneel down, cupping your belly and he leans in to press a soft kiss to your skin, “you’re already so loved, baby girl. Mama and I are gonna be the best parents we can be.” He promises her in a soft voice.

He’s such a good man. Your heart melts when you see him talk to your belly with the softest, most loving voice. He’s going to be such a good daddy and it makes you tear up. “Yes we are.” You promise thickly and smile when he looks up at you. “Gonna give her everything we can.”

“Why don’t we get some food and stop by the baby stores?” You suggest. “Start putting together the nursery?”

He nods, agreeing to that idea and you dress before you head out to set your next appointment. The nurse hands you an envelope with the scans in and Marcus wants to take your hand to guide you outside but he settles for his hand on your lower back.

“Let me buy you lunch?” You offer, almost certain that he will not let you. “You bought dinner the last two times we have eaten together.”

He sighs, not wanting you to pay when you’re carrying his baby but he nods, knowing it’s best to let you win sometimes. He hates how this could so easily be a relationship but he hardly knows you and it would be risky to jump in when you are going to be co-parents. “Lunch then you can use my card for baby things.” He winks.

You snort and lift a brow. “I hope you’ve got the credit line.” You tease. “While I wish I could have sushi, how do you feel about that salad place?” You ask. “I’m feeling like a big salad and maybe some soup.” You decide. “Oh and a cookie.”

​​Marcus nods, “whatever you want, sweetheart. You are growing our baby girl. You can have whatever you like.” He promises and he guides you out to the car. “And when she’s born, you’ll have as much sushi as you want.”

“Right in the delivery room.” You snort, practically drooling at the idea. “Just a huge platter.” You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters when he calls you sweetheart. “But for now, I can’t risk it. And she’s worth it.” You coo, rubbing your hand on your stomach.

He grins, “biggest platter they sell.” He promises, “and deli meat.” He chuckles and guides you out to his car, his hand hovering over your back as he unlocks the car and opens the door for you. This feels so real now. He’s having a daughter.

“Now you’re talking.” You groan. “I never knew what all went into a pregnancy diet and I am not amused. Charcuterie boards are sometimes all I live off of.” You joke. “Although I have been eating more ice cream.”

“Isn’t that known online as girl dinner?” He teases, knowing his coworkers have joked about cheese and meat being ‘girl dinner’ like it was dubbed online. You chuckle, surprised he knows about that, and he smiles, pleased that he made you laugh.

“What does your boy dinner look like?” You ask when he gets behind the wheel. “Lazy, easy meal? Are you just an order take out kind of guy?”

He lifts his shoulders playfully, “yeah. I - I like…I kinda like gas station hot dogs.” He admits with a wince, “my dad - we used to go on the road for the weekend fishing and he couldn’t cook for shit so we’d stop off and in the middle of nowhere, it was sketchy diner food or gas station food so I kinda got used to gas station hot dogs. I want one every now and then.” He admits, knowing it’s not the best food.

“Hot dogssssssss.” You groan and nod. “The shitty gas station roller dogs are the best. I’ll even risk the chili for a chili cheese dog with onions and relish.” You agree. “I could have the all beef ones.” Your eyes light up. “Ohhhhh.”

He grins, amazed that you aren’t grossed out. Teresa definitely was when he said he had a late night craving after a show he took her to. “You wanna get one?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Let’s do it!” You nod eagerly. “Do you know where to get the nastiest, best hot dog?” You ask him. “I want that and a Sprite. Ohhhh and some Cheetos.”

Marcus chuckles, “your wish is my command, milady.” He bows his head and after you’re settled in his car, he takes you to a gas station across town that has what he swears is the best damn hot dog. All beef and typical gas station.

“Ohhhh they have slushies.” Your mouth waters when you walk in. “I know it’s pure sugar, but I love a blue raspberry slushie.” You admit as you walk into the gas station and see the machines lining the back of the store.

"Get one baby. You're pregnant." He says, having seen that you are cautious with what you eat and you deserve a treat. He walks over to the hot dog roller and asks you what you want.

"I might regret it, but I want chili, cheese, onions, relish and mustard." You list off. "Ooooh and ketchup." You bite your lip and shoot him a grin before you're quickly moving over to the slushie machine.

He nods, working fast to put your hot dog together and he sets it aside while he gets his own, watching you create a multi color slushy. Shit, it would be so easy to fall in love with you. He's pretty sure he's halfway there but he can't do it. He needs to control his emotions and not jump in. He has to think about his daughter and co-parenting peacefully. He can't fuck this up.

Happy with your mixed drink, you are sucking on it with enthusiasm when you come back over to find Marcus has made you the perfect chili dog. “God, you’re perfect.” You groan. “Another reason on the list justifying that your ex was insane.” You bite your lip after the comment comes out. “Sorry, I- I shouldn’t have said that.”

Marcus shakes his head, "it's okay. I- I am over her. Four months undercover kinda gives you a fast track to get over heartbreak. Well, and a one night stand." He offers you a wry smile, "you want a Sprite?" He asks and you nod so he heads over to the soda machine to get your drink.

You grin as he remembers the drink, even though you have the slushie in your hand. Walking by the chips, you grab a bag of Cheetos and bring it up to the counter. “Get something else too!” You call back across the store.

He grabs some candy and some pringles, scanning the aisle until he appears at the cash register with your food. The attendant chuckles when she sees you are pregnant. "I remember the cravings. I ate an entire lemon once. Rind on." She shudders, "but it's all worth it in the end." She says with a smile, "and you two are a gorgeous couple. You are gonna make a cute baby."

You can see Marcus doesn’t know how to answer that but you just smile as you pull out your wallet. “Thank you.” You tell her. “We just found out that we are having a little girl and we are over the moon.” You look over at Marcus. “After this feast of junk food, we are going to go pick out alllllll the baby things.”

The woman grins, "oh daddy...your wallet is gonna hurttt." She sings playfully and Marcus chuckles, "oh I know but she's worth it. They both are." He smiles at you and she coos, "you got a good one." She winks and Marcus flusters, picking up your food. "Thank you." You say and the woman grins, "congratulations." She says and you thank her again before you leave the gas station. "She's right, you know." Marcus says when you're back in the car, food balanced on his console. You turn to look at him, tilting your head. He continues, "our little girl is going to be gorgeous...because she's going to look like her momma."

“You’re just lucky you haven’t seen me hanging over the toilet bowl looking like a death warmed over witch.” You joke, enjoying the little flutter in your chest at his compliment. “But I hope she looks like a good mix of both of us. You are a very pretty man yourself.” You wink at him playfully.

Marcus can’t help but fluster, cheeks reddening at your compliment and he takes a sip of his soda to cover his embarrassment. “She will be a looker. Good thing I have my gun.” He jokes and picks up his hot dog after he sets his soda down.

You snort. “You can’t shoot all the boys.” You remind him playfully and quickly pick up your hot dog to take a bite, “cheers for the heartburn that will be completely worth it.” You joke before taking a bite and groaning happily.

He grins as you take a huge bite, loving how happy you look right now and he’s glad he could do that for you. Provide for you. “God that’s so good.” He groans, taking his own bite and he knows this is so bad but it’s so good, bringing back memories.

“Soooooo good.” You wiggle in the seat a little, doing a little happy dance as you take another bite. “This is going to become a problem.” You groan. “I can see craving this every day. Or maybe every week so I don’t live off Tums.”

Marcus chuckles, “I'm at your command. Just tell me the craving and it’s yours.” He promises and you giggle, “except sex.” Marcus’s chuckle turns a bit stiff and he hates the air that suddenly covers you. He really does like you. Thinks about that night together quite a lot but you are co-parents. That’s all. “Any food item.” He clarifies playfully, “or drink.”

You nod, understanding the boundaries that Marcus is setting. You want sex, you crave it, but obviously he’s not going to want a sexual relationship with you now. “I’ll try to keep the cravings between business hours.” You tease, reaching for your slushie to take a sip.

Marcus chuckles, “any hour for a craving.” He promises that and watches as you take a sip of your slushie. “I’ll do whatever you want for our girl.” He promises and you hum, not wanting to answer when it’s clear he doesn’t feel the same way. 

**** 

“What about this one?” Marcus asks, walking over to a crib that he likes. You’ve already picked a stroller and a high chair. His parents had offered to buy some things after he broke the news and he wants to do a video call with them so they can officially meet you.

“Oh that’s sweet.” You are emotional, and have already cried over how cute some of the clothes are. The hormones and the nesting urge is starting to get to you now that you have realized that you aren’t alone anymore. “This one also becomes a toddler bed.” You show him the mention on the paperwork. “That could be good as she grows older.”

Marcus nods, liking to be practical. “That’s great. God, how are we gonna handle a toddler?” He asks with a chuckle, “I can already tell I’m going to go gray early.” He smirks and his eyes watch as you read the price. “Don’t worry about the price.”

“I didn’t think a bed would be so expensive.” You snort and shake your head. You have money, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be too worried about everything. “Oh, um, can we run by a clothing store?” You ask. “My pajamas are getting too tight and I think I’m just going to get some nightgowns.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you need.” He promises, using the scanner the store gave you to scan the bed you want so it can be delivered. He saved a lot of money preparing for a wedding to Teresa and he’s only too happy to spend it on his daughter instead. He’s excited to become a father and today has made it even more real.

“Do you think you will have paternity leave?” You ask, unsure of the FBI’s policies and what they are doing for new fathers. “Although I’m sure they will be surprised that you are suddenly expecting a baby.”

“I spoke to my boss this morning and he said I get six weeks of paternity leave. Apparently the FBI wanted to keep morale high and changed the policy so I’m here for overnight diaper duty.” He teases and scans some bottles you’re picking up.

“That’s good.” You laugh. “We can be sleep deprived together.” Marcus grins as if the idea of no sleep and dirty diapers sounds like the best kind of work to look forward to. “So seriously. What do you think about me pumping? So you can feed her too?” You ask, stopping at the pumps and turning to get his opinion.

You’d talk about wanting to breastfeed and he supported you in whatever decision you want. He was bottle fed and it didn’t do him any harm. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. I’m happy to feed her if you want to pump.” He offers you a soft smile and he’s excited, loving shopping for the baby things. “We need to pick out a paint too so I can get started on painting her nursery.

You bite your lip, imagining him rolling the walls, and trying not to let your neglected libido take over. "How about a neutral soft color?" You ask. "Like a buttery yellow or a light green?"

“Whatever you want, baby.” He promises as he reads the label for the pump before he scans it, his mind focused on that and not what he calls you as he picks out the best for your baby girl. “I’ll get the paint this weekend so it’s ready for the furniture delivery.”

"This is coming along quicker than expected." You admit, happy that Marcus is a take charge and get things done kind of guy. "Ohhh we need to get a monitor system. Maybe see if they have one that has a camera?"

“I heard the Nannit is a good one.” He says, walking along with his scanner, “they’re not cheap but it’s peace of mind. It has an app.” He says, knowing his coworker told him about it and it sounds like the best.” He scans it without thinking and you continue picking things out. This feels real to him. Like a real relationship, and it’s scary. He can’t lose you or his baby girl but he can’t risk telling you that he wants more. He will settle for what he has. It’s more than he thought he’d ever get.

"Wow." You are impressed and your face tells him that. "You've really done your homework." You smile and nod. "Okay, but why don't I buy that?" You ask. "Since you are buying all the furniture? I think that's fair."

He knows he doesn’t want you to feel inadequate so he nods, “sure thing, sweetheart.” He is excited to be the best dad he can be. “Come on, let’s go get this paid and ordered and then we can get you some sexy nightgowns.” He teases, knowing you want to be comfortable.

Laughing, you shake your head. “Yep, gonna be the sexiest beached whale this side of the Atlantic.” You joke, rubbing your hand over your growing stomach. “It’s starting to get in the way of tying my shoes. I’m going to have to switch to just slip ons.”

Marcus chuckles, “we can get those too.” He promises and you smile, making his heart flutter. 

**** 

Marcus wipes his brow as he bends over to put more paint on the roller. He’s finally taken his shirt off, sweat beading on his skin as he works hard. The D.C summer is in full swing and his AC is working overtime while he puts the nursery together.

“Marcus, do you want-“ you stop short, a drink in your hand and drool. Marcus is still handsome, but apparently he had been working out while he was undercover because the softness of his body from before had become lean muscle. Your baby daddy is sexy and it’s even sexier that he has a paint roller in his hand as he paints the nursery. “I made some lemonade.” You manage when he turns towards you. “Figured you might need a drink?”

Marcus nods, “Thank you. It’s been kille in this heat.” He admits, “and wearing a damn suit and tie still during the week.” He goes into the office and he’s working hard to set up his paternity leave and make sure people don’t have too much to do while he’s gone. “Be careful when you get in there.” He says, “I’ll be done in a bit. Gotta wait for this coat to dry.”

"I will." You nod and quickly walk out, the paint fumes heavy and you know that he will not want you there. It would be bad for you and the baby. 

Since it's so hot, you decide to just put on your bikini, your bump on display and you are thankful that the little patio off the townhouse is covered so you aren't baking in the sun. Your own glass of lemonade and book are already out there as you step outside to climb into the pool. You bought one just a few days ago to try to cool down. 

Marcus washes his hands and wipes his brow after he puts the paint supplies away, needing to finish another coat tomorrow, but for now, he makes his way downstairs to find you in the inflatable pool. His eyes widen at the sight of your body. You were gorgeous before you were pregnant and now? He’s jerking off every damn day in the shower because he is so attracted to you. Knowing you have his baby inside you has him rock hard. “Are you enjoying that?” He teases as he approaches you.

“God yes.” You groan, eyes closed behind your sunglasses as you lean against the edge of the inflated pool. “I could live in this pool.” You admit shamelessly. “Sell tickets, it would be like going to Sea World.” You joke, feeling more and more like a seal or a walrus every day.

Marcus scoffs, “you are glowing and growing our baby. You are gorgeous.” He promises just as his phone dings. He pulls it from his pocket and reads the message, a frown appearing on his face. “What’s happened?” You ask and he sighs, locking his phone, “Teresa and Jane just got married.”

You see the way his expression changes and you wonder if he is still in love with her. “I’m so sorry.” You murmur, reaching out and touching his arm gently before pulling back. He might be wondering where he would be if she hadn’t left him. It could be possible she would be carrying his baby instead of you. He might regret this now.

He reaches for your hand, squeezing it. “It’s not - I’m not upset that she is married because I still love her. I’m upset that she married him when she told me she couldn’t marry me. It’s - it makes it real. The fact that she never really loved me.” He admits and looks down at you.

“You deserve so much more.” You promise him, feeling a little bittersweet because it won’t be you. He’s amazing and exactly what you want. “I told you, she’s fucking crazy.” You scoff. “You are the FBI’s most eligible bachelor and I know you will be a hit at playgroups when our daughter is older.”

Marcus chuckles, “isn’t that a dilf?” He teases and you nod, smirking, “I’ll be fighting all the moms.” You promise and his stomach twists, wishing you would claim him as yours. What he had with Teresa…it pales in comparison to his relationship with you. With you, it’s as natural as breathing and he doesn’t feel like he has to go all out to impress you, you are happy with him being there. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss you but he can’t. He can’t ruin this.

Wanting to lighten the mood, you lift your hand and flick some water at him playfully. "Come join me." You urge him, "the water is cool and you need to rest too, Mr. Dilf."

He chuckles, reaching for the hem of his shorts, and he groans as he sits in the water in his briefs, not caring about changing into swimming trunks when he’s around you. “Better enjoy it while we can. She will be here soon enough and fall will be in full swing.”

"Cooler temperatures will be welcomed." You grin. "Although I think we need to figure out what our little girl will be wearing for her first Halloween."

Marcus grins, “I, uh, I was thinking maybe dress her up as Pebbles and Fred and Wilma.” He smirks, “I loved the Flintstones as a kid.” He confesses, “I’d love to dress up but never had anyone to do it with.”

"Ohhhhh we could do that!" You love the idea, although it would make everyone in the neighborhood think that you are a family. You are, in a weird way, but you aren't a couple. "That's what we will do." You decide with a nod before you take a sip of your lemonade. "The baby furniture should be here tomorrow. They called while you were finishing up."

“Oh good. I just need to finish the final coat of paint but I can do that later.” He says as he lounges in the water. He’s excited to see the nursery finished and he is nervous to become a father for the first time.

"Soon enough, she will be here." You hum, rubbing your hand over your stomach gently and laughing when she kicks. "God, feel this." You grab Marcus's hand and put it on your stomach. "She's a kicker."

Marcus loves any chance to feel her kick and he grins, “she’s gonna be trouble.” He says despite grinning, he’s so excited to meet his daughter. 

**** 

Marcus sits on the sofa, glasses perched on his nose as he reads a baby book. You have been to pre-natal classes together and he’s determined to learn everything he can about his daughter. He hates that he’s getting older, his eyes going as he ages so he has invested in reading glasses.

"Hot dad alert." You are waddling now, having to pee every five minutes and holding your back like it's about to break. Any day you are going to bust this watermelon open and give Marcus a baby, but does he have to look so fucking sexy all the time? You groan as you come around the edge and flop down next to him in a less than graceful landing. "Fuck, she's dropped, she's lower than she was yesterday, isn't she?"

He looks at you with his glasses on the end of his nose, closing the book after marking the page, “she looks it.” His hand finds your belly without permission after you told him he can touch it whenever he wants.

"The bag is packed." You promise him with a grin. "Mine and hers." You lift your brow. "Do you have yours packed, or have you decided to not stay?" You had told him that he could be in the delivery room, but he might not want to stay in the hospital with you depending on how long you have to be there. You wouldn't blame him for that, although it was sweet that Marcus's parents had asked to come out for the birth, or at least when you come home from the hospital to meet their grandchild. They would stay in a hotel room and it was nice to feel like you had a support system since your own parents have barely seemed interested in remembering that you are having a baby. You'd sent them a text and they have only called you once since then. You had no interest in even letting them know when you go into labor.

Marcus adjusts his glasses after pulling his hand away, “my bag has been packed for weeks.” He confesses, “it’s in the back of my car. I bought travel size everything and you are talking to a g-man, baby. My entire job depends on me being organized.” He winks at you, “and my parents are all set. They can’t wait to meet you and the baby. We still need to decide on a name, or some options so we can decide when we meet her.”

"So I wanted to talk to you about that." You bite your lip and reach for his hand on your stomach. "I want her to have your last name." You confess quietly. "How do you feel about that?"

Marcus raises his eyebrows and he grins, “you want that?” He asks and you nod. He inhales deeply, “I’d love that.” He promises, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the back of your hand. He doesn’t mention the thought that comes to mind that he’d love you to have his last name too. Living with you has been so easy. Like you’ve always been here, like it’s meant to be. It was never this easy with any of his exes and that scares him. How easy it was to fall in love with you when you don’t want to be with him.

"Good." Your heart flutters at the kiss and you wish you just could tell him how you feel, but you don't want to make things awkward. "Now, we need to pick out names that go well with Pike." You hum. "What about your grandmother's? Any good names there?"

He chuckles, “my grandma? Her name was Magnolia. Proper southern charm and could tear a man down with a look, let alone a few words.” He says with fondness, “her middle name was Annabelle.”

"Annabelle?" You try it out and love it. "Annabelle Pike." You hum as you look at him questioningly. "How about Annabelle Marie Pike?" You ask, always loving the name Marie since you had a childhood friend with that name.

He wonders how it’s so easy. He knows he would’ve been arguing with his ex wife about this for hours but with you, it takes moments. “I love it. Annabelle Marie.” He coos, caresses your stomach before he leans in to press a kiss to your covered bump.

You smile softly and reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "You are going to be an amazing daddy." You murmur quietly, loving how affectionate he already is with your daughter and she's not even here yet. He will be the best girl dad imaginable and you are so grateful if you have to have a baby with someone, that it is this man.

Your due date is any day now and Marcus is anxious. He's cut back on his hours and assigned cases to his team who are aware that any day is his daughter's arrival day. He opens the fridge, reaching for the carton, and he opens it, about to lift it to his mouth when he reminds himself. He was a single man, the milk carton was his alone, but you told him to use a glass. Not in a nagging way but a reminder to be a damn adult. He smiles to himself and sets the carton down to grab a glass for himself.

Panting, you hold onto the wall as you slowly make your way down the stairs. You have been having pains since first thing this morning and you tried to ignore it, but it's getting stronger. "Marc-" you call out breathlessly when you are halfway down the stairs. You had heard him down here after you went to the bathroom and decided that it was time to tell him. "Marcus."

He sets his glass down, milk covering his upper lip. He licks it off and frowns at the tone in your voice. You sound like you're in pain. He rushes over to the bottom of the stairs and looks up at you, "you doing okay, baby?" He asks and you shake your head, gripping the bannister. "It's time." You gasp and his eyes widen, "it's time. Shit. It's time." He rambles, starting to rush around before he runs up the stairs to help you down. "We gotta get you into the car and get your bags and - you okay?" He asks, his dark eyes finding yours.

“It hurts like a bitch.” You admit breathlessly. “I didn’t- I was hoping it was gas pains.” You admit. “I’ve been -ugggghh- having them for about three hours.” You admit, knowing he will be upset you didn’t tell him sooner, but you didn’t want to panic and go to the hospital too soon.

"Why didn't you -" He shuts his mouth, knowing it's best to not lecture you right now when you are in pain. The main thing is getting you to the hospital. He helps you down and rushes around to grab the bags, "you need your jacket." He says, "and shoes." He says breathlessly, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Shoes could be useful.” You chuckle, trying to catch your breath. “I’ve got my bags in the hallway closet.” You remind him. You both had car seats installed in your cars, you having bought a new one a few months ago because you wanted a safer vehicle for the baby. “My car or yours?” You ask, smiling as he rushes around to get things together. “Yours, right? Your bag is already in the trunk?”

"My car." He confirms, bending down to slide your shoes on, grabbing your jacket next, and he is panicking but you are as prepared as you are ever going to be. He guides you out to the car, opening the door, and he rubs your back as you grip the top of the car, bending over as a contraction hits you. "It's okay, sweetheart." He promises, letting you take your time until he has you in the car and on the way to the hospital.

“I know.” You reach over and grab his hand and squeeze. “Thank you for being here with me.” You pant, scared of what is to come, but you are comforted by the strong and solid man beside you. He will be your anchor in all of this and it’s been wonderful to know you can rely on him. “We are having a baby.”

"I am always here. No matter what. Every step of the way." He promises, "we are in this together. Our little girl." He smiles and kisses the back of your hand before he lets go so he can start the drive to the hospital. He texted your doctor and she's on the way to the hospital.

On the way to the hospital, you try to breathe, closing your eyes and whining when the pains get bad. “Oh fuck.” You lean back and try to catch your breath. “I want the drugs.” You tell Marcus. “I’m not doing this without them.”

“You can have all the drugs, baby.” He promises, adjusting his glasses after he pulls them from the console, navigating the traffic a little faster than he should but he has his badge ready in case someone decides to pull him over. “Just breathe, sweetheart.” He says, knowing you could slap him but he wants you to breathe for him.

You nod, remembering the classes you had taken with Marcus and start to use some of the breathing methods. “Do you- are you going to watch?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the pain. “Cut the cord? Or just wait for the baby to come out?”

“I’m going to be there for every single step.” He promises, “you can squeeze the shit out of my hand and I’ll cut the cord. I promise you, I will be by your side.” He vows as he pulls into the lane to the exit for the hospital.

You laugh quietly and sigh in relief. “Oh thank god.” You whimper in thanks that you are at the hospital. “I can’t wait to get hooked up to machines.” You snort. “But I want that little needle in my spine.”

“You’ll get it.” Marcus promises and pulls up outside, wanting to get you in before he parks the car. The nurses come out and help you into the wheelchair and Marcus smiles, promising you he will be right there with the bags after he parks the car.

You are questioned from here to eternity and given a ton of paperwork to fill out. “Marcus- he’s the father.” You look over your shoulder for him. “He’s coming with me.” You worry that they will give him a hard time since you aren’t married. “He’s- oh there he is.” You smile when you see him dragging all the bags with him.

Marcus offers the nurses an excited and nervous grin before he follows you to your room with the bags. His heart is pounding and he had texted his parents when he parked to tell them it’s time. He’s so nervous he feels sick but he can’t let you know that. He has to be there for you.

It takes some time to get settled, changed into a gown and hooked up to all the machines. “Lord.” You shake your head and flip your head back onto the pillow. “You would think that someone is having a kid or something.” You joke when you are finally left alone for a moment with Marcus.

“Crazy, right?” He teases, reaching for your hand to kiss the back of it. “How are you feeling?” He asks and you chuckle, “like I’m about to push your daughter out of my vagina.” Marcus squeezes your hand, “you’re gonna be great. At birth and as a mother.” He promises. “And they are bringing the drugs.”

“Oh thank god.” You groan happily. “For a while I was really scared that the old tale about growing a watermelon in your stomach was true.” You joke. “You make big babies, Pike. How much did you weigh when you were born?”

His ears redden as he blushes, “I was nine pounds two ounces. Hence why I’m an only child.” He admits bashfully, knowing his mother reminded his father of how big his son was when he was born.

“I’m going to give birth to a football player,” you moan playfully. “And you’ve got fucking broad shoulders. Bet those baby pics show that too.” You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically. “You’re lucky I’m going to have drugs so I don’t curse you.”

“You can curse me all you want. As long as you’re safe and sound and our baby girl is here.” He squeezes your hand, “and I’ll be here. No matter what.” He vows and he knows you’ll be cursing his name later but for now, he’s happy to be here for you and support you.

The next few hours are painful. It seems like your labor has stalled and you aren't dilating as fast as you were when you came in. "OH shit." You whine, closing your eyes and rubbing your stomach as you hold onto the IV pole. The nurses have wanted you to walk around and you are currently halfway down the hall from your room with Marcus supporting you. "You know the worst stomach cramps you've had in your life? That's what this is on crack."

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I could take it away or take it from you for a bit, I would.” He promises, rubbing your back again. “And don’t forget the sushi platter. The biggest one you’ve ever seen after she’s born.” He reminds you with a smile.

"I'm gonna hold you to that." You pant, shaking your head and starting to shuffle closer to your room again. "I just want it to be closer to that sweet, sweet time that I can have that epidural." You step and feel a rush of liquid. "Shit."

Marcus looks down, “oh shit.” He echoes and his heart pounds as he calls a nurse over. “I think - her water just broke.” He rushes out, a little panicked now that things are moving along.

"We need to get you back to your room." The nurse rushes over and helps Marcus to get you back to your room and settled into your bed. You definitely didn't pee yourself. "I'll send the doctor in immediately."

Marcus reaches for your hand, “she is going to be making an entrance. I can tell.” He smirks and leans in to kiss your forehead, “drugs soon.”

The labor manages to kick into high gear. The contractions coming closer and closer and the pain blooming until the doctor comes in to administer that epidural. That's when it turns into a lovely experience. You can't feel your pain anymore, resting slightly before you are going to have to push. "I hope she looks like you." You tell Marcus, smiling over at him. "You are so handsome. You would make a pretty woman."

Marcus blushes, shaking his head, “I hope she looks like you. I’ll have to fight every romantic prospect from here to L.A but she will be beautiful like her mama.” He smiles and watches you relax now the pain has subsided.

"You won't have to worry about that." You snort, closing your eyes and squeezing his hand gently. "She's going to be a daddy's girl." You predict. "Completely in love with her daddy."

Marcus grins, “I can’t wait to meet her. I know we had an unconventional start to this journey, but I’m so happy you made the decision to keep her. I thought, well, I thought my chances to be a father were over. Thank you for giving me this.” He says, his eyes sincere.

If you can't be honest when you are actively giving birth to his child, when can you be? "It's no big deal." You joke modestly. "Just had an amazing night and then fell in love with the father of my baby. What could be easier?"

Marcus's eyes widen at your confession, and he is still, silent, for a few moments. You frown and it deepens the longer he's silent. "Baby, I-" He starts but you cut him off, "no. It's okay. I - I shouldn't have-" He cuts you off, "I love you. When I was undercover, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I have fallen more in love with you every single day and I have struggled with not being with you and raising our daughter together. I want you. I love you. I'm in love with you." He confesses, eyes wide and anxious.

"We picked a hell of a time to have this conversation, didn't we?" You ask, laughing slightly as you reach out and caress his cheek. "I love you, I'm in love with you too and after we go back home - I want to see what can happen if we are together."

Marcus chuckles, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I love you.” He murmurs, tilting his head so he can press a soft kiss to your lips. He doesn’t linger too long, knowing that you are busy having his baby, but he kisses your forehead and smiles, “our life together begins.” He promises and caresses your bump.

​​You laugh as the doctor comes in, all smiles. “Well, it looks like the drugs have kicked in.” She comments as she gloves up. “Time to check you.” She tells you before she lifts the blanket over your legs. “Oh there’s the head!” She announces, sending the room into a flurry of activity.

Marcus’s eyes widen, “she’s - she’s coming?” He chokes, shocked that she is crowning and you didn’t even know. “Must be some drugs.” He murmurs, watching the staff rush and before he knows it, he’s gowned up and holding your hand while the doctor tells you when to push. “She’s coming.” He grins, looking down at her crowning head when the doctor asks if he wants to see her.

You close your eyes. "Just don't judge me." You joke. "I don't know what it looks like right now, but I'm sure that it's stretchy." You look over at a nurse when she holds up a mirror so you can see and nod. "I want to see her too." You tell her, biting your lip when you see the baby's head.

Marcus can already feel the tears forming in his eyes as you are told to push. “Just breathe baby.” He murmurs, kissing the back of your hand. “You’re doing so good. She’s gonna be here any second.”

You start to push, crying out from the pressure that overrides the drugs and you squeeze his hand. "Ohhhhhh my goddddddddddddd." You scream while bearing down and watching as the head pushes out of you.

Marcus has tears falling down his cheeks and he kisses your sweaty forehead, “come on baby. You got this.” He says as he watches you push again at the doctor's order. “She’s nearly here.”

Your eyes are closed, not watching the mirror as you focus on pushing as hard as you can. Trying to stay silent, but the whine comes out of you. Listening as the doctor says that one shoulder blade is out, and opening your eyes to look at Marcus as you give the final push to bring your daughter into the world.

Her cry fills the room after a moment of silence and he sobs, “our little girl.” He chokes and the doctor asks if he wants to cut the cord. He nods and shuffles down to grip the scissors with shaking hands, cutting the cord so the doctor can tie it off and place the baby on your chest.

Within seconds of watching Marcus's face light up in pure love and joy, the baby is deposited on your chest and you are immediately obsessed. She's perfect. Angry at being pushed into the world, although she quickly calms down against your skin and you are sobbing as you cradle her to you. "Oh my god. She's so perfect." You cry, kissing her head and looking up to see Marcus looking at both of you.

He is so happy at this moment. You love him like he loves you and you just gave birth to your daughter. It’s incredible and he is sobbing and he leans in to kiss your forehead. “I love you. I love you.” He chokes, leaning down to kiss her forehead, “I love you, my Annabelle.”

"We love you too." You promise, crying happy tears and pulling him closer so he can touch the baby. "She's here, she's perfect and she's here." You tell him, like he just hadn't witnessed her birth.

He caresses her head and watches as he tries to suckle on your nipple, recognizing her mama. He smiles and strokes her head as she settles while the doctor works on you. "She's beautiful." He murmurs, "just like her mama."

You smile up at him, before looking back down at the baby and sighing softly. You know that the nurses will need to take her in a moment, but you want this. You've waited to meet her and she is finally here. "She has your ears." You coo in delight when you see that her ears are curled slightly.

After Annabelle is taken away, Marcus wipes his eyes and leans in to kiss your lips, “I love you.” He murmurs, his heart fit to burst. After Annabelle is cleaned up, he leans over you as you cradle her, a look of love and awe on your face that takes his breath away. “She has your nose.” He says, “thank God.”

“How can you tell, it’s still smooshed from being born?” You ask, even though you adore her already. Looking up at Marcus, you wiggle to the side of the bed. “Sit down and take your shirt off.” You order him. “Skin to skin contact is good for you both.”

Marcus nods, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt and he pulls it over his head. He notices your eyes appraising him and he smirks, “like what you see?” He asks as he takes Annabelle from you, cooing to her as he settles with her on his chest. She curls into him, her mouth opening as she tries to suckle on him and he chuckles, “mama is the one with the milk. I’m your daddy, baby girl.” He coos and she squeaks before she settles down.

It’s a precious moment and you reach for your phone to take a picture, wanting to keep this memory forever. “You’re so beautiful together.” You whisper, snapping pic after pic as he looks up at you and beams in the next photo. “You are already such a great daddy and she’s not even an hour old.”

He grins, caressing her back, “is it weird if I say that I feel like I’m complete? Like this is what I was put on earth to do?” He says and you smile, caressing his shoulder, “you look like it.” He smiles and leans down to press a kiss to Annabelle’s head. “I believe I owe mommy a sushi platter.” He murmurs to her until he looks up at you.

“I did just give you a perfect little girl to spoil.” You tease, leaning over and touching her head gently. “She is worth every sushi roll I didn’t get to eat.” You promise. “I can’t believe it.” Your yawn catches you off guard, but you are exhausted from the labor.

“Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll look after her and when you wake up, I’ll have that sushi platter ready for you to dig into?” He asks and leans in to kiss your forehead, “get some rest. We will be just fine.”

You want to argue, but you know it won’t be safe for you to hold her while you are so tired. The afterbirth has been passed and they have changed the pad up under you so you are all cleaned up. “Okay.” You agree, leaning back and closing your eyes. “I love you both.” You murmur softly.

“We love you.” He promises, shifting off the bed so you can settle down properly and he rocks Annabelle until she’s asleep and he places her in the cot they have next to your bed. He caresses her cheek as he stretches before curling back into herself and he smiles, grabbing his phone to organize the sushi he promised to get you. He’s so happy right now. Everything he’s ever wanted is right here.

**** 

Tonight is the night. You’ve been cleared by the doctors to resume intercourse and you’ve had your IUD placed this time since the pills weren’t a good option. Being home has solidified your feelings for Marcus. The love that you have and you can’t wait to touch him again. It’s been six weeks of absolute bliss with him and Annabelle. Your little family bonding and despite being a little sleep deprived, you have never felt better in your life.

Marcus cradles Annabelle, cooing to her, and he looks up when you walk into the living room. You went for your six week check up and he’s anxious to see how things are. He’s been exhausted waking up with Annabelle in the middle of the night but it doesn’t stop him from jerking off in the shower thinking about you.

“Here are my two favorite people.” You grin as you look at the sleepy smile on Marcus’s face and you know he needs a nap. Setting your things down, you come over to the two of them and drop a kiss on your daughter’s head and then give Marcus a soft, promising kiss with a bit of heat on it. “Hello handsome.” You hum against his lips.

He smirks, “now that’s a hello.” He murmurs as he leans back to see the look on your face, “I trust everything went well at the appointment?” He asks and you nod, “very well.” He rocks Annabelle as she squeaks, “she knows mommy is home. I fed her about twenty minutes ago but maybe she wants some more.”

You nod and take her from Marcus. You pump for him to feed her, but you also breastfeed. Enjoying the bonding of the act and settle down beside him as you lower your shirt to put her on your nipple. “The doctor cleared me.” You tell him quietly as Annabelle latches on and starts to eat like she hadn’t had a meal in days. She’s greedy and it makes you smile. “I got an IUD this time.” You look over at him and smirk. “So we can take a nap when this one goes down…..or….”

He stares at you, his eyes glossing over, “are you - are you sure? You’re ready?” He asks, not wanting to pressure you if you aren’t ready. He doesn’t mind waiting. “I don’t feel tired.” He adds, wanting to give you the choice to ask him to take you to bed.

“I’ve been ready.” You admit. “But I wanted the doctor to clear me just in case.” You rock Annabelle and look down at her. “I’m not tired either. And I know that we’ve been sleeping apart, but maybe we can share a bed tonight? Afterwards?”

Marcus smiles, “whatever you want baby. I’m all in.” He promises, “I want you in my bed every night if you want to be there.” He’s already half hard at the thought of touching you and he watches you as you feed Annabelle, her eyes fluttering closed as she starts to fall asleep against your chest. “Go put her down and then I want you in my bed.”

“So eager.” You tease, even though you are just as eager. You take her upstairs and lay her down in her bassinet that Marcus had put together, still in it instead of the crib, before you walk down the hall to Marcus’s room. You reach for the handle, but decide to knock, since it’s not your room yet.

He looks up as you walk into his room, his shirt off and his feet bare as he sits on the foot of his bed. His smile is soft as you shut the door behind you and the iPad in your hand with the baby monitor on the screen. “Come here.” He orders and you walk over to stand between his legs. His hands caress your legs through your leggings and he looks up at you. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, “I love you.”

“You know that everything is a little more flabby, right?” You are a little worried because he doesn’t know what your body looks like now after the baby’s birth.

Marcus shakes his head as he slides his hands up to squeeze your ass, “you just had our beautiful girl. You are strong and incredible. Do you think I care about some flab? I love you. All of you. No matter what.” He promises, “you amaze me and turn me on as you are and I want to worship you.” He says passionately, “I love you. Let me show you.”

“You are so amazing.” You promise, leaning in and pressing your lips against his gently. “You can do whatever you want. I’m yours. I promise.” It’s been such a relief over the past six weeks to have your emotions known and the two of you have had several conversations and made out.

He slides his hand to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head to expose your nursing bra and he leans in to kiss your stomach after your shirt is on the floor. He wants you to know he loves all of you.

“Marcus.” He’s so incredibly gentle with you. Your own hands running through his hair and watches as he starts to strip your leggings down. “I love you.” You grin at him when he looks up at you. “Try not to knock me up this time.” You tease.

He chuckles, “I’d be batting a thousand if that happened.” He smirks as you step out of your leggings and he slides his hand up your back to unclasp your bra. He groans at the sight of your tits, unable to stop himself as he surges forward to wrap his lips around your nipple.

“Oh god!” It’s a completely different sensation from when you are nursing Annabelle. Pulling deep inside your core and making you clench around nothing. “Marcus.” You moan softly.

Marcus groans when a spurt of milk hits his tongue but he doesn't stop. He keeps sucking on your nipple, wanting to hear your sweet moans and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass, pulling you closer to him and he releases your nipple to kiss down your torso. He slides his tongue along your stretch marks, worshiping them until he ducks his head to bury his nose in the curls at the apex of your thighs. He groans at the heady scent of you and he shifts, sliding off the bed to kneel below you so he can slide his tongue through your folds.

“Baby-“ you choke out a sound of pleasure as his tongue presses against your clit. He’s talented, you’ve known that, but it’s been so long that you are almost overly sensitive. “The- oh fuck- the last time I had this, you were the one eating me out.” You remind him breathlessly.

He groans, “and it’s going to be me for the rest of our lives.” He says as he pulls away for a second to look up at you with adoration on his face. “Marry me.” He demands, wanting to be with you. He’s impulsive but he’s sure. He wants you. He loves you. It’s never been like this. You are his best friend and he wants you to be his wife.

You choke up, tears welling up in your eyes and you nod quickly. “Yes!” You promise him, wishing that you could kiss him right now. “Yes Marcus, yes!”

Marcus grins, knowing he should kiss you but instead, he surges forward to lap at your clit again. It's vigorous and intense and everything he's wanted to do since that night you showed up on his door again.

You lose yourself in the moment, body jerking in surprise and pleasure and you moan his name softly. You don’t want to wake Annabelle but it is so good as he flicks his tongue against your clit. “Fuck baby, I love you.” You whine softly.

He groans, his hands finding your ass as your fingers tangle in his hair. He's hard in his pants, aching for you after months of jerking off in the shower. He's desperate for you and the fact that you're going to be totally his is intoxicating. He slides his tongue to your entrance, lapping at it to enjoy your arousal.

His tongue is magical and the entire thing is so much better because he wants to do this. It’s not begrudging or lackluster, he is burying his tongue inside you after a moment of tasting you with a hungry eagerness. “Fuck baby, I - I wish you would have let me blow you while I was recovering.” You admit, knowing he has been trying so hard to hide his continuous arousal from you.

He shakes his head against your cunt, “no. I don’t - you had our little girl. Couldn’t let you do that.” He groans before diving back into your flesh. He wants to hear you moan for him. His hands grabbing your flesh with a hiss and he loves how you whine when he sucks on your clit.

It doesn’t take much to work you up, you had felt so guilty about using a vibrator that you hadn’t will you were pregnant, not wanting Marcus to hear you. Your body needing an orgasm. “Marcus, fuck - I love you. I love you!” You squeal when you fall apart on his tongue.

Your cry has him twitching in his pants, aching for you, but he focuses on you, working you through it with soft laps of his tongue on your clit. “Fuck, you’re so good.” He murmurs to himself against your skin until he’s pulling back to look up at you with a slicked up chin.

“Me?” You huff out a link and reach for him, wanting him close. “Strip down, Mr. Pike.” You order playfully. “It’s been too long and I need you.”

Marcus smirks, shifting to stand and he reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. “I have jerked off so many times thinking about you.” He admits, “I love you.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours to kiss you while he works on unbuttoning his pants.

“Good to know.” You grin against his lips and pull back so you can watch. “I don’t know if I will ever get tired of this view.” You admit, admiring his body and pressing your thighs together in anticipation. “You are perfect.”

“Far from perfect.” He scoffs, “but I’m hoping I’m good enough to be your husband.” He says with a smile and he pushes his boxers down along with his pants to stand naked before you. He’s hard and aching for you, desperate for touch since he hasn’t had anyone since that night he met you.

“You will be my husband.” You promise, reaching for him. “And when we are ready, we can try for another baby?” You ask gently. You want Marcus to be present for the entire experience. “I’m kind of wanting another one already.”

Marcus lights up as he caresses your waist, dragging you up against his body. “You want another one?” He asks and you nod, making him grin. “I want another one. I want to be there for everything and have our family together.” He nudges his nose against yours, “and in the meantime, we can have fun trying.”

“Yes we can.” Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his cock and smirk when he groans your name. “I want you inside me.”

He thrusts into your grip, another groan escaping his lips as you move your hand along his length. You’re gorgeous and his making his heart pound in his chest. “I love you.” He pants, “let me - shit. Need to be inside you.” He says as he grabs you to start walking you backwards to the bed.

You let him guide you back and reluctantly let go of his cock while you fall back into his bed. Smiling when he groans and wraps his own hand around himself as he kneels, making you scoot back. “Fuck. You know the last time, we made a perfect baby girl.” You coo. “This time we are going to make love.”

Marcus smiles at your words, “to my fiancée.” He adds as he shuffles closer while you rest your head on the pillows. “My gorgeous girl.” He coos, shifting to his elbows so he can cover your body with his and he moves his hand down to grip his cock, sliding it through your folds.

Coming together is perfect. He breaks you open with an aching slowness that steals your breath and fills your heart. Emotional over the simple act that had become so much more than casual. Your hearts are involved and you have created a family together. Marcus presses his lips to yours and you let him in so easily. Groaning into his mouth as he bottoms out.

He can’t believe he has this. He has you. He has Annabelle. Everything he’s ever wanted and it’s suddenly so tangible that it makes him close his eyes so you don’t see them shine with unshed tears. It’s more than he’d ever imagined could happen. He starts to slowly move inside you, groaning your name against your lips.

You hold onto him as he rocks in and out of you. Kisses along his jaw, you can see that he is a little emotional. “I love you, baby.” You whisper, wanting to let him know how much you care about him. Caressing his back gently.

He groans as your walls flutter around him, making his chest tighten and he rocks into you. He’s in no hurry and he’s trying to control himself because you feel so fucking good around him, beneath him.

“Marcus.” You love how tender he is being, but your legs tighten around him, rocking up to meet his unhurried thrusts. “You - I love you. Can’t wait to be your wife.”

Marcus groans as you caress his back and he kisses along your neck, breathing you in. “So happy we met in that bar. I know it’s been a rocky road but fuck, I love you.” He murmurs, “so gorgeous and you’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted.”

"It was meant to be." You promise, turning and pressing your lips to his again as he pushes deep and pulls a moan out of you. "Our story will be one our kids adore."

He chuckles, “the PG version.” He teases as he grabs your thigh to lift it higher so he can sink deeper into you. “You’re so beautiful, baby. Always thought so.” He murmurs, “ever since that night in the bar.”

“You caught my eye.” You tell him shamelessly. “I hated that a man as good looking as you looked so unhappy.” You moan again. “Best decision I ever made was coming over to talk to you.”

“I’m so glad you came over. I had no confidence. Thought I was unwanted, not good enough. She knocked me down and I was struggling to get back up until you gave me a boost.” He confesses breathlessly, “fuck - and best sex I’ve ever had.”

“We were great that night, weren’t we?” You giggle and lean up to lick his pulse. “Baby, you fucked me so good that night. I was dreaming of the next time you would take me home.” You promise. “Just didn’t know you would literally move me in.”

Marcus chuckles as he looks down at you, “should’ve moved you in sooner but I went undercover. Thought of you all the time when I was under. Jerked off to thoughts of you.” He confesses, “wanna have more nights like that.” He murmurs, biting on your earlobe .

“Every night we aren’t exhausted with the baby.” You promise, clenching down around him and loving how he chokes out your name. “Make me cum, Marcus.” You beg.

He nods, desperate to see you fall apart for him again, so he slides his hand between you, finding your clit and rubbing it while he presses kisses to your jaw, “cum for me, sweetheart. Wanna feel it.”

“Oh god, baby.” You whine when he starts to rub your clit. He’s so good to you. That coil that has been building and twisting inside you bursts under the skill of his fingers and you cry out in pleasure when you clamp down around him.

He groans when you squeeze him tight in your walls, making him hiss at how good you feel. It’s been so long since he has felt your warmth surrounding him and he feels the tingle in his belly, he’s close. “Fuck. Baby. I- shit. I can’t hold back.” He confesses, pulling his hand away from your clit to grab your hand.

“Then cum for me.” You beg. “I’m so close.” It doesn’t even matter if you cum right now. You just want to see him cum again, to feel it. “Cum for me baby. I love you so much,”

He desperately wants you to cum with him so he returns his fingers to your clit, rubbing it a little faster as he rocks into you frantically, a grunt escaping his lips as he twitches inside you, unable to hold back anymore as he starts to paint your walls with his cum.

“Marcuuuuuus.” You whine his name, eyes closing in pure bliss as the heat of his seed starts to fill you. The sensation and the knowledge that he is yours throws you over the edge, starting to shake as your walls flutter around his cock. “Marcus! I love you so much.”

He pants as he works you both through your highs and he groans when your nails scratch along his back as you convulse beneath him. "I love you." He declares breathlessly, kissing your chin after he gently bites it.

It’s so much better than the night you conceived Annabelle, the emotions heightening the sensation and making tears prick in your eyes. “I love you.” Gasp out, holding him close and panting when you are done shaking, wanting to keep him right where he is.

Marcus keeps himself above you by shifting his weight to his elbows but he leans in to kiss you, “so damn good. Wanna do that again when I can.” He chuckles, “not 18 anymore, baby.” He smiles and nudges his nose with yours.

“I’m glad you’re not 18.” You snort, kissing him again. “I love the man I have, not the one the boy could become.”

He groans as he rolls over, his cock sliding from you as he pulls you into his chest and he sighs when Annabelle’s cry sounds through the iPad. “I got her.” He kisses your forehead and shifts from the bed so he can pick up his boxers. He puts them on and comes back a few moments later with Annabelle, “it’s okay, sweetheart. Mama is here with some milk.” He promises, carrying her over to you.

You laugh as you take the baby from him. “But I have to pee.” You joke, letting her latch and knowing that you will wait. She won’t eat for long, she just always wants something when she wakes up from any kind of sleep no matter what time it is. “How about we order some pizza?” You ask, waggling your brows at him playfully. “Could be just like the first time.”

Marcus chuckles and nods, “let’s do it.” He smirks, grabbing his phone from his pants while you nurse Annabelle. He tosses his phone onto the nightstand when he’s done and he lays down beside you, leaning in to kiss his daughter’s head. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted.” He murmurs, looking up at you.

“Just wait until we have another.” You tease, smiling at him happily. “Then it will be everything you wanted.” You understand what he is meaning, though. He now has the life he had imagined when he asked Teresa to marry him, but you know he’s not looking at you like you are a replacement. He’s not that type of man. He wears his heart on his sleeve. “After she eats, I’ll get dressed and we can put her in her swing while we eat.”

“Sounds good baby.” Marcus leans in to kiss your forearm as you cradle Annabelle. 

**** 

“Babe. Can you get the burp rag?” You call out, cradling your newborn son while Annabelle naps in her crib upstairs. Marcus is preparing dinner and he sets the knife down to bring the rag over to you. He kisses your forehead and hands you the rag, caressing the baby’s head when the doorbell rings. “Who the hell is that?” Marcus frowns, making his way down the hall to open the door. He checks the peep hole and his eyes widen, “what the fuck…” He trails off as he unlocks the door and opens it. “Teresa. Jane. What - what are you doing here?”

“Marcus!” She had told Patrick that she should send him an email or at least called, but he had insisted it would be fine. Wanted to be nosy about his life was more accurate, but neither one of them had heard much other than he was still living in the house he had bought when he moved to D.C. “Hi!” She shoots him a smile and notes that he looks tired, but he doesn’t look sad anymore. Not like the last time she had seen him. “I know it’s a surprise, can we come in?”

Marcus looks over his shoulder where you are holding the baby in your arms and he frowns, turning back to the couple. “I, uh, I was making dinner and-” You step closer, “it’s okay baby.” You tell him, knowing he needs this. Marcus turns to look at you, mouthing “are you sure?” and when you nod, he opens the door. “Come in. This is my wife.” He says your name as he introduces you, “and our son, Zac.” He says and Teresa’s eyes widen as she sees you holding the baby. “Wife? Son? You work fast, Pike.” Patrick smirks and reaches to take Teresa’s coat off. Marcus shuts the door and he raises his eyebrows when he sees Teresa is pregnant.

“Oh, uh, our first.” Teresa admits, flushing slightly as she rubs her hand over her stomach. “We didn’t know that you had gotten married. Congratulations.” She offers, looking over at you curiously. You aren’t with the Bureau or she would have recognized your name. “When was your son born?”

“Last month. We have a daughter too. She’s 18 months.” He reveals and Teresa raises her eyebrows in shock. “You really do work fast, Pike.” Jane chuckles and Marcus nods curtly, guiding them into the living room, his hand on your lower back and he kisses your hairline.

You sit down next to Marcus, watching the woman who had turned down your husband. In many ways, you owe her a debt of gratitude. Without her choosing the annoying looking man beside her, you would have never had the life you have right now. Even though she had hurt Marcus, you are proud that you had brought joy and happiness back to his life and hope he has no regrets.

Marcus wants to know why the hell Teresa and Jane are in his home in D.C and he gets the answer not too long after everyone has a drink and your son in his rocker. “We wanted to apologize. For what we did.” Teresa explains and Marcus frowns, “like…breaking up with me?” Teresa reaches for Jane’s hand, “well, yes, but for how I broke up with you. I should’ve been honest about my feelings for him and that wasn’t fair to you. It’s been bothering me a lot since I got pregnant and we came to D.C for the FBI and I wanted to clear the air.” She confesses and Marcus reaches for your hand. “I was devastated at first. Couldn’t believe you just left me and I had gotten us a home, planned a future, and with a call it was all gone.” Teresa ducks her head and Jane swallows harshly, guilt in his eyes. “But I owe you so much gratitude for that phone call. A week later I ended up in a bar and met the love of my life. Your selfishness led to me finding everything I ever wanted. She makes my world spin around and we have two beautiful children. I’m happy. Deliriously so and I owe that to you breaking my heart. Thank you. I’m glad it worked out for you both. I wish you the best because you paved the way for me to get the most beautiful, smart, sexy, and utterly incredible woman to sit next to me.”

Your smile is proud and you can’t help but lean in and press your lips to Marcus’s cheek, Zac starting to fuss in your arms. “And I owe you for giving him the freedom for us to meet and fall in love.” You won’t tell her the entire tale, she doesn’t deserve it, but you can tell she understands you know everything that happened between them. “I’m going to go feed the baby, sweetheart.” You tell Marcus softly, feeling Zac start to root around for your nipple. A sure sign he wants to eat. “Talk as long as you need. I can finish up dinner.”

Marcus squeezes your hand, “I can handle dinner.” He says and Teresa rubs her bump, “you are happy and that - that makes me happy.” She smiles softly and Marcus sighs, “look, I don’t know why you came here. Actually, I’d assume it’s to see how your selfish actions affected me. You probably hoped I’d still be alone and miserable and pining for you. That isn’t the case. I’m happier than ever and I refuse to lessen your guilt because what you did was shitty and selfish even if it led to me finding a beautiful life. I am not here to make you feel better. So, if you don’t mind, I have to cook dinner for my family and my beautiful wife needs help.” He says, standing up, and Patrick follows, “come on, Teresa. It’s time to go. I wish you all the best, Pike.” He says, holding his hand out. Marcus shakes his hand, his grip a little tighter than it should be. “I really am sorry Marcus. I’m glad you found what you wanted.” She says after she stands and Marcus guides them down the hall to the front door. “Thanks for stopping by.” He says and they shuffle out. He doesn’t take more than a moment to shut the door behind them and he strides though the home to the kitchen where you are feeding Zac.

“I’m sorry about that, baby. They - fucking assholes wanted me to make them feel better about their selfish actions.” He shakes his head, “but fuck them. They deserve each other. I’ve got the most incredible woman in the world.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss you. “I love you.” He declares softly and you smile, cradling the baby. “I love you too. Now, I believe I was promised dinner.” You tease and he chuckles, kissing your forehead while he strokes Zac’s cheek.

“Chicken parm coming right up for my gorgeous wife.” He winks and makes his way onto the kitchen. He takes a moment to lean against the counter. He’d often imagined confronting the woman who broke his heart and ruined his plans before he met you but now, he doesn’t care. He has everything he ever wanted and he got to thank Teresa and Jane for their mistake leading to his dream. He is happy and ready to continue enjoying his life, all thanks to that fateful night in that bar. Life happens for a reason.

[aeolianblues]

I love that we have a generation of young bands who, right from the offset are so vocal about their political causes, through speaking up, fundraisers, working with charity organisations and all. And now these bands are getting big. Fontaines D.C. can’t ’lose fans’ because of their constant and vocal support for Palestine, you’d get laughed out of the venue. Who was surprised when Carlos called everyone else out at the Rolling Stone UK Awards and expressed his strong support for Palestinian independence? They’d have said you’re out of the loop.

Lambrini Girls made it a point early doors: Phoebe has talked about how they were playing a venue in Germany and said if you’re a zionist, leave, and it was half the crowd back then. They’re now one of the most anticipated releases of 2025. They’ve stuck to this principle throughout their rise: their songs are anti-misogynistic, anti-transphobia, anti discrimination. By the time Phoebe scaled the top of a Glastonbury tent to plant a Palestinian flag, there were only cheers.

Bands like Kneecap. They opened their show at Glastonbury, a televised slot shown on national television on the BBC, with a message about imperialism by Britain in Ireland and Palestine. They have gone around with their projectors and projected this fact on public buildings. They’ve talked on stage about how more people were killed in Gaza in 6 months than the entirety of the Troubles. And now, their film is going to the Oscars. They swept the British Independent Film Awards, they’ve been nominated for a BAFTA too. And at that late stage if you complain that Kneecap are being political? Hahaha mate, you’re having a laugh.

Fans of all these bands tend to also follow their beliefs. It’s what draws you into their music, right? When you hear the lyrics to Lambrini Girls’ TERFs Out, or God’s Country, or Bob Vylan’s He’s A Man or We Live Here. Kneecap’s CEARTA, Enola Gay’s PTS.DUP or Through Men’s Eyes. Amyl and the Sniffers’ Knifey or Comfort To Me. Unless you’re actively stuffing a finger in your ears going ‘la la la I can’t hear you’, you must know.

And so I love that I see Fontaines fan accounts, ones with pretty large followings and engagement with a description that basically says ‘Fontaines D.C. fan account. Free Palestine.’ (And it’s not just performative, they too have used their platform to organise fundraisers and work with charity organisations to make sure their action is as direct as can be.) Fandoms can sometimes be places where it’s almost taboo to break the veneer of pretending your time spent loving a band somehow doesn’t exist in the real world, and I see this a lot with older fandoms/older bands’ fandoms. ‘Just stick to the music’, ‘we’re all just here to love this band, let’s leave the politics out of it’ okay grandma. Your band themselves have spoken out but just because they do it less frequently doesn’t warrant the ‘no politics’ rule of your fanclub.

So I’m glad to see how actively involved our new bands are, they were vocal before they had a platform and a big chunk of their listeners are now either people that came up with them, supporting this, or those who even learned something along the way. And as we’ve seen from Taylor Swift fans, mobilised fandoms can do a LOT, that’s really where the power of music to make difference lies, so I’m glad to see how fandom in music by these young bands is not resistant to it!

[tamamita]

Washington, D.C. – In a groundbreaking and, dare we say, entirely logical move, U.S. Secretary of State Antonio Blinken announced today that the United States recognizes Juan Guaidó as the legitimate president of Syria. The decision has sent shockwaves across the international community and left many scratching their heads.

In a press conference held this morning, Blinken stood confidently at the podium, flanked by advisors who appeared to be stifling laughter. “The United States has always stood firmly with the forces of democracy, freedom, and choosing the same guy over and over again,” Blinken declared. “That is why we are proud to recognize Juan Guaidó as the rightful leader of Syria.”

Guaidó, who had been gearing up for another year of not being Venezuela’s president, graciously accepted the new title. “I am honored to take on this unexpected yet completely sensible responsibility,” he said in a virtual address, appearing in front of a hastily photoshopped backdrop of the new Syrian flag. “I have always believed that borders should not constrain my presidency.”