#and I am never not thinking about agent washington

[agentark]

everything we know about Red vs Blue means that there's a canonically supported reality in which every bit of the rvb timeline that happens post-Freelancer saga is actually just simulations Epsilon is running in WASH's head as he unravels

[jokingmisfit]

Not A Child And Not My Job

Yandere BAU x reader

Warning- Delusional BAU, Gaslighting, Yelling, Drugging, allusions to stalking if you squint, forced regression if you squint, couldn’t do much with Penelope cause she doesn’t come to the other places with the team, didn’t add elle

(I tried something new towards the end, the writing gets sloppy to signify the readers thoughts being blurred by the drugs please let me know what you think about that)

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My job was supposed to be a therapist. I was meant to help keep them sane and calm. To help them through tough times. This isn’t my job.

I feel more like a pet than anything. I feel like all I’ve done is thrown them deeper into this demented mind set. And it’s not like I can do anything about it. No one would believe that it’s weird. The Bau was always filled with ‘outcasts’ as they put it.

Recently I’ve had to put my feelings about it on hold. The team began slipping up on cases. They were rushing through and making mistakes. Penelope said it was because they wanted to get back to me, so I convinced the big bosses to let me go with them on cases.

That's how I ended up here. On the way back to Washington. Sat directly in the lap of Chief Hotchner. No one was directly paying me mind, they were talking about the case, however they still stared.

I didn’t listen to the conversation. My job was a therapist for the agents not to be an agent. I don’t like thinking of people in a negative light.

I kept my eyes on the book Spencer gave me. He was adamant that I read it. Last time I tried to deny a gift from one of them it was from Penelope. The look in all of their eyes when I tried to say I didn’t need an extra laptop was terrifying.

I shouldn’t be so surprised. I’ve read through a few of the files that they’ve worked on. The grisly scenes and horrific events, it’s no wonder they’ve all become twisted in their own ways.

Aarons arm rested loosely around my hip, his hand resting lightly on my thigh. The warmth of his palm should be calming, but it only serves as a reminder that they all have developed an inappropriate dependency on my presence. The thought alone makes me shift uncomfortably.

Dereks the first to respond. “Aww poor baby~ you must be tired, huh? Waking up so early only to get shoved on a plane.” 

His voice sounded genuine, but it feels more like I’m being mocked. I’m not a child.

“Why don’t we get you snuggled up on the couch hm?” JJ asked.

I’m not a child.

Frowning, I respond. “I’m fine. Just needed to move a little.”

“But, you're pouting, there's stiffness in your shoulders too, your hold on your book has loosened, and your eyes have bags under them. All of this is most likely caused by your lack of sleep. Statistically speaking 15 to 20 percent of people with insomnia develop a form of depression.” Spencer argued back at me.

Fine, if they want me to keep ignoring the truth I will put it out on the table where they can’t ignore it.

“I’m not depressed, Spencer. I’m uncomfortable, because the whole team treats me like a child.” Derek scoffs when I say this. “You all act like I’m fragile. I found you’ve all developed a dependency on me in the form of my presence.” I feel Aarons grip tighten and I lay the book on the small table. “You want to take care of me even though I don’t need it, because it gives you a sense of purpose outside the BAU.” JJ frowns and shifts where she stands. “I’ve shown you all a kindness that’s not in the form of family or friendship. You’ve all seen and experienced terrible things and as a result you warp what I am into an innocence that in reality isn’t there.”

Jason looks me in the eyes. “Alright, I think that’s enough.”

Ignoring him I continue. “Your minds are using me as a way to cope rather than handling the problems properly. Since you’ve never had someone there to listen and share with rather than each other none of you know how to properly react.” Spencer looks defiantly upset. “I’m not blaming you for not knowing how to respond, but it’s making me feel unsafe and honestly some of it is insulting.”

The plane was quiet after I stop. I try to move off of Aarons lap but he holds me in place.

“Let me go… Please.” I whisper.

His arm doesn’t move. No, his other arm comes and holds me tighter against him. My breath feels more shallow. I should’ve waited. God, this is a twelve hour flight. I feel all of their eyes on me.

I struggle more against him. “Aaron, I said let me go!” I try to pry his arms off but my hands are shaking and he’s stronger than me.

“Look you can’t even get out of his lap, and you think you can take care of yourself?” Derek said with derision.

I freeze in anger and glare at Derek. “That is completely different! I may not be able to fight people off but I can discern when I need to eat and sleep and I can sure as hell sit in a damn chair like a normal person!”

I’m startled by a slamming sound on the table in front of me. Jason looks at me with a disgruntled look. “I think we have all had enough of your tantrum.” He says sternly.

“It’s not a tantrum, it's me trying to show you the damn truth and you acting irrational!” I screamed at him.

I heard a sigh behind my ear, before Aaron said, “I knew it was a bad idea for her to come along, her little mind just  can’t wrap around everything and it’s making her act out.”

Are you kidding me?!

Tears flood my eyes in frustration. “That is not what's happening! God, how more delusional can you all become?!”

Joining in again, JJ comes over to me and wipes the tears away. “Guys, don’t be so rough on her, like Hotch said she’s too little to understand.”

This is so much worse than it should have ever been.

I writhe in Aarons grip. Screaming and moaning out, begging him to let go of me. Through the chaos of my screaming I can hear Jason say something. I continue to try and get away, but I can hear them talking to each other over it.

I feel a hand graze the side of my face. I try to move away but he grabs my face. Making my head stay still I can see Spencer's concentrated face staring at my neck. 

My neck hurts. It felt cold too. Spencer's face was also a bit blurry. He was eye level somehow. Was he crouching? When did he start smiling so sweetly at me? Is he saying something? Am I moving?

I try to speak but all that comes from me are whines. I feel like I’m freezing. I’m dizzy. 

Where’d Spencee go? Why I was so sad before? Where is I? Why I wanna cry? Where is that cooing coming from?

I’m overwhelmed by a scent like pine and, and, I don’t know. They feel soft. Feels warm. I bury my face in the warm. Is their wearing cotton? Sounds like a pool. Huh?

“You- k- we- you-”

Whas that mean? So tired gotta sleep.

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 9

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 17.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Surprises, vomiting, anxiety, spectacularly bad decision making, talking of children/pregnancy. Morning sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, consensual choking, light dom/sub play, rough sex. Summary: Your 30th birthday is not at all what you expected. Not at at all. Notes: Beloved darlings, please forgive any errors I might have missed. Ya girl has had another busy week, but at least the sickness has lifted!

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

It’s been a perfect, magical day in Marcus’s opinion. Waking up with you and spending the entire day together hasn’t tamed the desire to be with you, it’s only fanned that desire. Now he gets to watch you get ready for the party, stopping by his apartment to pick up a suit, you had both decided that he would change here at the inn with you.

“So, is this place actually a pub or did my mother book something swanky and just lie through her teeth?” You ask, eyes gliding down his frame as you slip into your least worn little black dress for the party. It’s the one you always think is just a little too festive or too vintage, and it always gets swapped out for something more reasonable. Marcus had insisted you wear it when he heard you say ‘too’ anything.

He smirks slightly and debates on whether or not to tell you. “You have to be surprised, but yes.” He chuckles. “I think Round Robin counts as a pub.”

“It is not Round Robin.” It gets a laugh out of you, though, making you snort inelegantly as you struggle to zip your dress. “Their food doesn’t meet Dad’s approval. He’d never okay it.”

“Then it’s a good thing that we are actually going to Statesman.” He admits with a grin, moving over to zip up the back of your dress for you and kissing your shoulder when he’s done.

“Statesman…” In the second it takes you to search your memory for why that name sounds familiar, you light up. “Like The Statesman Club? I’ve always wanted to try that place!”

“Good.” He grins at you and picks up your necklace to help you put it on. “We will try all the fancy whiskeys we want.”

“Well now I just feel positively spoiled.” Partially from the choice of location, but also Marcus being such a gentleman.

“It is your birthday.” He reminds you, sliding the chain around your neck. “You should be spoiled.”

“And when it’s your birthday, you’ll be spoiled too,” you promise him, grinning at his reflection in the mirror.

“We can cross that bridge later.” His hands rest on your shoulders gently. “Tonight is about you.”

"Are you still okay with me telling everyone?" If he's not then you'll keep your soulmate status to yourself tonight, or for however long he wants to keep that particular fact private.

“Of course I am.” He stares at you in the mirror, unable to believe what a lucky bastard he is. “You never need to worry about that.”

"I just thought I should check." You beam at him, turning around in his arms to wrap your own around his neck and kiss him. "Seemed polite to me."

“Shout it from the rooftop and splash it in the Post.” He urges you. “I will happily agree and brag to everyone who asks.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you seriously consider doing just that but figure somebody at The Post will have a field day writing their own little editorial about it when it becomes public knowledge. "I love you, too."

“I love you.” He promises and bites his lip. “Do you want your birthday present now? Or at the party?”

"You didn't have to get me anything." There's no chance he would have listened to you if you had protested beforehand, but you still do. Just having him is gift enough.

He scoffs and lifts a brow, waiting for your real answer.

The burn in your cheeks is enough, and you grin again, unrepentantly. "Is there enough time to do it now?"

“Of course there is.” He promises and pulls out the gift he had put in his jacket pocket. It might be too much too soon, but he couldn’t resist.

The small jewelry box all tied up in ribbon in his hand is unmistakable, but you tilt your head slightly and look up at him curiously. "Really?" A book maybe, or flowers, or even something a little nerdy and sweet – all of those things you would have accepted easily. But jewelry is a very big gesture for a relationship that is so new.

“You said you also jump in quickly and I— well, it’s what I’m thinking.” Marcus hopes you don’t hate it.

You take the little box from him carefully and untie the carefully done ivory ribbon. The hinge of the box is tight, like it's barely been used, and when it snaps open in your fingers you gasp softly at the shining, shimmering ring inside. An eternity ring of sparkling heart-shaped stones set in white gold reflects the light in your room beautifully. "Marcus?"

“It’s a promise ring.” It seems like a childish thing at first, but he wanted you to know how serious he is. “The prelude for what is to come.”

And just like that, your heart swells for him all over again, and the surety that you made the right choice is ingrained in you. "I'll never take it off."

“If it fits.” He jokes, taking the box from you and plucking the ring out of its velvety crevice. “This is my promise to you, my soulmate.” He whispers as he takes your hand. “One day I will marry you. We will build a life together of mutual respect and love. We will be happy and I will always cherish you.”

"Am I allowed to promise you the same thing?" You watch in awe as the band slips easily onto your finger and you flex your fingers to see if it will shake free. When it doesn't, you beam at him all over again. "To promise to love and cherish you and be your partner while we build this relationship?"

“Absolutely.” He smiles softly and leans in to press his lips to yours gently. “Happy birthday, hummingbird.”

"We should go." Even whispering against his lips, you feel giddy and giggly in the moment. "Before I drag you back into bed and make you even more promises."

“Promises, promises.” He teases. “That is for tonight when we are both a little tipsy, very handsy, and more than a little in love with the idea of being together.”

The drive out to The Statesman Club goes easily and quickly, with Agent Bailey following behind you all the way. From the amount of cars in the parking lot it's obvious that your mother had Marcus bring you to the party after everyone had arrived – or if not then there are a huge amount of people coming tonight. "Seems like an awful lot of fuss," you hum, slipping your hand into Marcus's when he opens your door.

“You’re worth the fuss.” He reminds you, helping you out of the car and he can’t help but admire you. “I forgot to tell you that you look stunning.”

"That's just because I'm happy," you insist, tugging him toward the front of the building. "And because you look absolutely stunning yourself, so I'm just reflecting it back at you."

He chuckles, knowing that he could argue that but it’s your birthday and he can’t argue with the birthday girl. “Remember, you can’t butter me up anymore.” He jokes. “My bag is already at your place; I’m going home with you.”

"What if I'm just telling the truth?" It's like walking on Cloud 9 as you go hand-in-hand with him up to the front door. There's a desk inside with a woman in all black, and she smiles to see you coming – clearly expecting you but too professional to do more than smile.

Marcus gives his name as if he were the one setting the reservation, but they know where to guide you. “Good evening.” She moves from behind the desk to come out beside you. “My name is Ginger and I will be escorting you inside.”

"Thank you, Ginger." It's all very dramatic, you think, but you still follow the woman around a corner and past the main dining room, up a flight of stairs that is dimly lit to put focus on decades and decades of Statesman ads that ends in a set of double doors. This must be their private function room, because the moment she pushes open the doors, all hell breaks loose.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!” Is screamed at you in various pitches and volumes, making you jump slightly even if you had been anticipating it. Marcus laughs, drawing you into the circus of a room as your friends and family press close.

“This is what not overdoing it looks like, huh Mom?” You’re laughing, though, and hug her first out of everybody in the room. You know how impossible it is for her to get to do anything personal already so it’s doubly amazing that she not only put this together but managed to attend.

“Of course it is.” She hugs you fiercely and tears up slightly as she remembers the day you slipped into the world. “It’s small compared to the inauguration party.”

“Which inauguration party?” There were three official ones and then plenty of other unofficial, and you smirk at her even when you pull back. “I can’t believe this place let you book in. It must be crawling with Secret Service.”

“Just a few.” She snorts and shrugs. “I’m the President. It’s time I stop letting the office run my life.”

“Well, thank you.” That resolve won’t last because it can’t, but you’re glad that it is here for tonight.

Your father is next to swoop in for a hug, cooing over his baby being all grown up, and you groan playfully because he gets like this every single time one of you has a birthday. You, Alex, and June all get fussed over equally and it’s actually kind of sweet. Tonight, though, you reach back and take your soulmate’s hand. “You guys remember Marcus?” Of course they do, but you’re still going to be polite about it.

“Sir. Ma’am.” Marcus would offer his hand, but you are currently holding it. “Nice to see you again.”

"Very nice to see you again, Marcus." Having dispensed with Agent Pike except for formalities, the president smiles. "And very punctual. I like that."

“Timing was important tonight.” He agrees, squeezing your hand gently. “The birthday girl needed to be here for the party to really begin.”

"Then let's get this party started." The phrase sounds just as odd and stilted coming out of her mouth as she thought it would, but that doesn't matter. "Make sure you say hi to everyone, Birdie. And try whatever you want to drink. But I think you'll like both cocktails."

Marcus smiles and nods toward the private bar for the party, a fit cowboy with a mustache behind the counter with a toothy smile and a name tag with ‘Jack’ on it. “Shall we go get a drink before you mingle?”

"Absolutely." Whatever your parents have picked out is always good, and you want nothing more than to get the night started.

“What do you want to have?” Marcus asks as he reads the small, personalized cocktail menu that is being served exclusively tonight in addition to the regular drinks.

"The Sour Red sounds good." Cranberry and cherry in a whiskey sour sounds like a great way to start the night.

"It sounds great." A voice from beside you huffs, and you squeal with delight to see your best friend appear out of nowhere next to you. Sydney grins and envelops you into a gigantic hug, as Marcus smirks proudly behind you.

“You look amazing!” The soft, flowing maternity dress is the first of its kind you’ve seen her wear and it looks gorgeous on her, making her look like a work of art. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” She insists, shaking her head at you. “Juan said he’s going to treat you to lunch when he comes back, and he’s so sorry.”

“Absolute sap of a man,” you huff, laughing affectionately. Juan really does treat you like a little sister sometimes and it’s very sweet. “He doesn’t have to do that. But…if he really wants to…” you glance back at Marcus with a giddy smile. “Why don’t we plan a double date?”

“That sounds good.” Marcus nods. “What do you think, Sydney?” He’s willing to do whatever you want and having a night with the other couple would be nice.

“Oh, one hundred percent.” She’s already nodding, clutching her ginger ale in one hand and grinning to see the two of you together like this. “That will be awesome.”

“I’ll order the drinks so you ladies can talk?” Marcus orders, squeezing your hand when you nod and moving up to the bartender.

"I don't know if I said it enough, but you did the amazingly last night. The wedding was perfect." You hug her again, always mindful of your growing goddaughter between you. "I owe you."

“It was all thanks to you.” She reminds you with a soft hug. “Looks like you had a good evening after the wedding party left.”

"Maybe." The meager protest has your cheeks on fire immediately, and you bury your face in your hands. "He's...god, Syd, he's absolutely incredible."

“Really?” She lights up, happy that you are so enthralled with your soulmate. “So you had a really good night?”

"I need you to promise me that you're going to react in the most normal way you've ever reacted to anything in your life," you murmur, intentionally lowering your voice and glancing around furtively. "Most boring reaction ever. Promise?"

“Boring – absolutely.” She nods eagerly, aware you’re about to bust unless you spill whatever secret has you positively glowing. “He’s the best you’ve ever had? Hung like a horse?” She guesses playfully.

"Haven't actually had sex yet, but yes to the second." The smirk that breaks over your face is unapologetic, but you clear your throat, and intentionally reach out to hold your best friend's hand with the ring Marcus gifted you a mere hour ago glinting in the club's lighting. "Most normal and boring you've ever been," you remind her quietly.

Her frown when she feels something makes her look down and then her eyes bug out wide, making her look like a cartoon character for a brief moment. The smallest squeak comes out before she buttons up her lip and her entire body seems to vibrate in energy as her gaze darts back up to you.

"It's a promise ring." As quietly as you can when Sydney is practically buzzing out of control, you're still grinning from ear to ear. "I told you he's incredible."

“I can’t believe— okay, I can.” She huffs quietly and as discreetly as she can, she’s looking at the ring. “Honey, it’s beautiful.” She whispers softly, melting and giving Marcus Pike all the brownie points for romance.

"I don't know when he had time to get it," you admit, trying not to bring too much attention to the piece of jewelry and end up having to explain it to a whole room full of people. "We were together all day."

“He must have bought it the day he went golfing with Michael.” Sydney guessed with small, dreamy sigh. “They were talking about Michael’s buying a wedding day gift for Joyce. He was planning on jewelry.”

“That must have been it.” It’s even dreamier, then, in your mind. Because that truly was the very beginning of things.

“He’s got good taste.” She hums in approval. “This is the real deal.”

"It's the first time in my life that I've really felt like I'm on the same page as my partner," you gush to her, right before Marcus comes over with your drinks.

“One Sour Red for you.” Marcus hands you the drink. “And I ordered the Sweet Delight for me so we can also try it.” He has no problem sharing drinks with you.

The second cocktail on the specialties list was something like a cross between a sweet tea and a mint julep, and since you had fully intended on trying both, he seems to have read your mind. "Perfect." Him, the whole day, tonight, all of it.

“Great.” He holds up the Sweet Delight in a toast. “Happy birthday, hummingbird.” He smiles. “May your thirties be the beginning of the greatest adventures of your life.”

"I have a feeling they will be." You hold up your Sour Red and Sydney adds her ginger ale to the coast, making the three of you a very happy trio.

“Now, I don’t want to monopolize your night.” Marcus insists after taking a drink. “I can hold your purse, but you need to talk to people and if you want me to keep Sydney company, I’m good with that.”

"I'm going to use having to find you as an excuse to get out of saying hello when I start to burn out." It looks like your mother has assembled a few dozen people here tonight and you know you're going to need to take a break from all the chit chat at least a couple of times. "Thank you, love."

“Absolutely.” He smiles at you in reassurance. “Just lift your glass and I’ll come rescue you.”

“Okay.” Leaning up, you leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth and whisper an “I love you” before you scoot away.

Marcus watches you walk away with the look of a man completely besotted with his soulmate. “I love you too.” He murmurs after you.

“That didn’t take long at all.” Sydney grins, sipping her soda like she’s won the lottery.

“Too quick?” He glances back at your best friend and wonders if she worries about you jumping in too fast with him despite being your soulmate.

“Not for her.” She chuckles quietly. “Hell, even Juan and I knew within about two days that he was going to come back East with me after we met. It’s just…it’s nice to see someone moving her speed with her. Supporting her at light speed, ya know?”

“I’m not going to hurt her.” He promises Syd with a solemn vow.

“Oh, I know you’re not.” Her smile turns determined and icy. “Because if you do? Juan knows exactly how to make sure no one ever finds your body. And I think you value life too much to risk the wrath of her best friend and her siblings. Don’t underestimate little Junie.”

Marcus doesn’t scoff, nor does he chuckle and brush it off. He takes a sip of his drink and looks at your best friend squarely. “I won’t, and I never piss off the people who cook food.” He tells her. “They have ingenious ways for disposing of a body.”

“She’s been through a lot of shitty relationships.” Sydney confides. She’s glad to see Marcus taking this talk seriously. Sam had laughed and waved her off. “Listen to her, treat her well, and buy her flowers. That girl loves getting flowers.”

“What are her favorites?” He asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you want out of this relationship.

“Camellias, roses, gerber daisies…” Sydney grins. “I’ll text you a list.”

“Please do.” Marcus can do roses anytime, but he wants to give flowers that let you know that he’s just thinking about you. Ones that put a smile on your face. “And her favorite bath soaps and scents.”

“I’ll have a list of favorites and least favorites ready for you tomorrow,” she promises. “But I have a big one for you, first.”

“What’s that?” He knows Sydney likes him, thinks that he will be good for you, so it’s best that he stay on her good side.

"I've never seen her prouder to be out with a partner than she was with you at that State dinner," Sydney tells him honestly. "She gets skittish about the spotlight, but she collected every single paper that had a picture of the two of you. It's..." she smiles, actually, and her eyes find you in the crowd of family and friends around the room. "It's a kind of confidence that is new for her, but I think it's great."

Marcus follows her gaze and his own face softens and he takes on a slightly sappy smile. “I only want to support her and prop her up.” He promises your best friend earnestly. “Whatever she wants to do.”

"She has the career she wants. And now the right partner." Syd flashes a beaming grin. "Next up is the wedding and kids, Pike. I hope you're ready for a deluge of family fun."

“I’ve always wanted kids.” He admits quietly, pushing one hand into a pocket. Taking another sip and his eyes follow you around the room. “Don’t mind a wedding, but I’m more concerned about the life we build rather than the wedding we have.”

"She says she doesn't care about a wedding. That it's the marriage that counts. And she does mean it." More than anything, Sydney needs Marcus to know that this isn't any shallowness on your part, it's something she's observed. "But I see the way she moons over every single bride that comes through the inn. She wants someone to make a fuss over her without her having to ask for it. It's why she's been sighing over this birthday party like it's unnecessary but has been talking about it nonstop. Because she deserves to feel special, but she feels guilty asking for it."

“I want her to have exactly what she wants.” Marcus smiles at the idea. “The fairytale. The happily ever after.”

Nudging Marcus with her elbow, Sydney's cup of happiness is positively overflowing for you in this moment. "I have a good feeling about this."

“I hope so. Because I’m taking her to meet my folks in a few weeks.” He tells her with a grin.

Syd’s jaw drops on a disbelieving laugh. “You got her to take time off work?”

“Is that some kind of minor miracle?” He asks with a slightly proud smirk if it is. “I asked if she wanted to come and she agreed.”

“There’s nothing minor about it.” She cackles with absolute glee, knowing Juan will be just as thrilled as she is. “She hasn’t taken a vacation day in seven years. Not even for campaign events. You’ve just advised sainthood.”

“Jesus.” He whistles quietly and has a renewed admiration for your drive. “Then I’ll make sure that she relaxes and soaks up the sun while we are gone.” He grins. “Texas is the perfect place for it.”

“Perfect.” Syd grins, and holds up her glass to toast him. “Take care of our girl, Marcus. I know you will.”

“Of course I will.” Marcus watches as you discreetly lift your empty glass. “Op,” he grins back at her and lifts his own glass. “Duty calls.”

It's just a little later, while Marcus is deep into conversation with your father about something or other that you didn't quite catch, you're slowly sipping your second drink when the nearby door opens to admit a new arrival.

Sam Chase walks into the pub, straightening his jacket and smiling a bright smile at anyone who turns his way. Looking over the crowd and finding you as he scans and lifting a hand in a wave before moving towards you.

It's a surprise to see him, even if you did say that you wanted to stay friends, but you walk toward him with square shoulders and sure steps. More than ever, you know you made the right decision, and you're mature enough not to say a thing about it and just let things move forward. "Sam." When he moves forward to hug you, you let him just like you would let any other friend. "What a surprise. Are you feeling better?"

"I am." He wouldn't miss tonight for the world, not when he realized what he needed to do. He accepts the hug and squeezes you gently to him, admiring your perfume. He's missed that smell. "Happy birthday, Birdie." He uses your nickname so rarely, preferring your name, but tonight is about showing growth.

"Thank you." You're glad to not see a gift in his hands. It's almost a reprieve because you had feared he might do something overly intimate as a gesture if he did actually come. "There's some fun cocktails but the bar is open, and lots of food being passed around. I think cake is happening in just a little bit."

"That's good." He pulls back and smiles at you. "It's good to see you, I've missed talking to you."

"It's good to see you, too." Unfortunately you can't say you've missed him as much as he seems to have missed you, but the last few weeks have been so important for you. "I'm glad you came." At least that is true.

"I know you are making the rounds, so I will get a drink." Sam knows that he has to show that he is more accepting of your way of doing things and he takes your hand and squeezes it gently. "I will get a drink and then talk to you later?"

"That sounds like a good plan," you nod, motioning toward the bar. "I know you're not a whiskey guy, but they do have some nice wines stocked tonight. And champagne. Mom insisted."

"I'll see you soon." He promises, sure that the champagne is meant for the toasting of your birthday after the cake. You will be thrilled to drink it because of another celebration as well.

Alex and David are nearby and you gravitate toward them naturally, glad for some supportive faces in the sea of comfortable and uncomfortable acquaintances. Your mother had really gone all-out with the guest list.

Despite his own conversation, Marcus has kept an eye on you, frowning slightly when he sees Sam arrive. He’s not jealous, but he knows that it would be uncomfortable to you since you had broken up.

"Well that looked fun," your brother grumbles, putting an arm around your shoulders lazily when you pace over to him and his boyfriend. "Mm," you roll your eyes discreetly. "So fun. It's my own fault for saying I wanted to stay friends. I just thought...it's a very adult thing to do. And he didn't do anything wrong, really."

“He did everything wrong.” Alex snorts, rolling his eyes at you. “You just were so busy making it work you couldn’t see that.”

"You guys could have said something earlier, ya know." Still, you shrug and take a sip of your drink. "Not that it matters now."

“You were happy…ish.” Alex arches a brow at you. “Tell me you would have listened.” He challenges, knowing how stubborn you are.

"Listen to you?" Rolling your eyes dramatically for show, you wave a hand dismissively. "Of course not. Maybe David, but not you."

Both men laugh and David winks at you. “That’s my girl.” He teases.

"Everything will be fine." You're definitely reassuring yourself, not them, but that's okay. "Eat. Drink. Be merry. That's the name of the game tonight."

“Of course it is.” Alex leans in and presses his lips to your cheek. “Happy birthday sis.” He hums. “You look happy with your soulmate.”

“As happy as you are with yours.” For everything that Alex and David have gone through together, you know the light at the end of their tunnel is going to be so incredibly bright and wonderful. There isn’t a second of doubt in your mind. “He, um…he’s taking me to Texas in a couple of weeks. To meet his family.”

“Really?” Alex is surprised but he’s quickly grinning as he looks around to find Marcus watching you for a moment. Checking in on you from across the room. “Well slap my ass and call me a cowboy.”

"I'll leave that to David," you reply, snorting at the image. "But yes. Really. And I'm excited, so don't ruin it."

“You better wear a cowboy hat when you ride him.” Alex chuckles quietly and winks at you. “They say everything’s bigger in Texas.”

"I swear to god." Groaning with the ire that only a sister can truly feel, you stick your tongue out at your brother and make a face. "I'm walking away now, but you're ridiculous."

“You know I love you!” He cups one hand around his mouth to call out after you, laughing while his soulmate rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath about sibling relationships.

"Sweetheart," your mother grabs you in passing, seeing that you're headed for Marcus and not wanting to delay you too long. "Cake soon?"

"Sure, Mom." Pausing long enough to squeeze her hand, you nod to indicate you're willing to just go with the flow. The night will last however long it lasts and you're grateful for every second you get to spend with your friends. Thankfully, it seems like cake cutting won't be the very end of the night.

“How is my pretty party girl?” Marcus asks as you draw closer, pulling you to his side and swapping his full drink with your empty one. “You should try this Statesman Blackberry Reserve.” He urges you. “It’s probably the smoothest whiskey I’ve ever had in my life.”

"You trying to get me drunk, Pike?" You tease, accepting the glass and trying a sip – which earns a happy moan from you. "You're already coming home with me. You have stuff at my place."

“But you’re cute when you’re relaxed.” He jokes, smirking slightly considering that you’ve already had a conversation about drunk sex and somnophilia so you are both on the same page about what’s acceptable.

"You're always cute." Relaxed is a good word. You aren't drunk at all. Not even tipsy. But you are definitely relaxed. "Mom's going to have the cake brought out soon. Brace yourself for a deeply embarrassing speech of some kind."

Laughing quietly, he nods. “Of course. Would it not be a family birthday party if there wasn’t an embarrassing speech?”

"In this family?" You snort, barely managing to smother the sound as your mother's voice comes over a microphone so that the whole room can hear her. "Never. But that's my cue."

“Go knock them dead, hummingbird.” He whispers in encouragement and takes your drink from your hand so you can walk up beside her. It’s your night, your time to shine.

As Sydney has pointed out, the spotlight is not necessarily where you thrive. You do step up next to your mother, though, and wave awkwardly with a dopey smile on your face as she talks. The predicted speech is just as embarrassing as you thought it would be, but it’s easier to smile knowing Marcus is out there watching just a few feet away.

Now is the time. Sam watches as you demure to the crowd and duck your head in embarrassment as your mother finishes up your happy birthday speech. He straightens his tie and reaches into his pocket to pull out your gift before he edges towards the front of the room where you and your mother are standing.

Honestly if you had noticed, you might have said something. Or you might have at least looked at him questioningly. But you’re too busy avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes while people applaud a speech about you to realize that Sam has walked right up to where you and your mother are standing.

His entire relationship with you, he had watched you secretly moon over ‘grand gestures’. Sniffling during Hallmark moves or rom coms, smiling like a crazy woman when a proposal happens at your inn. This will be perfect. Your mother arches a brow when he asks for the microphone, but she hands it over anyway. “Good evening everyone, Birdie…” he begins, having carefully written out and rehearsed this speech several times. Preparing for it just as studiously as he would have a political debate.

“Sam…?” Anxiety rises like bile in the back of your throat, almost making you choke on the confusion. What in the hell?

Marcus frowns at the way that Sam turns and kneels in front of you. A collective gasp coming from the crowd pierces his heart and it’s compounded by the way you cover your mouth. Looking just like a scene from a romantic film. His gut churns and confusion and doubt makes the blood start pounding in his ears.

“Get up!” As soon as you can gather your own thoughts to get beyond shock and utter horror, you lurch forward to grab Sam and yank him up off his one stupid knee. “What the hell are you doing?” You hiss, well aware that all eyes are on you but having rocketed past giving a shit out of pure anger.

“I’m making up for my lack of spontaneity, giving you the grand gesture.” Sam smiles proudly and opens the box to show you the elaborate diamond ring that he had bought for you. “I love you, and I want to show you that I am here. You are more important than anything else.”

“Don’t do this.” Even if your voice is low, the shaking of your head is universal, and the few gasps over the opening of the jewelry box are minimally muffled when you reach out and snap the little box closed again immediately. “We broke up. Walk away and return the ring.” The urge to cry and flee is almost overwhelming but you have to make him stop.

“We had a fight, a foolish one.” Sam tells you beseechingly. “One I take complete blame for. But we are so good together. Don’t throw it away because I was too blinded by my pride.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” you tell him flatly, although you do feel bad that you clearly didn’t articulate well enough that the relationship is over and has been for two weeks now. “Please just walk away? I’m not taking you back. Tonight or ever, do you understand?” Even with your heart in your stomach, lurching there like a stone in acid, you can’t bring yourself to be cruel. You’re just desperate to be clear and get it through his head.

Sam frowns and looks around at the people who have started to go from excited to embarrassed for him. “Why?” He asks quietly. “This is what we talked about. What you wanted to plan for? Now you say no?”

“Plans changed. Maybe I changed, I don’t know.” You didn’t. And you know you didn’t. But it seems kinder to say that than to point out that your eyes are opened to how imbalanced your relationship was. “I found my person, Sam. I’m sorry that it isn’t you, but please don’t make this worse than it already is.”

“You’re really going to say no?” Sam looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “In front of all these people?” The microphone has been forgotten at his side, the conversation just between the two of you and he glances over to see Marcus Pike walking away in the crowd.

“I don’t even understand why you thought it was okay to ask.” It’s completely ruined the night rather than just being embarrassing, but one thing is obvious: Sam has turned out to be one of those men who won’t back down at the very worst of times. “No. Absolutely not. I’m with someone else and I love him. End of story.” Like the punctuation that ends a sentence, you hold up your hand to show him the ring Marcus put there just hours ago. “You should leave, Sam.”

He feels like he’s going to be sick. Unable to breathe in that second where a ring is produced and he knows if he doesn’t escape, find air, he might have a heart attack or something. It’s happening again. This time it’s even worse than before because it’s his soulmate. Marcus turns and pushes through the crowd. Hauling ass for the nearest exit as discreetly as he can while everyone else watches the romantic gesture ahead of them. Unable to hear anything but the tattoo of his heart beating out of his chest as he disappears out of the bar.

He doesn’t hear the next round of gasps inside as your birthday has turned into a farce. He doesn’t see Sam rage or crumble. He doesn’t stand and bear witness to you declaring your love for your soulmate in front of dozens of people. All he knows is that he has to get away, but he’s barely at the bottom of the stairs when you go barreling after him. “Marcus!” Thank god June saw him moving blindly through the crowd, she had pointed you in the right direction. “Marcus!”

It’s still crisp and cool when the sun goes down, hitting the doors and gasping like a drowning man when the frosty air hits him and after two gulps, he’s lurching for the bushes. He’s not so drunk he’s puking, he’s so emotional he can’t keep down the drinks and appetizers curdling on his stomach.

“Marcus, wait!” You have no idea what set of doors this is, but you saw him go through it, so you go too, almost twisting your ankle in the heels you’re wearing in the process. “Oh my god.” The second you see him, you’re moving again, reaching for his bent frame and trying to soothe him somehow. The best you can think of is cooing his name and rubbing your hand over his broad back gently.

Agent Bailey is hot on your heels, bursting through the door seconds later and on high alert. “I’m fine—” Marcus grunts, twisting away from you as he continues to empty his stomach. “’m fine.” He coughs and retches one more time before he can catch his breath. “Go back— I—I—” he pants out.

“You’re not fine.” In the three seconds you can think straight, you turn around to find Agent Bailey a few feet away. “Can you find us some water?” You ask her, not sure what’s caused Marcus to be so sick but sure that he’s going to feel worse if he can’t rinse his mouth.

It’s obvious that she’s uncomfortable leaving you, but after a second, she’s nodding and stepping away while speaking into her earpiece.

“It’s okay, baby…” Whether or not that’s true is yet to be determined, but Marcus is obviously in distress and you’re just trying to soothe him as best you can. “Was it something you drank? Or—or ate?” Or was it my ex-boyfriend ruining the entire fucking night for literally everyone?

Marcus closes his eyes, swallowing down another wave of bile and shakes his head. “No— I—” he can’t even articulate the rambling thoughts in his head right now. He feels like he’s lost again and yet you are standing in front of him. Are you here to give him the ring back?

“It’s okay, don’t talk until you’re ready.” While you still have one hand moving on his back, you just try to keep calm and hopefully help him calm down in the process. “Agent Bailey’s finding you some water and we can sit out here for as long as you need, okay?”

“Why—” he swallows and closes his eyes. “Why are you out here?” His voice is steadier, gaining control over his emotions again. “Your party is inside.”

"You are out here." The question makes no sense to you and you're probably looking at him like he has three heads, but at least that's an honest reaction. "Fuck the party. You're more important."

“No, I’m not.” Marcus opens his eyes, looking up at the stars and he has to know. “Did you say yes?”

A single beat of confusion bleeds away to absolutely seething disbelief and your hand stops moving on his back even though you don't step away. "How can you even think I—" And all at once it melts away as recognition dawns and the despair on his face becomes clear. Teresa. Teresa is why he's asking. Why he's afraid and why he's so anxious that he's throwing up in the bushes behind the building. "Marcus, no. Of course not. I didn't even let him ask the damn question. He's a self-centered moron who didn't take being broken up with well, and more importantly there is the fact that I love you."

“You were with him for a year.” Marcus reminds you, wanting so badly to believe you and yet it’s still just beyond his grasp.

"Lots of people are in relationships for longer than they should be," you reason, trying to keep his eyes even with the heartbreak that is obvious in them. "I love you, Marcus Pike. You're my soulmate, and I would trade every single second that I spent with Sam in a heartbeat if it meant getting to change all those memories to ones that include you."

“I’m sorry.” The apology is automatic, closing his eyes again and biting his lip. “This is— I shouldn’t have come out here. I shouldn’t have left your party.”

"You needed air, and you needed to clear your head." If you turn things around and put yourself in his shoes? You'd be losing it in the bushes, too. Thankfully, that is when Agent Bailey appears with a sealed bottle of water and she hands it off to you silently. "I'm sorry I ever said I wanted to stay friends with that man. Hopefully the fact that Secret Service escorted him off the grounds will get it through his head." Gently, though, you tip your head at Marcus and offer him a smile. "If not, I'm pretty sure that showing him your promise ring and loudly declaring how much I love you to about sixty people has probably done it."

“You did?” Marcus frowns slightly, confused as to when you managed to do that before rushing after him.

"I did." You nod slightly, one hand seeking his cheek to try to offer some kind of comforting touch. "And then I realized you weren't standing next to Sydney anymore, and I bolted after you."

“I—" he leans into the touch more than he realizes. “I can’t believe you did that.” He huffs softly.

"You said I could shout it from the rooftops." The reminder comes with a soft smile, as you see Marcus finally start to calm down a little and grapple with reality. "So I did."

“You have to be pretty pissed off at me.” He rationalizes. “All that talk and I’m puking my guts out when someone proposes to you on your birthday. In front of all your friends and family.”

"Baby, if one of your exes had shown up to your party and proposed, I assure you I also would have lost my shit. If not my dinner." Holding up the water bottle, you don't step away from him for a second. "We can stay out here as long as you need to, we can go back in, or we can go home. Whatever you need."

“You need to go back in.” Marcus tells you quietly. “You can’t just leave. All of those people are here for you.”

"I'm not leaving you." In the long run or the short, that sentence is the same.

“I’m not saying you leave me.” He looks at you again and reaches for the hand that isn’t on his back. “Let’s go back inside.”

"We'll sit and sip some water, and if your stomach is still turning we don't have to eat anything else." There is a more than minor chance that people will come up to you both for the rest of the night to want to talk about your soulmate status, but that can't be avoided.

He sighs softly. “You know why I was throwing up.” He challenges softly. “I was having a moment of extreme anxiety.”

"That doesn't mean you'll want to eat anything else, or that your stomach isn't still unsettled." Thankfully he wasn't panicked enough to drop your clutch, so he still has it in one hand and you take it from him carefully. "Here. I have mints and Tums stashed in here. Do you want one, the other, or both?"

He frowns slightly, unused to being fussed over unless it was his mother. “Both.” He decides. “I think.”

"We can do that." Mint Tums and Altoids are produced from your purse without further ceremony, and you wait until he steadies himself and chews his mints before you open your arms to offer him a hug.

He stares at you for a moment before he accepts the hug and pulls you close. “Are you okay, hummingbird?”

"I'm pissed at that idiot for upsetting you, but I'm okay." If he had said you should just go home, you would have gone with him in a heartbeat. Going back into that party sounds daunting at the very least. "What a fucking idiot. I'm just grateful I managed to catch you before you got too far."

“I just needed some air.” Marcus doesn’t know if he would have left, he hadn’t really been thinking— just reacting.

"If you get overwhelmed or anxious again, do you promise to tell me?" He takes your hand and a step or two toward the door at your side, but that doesn't mean he's totally ready to go in.

“I just—” he knows he owes you an explanation. “It felt like history was repeating itself. This time I was getting a front row seat.” He frowns slightly and looks down at the ring on your finger. “And the only thing that I could think of was how much worse it was because it was my soulmate.”

"You're absolutely entitled to have an anxious reaction to what just happened." With his hand in yours, you give it a squeeze and soothe your other hand over his arm. "Is there something I can do to reassure you? Or is this something that's just going to take time to work through?"

“It was just a flash in the pan thing.” Marcus assures you. “But I’ll talk to my therapist about it. So it doesn’t work into something between us.”

"Okay." He's working on himself, and honestly that might be one of the sexiest things about him. For now, though, you squeeze his hand again and head back into the building. "But if there is something I can do, or if I do something that I don't realize makes you anxious, will you tell me? I never want to make our time together stressful or triggering."

“I promise I will let you know.” He is thankful you understand why he freaked out, instead of just assuming he didn’t trust you. “I’m sorry that your birthday was…interrupted.”

"That is absolutely not your fault." It isn't. At all. And you would hate for him to feel that any of the blame is on his shoulders when it lies squarely with Sam. "Just...people are going to have questions. I did flash the ring, so we're going to have a lot of curiosity."

“I’m assuming this wasn’t the way you wanted to announce your soulmate status?” He asks wryly. “Why did Sam think he could win you over by proposing?”

"I think he thought that if he went for the grand gesture, I would just crumble." You sigh as you walk together, climbing the stairs slowly. "If not for you, I might have. I might have settled, instead of realizing that real love is something much more spectacular. Something worth holding out for."

“I’m glad you didn’t settle.” Marcus admits, looking over at you. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. Forget about me, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” At the top of the stairs you kiss his cheek and hold his hand a little tighter. “Now that I’ve met you, I could never forget about you.”

It’s a little surreal to be a priority, making Marcus flush a little more than he probably would, given that he had just doubted you and been proven spectacularly wrong. He’ll definitely call his therapist on Monday.

“Are you ready?” The doors are right in front of you, but you still check in with him first. “If you’re not, it’s okay. I’ll say good night and we’ll go home. Not questions asked.”

“No, I’m not going to ruin the rest of your night.” He shakes his head. “Let’s get a fresh drink.”

Marcus's stubbornness isn't something you want to start an argument about, but after tonight you're definitely going to take tomorrow very easy. "It's not the night any of us had planned, that's for damn sure."

“I would hope not.” He snorts and his hand squeezes yours again, now feeling guilty about leaving you while you dealt with Sam. “I’m sorry for not being there for you.”

"You don't need to be, but I appreciate that. He took all of us off guard." With a confirming nod from Marcus, you push the door to the event hall open and come face to face with a room full of guests who are all a flutter. Your mother still has the microphone in her hand but it seems to be off, and she makes her way toward you immediately with a deep frown etched in her features.

“Birdie.” She is almost sighing in relief when she spots you again. “You ran off, almost losing your detail.” She scolds quietly before she softens. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

"I needed some air." The gentle lie covers the fact that you actually went running after Marcus, but no one can blame you for having a big reaction to what happened. "That was insane."

The president gives a very unpresidential snort. “You think?” She huffs. “I cannot believe that man thought proposing after you broke up was a good idea. I mean, I know he had mentioned something when you were still together, but-“ Realizing who she is saying this in front of, she snaps her jaw closed and sends Marcus a polite smile. “Thank you for being with her.”

"It's not exactly how I was going to tell you about the promise ring," you admit, leaning in to Marcus's side when he offers your mother an agreeing nod. As though to say 'of course' without letting her know that it was actually you who was there for him.

“You seem overjoyed to wear it.” She observes, smiling slightly at the way you are leaning into the man beside you. Drawing comfort and offering it at the same time.

"I am." Without hesitation, and with great pride, in fact. "And I apologize in advance, but I'm going to miss a family dinner in a few weeks. Marcus is bringing me to Texas to meet his family."

“Really?” Her eyes widen slightly and shift over to Marcus as she reappraises him through a new lens. This has just change from potential to reality. “Well.” She smiles. “I am sure that they will love you.”

“We’ll make sure all the plans are approved by Agent Bailey, but…” Glancing up at Marcus beside you, your stomach flips and your hearts pounds. As off kilter as tonight has gone, he’s still standing here beside you. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t take your detail out to Texas.” Your mother considers, looking at Marcus to see what he thinks. “After all, you will be traveling with a federal agent.” She taps the microphone. “Would be bring your weapon and credential when you fly?” She asks him. Marcus nods immediately. “I always bring them.” He explains. “In case I get called out for a case. I don’t have to fly back to D.C.”

“We’ll be near the Dallas field office anyway,” you offer, having cruised around Marcus’s hometown on Google maps with him over a phone call when he was in London and noting the office as you went.

Your mother glances over at Agent Bailey and within seconds, the agent is joining the three of you. “What do you think, Agent Bailey?” She asks, wanting her professional opinion before she makes her decision.

“I would feel more comfortable if it was me, Ma’am.” Agent Bailey shifts in place, as if apologizing to you with her body language. “I’ll station at the field office and be on call. It’s a middle ground, if you will.”

“Birdie?” Your mother glances over at you to see what you think. “How does that sound?”

“That’s fine with me as long as long as it’s okay with Marcus.” You nod, appreciating your agent’s candor. “I trust Agent Bailey more than some strangers.”

“Whatever is needed for Birdie’s safety.” Marcus agrees. “Although, there’s plenty of room for you at the compound.” He tells Agent Bailey. “There’s no need for you to stay in Dallas. Please. Come stay with us.”

“We’ll coordinate with the Dallas office and make arrangements official.” Agent Bailey assures your small group. “Now…I believe there is a cake to be cut, ma’am?”

“Oh shit.” Marcus’s eyes widen when he realizes that you haven’t even had your cake. “Yeah, sweetheart, you need to have your birthday cake.”

“We got a little distracted from the point of the night, I think.” Still placing the blame for that squarely on one person’s shoulders, you offer your mother a smile anyway. “What do you say we get this party back on track?”

“Are you sure?” She glances back and forth between you and Marcus. “There will be a lot of questions.”

“I know there will be.” And you swallow, wondering if it will overwhelm Marcus and make him second guess choosing you. “But I would rather get ahead of the rumor mill.”

“Then perhaps you should announce your soulmate status.” She offers quietly. “People heard you talk about finding happiness, but they don’t know why you’ve moved on so quickly.”

“It shouldn’t matter,” you remind her, just as quietly but feeling a bit childish. That’s what freedom of affection is about. Your choice. “But I will anyway. Because I’m proud of him.”

“What you decide to do is up to you.” She agrees. “I should have had security stop Congressman Chase at the door.”

“Hindsight, Mom.” The best you can do is shrug. “I shouldn’t have said I wanted to stay friends. It’s done now.”

“Yes…” she huffs slightly, knowing that her opinion of the congressman just dropped considerably after his display tonight.

“Why don’t you give me that,” you motion to the microphone in her hand. “And I’ll talk…and you get the cake?”

“That is your decision, Birdie.” She hands you the microphone and Marcus frowns. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to do anything.”

“I have to say something.” Taking the microphone from her, you offer Marcus a lopsided smile before you click on the power button. “Are you ready for this?”

“Whenever you are.” It’s still a theory in his mind, not tangible. You don’t have to declare this—him— it’s enough that you want to be with him.

“I love you.” It’s just a soft hum, but you squeeze his hand before you click the microphone on and raise it to your mouth. “I hope everyone enjoyed the floor show,” you joke, bringing people’s attention back to the front of the room.

Marcus would have let go of your hand, to give you the spotlight alone, but you don’t let go. Making him give a soft smile as everyone looks at you and consequentially, him.

"I didn't think it was going to be necessary to make an announcement out of this, but clearly the fact didn't get through some people's heads." Still trying for the joke, you take a look around the room. Family, friends, co-workers and family friends all surround you with attentive expressions. "It's been a little over a month now, since I met Marcus Pike." Squeezing his hand gently, you smile at the man beside you and exhale nervously. Stage fright be damned. He is more important than nerves. "And it gave me a lot to think about. How happy I was with the current state of my life and my relationship, or how I imaged my future. It became fairly clear to me that I didn't want to envision any future for myself that didn't have Marcus playing a starring role. Which makes sense..." Breathe. You can do it. Just breathe. "Considering he's my soulmate."

Marcus gives a small wave and a somewhat lopsided grin that he is completely unaware of how charming it is. Listening to the murmurs and gasps of surprise as he knows that he’s under increased scrutiny.

"I know I've always been outspoken about freedom of affection." There are more murmurs – agreement from your loved ones. "And this is what I'm choosing. I am choosing to love my soulmate, and to start building a future with him. Apparently that was a difficult reality for my ex-boyfriend to swallow, but I hope you'll all join me in having a slice of birthday cake and celebrating love and happiness until they kick us out of this place."

Marcus could not have said it better himself, so he doesn’t speak. He just lifts your joined hands and kisses the back of yours gently.

Clicking off the microphone again, you hand it off to one of the uniformed wait staff and turn around to find a rolling table with a sizeable two-tier cake on it. Your father is there with a smile on his face and the knife ready for you to pick up. One ceremonial cut into the cake gets a cheer from the crowd and then it's Alex's voice that starts everyone singing Happy Birthday just as loudly as possible.

Marcus is happy that the celebration has turned back towards you and not the proposal. Singing along with the chorus of the song, he grins when you duck your head slightly in embarrassment.

"Thank god that's over," you huff with a laugh, as the waiter rolls the cake away to slice it properly and people start to mill about again instead of just staring at you. Or worse, singing at you. There's a dab of frosting on your finger and you suck it into your mouth with curiosity before perking up immediately. "Mm, cream cheese frosting!"

“Cream cheese frosting is your favorite?” He asks curiously, smiling at your obvious delight.

"Cake is my favorite." The grin on your face doesn't even have a hint of irony to it. "But if you made me choose? Red velvet with cream cheese frosting is pretty much the top of the list."

“As it should be.” Marcus snorts and shoots you a grin. “But, have you ever had a chilled, key lime cake with cream cheese frosting on a hot Texas day?”

"Please tell me that's something your family does," you groan happily. "Because that sounds amazing."

“My aunt makes one every time I come home.” He promises. “I’ve already gotten the text from her asking if I would want her to make one. I always say yes, but she still asks.”

"Your aunt is now at the very top of my favorite people list." The grin on your face comes with burning cheeks, and you lean into Marcus's side with a sigh. "After you, of course."

“Until you taste my mom’s strawberry daiquiri pie.” He teases, leaning in and kissing your nose.

"Are we going to eat our way through this visit? Because I am completely ready for that." The small reprieve you've been given from the curiosity of your friends and family has apparently ended, and the first waiter with a tray of plates of cake comes out and Malachi saunters up to grab a slice right after you.

“You’ll work it off.” He promises with a grin at the concierge as he smirks with the cake in his hand. “Malachi, how are you this evening?” He asks with a slight chuckle. “A little drama filled, right?”

“More than a little.” Malachi deftly balances a small dessert plan with a glass of champagne in one hand, but his other reaches out to Marcus. “I guess we’ll be seeing you more around the inn?”

Marcus shakes the man’s hand, sensing that despite his aloof mannerisms, he cares deeply about you and the inn. “I hope that’s alright?”

"If she's happy, I'm happy." The younger man chuckles fondly. "Everybody wants their boss in a good mood, right?"

“Absolutely.” Marcus agrees with a grin. “I will try to stay out of your way and keep her in a good mood, what do you say?”

"Sounds like a very good plan." Malachi's eyes spell mischief, just like always, but he cares about you far too much to pretend he isn't genuinely over the moon for you to have finally found the right person to be with.

You huff playfully and Marcus turns his grin towards you. “I have to promise not to distract you from work too much.” He reminds you. “You have an inn to run.”

"Mal says he's happy now," you tease." But he's going to have to run the place for me while we're in Texas. That'll teach him."

“A lover’s getaway already?” His brow shoots up and his lips curl in the same direction. “And here I was thinking that you were taking this slow.”

"Family visit." Though it's technically a correction, it's only a small one. If anything, meeting your soulmate's family is even more important than just a little getaway. "We'll go over everything and I know you'll be just fine. But...yes. A getaway."

“Good.” Malachi sniffs. “You deserve to go somewhere other than Maryland.”

There are other people milling around, wanting to give their best wishes or simply curious to get a closer look at Marcus, and Malachi slips back off into the crowd with a wink and a smile. If this is the rest of the party, you reflect with a glance up at Marcus as you fork up a first bite of cake, that won't be so bad at all.

There are so many people who care about you. Some are just curious and he’s sure that there will be gossip reported on the night, but most everyone who comes up to you genuinely cares. He smiles and shakes hands. Listening to how they know you and saves the information for the next time he sees them. Never leaving your side until he needs to refresh your drink.

By the time the end of the night arrives, you're so grateful to slip away. The fact that you and Marcus have planned a lazy day for tomorrow is deeply necessary. Switching to nonalcoholic drinks after the toast with your cake means neither of you is drunk but you're definitely still tangled around each other after loading the trunk of Marcus's car with various boxes and bags (even though you insisted on no gifts). Good nights are said and Agent Bailey climbs into her car to follow you back to the inn as you and Marcus sigh at finally being alone again in his car.

“I don’t know if that’s the best possible outcome for your birthday, or the worst.” Marcus chuckles, reaching for your hand once he buckled his seatbelt. “Opinions, comments, concerns?”

"Aside from the bit in the middle that I would prefer to never think about again?" You glance up at him beside you and offer him a smile. "Everything else was perfect."

“He was desperate.” Marcus squeezes your hand. “I know why. You are amazing and he’s lost you.” He wonders what he would have done if you had chosen him, if it had been him in Sam’s shoes. He’s let everyone else go, but it’s different now. You are his soulmate.

“Nobody ever treated me like I was ‘amazing’ ,” you tell him honestly, sitting back in your seat when he starts his car up. “Or maybe that’s part of what being a soulmate is. A shared definition of how to treat someone well.”

He doesn’t like the idea that no one has treated you like you deserve, frowning slightly. “Well, the moment I don’t, you just correct me.”

“Same goes for you, you know.” Your hand works its way into his over the gear shift to stay tangled in him even while he drives.

“I don’t think you will be a problem, sweetheart.” He smiles as he glances over at you and then back at the road to the rearview mirror. “Agent Bailey staying again? Or is someone else taking over?”

"Agent Sisson should be at the inn when we get there." His grace and understanding in regards to your security detail is deeply appreciated. You really can't say how much. "It was nice of you to offer for her to stay on the compound when we go see your parents."

“There’s always people coming and going, family and friends. It will make her feel better and maybe she will enjoy herself too.” Marcus rationalizes. “There’s plenty of room. No need for a boring hotel.”

"It will be a nice change," you agree. The darkened streets of Washington DC are lit to blazing with artificial light but it's still fairly quiet for a Saturday night. "I feel bad that there aren't more places for her to hang out at my apartment."

“I would offer my apartment, the second bedroom is my office and across the entire living room from my bedroom.” Marcus chuckles.

"We'll have to split the difference sometimes. Use both places." Tilting your head, you flash him a cheeky grin as he drives. "Until we start building, of course."

“Honestly, whatever is easier for you.” Marcus isn’t about to sleep without you if he can manage it. “I do not mind your apartment at all.”

"We'll see what works best for us. I'm sure there will be days when it will be easier for you to be closer to the office or days when I need to be close to the inn just in case." His flexibility is such a boon, and you squeeze his hand gently. "As long as I get to sleep next to you, we'll make it work."

“That was my thoughts exactly.” Marcus chuckles quietly, amazed at how the two of you just fit together. He had always heard of it, been envious of it on a subconscious level, but now he’s basking in this newfound joy.

"I hope you already told your parents you're bringing me," you laugh softly. "Because I told a lot of people tonight."

“I’m sure there will be something about in a gossip column tomorrow.” He has accepted that, has no issue with it as long as he gets to have you. It’s a requirement of it, to be public. He’s got nothing to hide anyway. He’s used to it from his own childhood. “I’ve told them.” He promises.

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me what your Dad does.” It’s an open question but a good one, especially where it keeps your mind from idling on the fact that at this time last night, Marcus was fingering you in your bathtub and promising to do more tonight.

His brow shoots up and he almost laughs, but you are asking the question seriously. “Oh, he’s retired now.” Marcus promises, grinning slightly.

“Oh?” That’s surprising, though you’re not sure why. Maybe just because you hadn’t been expecting it. “Is he much older than your mother? Or…I don’t know…military? They retire early sometimes, don’t they?”

He does chuckle now and he stops at the red light. “Birdie, my dad is Matthew Pike.” He wonders if you might not have heard of him during his active years in the MLB. “Nicknamed Stryker for the number of strikeouts he would average throwing a game.”

The silence in the car is deafening for the few seconds it takes your mind to catch up with what he’s saying and for your jaw to come up off the floor, but when you can finally think again the first thing out of your mouth is: “No fucking way!”

Marcus belly laughs this time, squeezing your hand and glancing over at you before the light changes and he starts to drive again. “Fucking way.” He promises.

“Wait…” Rolling back through all of the assorted baseball facts in your mind, you somehow manage to come up with just a few Matthew Pike tidbits and get excited all over again. “So you’re not originally from Texas then!” You exclaim, fully shifting into fan girl mode. “He was playing for the Cardinals when you were born, wasn’t he?”

“Cardinals and then he was with Montreal, the Yankees, then Texas.” Marcus nods, grinning at the sheer happiness in your voice.

“I always thought it would have been so cool to live all over like that when I was a kid.” At the time it had never occurred to you that things like having Sydney come with you would have been impossible, it just sounded neat. “That’s the absolute coolest bomb you ever could have dropped on me and I’m so jealous.”

Marcus laughs. “Well, after dad retired, he bought the land out in Texas – no, he already started buying it during his time with Texas – and we made it the ‘Pike compound’.” He snorts. “Kind of like the Kennedy Compound, but not on Cape Cod.”

“There is no room for a family compound in Philly.” The very idea of it makes you laugh, and you grin at him. “Well now I extra can’t wait to meet your parents.”

“Oh….its tradition, by the way.” Marcus tosses you a smirk. “We play at least one game of baseball when we are home.”

“No fucking way.” This time there is awe in your voice and your eyes are wide with giddy excitement. “You have the absolute coolest family, you know that, right?”

“You say that now.” He snorts, rolling his eyes. “You’ve never heard the trash talking the Pike family doles out when playing sports.”

“Don’t care,” you tell him with confidence. “It’s still awesome. Your family is awesome.”

“I think so.” He agrees, happy that his family tradition doesn’t seem weird or lame to you. It had started as a way for the cousins and brothers and sisters to play baseball with the famous MLB star and turned into a tradition that everyone could enjoy, even if they were watching from the seats.

“It’s going to be a blast.” The absolute confidence in your voice won’t hear of anything different. Texas is going to be a fantastic trip.

“They are going to love you.” He promises with a small laugh. “Expect a million questions though.”

“I’m fine with that,” you promise him steadily. “As long as your dad doesn’t mind me fangirling just a tiny bit.”

He smirks. “There’s been a change in his retirement, by the way.” He tells you. “He’s been signed to be the pitching coach for the Rangers. So you can pick his brain.”

“Ok, so fangirling a lot.” Both of you laugh, enjoying the easiness and eagerness of it.

“At least you know you won’t be roped into awkward conversations. You just mention something about baseball and it will become a family topic quick.” Marcus warns.

“Got it.” You hum. He takes the exit for Alexandria and you look over at his profile. “Speaking of which? You’re now invited to family dinners.”

“I am?” Marcus lifts a brow in surprise. “When did that happen?”

“Right before we left the party.” A bit of your lip comes with hoping he doesn’t feel intimidated by where those dinners are. “Mom said there’s no pressure, but you’re welcome.”

“I would be honored to attended….when I can.” Even though it’s an extreme honor, he still had commitments to his job that sometimes cannot be shifted. “I will promise that I’ll come to as many as I can.”

“Work always comes first.” Everyone in your family can understand and agree to that, which is something that helps you breathe more deeply. “David has a standing invitation, too. But his boss has him working Friday nights right now.”

“That’s not fun.” Marcus sends you a small smile. “I better brush up on my small talk.”

“Brush up on American history.” That’s your best advice, but you’re ecstatic he even wants to think about it. “The more obscure the better. When we run out of things to talk about, Mom starts quizzing us on the weird stuff.”

“Play online Jeopardy trivia.” Marcus snorts. “Got it.”

“You’ll knock ‘em dead, baby,” you hum with a laugh.

“You laugh, but mom love Jeopardy.” He huffs playfully. “She wanted to go on the celebrity edition when dad was invited. She was pissed that he turned it down.”

“Our mothers will have at least one thing to bond over, then.” The idea is sweet, actually, and you grin. “If we ever lose them, we’ll find them yelling answers at Jeopardy together.”

“I will be very intrigued to find out how they like each other.” Marcus admits as he turns into the driveway for the inn. “I think we will be in trouble.”

“Maybe.” It makes you smile, though, and you breathe a sigh of relief to be home again. “But I think it will be a good kind of trouble.”

The plans for the super special birthday sex had been unanimously voted against once you were back at the inn. Marcus wouldn’t have said a word, but you were the one to broach the subject and admitted that you just wanted to fall asleep in his arms, emotionally drained from the tumultuous events of the evening. He feels guilty, he really does, but he had also been relieved, although stirring now with you still asleep is a moment he can treasure.

Yesterday you had been the one to watch him fondly, tracing the sunlight on his features and letting you savor the sight of him beside you. The morning after your birthday is the opposite. Marcus watches you dream as the sun rises higher overhead. If you knew, you might be slightly embarrassed about the spot of drool on your pillow, but as it is you’re having dreams far too wonderful to care.

You sleep with your mouth open and it’s cute. Marcus smiles as he brushes his fingers over your skin gently, listening to soft sigh that comes from you as you curl further into him.

In your dreams, he’s already curled around you. Which probably accounts for the soft moan you breathe deep inside your sleep.

“Sweetheart?” Marcus nuzzles his nose against your cheek and smiles when your brow furrows gently.

The sound of his voice in the waking world pulls you out of it, and even though you hum softly in protest of waking up, you shift to snuggle closer to him in bed.

He hums softly, running his hand up and down your back. “You can still sleep, I just want to know if I can touch you.”

“Mmmmm.” Stretching like a contented kitten, you manage to crack one eye open and smile at him sleepily. “I wanna be awake for that, though.”

“You could always wake up to it.” He chuckles and leans in to steal a kiss.

The warm blanket of his affection is far more powerful than the comforter covering both of you, and you’re simultaneously annoyed that he’ll have to strip you out of your nightgown and lazily eager to see if he just doesn’t bother. Moaning softly against his lips, you shift ever closer. “I’m yours.”

You are his. His heart stutters and he hums against your lips. Moving the kiss down your jaw, he shuffles his hips down to start sliding down under the sheets.

There’s a surreal quality to it, like you’re still dreaming even when you know you aren’t. But the morning glow settling over everything is so much better than your dreams had been. It’s like you’re floating on a cloud, and the only thing anchoring you to the ground or any kind of reality is just Marcus.

Your nightgown is between you, but he doesn’t view it as hinderance. Too busy nuzzling you through it as he kisses down your chest and pulls down the collar of the gown over one breast.

The bowing arch of your back into his touch is so natural that you barely notice that you’re chasing his mouth rather than his hands. It’s just your body singing insistently for more when he’s barely getting started.

You respond so easily to him, your warm skin heating up even more as he mouths and kisses the skin around your breast until he finally latches on to your nipple lazily, grabbing against your sweet smelling skin. Your breathy sigh is pitched up, and the leisurely curl of your arms around his shoulders holds him in close to you to encourage him to explore any and all parts of you. Sensitive nipples have always been a boon as far as arousal goes, but Marcus’s magic tongue is nothing to discount.

Listening to your sweet sighs is something he can do forever. Licking and sucking gently, combined with the a sometimes sharp nip of his teeth, builds a tension that vibrates beneath the surface of your body.

Your fingers comb through his hair as you drift on a cloud that keeps you somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Every atom in your body is fully aware and aroused but the sweet dream of this morning makes it still feel like a dream. Holding him close to your chest as he explores to his heart’s content has you squeezing your thighs together already, the buzzing arousal feeling thick and sticky at the apex of your thighs.

"So sweet, perfect." Marcus praises softly between suckles. His hands sliding under your gown to stroke your hip. "You taste perfect, my love."

The happy buzz vibrating right under your skin makes you giggle at that as you squirm underneath him. “And you haven’t even tasted the best part yet.”

“Hmmmm, I’m going to get there.” Marcus promises. “This isn’t a race. I could spend alllll day discovering your body with my tongue and hands before I even use my cock.”

A moan of agreement parts your lips and you end up grinning as he mouths at your skin, nipping and licking everywhere he pleases. “The flea market will still be there next weekend.”

“Maybe we should get out of bed then.” He pauses, head under the sheet and waits for you to squirm. “Right? We can’t miss the flea market.”

“Are you serious?” He’s probably not, but you still lift the sheet to look him in the eyes. If he actually wants to stop, then of course you will. But you have a feel he’s just being a tease again.

He smirks, and looks up at you innocently while sticking his tongue out to trace around your areola. "What do you think?" He hums.

“I’m not going to pressuring you into anything,” you qualify, although he basically has you whining. “But I am gonna have to take care of myself in the shower if you want to stop.”

"That would be a horrible precedent to set in our first weekend together." Marcus flicks his tongue over your aching nipple and then hums when you gasp out as his teeth scrap over it. "Don't you think? We've already postponed this too many times."

It’s almost too much to bear, the way he teases with words and touches and kisses all at once, but you manage to huff at him. “If I drown you when you get down there, it’s only because I’ve been thinking about this every waking second for weeks.”

“Worth it.” He promises with a grin. “It had been so hard not to jerk off thinking about you while I was in London. Especially knowing you were all soft, wet and sweet smelling from your baths with me.”

“Do you know how many times I almost got myself off in those damn baths?” Your soft groan is almost agonized. “I should have. Just moaned into the phone and let you know how badly I want you.”

“Fuck.” His cock twitches against the bed, trapped there as he continues to work his way down. “I wouldn’t have minded.” He admits. “Listening to your orgasm and imagining how you look.” He bites his lip. “You look gorgeous.”

“Would’ve been worth it.” He kisses further down your torso and you hum in approval. “Can’t wait to see how wrecked you look when you cum in me.”

“I had a screening while I was in London.” Marcus admits quietly. “After Vanessa broke up with me. I always do after a relationship ends. Just in case.”

“I do too.” A little bit of a sheepish laugh follows. “Turns out it’s really easy to get good healthcare when your Mom is President.”

Marcus chuckles against your belly button before kissing it. “I bet.” He hums. “No one needs a leaked doctor office visit where the First Princess has an STI.”

“I only like that nickname because it came from the night with you,” you confess, fingers running through his short fair fondly. “I hope you know that.”

“So how about I just call you Princess?” Marcus’s voice drops about two octaves and he smirks at you wickedly.

“As long as I’m your princess.” Although, your sigh immediately gives away what that tone in his voice fires to you.

“Is there any other kind of Princess you would be?” He sends you a wink as he trails his tongue over your hip.

“Not anymore.” Your head falls back on your pillow in relief at that fact, and you fling off the sheet to get to watch him. “Not now that I have you.”

Pleasure races down his spine and he shuffles slightly lower. “I am yours.”

“Glad we—” The moan that cuts off your thought when you feel Marcus’s breath at the apex of your open thighs is deep and curls up from your toes. “Agree.”

He chuckles and doesn’t hesitate to use his fingers to spread your lips apart and he coos as he gets the first good look at your weeping sex. “So pretty.” He praises before he decides the best way to taste you is to slowly drag his tongue along your soaked slit.

“Oh fuck.” Even when you were expecting it, the delicate touch has your eyelids fluttering shut and your chest heaving. Your curse sounds like the most beautiful praise to his ears, moaning at that and the silky, tangy taste of your cunt. Letting his tongue slowly flick along your folds and go where the natural curves of your lips take him. “Never going out again,” you vow, letting a breathy whine vibrate on your tongue.

Marcus chuckles into your folds, keeping pressure on the most sensitive parts of you as he explores. He’s meticulous. Once he’s set himself to the task of learning you, absolutely nothing can or will possibly drag him away. The more you squirm, the firmer his hold becomes. But the more you pant and moan and coo his name into the morning light? Marcus is eager.

The sheet being pulled away allows him to watch you. Enjoying the way you writhe and squirm under his touch. Humming against your skin as you whimper his name prettily.

There's no possible explanation beyond Marcus having a three-foot-long tongue, because the way he feels like he's everywhere at once is the most beautiful kind of overwhelming. There's a solid chance he's just been licking into you and sucking at your clit for hours from how boneless you are, but the first tightening of the knotted arousal at the bottom of your spine heralding the first orgasm of the day reminds you just how quickly he's actually gotten here. You only feel like you've been on this cloud of ecstasy for forever.

Marcus feels your thighs starts to tense around his head. Tightening his grip of your hips as he continues to overwhelm you gently.

“Baby—” Breathless gasps begin to take over as your whole body seems to tighten in response to the mounting pleasure. “I’m so—fuck, I’m so close—”

He doesn’t dare pull away, not wanting to give you a seconds break from the flick of his tongue. Groaning into you and coaxing you to cum for him.

Marcus’s name is a chant on your lips as you fall apart, tipping off the peak of the mountain of pleasure and swan diving down into the swimming ecstasy that Marcus is drawing out of you with lips and teeth and hands.

Your breathless cry of his name is followed by the most gorgeous sight he’s ever seen. Your back arches, eyes closed, one hand tangled into his hair and the other gripping the sheets. It’s beautiful and erotic, a pure work of live art that is priceless to him.

For a few seconds after it’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, and then you sink back into the mattress with a sigh. You still have one hand in his hair and it rubs gently, begging him to climb up your body so you can kiss him.

It takes a few minutes, Marcus liking to be thorough when he is working a woman down from her high. Kissing the swollen skin gently before his mouth starts a slow journey back up to yours. By the time he gets up to your lips you’re practically whining for that kiss, happily letting him sink down on top of you when he gets there. His body covers yours perfect, fitting into every grove like he was made for you – because he was. His lips molding to yours in a soft yet sensuous kiss that consumes both of you in the growing morning light.

The valley between your thighs is the perfect place for him to rest, and you cradle him against your body as easily as if you were welcoming him home. What they say about intimacy between soulmates seems to be abundantly clear to you in this moment — it really is the deepest feeling of connection you’ve ever had.

Marcus revels in the feel, sliding his tongue against yours and he pushes his arms under yours to hold you close. It’s almost lazy, the way you sink against each other, but Marcus’s cock trapped between your bodies isn’t going to let either of you get distracted from the wonderful the track that you’re on.

His knuckles brush your cheek and when he finally pulls away, he’s grinning at you. “Good morning.”

"Cheeky," you hum at him, although you're grinning too. "Making me cum that hard and then acting all cute and innocent."

“That was hard?” He tilts his head and smirks slightly, teasing you. “I thought that was a good place to start.”

"Marcus Reid Pike." Eyeing him with a skeptical huff, you ruffle his hair again and end up laughing. "I'm all for that. Just give me a second to recover."

He laughs, coming back down to smother you in affectionate kisses to hear you squeal. “No recovery time!” He commands playfully.

"Such a demanding lover!" You faux-scold, laughing and clinging to him as you squeal and squirm in his arms. Marcus laughs like an evil villain and rocks his hips, grinding his cock against your mound.

"Fuck." It earns him a whimper from your lips, your whole body lighting up all over again at the contact.The playfulness ebbs away and is replaced by a moment of silent desire passing through both of you. Leaning in again, his lips press against yours once more. When you shift this time, your feet are flat on the bed and your knees end up bracketing his hips, encouraging him closer and letting him rest in the cradle of your thighs.

“Ready for more?” He hums, ducking his head to kiss your pulse. “I thought my little Hummingbird needed to recover?”

"I have reconsidered," you inform him, with the air of someone making a very serious and important political decision. "And instead insist on more."

“Ahhhh.” He pops his head up and makes a very loft expression appear on his own face as his hips tilt back and the head of his cock catches on your slick entrance. “A wise choice.” He rasps out, pushing forward to start breaking you open. “Princess.”

Your own noise is best described as a whine, somewhere in between a sharp gasp and a plaintive begging for as much as he's willing to give you. Your legs find their way up higher on his hips to invite him to bury himself in your heat, and even though you were just kissing him seconds ago, you swear he's managed to find a way to loom over you with the perfect expression of desire on his face.

You are exquisite, perfect. Marcus can’t even find enough words to describe how the moment he slides into you wraps around his heart and imprints into his soul. The same soul that is fused with yours. He’s always heard that you feel so much deeper with your soulmate and he’s happy to learn that it’s true.

For a few long seconds, the two of you are content to adjust to each other. No sharp, awkward movements. No wiggling or shifting. The angle is already perfect and Marcus is fully seated inside your body without a single moment of hesitation or difficulty. There’s just a feeling of coming home that you’re basking in until he starts to move.

Starting slow is the only way to do this. Not because he’s afraid of hurting you, but because he doesn’t want to leave you. Feeling like he just stay buried inside your honeyed walls and be perfectly content. The first time he draws his hips back, a low groan falls from his lips. Your real name following that.

There are octaves of difference in your responses. Where Marcus’s groan comes from somewhere deep in his soul, your high whine of pleasure is its own ethereal sound. Once those sounds break free, it seems like a release cord has been pulled — and every pleasurable sound, pure of encouragement, and moan of praise is sure to come tumbling out after it.

It’s never been like this. Never reached into his body and tugged at his soul like this. He should feel guilty but he can’t. Not when every slow thrust is met with an eagerness that shows your own enthusiasm.

Each thrust from Marcus comes with a lift or a roll of your hips, meeting him at the center of the movement to create an exquisite rhythm between the two of you. It's the ebb and flow of the ocean between your bodies as the pace increases and the warmth of the sun heats your skin even further.

It’s beautiful, but he can tell that it’s not enough. Your fingernails dig into his skin, only to release a second later as if you are afraid of marking him. Your body asking for more than the gentle lovemaking. “Let me-“ Marcus kisses you again. “Do you want to try a different position?”

With his cock buried to the hilt inside you like it is, he could probably suggest murder and you'd agree with breathless enthusiasm. "Anything," you nod emphatically and soothe the light fingernail marks you accidentally left on his shoulder.

“Let me know if you don’t like something, Princess.” Marcus murmurs seriously. “This is about both of us.”

"I promise." Right now all you care about is that he doesn't leave the heat of your little cocoon for too long, but you're willing to try just about anything once.

Marcus pulls back and he tries to shift without pulling out of you. Almost succeeding, but smirking slightly when you whimper as his cock falls out. Pushing his legs under your hips, he lifts your left leg onto his shoulder and shimmy’s closer.

There's no thrusting in this position, but as Marcus slides inside you again he leans back the intensity of just grinding against each other makes you moan out and reach to grip Marcus's ankle by your head. He loves how deep he feels, how your walls simply flutter around him. “So good baby.” Marcus groans. “How does it feel?”

"So good baby." Echoing him with a whimper, the hand of yours that isn't clinging to him is somewhere between fisting the sheets and exploring your own body while his hips grind into yours. "You like watching me writhe, gorgeous?"

“Yes.” The word falls like a prayer from his lips, breathless as he watches you. His heart galloping like he’s running a marathon and he can only hope that it’s half as good for you.

"You wanna see me touch myself?" The angle is perfect for it. For him to watch you on your back as he rolls his hips against yours and makes both of you shudder in response. Your free hand squeezes mercilessly at one of your tits, pawing it and twisting the nipple with enough force to make you moan sharply.

“Show me what you like.” Marcus growls out the order, his cock pulsing violently inside your walls as his body responds to the idea.

Anchoring yourself to him was like clinging to life when he first slid inside you in this position, but now you can take your hand away and put it to much better use rubbing decisive, tight circles around your clit to give Marcus a gorgeous show of you indulging in your own body at the same time he fucks you.

His eyes keep roaming. Taking in your hand squeezing and manipulating your breast, the tight circles you rub around your clit. All finding it to be the sexiest thing he’s ever seen as his cock grinds into you. The end of the shaft the only part of it he can see.

Watching Marcus practically salivate over the sight of you is worth not being able to kiss him in this position. Every time he lifts his hips his cock scrubs against your g-spot and your back arches just a little bit more, rocketing you straight toward the second orgasm of the morning.

“That how you like it baby?” Marcus groans when you clench down around him, providing the perfect pressure. “What else do you like? Tell me. Want to give it to you.”

“Want you to — oh fuck — fucking wreck me.” What started out as beautiful, slow, sensual lovemaking has quickly picked up speed and intensity. Like something inside the two of you just released out of nowhere. “Claim me.”

“Fuck” Marcus growls from the very pit of his stomach and he manages to push to his knees by folding them under and looming over you. “You want it rough?”

Simply knowing the man is broad doesn’t do justice to the way he looms over you now. There is power in his strength and yet a deep confidence that he would never, never hurt you. You know Marcus can be gentle and sensual — but you also want to see what it’s like when he’s rough. “Absolutely.”

Your leg is up on his shoulder so when he lunges forward, it’s pressed back to your body. Trapped between the two of you and pinning your hand so you can’t move it from your clit. His hand slaps the side of your thigh sharply and he replaces the hand on your tit with his own, the next thrust more of a sharp snap of his hips.

Permission seems to be all he needed, having no issue taking charge or throwing some power into his thrusts. It pushes you up the bed and has you moaning out all over again. If you had neighbors, they would definitely be complaining. Instead, you just make a mental note to get an extra treat for your agents in apology for how much of this they’re going to start hearing.

“Tell me what else you want.” He demands through gritted teeth and he slides one hand up to rest on the hollow of your throat. He doesn’t squeeze. “This?”

The whimper he earns from you with that suggestion is almost pitiable, but having one of your favorite things to watch in porn that you've never tried before just offered to you – it makes you impossibly wetter and that impending orgasm come even closer. "I – fuck – please?" You beg, knowing you sound pitiful but not caring in the least.

“Hold onto my hand Princess.” Marcus orders roughly. “Squeeze twice quickly if you need me to stop.” He knows that it’s hard to talk sometimes and he wants you to be safe. If this is the kind of experience you want sometimes, you will need to discuss safe words and other safety precautions. Later.

It's possibly the most obedient you've ever been in your life and you put your hand over his wrist and squeeze it twice quickly to show him that you understand. "Like that. I love you, baby."

“I love you too.” He grunts, snapping his hips forward as he squeezes your windpipe for the first time. It’s not hard, but it’s firm enough to cut your air intake in half.

If he was worried even for a second that this might be going out on a limb or that you agreed to it just because you thought it would please him, that worry slides away instantly. As soon as he squeezes, your eyes rolls back in pleasure and your cunt squeezes his cock tight, flooding him with another rush of arousal.

“Holy shit, holy shit. You like that?” He groans, squeezing a little harder. “Yeah you do.” He hisses. “Open your mouth for me, Princess.”

You really fucking do like it, and the instinct for obedience it seems to ingrain in you has you opening your mouth immediately.

It’s a testament to his core training that he can take his other hand off the bed. Holding himself up as he presses his thumb to your tongue and hooks your jaw open even more as he continues to pound into you. “Suck.” He growls.

It might be the single sexiest thing you've ever seen. The way he practically blocks out the sun with the bulk of him and narrows down your entire world to only him feels incredible. Just swirling your tongue around his thumb and sucking it deeper into your mouth has you all the way to the edge of pleasure; but it's when Marcus growls again that you completely lose control, cumming so hard you feel like the world has gone white at the edges.

His blood pressure shoots through the roof and he’s pretty sure that you’ve just soaked the bed underneath you in the most intense orgasm he’s ever witnessed. Panting out your name as he continues to rock into you at an unhinged pace to intensify the pleasure.

If you could you’d beg him to join you. Moan praise and encouragements and tell him with complete honesty how incredibly well he’s fucking you. But being at his mercy like this means your best option is putting all your focus into lavishing the digit in your mouth in attention and bearing down on his cock in earnest any time he’s inside you.

“Fuck baby, fuck baby.” Marcus can’t keep up the growling when he feels like shouting at how hard you are squeezing him. “Gonna cum, gonna – fuck, fill up that little pussy.” He hisses, his hips stutter for a few thrusts before he is burying himself deep.

You practically have to catch him when he falls over the edge after you, just making sure that he doesn’t collapse in such a way that your heads knock together or he accidentally puts too much weight toward the one side of the bed you’ve ended up closer to. You let go of his wrist when his grip on your throat loosens, letting him slump into your body and wrapping that arm around his shoulders to hold him close as he rides out his orgasm.

It’s the most intense feeling Marcus has ever felt in his life. Bigger than any rush of adrenaline or dose of serotonin. For one heart stopping moment, he’s almost afraid that he’s had a heart attack. Body shaking with pleasure as he pours himself into you completely. It’s as if your bodies, as well as your souls, merge.

You dust soft kisses on his cheeks and along his jaw, reveling in the feeling of being completely full of him while he catches his breath.

“How are you feeling?” When he can think, Marcus pulls back to start checking in with you. His hand softening in its touch and he caresses your throat gently. He hadn’t been too rough, but he likes to make a fuss, especially when sex takes a turn like it did this morning.

“Fantastic.” You admit with only a hint of sheepishness in the way you smile at him and your hands caress his back and shoulders. “You?”

“Amazing.” He assures you softly. “Anything you didn’t quite like? Wanted more of?”

“I didn’t want to stop in the middle and ask how you felt about biting or scratching,” you admit. It feels silly to say since he paused to check in with you about getting rough, but you’re being honest. “And…I think we should talk about safe words?”

“We should.” Marcus agrees. “Expectations and needs are important to address as well.”

“I didn’t anticipate rough morning sex the first time,” you giggle, brushing sweat-matted hair from his forehead. “My mistake.”

“That was okay, right?” His soft brown eyes turned worried as he wonders if he overstepped for the first time you were together.

“Baby.” The worry on his face has you reaching for his immediately and pressing kisses to his lips. “It was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life.”

“Okay.” He sighs in relief. “I just didn’t want to overstep our first time.”

“Not at all.” A kiss on the bridge of his nose punctuates the promise. “As long as you enjoyed it, too. Sex should be about both of our pleasure.”

“I enjoyed myself.” Marcus admits with an embarrassed grin. “I enjoy getting a little rougher or darker depending on how my partner feels about it.”

“It’s not an every time thing,” you agree, enjoying the way Marcus almost blushes over admitting his pleasure, “but when you’re in the mood it’s so much fun.”

“I can completely agree.” He hums as he shifts to move off of you.

“Do you still want to go to the flea market today?” You’re up for anything. As long as you get to spend the day with him, everything is golden.

“What do you want?” He asks softly, cupping your cheek. “Your birthday was emotional and I just want to give you a day to enjoy.”

"I just want you. As cheesy as that sounds." Reaching up to peck a kiss on his lips, you shift off the bed along with him despite still-wobbly legs. "Let's take a shower and head to the flea market just like we planned. If something else strikes our fancy then we'll switch gears when we think of it?"

“That sounds like a perfect day to me.” Marcus quickly follows you, holding onto your waist as you go into the bathroom. “Shower together?”

"Absolutely." Naked Marcus is rapidly becoming one of your favorite versions of him, and you fully plan on pampering him in the shower in thanks for fucking you senseless. Seems like a fair trade in your mind.

He hums in approval and moves towards the shower stall to turn on the water while you take care of your after sex business. “Do I need to leave for you to use the bathroom?” He asks, aware that it might not be something you like to do— peeing in front of a partner.

"Not on my account." While some girls might be squeamish about that, you're not one of them. "If you can be inside me, you can stand to be in the room while I pee. That's my feeling, anyway."

“Sound logic to me.” He can’t argue with it. “Especially since one day I’ll be in a delivery room as you give birth to our children.”

"And you need to be okay with bodily functions way before that day comes." Hearing him be on the same page as you is both an enormous relief and absolutely thrilling at the same time and you flash him a grin. "Can I...tell you about the dream I had last night? Without you thinking I'm an absolute crazy person?"

“You can tell me anything, always.” He promises, returning your grin easily and reaching for the towels that are neatly folded on a shelf. “I want us to share anything and everything. For us to be more than just soulmates. Friends too.”

"To be fair, we were friends for a whole month before anything happened," you remind him. The shower is already starting to steam the bathroom mirror but you instinctively wash your hands after you finish on the toilet. "We were f-w-y. Friends with yearning."

“Lots of yearning.” Marcus can agree and he opens the door to let you step into the shower. “Tell me about your dream, Princess.”

"It was about us." Stepping under the hot water with him right behind you, you sigh and lean back under the hot spray. "We had..." A small laugh escapes you and you shake your head. "We had four kids, a big, beautiful Golden Retriever, and we were living in a beautiful little house that looked like a converted barn. It was the most beautiful little domestic vision and I almost didn't want to wake up, except I knew that you were there for real right next to me."

“Four kids, huh?” He grins as he wraps his arms around you and slides his hands up to cup your breasts. “These will be off limits for a long time then.”

"Your fault for telling me twins run in your family," you huff at him, though you arch into his touch immediately. "It got in my subconscious."

“I kind of like the idea of four.” He admits, whispering into your ear. “Two for each of us to corral.” He jokes. “We’ll need a big bed for Sunday morning snuggles when they are young.”

"California king and great big blankets for them to cuddle under." The image is a sweet one, and it conjures up lazy morning and plenty of giggling kiddos in your mind. "And the dog, to cap it all off. Because you know the dog will corral them and be their favourite playmate."

“Absolutely.” Marcus agrees, chuckling himself. “And shedding everywhere, getting muddy with them. Shrieking when he flings water all over them after a bath.”

You both laugh as you start to wash up, reaching for soap and for washcloths and maneuvering around each other in the shower that was definitely not built for two. "So thank you for a beautiful dream and a beautiful wake up."

“It was absolutely my pleasure.” Marcus puffs proudly. “Every single second of it.”

______

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

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My Masterlist!

[aussiepineapple1st]

Civil Agent

Leon x GN!Reader

A/N: I will do my best to make it gender neutral, I am used to drawing genders not writing them, so please let me know if I miss any gender specificity I miss while proof reading! Thank you and Enjoy.

Summery: You work in a pub Leon frequents.

Words: 3,105 Contains: Domestic Leon, Comfort, Scared Reader

Next

Working in a pub had it's ups and down, you had been working there for a solid 2 years now and actually didn't hate your job. Yes there were the odd pub brawls and the occasional wolf whistle by both genders at you while you were working, but no one had actually touched you. Not physically anyway, you would always feel the person who had wolf whistled staring at your body as you would continue serving drinks from behind the bar. You got to know the regulars that came in by name and had become friends with only a select few of them. Not to the point of hanging out with them afterhours, but maybe a phone number and text was shared rarely between you. One man in particular was your favourite customer.

He was a mystery, quiet if not spoken to, he never let slip what he did for a job, he hadn't even shared his name with you. Sometimes he would come to the pub almost every night and then he wouldn't come for days to weeks. Upon his return he would always be moving a little stiffer, band-aids stuck to his face and hands, bruises and grazes covering his pale skin. Bandages were sometimes wrapped around his hands or arms. Even entering the pub with an arm in a sling on some occasions. Whatever he would do to get these injuries you sure hoped he wasn't getting into any trouble with the law, thinking maybe he would be jailed for some kind of fights he might be in. That is all your mind could think of, I mean, it would make sense that he didn't come in for days to weeks randomly, right?

Some time had passed, the man hadn't been back in about a week now. He hadn't appeared since just before the recent bombings here in Washington City, then there was that awful outbreak that happened in New York 3 days ago.

The pub was rather silent tonight, that happened on Mondays. You were in the back connecting the taps from the bar to another metal keg when you heard the bell and squeak of the door, alerting you that someone had entered. There were previously no pub goers around when you had headed to the back.

"I'll be there in a second!" You call out, letting the customer know you wouldn't be too much longer.

"No rush." Called that familiar yet mysterious voice of said man you had been thinking about over the passed week, only hoping he was alright. You missed your small conversations when he was away.

You let out a sigh as you connect the hose and pat your hands on the apron around your waist. straightening your tie, you liked to look smart when working, you head out to greet one of your favourite customers. Upon walking out you glance over to him, stopping in your tracks. His right arm was in a sling, grazes all over his face, a cut on his lip and body slumped over the bench a bit further than he normally would.

Walking over to stand in front of him you give him a soft smile in greeting, the man looking up to meet your eyes. He could see the worry in yours and pulled his shoulders back, bringing a fist in front of his mouth before clearing his throat.

"I know I look like crap, but I'm fine." He assured you, eyes darting away as you give him a nod.

"Good.. Usual?"

"Please."

Your smile only grows, his one worded sentences were the cutest sometimes. Stepping away from the lower bench at your hips you go into the back to grab a special, much older bottle of his usual. It was your favourite as well, having kept this one for a good 10 years now and decided to bring it to work every day until this favourite stranger returned. Removing it from your bag you smile and tap the glass bottle as you walk out to return to your spot in front of the man. You take two glasses and place them on the bench in front of him.

"Oh you don't need to open another one, there is still half a bottle up on the shelf." He points, slightly confused, then notices the two glasses.

"This one is on me. A special one I have been saving from home." You poor the drinks for the two of you and hand him the bottle to look at it. 

"What's the occasion?" He asked, brows raising as he looks at the brew date.

You shrug. "I dunno, let's saaay.." You think as he hands the bottle back to you and you screw the lit back on it. "An early birthday drink. To both of us." You grin, a slight amount of cheekiness in your eyes that the man had noticed. 

"Well, I won't say no to that." He takes the glass waiting for you to take yours and clinks them together. "Happy Birthday to us."

You both take a sip, the liquid burning, but cool from the ice that was in it. Both of you hum in delight as the taste was very rich. You exchange a look to each other and nod. It was a good drink.

"So.." You say placing your glass down on the lower bench. "Where have you been this time? Ran into another tree on your bike?" That was one of the many excuses he had made up in the past.

"Yeah..." He puts the glass up to his lips, hovering it there. "Something like that." He then takes another large sip.

Your eyes squint as a hand rests on your hip, leaning on one leg, your index finger tapping at your side as you think. "Look, you don't have to be truthful with me, your business is your business. But when you come in after days to weeks looking like..." You motion a hand to him. "Like this, I can't help but worry, especially with all these outbreaks and the recent bombing here in the city."

The man could tell in your tone that you were worried, he knew you cared for him, but you also cared for a lot of your customers. He had seen that time and time again with how you would always ask if people were okay when they seemed down. Hell, you have even asked him if he was okay more times than he could count.

"I'm okay." He gives a light chuckle, a rare smile pulling at the sides of his lips as he thinks about just how caring you were. "Just..." The smile seemed to fade almost instantly as he looked to the side. You felt a slight stabbing in your gut seeing his expression, it was awful, like he had seen a war and was the last survivor.

You probably shouldn't do this, but you reach out, hesitating slightly but go for it. Placing your hand on his left as the other was still in the sling. You felt Leon flinch as your hand touched his, removing it from his for merely a second before placing it back on his hand. "There is no one here right now, and the camera's don't have any sound on them, they are just visual, so if you want to talk about it?" You tilt your head slightly, your eyes soft and the smile on your face let him know you were trustworthy.

The man looked around at all of the camera's, he had memorised exactly where all of them were. You remove your hand from his not wanting to make it any more awkward than it probably already was, you take another sip of your drink waiting patiently for his answer. "You could always start with telling me your name?" You take a sip of your drink and he reaches into a pocket of his black jeans pulling out a folded thin, black, leather wallet. Opening it he placed it out on the bench in front of you, showing a metal badge and ID card.

You almost choke on your drink, having half swallowed when you saw the unexpected item place in front of you. Your hand coming up to stop from spitting out anything as you cough, the liquid going through the wrong pipe as you had basically gasped. Putting your glass down with a slight bang the man stood from his chair as you coughed, taking deep breaths as your lungs were burning from the effects of the liquor.

"Are you alright?!" He asked with a tone you hadn't heard from him before.

You nod at him and put a hand up as a signal that you were okay. Straightening up after you could breathe properly again, you turn back to him and take the badge from the bench to have a look at it. The man sitting back down, but posture straight with a worried look on his brows.

"Sorry, I didn't expect you to pull out a fricken Government Badge." Your voice was strained as you read over the badge. "Division of Security Operations?" You ask, your voice starting to go come back to normal slowly. "So you're a security officer?" You hand the badge back having read his name and Level clearance of 13.

"Something like that." He takes the wallet back and puts it away in his jean's pocket. There was that line again, he had said it more times than you could even count, only rolling your eyes slightly at the answer. 

"Well, Mr. Something Like That." You tease. "Can I call you by your name or do you want that secret still?" You asked, a hand patting your chest to help with the burning in your lungs.

He thinks for a moment then lowered his head, eyes closing before he looks back up to you in the eyes, your own being sucked into his ice blue's. "You can call me Leon." He said with a small smirk on his face.

You felt a flutter in your stomach, you were sure your cheeks or ears had turned a shade of pink as you heard his name from his own lips. Leon. "You know, Leon.." You say trying out his name for yourself. "I always thought you looked like a Caleb." You shrugged.

This earned a small chuckle from Leon as he took another sip. "Caleb? Now that's an interesting name."

"I was tossing between Caleb or Lachlan." You add smiling back at him, mirroring his own.

Leon enjoyed coming here to talk with you, it was one of the only times he would laugh his hardest at some of the things you would say. He rubs his tongue along the front of his teeth behind his lips as he was thinking. you would see the tapping of his left index finger on his glass. His eyes had become distant and you knew he was thinking, so you wait. You had nothing else to do right now anyway, you had cleaned everything and no one else had entered the pub. You look to the clock as it showed 12:36, it didn't feel that late as it was a slow night.

"I was wondering.." He finally speaks up, your attention coming back to him as your brows raise asking a 'what's up?'. "Could I give you my number?"

You felt your stomach twirl once again and you nod. "Of course, here let me just give my phone to you." You say taking out your phone, unlocking it and making a new contact before handing it over to him.

His left hand brushed against your soft fingers, his own fingers felt rough and calloused. He must really work his hands a lot, he always seemed to wear gloves, maybe they were habit from his job? Better grip on things? You weren't sure, but as you think about this he was already handing your phone back to you. You take it back and look at his contact. He had typed his phone number and an address, looking to the name of the contact, you try to supress a smile. Caleb.

"Here, let me send you a text so you get my number." You say typing away.

Leon's phone dings in his black leather jacket and reaches into it reading your message.

"Hello, Caleb, nice to finally meet you." Leon just smiles at the text and puts his phone away.

"Got it." He states and placed his hand back on his glass as you top it up.

----------

The both of you spoke about you and what your week was like, telling Leon about all the small funny things that had happened, said and what had changed in the pub. The time was now 3am and it was time to close up, Leon had offered to walk you home, now knowing your car was currently being serviced. It was one of the things you had told him about, a leak in the hose of the coolant had gotten into your engine. You had caught it before anything serious happened, the whole engine having a clean out and new hose put back in.

"No, it's okay. I only live half an hour walk away." You explain, this area wasn't bad with crime, actually it was a very nice area, though you did like to drive just in case.

"Okay." Was all he would say before walking the other way, normally he would be stumbling from being drunk. However he had paced his alcohol intake tonight, talking with you instead of just drowning in the liquor to forget what he had been through.

Luckily he was still on vacation for another 3 weeks so he had time to relax after everything. Let his arm and shoulder heal, even though his right shoulder would still never heal, it was a chronic injury he had sustained around 20 years ago.

After a 30 minute walk you walk up to your house, you still had a smile on your face, thinking about how Leon would smile as you told him a joke, or how he listened intently when you spoke. You felt your cheeks go red as you thought about it, his name being repeated in your head. Coming to your door you pull out your keys, fumbling with them and dropping them on the ground. Thinking nothing of it you pick them up, your hands hovering over them as you notice something. Fishing line.. Clear, stuck to the bottom of the door. You pick up your keys and follow the fishing line with your eyes up the top of the door, a small slip of what seemed to be paper was subtly sticking out. Your first thought was to pull on it, but something inside your chest tightened and you suddenly became scared.

"No.." You whisper to yourself as you slowly step away from the door. You look in the window and saw a shadow move inside. "Darn it.. I left something back at the park." You say aloud and turn around, hoping whoever it was inside heard you and thought you were heading to the park. No way you were going inside, not when you knew someone was waiting for you.

You pull out your phone and quickly fumble with it, almost dropping it as your hands were shaking. you contact the first person you thought of as they were just in your thoughts moments ago, your fingers typing quickly.

-----

Leon was in his home, having taken a taxi rather than walking for 3 hours up hill. He had a house out in the hills on the outskirts of the city, not wanting to be amongst all the traffic and constant lights. He was brushing his teeth, wearing dark grey trackies and a thin black shirt. He hears his phone ding and frowns, who would be texting him at this time? It was almost 4am. He spits the toothpaste out of his mouth and cleans up before walking to his phone on the island bench in his open kitchen/living area. He saw the text from your number, not putting your name in so you couldn't be tied to your name if his phone was stolen by the enemy.

Opening the phone he reads your message.

"SOmeone is my houe and I don't know what do please meet me int he pb"

The spelling was all over the place, he knew you had typed it quickly, jumping into action he removes the sling on his right arm, you were in danger and he had to get to you quickly. He grabs the keys to his bike and straps his belt around his waist, quickly attaching the single gun holster to at his lower back. Running out of his house as he puts on his jacket, wincing at the movement of his arm.

Quickly staring his bike he races off to wards the pub, speeding to get to you as fast as he could.

-----

You wait inside the pub, huddled under the bench on the inside of the staff area, you try your best to not cry. Your body was trembling and you were wiping away tears before they would fall, you weren't religious, but you pray Leon had seen your message and would get to you before whoever was in your house. Should you call the police? It was probably a good idea, but Leon worked for government security, he was more trustworthy, right?

After checking the time since you had hidden 10 minutes had passed. You had run back to the pub as fast as you could, shaving off 15 minutes off the 30 minute walk. "Please, Leon.." You whisper to yourself, holding your knees as tight as possible to your chest.

You hear the sound of a motorbike outside the pub, feet running to the door and pushing against the locked door. 

"(Y/N), It's me! Leon!" He called through the thick wooden door.

Your heart had stopped when you heard the bang of the door but then hearing Leon's voice you immediately come out of hiding and run to the door. Unlocking and opening it. Leon stood there, panting slightly, eyes wide with worry. You noticed he wasn't wearing his sling but launch yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his chest.

"Okay.." he says looking behind the himself before wrapping his arms around you, eyes squinting from the pain in his right arm. "Let's go inside and you can tell me what happened."

You nod and let go of him wiping your eyes and walking inside. 

Next

🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing

[crazycurly-77]

Hey, Ms. Secret Service! - Chapter 12

After waiting nearly a week, the planning of the flight back could begin. Your passenger made himself known in presence, but without any name, because that were the rules. No questions, no names. But he didn't have to say his name, since you already recognized him. He was the second in command of one of the biggest drug cartels in Colombia, Santiago.

You gulped. That was a big game changer. But you had to go through that, no matter what. So you observed and listened, while Aaron and Santiago discussed the shipment and the conditions and then you took part concerning the flight. 

After all, your passenger stated that he waited for boxes full of guns, which had to be delivered, too. So you had to wait 3 more days. Sure, you were only waiting so far, but the danger to be discovered raised with every minute you two stayed there. And because of that you were anxious to be on your way as soon as possible. But you had not a good feeling about what will happen, when you had landed and there were many FBI agents waiting. That could easily result in a blood bath. 

You had to make things work out somehow and finally you had an idea “we will get a large bag and put it in the farest back of the plane behind all the boxes. There you should be safe. We will put some clothes above you for proof and then we will say that this is my clothes bag and because I am a woman, it is a bigger one.”

Aaron thought a little about this and then murmured “yes. Yes, I think that could work. But then I'm not able to help you.”

“Sure, but since he knows you, you have to hide and there's not much place in there” you shrugged your shoulders. 

“Okay, then so be it. But I will try to get free in case you need help.”

“Good. But please, no higher risk than there already is.”

Aaron and you discussed and finalized it and were slowly getting anxious for the flight back. 

Meanwhile in Washington…

…was Abby standing in front of Gibbs’ desk fidgeting with her hands “Did you hear anything from Y/N? How long ‘til she's coming back? Is everything okay? Is she still alive?”

He exhaled “Abby…”

“No, no. You have to tell me, Gibbs. I feel like I'm going mad waiting for any information.”

“Yeah, me too” came from DiNozzo. 

Then Tim and Kate joined them in questioning Gibbs. 

Jenny had seen this as she was already on her way to Gibbs to tell them the news. And before he could say a word, Jenny spoke up “listen. I just received news from Y/N.”

Since she said this with a stern face, everyone stood at attention and looked at her. 

Then she continued “the flight back will be tomorrow. Aaron, her contact, will be in the plane, too. But…Santiago changed the plans. He will be in the plane, too. And besides the drugs, they will additionally transport firearms. The FBI will await them at the airfield, let's hope for the best.”

With that she turned and went back to her office. 

They all stood there dumbfounded and looked at one another. It took Gibbs to shake them back to reality “get back to work. Now” he ordered them. 

Then he tried to concentrate on the file he was reading himself, but all of his thoughts were concern for you, so he didn't catched a word. 

Back in Colombia… 

Finally the day of the flight back has arrived. On one side you were happy that the mission was nearing the end, but on the other side this was the part which was the most dangerous. You both hoped very much that all will go well, but you never knew. 

So this morning Aaron and you went to the plane to prepare the take-off. You did the pre-flight check and Aaron went hiding in the back of the plane in the big bag. 

Shortly after Santiago and the other cartel members arrived. They didn't greet you, but searched if you had any weapons. As they found none, they began to load the plane, Santiago got in and you started the engine. After the lift-off there was no turning back. Your thoughts drifted shortly to the team and friends and especially to Jethro, but you had to concentrate. So you stared out of the cockpit windows and hoped for the best. 

The flight was in complete silence, but nothing happened, too. Until then everything was good. You spoke with the tower, got landing permission for Runway 1 and landed safely. 

Suddenly a gun was held on your head and you heard “stay quiet and roll to the hangar with the cars in the front.” You gulped, nodded and did as you were told. Then you came to a stop in front of the hangar in question where several men with two cars and a truck were waiting. 

They started to unload the boxes, all the while with you in the cockpit with a gun at your head. You tried to spot the colleagues from the FBI, but you didn't see any hint of them. “I hope that they are there and will be faster than the criminals around me” you thought. 

All of a sudden you noticed that more men went from the plane to the truck, than were coming back. 

“That's them! They are silently decimating the gangsters!” you inwardly danced around in happiness. Hope and help were still alive. 

Then everything happened very fast. Aaron had managed to free himself and climbed towards the cockpit and hit Santiago the gun out of his hand. It went off, but hit the metal. Santiago was knocked out by Aaron and the colleagues from the FBI stood around the plane. That was a really, really close call.

(To be continued...)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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[icarusbetide]

some of my group chat's obscure and inaccurate amrev (hamilton centric) fancasts part 1

the result of five students procrastinating and commenting "hey this guy could play hamilton". not very accurate and based on vibes. we are not scouting agents for good reason.

Alexander Hamilton

We know from people's descriptions and portraits that he most likely: had very red hair, was 5 ft 7-ish, and was slender with a "fine figure". Fun fact, some historians say that people calling him 'small' was more in regards to his slimness than his height, which was more or less average at that time period. Need to find a source for that.

From paintings we do see that he had a prominent nose...and perhaps more of a pointed chin with a slim face, as a young man? It seemed to have broadened out with age. Portraits of him seem wildly inconsistent, and the one Betsey said was very like him was later in life. Damn you Charles Wilson Peale, you never got his face right! tbh I didn't see much of Hamilton's face (especially young Hamilton) in amc Turn's Sean Haggerty who had too much of a round face, and I think he was casted based off of the peale painting lmao.

And of course, who can forget his beautiful beautiful anime blue-violet eyes. Abigail Adams saw the devil in them, Fisher Ames seems to have spent way too much time staring into them. Both accounts can be seen as complimentary.

I've yet to find an actor that really captures an older Hamilton well, so I'm not even going to go there. Honestly, i've yet to find a really spot-on young Hamilton either, so I have no fan-cast. But my friend has one she advocates for a lot:

Tom Blyth based on these specific paintings (and a de-aged one with dark hair). Her words: "he has really piercing blue eyes and we know he can pull off lighter hair from the hunger games movie! he's also very slender which would work well, even though he's pretty tall. we can do perspective work with height it's okay."

And apparently Hamilton's son (William? it's not Philip right) looked quite a bit like him. And in the sketch below I think we can see Blyth's face there!

Not too bad, I think. Especially since his face seems to have filled out more. Main concern is if the hypothetical project would characterize Hamilton well, and if he'd deliver that complicated energy lol. He is charismatic so a point in his favor?

Valentijn Dijkman is another one of my friend's fancasts so I don't know much about him besides the screenshots they shared. Apparently he is a model and tiktoker, and he certainly checks the ginger + blue eyes requirements! A bit of a yassified Hamilton, I think, but some contemporaries called him almost feminine and some descriptions of him are wild so that might be okay.

Elizabeth Hamilton

Now, we know that Betsey was very petite and had lovely dark curls and eyes that Hamilton and even Tilghman, I believe, commented on. It seems like she had a slim face and a strong T-zone. Even in the portraits we see her dark eyes. Portraits of her when she was younger:

My personal fav fan cast is actually Meg Tilly, specifically Meg Tilly in Valmont 1983. She has the dark hair and dark eyes and her facial structure itself is also similar enough to me.

There's also something in her performance here that would serve well for Elizabeth - a sweetness and patient quality plus a hidden playful streak.

John Laurens

We are all stumped for him lmao. We don't have a lot of paintings of him and the main one is a Charles Peale and I don't trust him 100%. We do know he was most likely blonde, taller than Hamilton, and was very handsome.

Coward's way out. Seth Numrich is a popular one and I wouldn't be angry about it!

George Washington

It ain't accurate but I loved Ian Kahn's Washington so much that I don't care. He's way too hot to be Washington but let's just pretend it's that hero-worship coming through.

And to round it all out, Turn Lafayette was also suprisingly accurate in face shape I think. You can see we ran out of steam at the end.

[not-that-syndrigast]

Stucky fanfic recs

below you can find some of my all time favourite Stucky fics that have ruined my life 💕 not really sorted except for the first three which are my all time favourites

creative | canon adjacent | AU | modern AU | small steve | sexual content

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015)

The Associated Press @AP

Winter Soldier set to stand trial for Washington D.C. massacre and treason apne.ws/1og6SWE

(Creative, canon adjacent)

End OTW Racism | Steve Rogers at 100: Celebrating Captain America on Film

“Heil Hydra,” the enemy agent shouts.

“Heil this, motherfucker,” says Captain America, shooting off a rocket.

Steve and Bucky find out Hollywood has been busy since they went away. A historical survey, including but not limited to: one set of exploded genitals, a brief interlude in France, Mel Gibson and other masterworks of casting, eight Academy awards, several dinosaurs, and something Tony Stark has ominously dubbed “the masterpiece.” Art included.

(creative, canon adjacent)

A long winter

In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore.

In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter.

In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

(AU)

Just say you do

Steve just wanted a job. He wasn't expecting a marriage proposal. And he certainly wasn't expecting to accept.

(Modern AU, small Steve)

ain't no grave (can keep my body down)

It's six in the morning, and Steve is heading out on a run when he nearly trips over a bouquet of sunflowers on the front steps of his brownstone.

For a second paranoia takes over, and he kicks the flowers a little, waiting for them to explode. They don't. They also came with a card, which he picks up. The front of the card has a tasteful picture of the Brooklyn bridge at sunset. It's very nice and sedate, like the kind of card you would buy to give to your boss. On the inside someone has written a short message in big, shaky block letters.

I AM SORRY FOR SHOOTING YOU.

Steve sits down hard on the steps.

(Canon adjacent)

casual encounters

“You have never once been careful in your entire life.” Bucky huffs out a laugh. He looks away. “Maybe I’m offended you didn’t think to ask me.” He says it like a joke, but he can’t bring himself to laugh again.

“Bucky,” Steve says, scandalized. “You’re my friend. I’m not gonna use you to experiment sexually.”

(Modern AU, small Steve, sexual content)

If they haven't learned your name

Steve gets out of the hospital in two days, but just barely. “I’m fine,” he tells Sam, Nurse Eunjung and the phalanx of doctors assigned to make sure Captain America didn’t bleed out and die and get bad PR all over their nice clean hospital. “I have an advanced healing factor. It’s fine. See? I’m standing.”

“That is not standing,” Sam tells him.

“You’re bending the IV stand,” Nurse Eunjung adds pointedly. “Let go and sit down, they don’t grow on trees.”

aka Steve and Bucky's Global Honeymoon Revenge World Tour.

(Canon adjacent)

choices we're given

Steve Rogers is a good man and a good agent. There's really no excuse for the assassin in his bed.

(Modern AU, sexual content)

through the woods

There’s a legend in Mansewood, nearly as old as the town itself, about a pack of werewolves that once lived in the forest. They say only one survives; a monstrous and snarling beast with fur like a blizzard and fangs the size of daggers. They say it guards the lands and all creatures in it, and no hunter has faced it and lived to tell the tale.

Steve doesn’t care about any of that. He only wants to know if it prefers T-Bone or ribeye, and would it please stop tracking dirt through his house? He just mopped the floor.

(Modern AU, sexual content)

[mcflymemes]

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film series

why do you have to make things so fucking complicated?

you still don't get it, do you?

let's get lost.

can you teach it to me?

that look in your eyes is a pain in my ass. you know that, right?

i'm not going to lose you.

how many rounds do you got?

next time, i get to seduce the rich guy.

please don't make me go through you.

i need you to trust me.

you will never get what you want!

it's not a bad way to go.

it's such a nice car.

get in! they're coming!

i need to ask you for something incredible.

i'm smarter than you.

what are you doing here?

"difficult" should be a walk in the park for you.

i'm gonna miss being disreputable.

your line's not long enough!

the countdown is not helping.

we prefer to keep a low profile.

was there something more going on between you two?

you need to walk away.

did you jump?

it's good to see you, too.

well, then i misled you, or you made the wrong assumption.

let me just assure you, this won't hurt... enough.

now the world is at risk.

why won't you just die?

you'll have about five seconds.

they knew we were coming.

what are you going to do? spank me?

this is the CIA's mission.

kill everyone? that's your plan?

there's no reason to be sorry.

look at me. look at my life.

i find it best not to look.

i'll figure it out.

whatever you've heard, if it makes your skin crawl, it's probably true.

how did you get in the helicopter?

what's done is done when we say it's done.

a storm is coming.

my team had it under control.

we knew they were coming.

i couldn't face another life or death situation after that.

mission accomplished.

i think we lost enough agents for one night.

hope is not a strategy.

please don't make me laugh.

that's not who we are.

everything that happened... it taught me who i am.

so i'm jumping into an oven, essentially.

jesus, i thought you were dead.

we all have our secrets.

maybe we need to reconsider that.

you don't understand what you're involved in.

i'll figure it out.

you mind telling me why you broke me out?

this wasn't a rescue mission?

how good is your backup?

i'm exactly where i should be. and so are you.

this is a bad idea.

so what happens now?

you can fly a helicopter?

i've been ordered to take you back to washington.

may there be peace on earth.

i don't quite follow you.

how will the world finally end?

you must be new.

it's not like any mission is gonna be rougher than the last one, is it?

wait 'til you see the car.

i don't care in the least what people think or feel.

please tell me there's more to this plan.

i have arrived at the party.

the blood will be on your hands.

how close were we?

deep down we both knew that someday, somehow, something truly terrible was going to happen.

i can understand you're very upset.

you can thank them in person.

hey, how did you open your cell door?

waste not, want not.

why are you telling me this?

we have to evacuate these people!

there's no time!

you want to shake hands with the devil? that's fine with me. i just want to make sure you do it in hell.

could we get a cappuccino machine in here?

relax. it's much worse than you think.

[scary-grace]

omg I want to hear more about the barduil miss congeniality AU I love that movie so much I am soooo excited by this as a concept 😍

This one grew out of a conversation with a friend back in my "make it barduil but also make it lesbian" phase (mid-2022 or so) and it features:

Bard Bowman, 28, FBI agent (ersatz Miss New Hampshire). Bard’s the youngest agent in the bureau, and while she’s known for being a little rough around the edges, she’s also great at her job. She’s lowkey out as bisexual, and has had a girlfriend or two since the start of her career. Most of them don’t stick around, though. Nobody quite gets it about her job. Nobody except her workplace nemesis and former flame….

Thranduil Oropherion, 29, FBI agent, who’s been working there a whole year longer than Bard and never lets Bard forget it. She’s also excellent at her job, and she’s better at playing the public relations game than Bard is, which means she usually runs the operations instead of running after the criminals. She’s so deep in the closet that everybody at work thinks she’s straight – except Bard, who knows better.

Gandalf, older than dirt, pageant coach. Once the mission is approved, Thranduil hires him to turn Bard from FBI agent to beauty queen.

Mairon, older than dirt but doesn’t look it, in charge of the Miss United States pageant. Former winner and veryyyyy protective of her "scholarship competition".

Thorin, 28, Miss Montana. Former bodybuilder/mixed martial artist. Nobody really knows what she’s doing there, but her older sister was Miss Montana 5 years ago, so it runs in the family. Bard’s roommate from undergrad. They made out one time at a party, but they had so little chemistry that they both came out of it wondering if they were really bi.

Bilbo, 23, Miss Washington. Getting her master’s degree in history at the University of Washington. Her hobbies include gardening, knitting, and – sharpshooting? Thorin has a giant crush on her and is terrified that she likes Bard better.

Smaug, ???, somebody who really, really, really has it out for Miss United States.

I haven't made it very far with this one, but I'd like to! Hopefully I'll rewatch the movie soon and the bug will bite again.

[cassieuncaged]

okay lemme get uuuuuuuh a #3 (Dale Cooper) with uh some fluff please

Damn Good Coffee and Company

Dale Cooper x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: You share your morning coffee with a certain federal agent.

TW: none :)

WC: 900

Twin Peaks had always felt off. You'd never deny that accusation should anyone ever make it. The entire town felt like a liminal space to the rest of the country.

Even time itself felt strained and different, like each second moved slower than the last.

But you'd gotten used to it since your father had moved the family up to the Pacific Northwest and gotten a decent paying job at the Packard Sawmill. The very place you now worked to make ends meet, though there were rumors that the place was on its last legs and about to shut its doors for good.

It wouldn't be shocking; all hell seemed to break loose after the homecoming queen's body washed up on the shore.

You tried not to think about it or the feds that would no doubt flood the town since there'd been rumors milling around about cocaine and the brothel that did business at the border.

Christ Almighty.

That was the only though you could muster before cutting the engine outside the R & R Diner. Work boots crunched against gravel as you hopped from the old pick up, crackling with you every step until the door chime announced your arrival.

No one paid much mind other than Norma.

"Morning, Y/N," she beamed tiredly, "Usual?"

"Am I getting that predictable?" a comfortable laugh was shared as the order was jotted down and cash was shelled out.

"Predictable isn't always bad. Especially around here." Norma was filled with sage, maternal wisdom. Something Y/N appreciated greatly. "Have a seat. I'll have Shelly bring you some fresh coffee when it's done brewing.

Grinning shyly, you spun on one heel to see a sea of familiar faces. Yet one stuck out like a sore thumb amidst all the blue collar workers. Agent Cooper, the federal agent from DC, sat alone sipping at a dwindling cup of coffee. Normally he had case files spread across the table with a put upon Sheriff Truman sitting in the other booth.

Today was different.

Cooper stared into the middle distance, whispering to himself about owls. It wouldn't be the first time an outsider lost their marbles within town limits. Sighing, you padded over and decided to play the part of friendly townie.

"Mind some company, Agent Cooper?" you asked shyly, breaking the man of his reverie. Concentration broken revealed a friendly smile and slight crinkling of dark eyes.

"Not at all, Y/N. Have a seat." he offered cordially yet completely accommodating. He was different than how you pictured most FBI agents, always upbeat and excitable. Almost like a puppy dog. "Sheriff Truman isn't here today."

"Harry must be pretty busy if he decided to skip breakfast at R & R." you both share a chuckle as Shelly confidently strides over with a fresh mug and steaming pot of coffee. The mug is slid in front of you while Cooper obediently holds his mug out. After a moment, the waitress is gone and you're left alone.

Conversation is sparse yet enjoyable. There's something about this outsider that's different from the rest. You strive to impress him as much as learn more about him. Dale, he asks you to call him, is as intelligent as he is charming.

Not to mention odd. Maybe that's why he fits so well into such a fascinating town.

"Must be way different out here than in Washington." you offer awkwardly as the conversation hits a lull.

"On the contrary." he offers cheerily, "I think every place is similar in its own way. Filled with as many interesting people as there are shocking secrets."

"You think Twin Peaks has a lot of secrets?" that would news to you: everyone was pretty forthright to a fault around these parts.

"Absolutely. It's a puzzle." he stops after that, smiling vacantly. Something is amiss but that's common in Twin Peaks.

"That's an odd way to look at homicide." you add tersely, taking a sip of coffee. He grimaces, pondering a potential misstep.

"Forgive me. I suppose you do this kind of work for so long you get used to it. Were you close with the deceased?"

"Laura? No. I'm practically a decade older than her," you guffaw darkly, thinking of that homecoming picture that was plastered all over town. "But I can't help but think that she and I would have been enemies."

"What makes you say that?" he cocks his head doggishly, gelled hair shining in the sunlight pouring through the window.

"Look at me," you motion at the ball cap, flannel shirt, and mud-stained boots, "Lumberjacks and popular girls don't exactly mix."

"I like your ensemble," he adds wholesomely, "It has character. And it takes character to be different."

Then he smiles warmly before reaching out to pat your hand. Heat rushes to your cheeks, something you hope he doesn't notice. But before anything can be mentioned, he looks at a digital wristwatch as doe eyes grow wide.

"I'm late for a meeting." he scoots out of the booth before setting a few crisp bills on the table. "But I've enjoyed our conversation. See you tomorrow morning?"

"S-sure." you stutter, not quite believing his words.

"Then it's a date."

[lol-jackles]

I love your musings on the movie industry and actresses. I am interested in your opinion about Tom Holland, if you know anything about him as an actor. I think he's going through a rough patch. A couple years ago he was the most successful and promising young actor. At this point, his career path is very questionable. Several failed projects, including his latest TV series, which he produced himself. Critics trashed him. And on the whole, they don't like him much. I attribute this to an inappropriate remark about Martin Scorsese. He wasn't rude or disrespectful, but still his words were taken by many in a bad light. Now he has returned to the theater. But judging by the record-breaking two hours of ticket sales, I think he's still loved by his fans. But I still don't understand why he's doing so badly with his projects. At the moment he has plans for another spider sequel, possibly uncharted 2 and a Fred Astaire biographical movie. And none of these projects have any definite shooting dates or even a nominally finished plot.

I've only seen a few of Tom Holland's non-Spiderman films and he seemed miscast in those, however, he still gave very good performances.  The great Christopher Lee once said, "Every actor has to make terrible films from time to time, but the trick is never to be terrible in them."

The great Kenneth Branagh directed and starred in the stinker Frankenstein featuring the great Robert Di Niro as the monster. Kennth was also the best thing about the Harry Potter movies as Professor Lovelock. Meryl Streep's performance was praised in Mama Mia for her energy and commitment, despite the overall critical reception of the movie. Denzel Washington pretty much made a career out of elevating projects from the depths of mediocrity into something approaching watchability, and sometimes, even quality.

Tom's current career trajectory reminds me of Michael J. Fox's dark, experimental phase as a traumatized solider and a drug addict mourning the death of his mother and marriage before returning to what he does best: funny everyman. If I was his manager, I would advise him to hire Channing Tatum's agent and take inspiration from Hugh Jackman and embrace his singing and dancing skills and natural comedic timing, so his Fred Astaire project is a good idea. Tom can still do drama and action that is silly and fun. Point Break is silly and also one of the greatest action movies of the 20th century, and it was one of the first clues that Keanu Reeve’s career trajectory is going to be less “Tiger Beat”, and more “walking away from explosions, looking directly at the camera”.

[bedlamsbard]

so howard is a fun guy, right? and my question is actually fairly broad so you may do whatever you want with it! What are some assumptions/headcanons/crumbs of lore we've gotten about howard stark that you've taken and played with, and what is something you desperately wish we could learn? Welp, that's two questions.

Howard Stark is such an absolute weirdo and I love him; he's one of the few characters where I want to unironically study him like a bug, because the MCU made some very interesting decisions with the way he's introduced in IM1 and IM2, and then later how he's portrayed in CATFA, CATWS, Ant-Man, and CACW, with a nod to Agent Carter, because a lot of the worldbuilding of AC is, across the board, incompatible with the main saga. (Oh...I forgot he was in Endgame, too.)

The big thing about Howard Stark that makes him such a a weirdo is that he spends fifty years lying about the most important part of his life. Like, that sounds extreme, but that's what he does: IM1 sets up that he was the founder of Stark Industries and ran it until he died in 1991 (the December 16, 1991 date of his death is probably the only consistent date in the MCU). There's just that one odd comment that Obadiah Stane makes in IM1 to Tony: "For thirty years I've been holding you up -- I built this company from nothing!"

Howard died in 1991. (Tony was 21.) IM1 takes place in 2008. That's not thirty years, that's seventeen years.

In IM2 (2011 or 2010), Nick Fury reveals to Tony that Howard Stark was one of the founders of SHIELD, which CATWS bears out, and later in Ant-Man we see Howard with Peggy in the Triskelion in 1989 in the opening flashback with Hank Pym. In Endgame we see him at Camp Lehigh in SHIELD's secret base. In 1991 he's on his way to Washington DC -- Tony (in CACW) makes the assumption he's going to the Pentagon, but it's much more likely he's going to the Triskelion, which is also in DC. (Howard never contradicts him when Tony says the Pentagon.) I don't think we have a movie-canon job title for Howard's role at SHIELD, but it was probably something along the lines of Head of SHIELD Science.

Tony Stark never knows any of this -- the most we know that he knows is that Howard worked for SHIELD at one point in time, but not his entire life. Unless I'm mistaken, it is never made public knowledge that Howard Stark was a SHIELD founder and employee for almost half a century. Howard probably had almost nothing to do with Stark Industries except the public-facing parts, including the Expo; Obadiah Stane ran SI as his own private kingdom until Howard died and Tony took over. (It is also possible that Obadiah didn't know what Howard was doing with SHIELD, just that Howard wasn't involved in SI.) There's a non-zero chance that Maria Stark didn't know much or anything about SHIELD, either.

Here's where we get a little more conspiracy theory: I don't think it was ever public knowledge that Howard Stark was in the SSR, and the official story for what he was doing in the Second World War was that he was involved in the Manhattan Project. Now, I realize saying "Howard Stark didn't actually work on the atomic bomb" comes very close to Howard Stark apologism, but I am a Known Howard Stark Apologist, and I'm not saying it just to say it, especially since "Howard Stark worked on the atomic bomb" is on-the-screen canon from IM1 and IM2.

I don't think Howard had time to work on the atomic bomb during WWII.

This is the point where you have to throw Agent Carter's log of what Howard was doing during the war out the window, because it contradicts what's heavily implied by CATFA: that Howard was with the SSR during the entire course of the war, doing hands-on work first with Project Rebirth and later deconstructing Hydra's weapons work. You can fudge what he was doing from 1941-1943 if you really want to, but we know that from June 1943 to March 1945 he was with the SSR in Europe, because we see him there. We know he's in the SSR and taking orders directly from Phillips; he's a civilian contractor and not enlisted military, but we know he's in the upper echelons of the SSR's European division because he literally has a seat at the table in CATFA. If he had anything to do with the Manhattan Project, it was either in the very, very early stages before he got involved with the SSR or because SI supplied some of the components for the bomb, but Howard clearly was not in Los Alamos with Robert Oppenheimer for the vast majority of the war. (Also, the Manhattan Project was so secretive that I don't think he could have been simultaneously involved in it and the SSR; it almost has to have been one or the other, and we know he was in the SSR.)

It is just barely possible that after VE-Day (May 1945) he went to the Manhattan Project and was there for the summer of 1945 during the Trinity test, but it makes more sense for Howard to have still been working with the SSR on Hydra cleanup at the time. If he had minimal involvement with the Manhattan Project at some stage (probably before he went to the SSR), then he could truthfully say he had worked on the atomic bomb and even after it went public, it's still classified enough that that can serve as cover for his time in the SSR, which remained highly secretive after the end of the war.

"But everyone knows that Howard was a friend of Captain America's!" No, everyone -- or rather, Tony Stark -- knows that Howard was obsessed with Captain America; it was not public knowledge that they were actually friends or even that they knew each other personally. It's not in any of the news articles from IM1 or IM2 that Howard Stark worked with Captain America; we only have Tony's anecdotal evidence that Howard talked about Captain America all the time. And there's a very good chance that Tony didn't realize that Howard actually personally knew Steve Rogers, which definitely changes the way he perceives Howard talking about him. "My dad was obsessed with this guy he never met and/or only met in passing" is very different than "My dad was obsessed with the memory of his dead close friend."

I also think we know the exact moment when Tony actually processes that Howard and Steve knew each other personally, because it's in CACW:

look at Tony's FACE

(I'm obsessed with this CACW scene, there are like ten layers of things going on here, but that's for another time.)

I'm not surprised Tony's got extremely mixed feelings about his father! He spends most of the saga finding out that Howard was leading a secret life for longer than Tony was alive and there are or were quite a number of people who knew Howard much better than Tony ever did, and not even in the normal way your parents' friends and contemporaries know them better than their kids do. Because Howard Stark was an absolute weirdo.

[thebadgerclan]

Addendum

Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x Henry Fox

Summary: Henry arrives in D.C, and proposes an addendum to his list...

A/N: This can be read as a part 2 to "Lists" but can be read as a standalone

It was never quiet in the White House.  There was always something happening: always someone on the phone, some staffer tapping away on their computer, Service agents lining the halls.  Even in the Residence, Ellen Claremont would often work into the early hours of the morning, taking calls from overseas, pouring over bills sent to her from Congress.  Alex was used to sleeping in a loud environment, so when the door to his room opened and shut around 3 in the morning, it didn’t wake him.  If it was something to be worried about, the Secret Service would have taken care of it, after all.

It had only been three days since Henry had last seen him, but it might as well have been years.  Now that people knew about them, that he was free to love Alex openly, he couldn’t bear to be apart from him.  So he’d sweet-talked Shaan into chartering him a plane to D.C., and now here he was; standing in his boyfriend’s bedroom, watching Alex snore, the lights of the city filtering through the window.  Henry knelt on the bed, gently shaking Alex’s shoulder.

“Alex, love,” he said, heart squeezing when Alex’s face scrunched up and he turned it into the pillow.  “My darling, it’s me.  I’m here.”  Another shake of his shoulder, and Alex was awake, blinking sleepily up at Henry.  “Hmm, wha…?  Henry?”  “Yes, love, I’m here.”  Alex sat up, rubbing his eyes.  “Baby, what’re you doing here?  Shit, is everything okay?  Are you okay?”  Henry nodded, moving closer to his boyfriend.  “Everything’s fine, love.  I just missed you.”

“You flew 8 hours because you missed me?” Alex asked, and Henry nodded, blushing.  “Baby, that’s so fucking sweet. C’mere.”  Alex pulled Henry into his arms, kissing him softly, smiling against his lips.  “I missed you too, H.  I’m so happy you’re here.”  Henry shifted to lie under the covers, snuggling into Alex’s arms.  Alex was shirtless, and Henry resisted the urge to trail his fingers over his chest, down his abs, and even lower.

Henry sighed happily, feeling sleep tugging at his eyelids.  “How long are you staying?” Alex asked, and Henry shrugged.  “As long as you’ll let me, I suppose.  Can I…” he trailed off.  Alex cupped his cheek, coaxing him to look up.  “Can you what, baby?”  “Can I stay with you?  Until after the election at least?”  That nearly broke Alex’s heart, and he pressed a lingering kiss to Henry’s lips.  

“Baby, you can stay however long you want.  Remember what you said in your letter?”  Henry shook his head.  “I said quite a bit in that letter, dear.”  “You did.  You said ‘When I am in your arms again, I do not know if I will have the strength to let go’.  Well, I don’t think I want to let you go, baby, so there.”  Henry smiled, leaning into Alex’s touch.  “I love you, Alex,” he said, and Alex kissed him.  “I love you more, baby.”  Normally, Henry would quip that that was up for debate, but he was so tired, he settled for a hum, cuddling into Alex’s chest.

***

He was late.  Ellen had given him clear instructions: be ready to go to the rally at the Washington Monument at 9 AM sharp.  It was now 9:15, well past the 5 minute grace period she’d set, and Madame President was not it today.  “Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz,” she said as she approached his bedroom door.  “If you aren’t ready to go when I open this door, so help me Lord…”

She knocked once, twice, then opened the door, ready to scold Alex, but any reprimands died on her lips when she took in the sight before her.  Henry was curled up in Alex’s arms, both sleeping soundly.  It was a touching scene, but unfortunately, one that couldn’t last.  Ellen cleared her throat rather loudly, startling both her son and the Prince.  “Mom!”  “M-Madame President!”

“Diaz, you know you have a rally to get to,” she said.  “And you are now…17 minutes late.”  Alex sat up while Henry, who was as red as a tomato, stated in shock.  “Mom, I’m sorry, but Henry–”  “Your boyfriend flying in is no excuse, Sugar.”  Ellen gave Henry a sweet smile, one the Prince could tell was genuine.  “Hi baby.  And please, call me Ellen.  ‘Madame President’ makes me think someone’s about to give me bad news.”

Henry nodded, and Ellen continued.  “10 minutes, Alexander, and if you’re not downstairs, I’ll have Zahra come up here.”  “What about Henry?”  Ellen sighed.  “Bring him with you, Sugar, if he wants to go.  Or let him stay here.  I honestly don’t care.”  And she was gone, already talking on the phone about the next item on her agenda.  Alex turned to Henry.  “Do you wanna come?”  “I’d best not,” Henry said.  “Gran isn’t pleased that I’ll be with you on election night, likely photographed.  She says it’s too much of a statement.  Sorry, love.”

Alex kissed him as he rose from bed.  “Don’t worry about it, baby.  This is all Ma has me doing, then I’m free as a bird till election night.”  HE changed into a pair of jeans that hugged his ass in all the right ways and a “Claremont-Holleran 2020” t-shirt, pressing another kiss to Henry’s forehead before leaving.  “Need anything before I go?”  “I’m alright, love, thank you.”  “Course, baby.  TV remote’s here, and if you want something to eat, use the phone over here to call the kitchen.”

Alex scribbled the extension onto a post-it and stuck it to the phone, leaving one final kiss on Henry’s cheek.  “Love you, baby.”  “I love you too,” Henry replied, and Alex left, running downstairs to escape Zahra’s wrath.  While he was gone, Henry decided to do something he’d been wanting to do since Alex left London: write an addendum to his list…

***

Three hours later, Alex returned to the residence, a bit sweaty from the late October sun, but feeling happy and light.  The rally had been great, which was the foundation for his giddy feelings, but those feelings were only enhanced by the knowledge that Henry was waiting for him in the Residence.  Alex ditched his security once he was inside, taking the stairs two at a time as he jogged to his room.

He found Henry on the couch, Pride and Prejudice playing on Netflix, a box of Jaffa Cakes open on the couch beside him.  “How the hell did you get those?” Alex asked, kissing the crown of his head.  “It turns out,” Henry said, pausing the movie.  “That when you’re a Prince and you ask for something very nicely, people will give you what you want.”

When Alex scoffed, rolling his eyes, Henry laughed.  “I brought them with me, if you must know.”  “Are you kidding?” Alex replied.  “Baby, you brought fucking Jaffa Cakes with you from England?”  “Yes!  You fools don’t sell them here!”  Alex flopped onto the cough at Henry’s side.  “Baby, we gotta get you some Cosmic Brownies.  Ooh!  Or Swiss Rolls!”  Henry shook his head.  “If you’re going to mock my taste in snack foods, maybe I won’t give you what I was working on…”

“What were you working on, baby?”  “No, you don’t deserve it,” he teased, and Alex leaned on his shoulder, puppy eyes out in full force.  “Please, baby?”  “Oh, you absolute menace,” Henry said, though he was smiling.  “Here.”  He handed Alex a folded piece of paper, which Alex unfolded with a knowing smile.

An Incomplete and Ever Growing List of Things I Love About Alexandr Gabriel Claremont-Diaz: An Addendum:

The way your accent slips into your voice when you’re tired or passionate about something

How sexy you sound when you speak Spanish

The way you look when you’re sleeping, how relaxed and peaceful you look

The way the world goes quiet when you kiss me

The way you smell, like coffee and spices and home

How your clothes fit me

How good you make me feel when you fuck me

How safe you make me feel all the time

The way that you think Empire is the best Star Wars movie (wrong, dear)

How patient you are

I love you, my dearest heart.  Please, never let me go.  -Henry

P.S.: Life seems emptier without you, the soulwarmth isn’t around…  Allen Ginsberg to Peter Orlovksy.

“Oh my God,” Alex said, practically throwing himself into Henry’s arms.  “How the fuck are you so perfect?”  Henry smiled, wrapping his arms around him.  “I am far from perfect, darling, but thank you.”  Alex lifted his head, pressing his lips to Henry.  “No, you are perfect.”  He kissed his nose.  “My.”  His cheek.  “Perfect.”  His jaw.  “Fucking.”  His collarbone.  “Man.”  His chest.

“And I love you so damn much, H,” Alex concluded, kissing his lips once more.  He set the paper aside, not wanting to crush it with his next actions.  Alex straddled his boyfriend, kissing him again, this one deeper, hungrier.  “Alex,” Henry whispered, threading his fingers through his hair, tugging gently.”  “Mm, that’s something I’ll have to add to your list, baby?”

“What’s that?”  Alex smirked.  “The way you pull my hair.”  Henry let out a soft moan, sealing his lips over Alex’s once more.  “Baby?”  “Mhmm?”  “Please tell me you brought your travel-size lube,” Alex said.  “Because if I have to ask the Secret Service, I’ll die.”  Henry laughed, wrapping Alex’s legs around his waist and standing, gently tossing him onto the bed.  “Oh darling, it’s like you don’t know me at all,” Henry said, kissing him before rummaging in his suitcase.

[walkswithdave]

We Learn the Truth About Stalin was not one of my mom's official "vignettes," but was part of an email exchange from 2020. I felt it was an important thing to put out into the world, and she would have been happy to have it posted - especially for my sisters to read. I went back and read the emails, and they went like this:

Mom: Here are some thought about your text (which has vanished) about people continuing to love Trump because they are used to loving him. David, is that pretty much what you said?

Well here is a little story:

As you know I grew up in the Coops... (the rest posted in rimavignettes).

Me: I’d like to hear more stories from when you were younger.

Mom: ...when I left the leftwing movement I was cut loose from my moorings - there wasn’t any purpose anymore, and that’s when and how I met and married Alfred (her first husband, my sisters' father).

I was living in LA at the time when I quit the “movement.” He lived down the street and someone introduced us. He was a USC graduate student and we lived in the USC neighborhood, 35th and Vermont. I lived in a duplex with three roommates, and we all quit, and the FBI came to see me to see if I had anything to share. I didn’t. Long story.

It was the McCarthy era and the FBI was busy trying to find communists under rocks. It was weird, though, because I found out later that the leader of the group I was in was an FBI agent. They sure didn’t need any info from me. The left hand didn’t know what the right hand is doing. 

There was a popular joke: There is a loud pounding on the door where a communist cell meeting is in progress. You hear loudly “Open the door - open the door - we’re from the FBI.” From inside you hear, “So am I,” “So am I.” “So am I."

Me: So half of the "communists" were just FBI agents pretending to be. It’s like a science fiction story.

Mom: Well, no. Not in the Coops in the early days. LA was a hotbed of FBI. And all the people the FBI was after were harmless, especially all the Hollywood blacklisted writers and actors. Such nonsense. More conspiracy theories. I never met a Russian spy, not once, so I never believed Julius Rosenberg was a spy, though it turned out years later that he was. I don’t know what info he delivered, but I would guess it wasn’t worthy of him and his wife being executed and leaving two young sons behind. 

When I stayed briefly in Washington DC, with my grandmother, I applied for a government job. The application had a loyalty oath - actually two of them. One I was happy to sign: Have you ever advocated for the violent overthrow of the United States government? Obviously the answer was no. The other was: Are you or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party? I put the application down and walked out. After that brief stint in DC I moved to LA, with $25 in my pocket. 1951 I think, at the age of 20. I had quit Queens College after two years when I no longer had a home in the Coops because Bubbie and Grandpa moved to California. I had begged them to let me keep the apartment, which they actually lived in because of me, because my parents had been original investors, but they thought it was improper for a young girl to live by herself. The rent was something like $3 a month and I had a roommate lined up. I wonder what it would have been like if I had stayed. There have been a lot of roads not taken in my life. 

[correctrvbquotes]

Washington: Delta, can you shed any light on this?

Delta: Not without further data.

Church: So why does it want these A.I. things anyway? I understand the equipment part, at least that lets you do cool stuff. But these A.I. things are just kinda annoying. They're just constantly yapping and causing trouble.

Delta: I am going to ignore that.

Washington: A.I. help us in battle, depending on their functions. We couldn't run half our equipment without them. And if you get your hands on a smart A.I., you can be damn near unstoppable.

Church: What, like, smart like Delta here?

Washington: Not exactly. He's just the logical one of the family. Smart means something entirely different for A.I.s than it does for people.

Caboose: Now let's not go throwing around words like smart for no reason.

Delta: Wash is correct. We are more analogous to what you would call a fragment.

Church: Actually, I don't care, so I wouldn't call you guys anything.

Caboose: And I would never talk about someone's "anal gus". Especially not in public.

Delta: There is one smart A.I. in the Freelancer program.

Washington: Delta-

Delta: The Alpha is a fully formed-

Washington: Delta! That's enough.

Church: What's Alpha?

Washington: The Alpha A.I. It's nothing, it's a myth. A fairy tale.

Delta: It is hardly a myth. Agent Washington, you must have memory of the Alpha-

Washington: Delta! Command. Offline.

Delta: Complying.

Delta turns off

Church: Oh. Sounds like somebody has a secret.

Washington: I just get tired of hearing these things talk about their Alpha. And you will too. They get obsessed with the idea of it. It seems like it's all they care about sometimes.

Church: But what is it?

Caboose: Yes, if it's something really scary, you don't have to tell us.

Washington: The whole purpose of the program was to study soldiers with experimental A.I., but rumor has it, they could only ever get one. So they had to copy it. The original was Alpha, then Beta, and so on.

Church: They copied them? Yeah, I k- I like that. I guess if one is annoying, then twenty of them are gonna be awesome.

Washington: The copies became obsessed with this idea of the Alpha, the original. In debriefings they would always steer conversations toward the topic of the Alpha. Where it was, if they could see it. Some even took... drastic steps.

Church: Like, shooting their partner in the head drastic? Or-

Washington: I told you, she shot me in the back first!

Caboose: And we believe you. Even though we don't think shooting a friend in the back occasionally is that big of a deal.

Washington: Some Freelancers tried to get to Alpha on their own. They broke in to the secret storage facility where it was kept. They almost got to it. After that they shut down the-

[crazycurly-77]

Hey, Ms. Secret Service! - Chapter 11

You left the office and went directly to the briefing. You became a new identity, Samantha Fuller, and your plane was a DeHavilland Beaver. So far, so good. 

The job was simple, but dangerous. Flying to Colombia, meeting your contact, then loading the boxes and flying back. Then hopefully staying alive after the landing. That was possibly the hardest part of the mission, because the former pilots were obviously shot directly after the landing. 

So you drove to the little airport, boarded the plane and the mission began. After taking a deep breath you started the engine, rolled to the runway and flew to a little field in the bush of Colombia. 

Since you left the bureau, the atmosphere there became tense and everyone looked expectantly up at Jenny, when she showed herself. But she only shook her head no, which meant no news from you. 

As you landet in Colombia, your contact was already awaiting you “Hey Sam, there you are. I'm your contact, Aaron Sanders. Flight was good?” 

“Yeah, but here's a little hot for me.”

“So let's get in the Jeep and drive to my house.”

“Okay, let's go.” 

He lived nearby the landing field, so the drive was really short. When you arrived, you got in through the backdoor, so that hopefully nobody saw you. 

“Beer?” Aaron asked. 

You smiled “Yeah, thank you. I really need a cold drink.” 

“So you are the new pilot. Have you ever done something like that before?”

“Yes, but not in connection with drugs. So how's the plan?”

“We will get the shipment in 3 days. Then you will fly back to the States and I will hide myself with the evidence in the back of the plane. I will inform my boss when we will get back, so he and the others can arrest them. Hopefully before we get shot.”

“Good.”

The next 2 days nothing happened in Colombia and in Washington, too. 

You and Aaron waited and your colleagues waited, too. 

The atmosphere in the office becomes more tense with each passing day. Jenny and Gibbs exchanged meaningful, increasingly desperate glances several times a day which meant 

“Have you heard from her?”

“No, unfortunately not”

So the waiting and the uncertainty was going on. 

On the third day that you were waiting in the heat of Colombia, you became news, but not good ones. The flight back will be delayed for 4 days, because there will be a passenger too, which you had to smuggle across the border. That was not good at all, because that will likely be a member of the drug dealers. But you couldn't refuse to not destroy your cover. So you had to go through this. 

While Aaron and you were still waiting, threw Gibbs himself into the next best case that came along, just to be distracted. 

But despite that, he only thought about you and hoped very much to see you again. 

Then, after a week without news, Kate comes up to Gibbs in the evening “what do you think about spending the evening together, so you can think about something else?”

Unbeknownst to them, Jackson arrived at this exact moment in the bullpen. Hearing what Kate said to Jethro and seeing his look, which spoke of needed privacy, he turned back towards the elevator to visit Ducky. 

Gibbs took a heavy breath and said “Kate...you are a good agent and a good colleague...please leave it at that.”

“I thought we were on the same page and maybe you want more.”

He looked down and sighed deeply “yes, I want more. I want much more, but with Y/N. And I realize that more and more with every day, that I have to fear to never seeing her again and losing her forever.”

Kate hung her head and just stated “you love her.”

He smiled warmly at that “yes, with everything I am.”

She then smiled back at him and said “then I hope even more, that she comes back to you safe and sound and wish you two all the happiness in the world.

And as for us... friends?”

Gibbs laughed and nodded “friends.”

With that everything between them was settled. 

Kate then left the office for the evening and he went to the autopsy to search for his father. As he arrived there, the two old men drank whiskey and were talking and laughing.

Seeing Jethro entering, Ducky poured him a glass, too and Jackson said

“and? Were you able to sort everything out with Kate?

“Yes. We'll stay friends and she wishes us all the best.”

That irritated Ducky a little bit, so he asked “us?”

“He means Y/N and himself” Jackson explained and turning to his son, he queried “what did you tell her?”

“The truth.”

“And that would be?” wanted Ducky to know. 

Gibbs rolled his eyes at this and asked him “do I really have to say that?”

Immediately both Jackson and Ducky said “yes!” 

Jethro laughed slightly, sighed and said “that I wish that we could stay friends, but that I love Y/N with all of my heart.”

Jackson nodded highly content “very good, my son, I'm proud of you. But does Y/N know it too?”

At that Gibbs lowered his head “no, not yet. But she'll find out as soon as she comes back to me, because I've given her enough reason to fight for her life and for us.”

Ducky tried to comfort him “whatever that means, I really hope she makes it. Especially for the both of you.”

“Me too, because losing her would destroy me” they heard Jethro murmur and then he drank the liquor in his glass with one big gulp.

(To be continued...)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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Tags: @ilovemark1951

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