#nespresso mug

[alberta-sunrise]

Taking my husband and coffee cus I’m a good wife

Also I needed milk 🥛

[secondsofpleasure]

tanuki pt 2 / 1.2024

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | intro.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 2.0k

—warnings: nothing much; cussing, very general description of research topics/neuroscience experiments including mentions of mice research (no details)!, mentions of infidelity (not oc or san)

—a/n: ty for being patient with me <33 here's the lil intro to professor choi 🤪 i think i'll keep the same update schedule i've had (every other weekend) but ofc will let everyone know if i cant update for whatever reason!! enjoyyyy this rideeee 🖤

Clunk.

San throws his glasses onto his desk before leaning back in his chair, hands coming up behind his head for a stretch. He had been working on his progress report for one of his grants since this morning, and he was starting to feel the migraine come on.

"Fuck." He mutters, pinching at the bridge of his nose before he gets up to grab another cup of coffee from his Nespresso machine— popping in a pod with a level 9 intensity into the slot and pressing start. It's around dinner time, but quite frankly, San isn't too hungry. He'll eat something small. He's just tired, especially because of this progress report. But, it's due next week and he needs to finalize his class schedule for the upcoming quarter at the same time. He won't have as much time to get through the technicalities if he waits any longer.

He's pretty immune to the different intensities of coffee at this point; having eaten it for breakfast, lunch and dinner during his postdoc years. It won't do much for long, but it'll at least keep him going for the next couple of hours before he calls it a day and lays in bed. 

When his coffee is done, he pours some creamer into his mug and gives it a good stir before settling back into his office. His house is too big for one person, but he enjoys the stillness. The quiet. He used to hate it. He used to hate when every corner reminded him of his ex-wife. Now, he's gotten used to it. He's learned how to live alone, how to enjoy his peace. He lets out a small sigh, taking a sip of his hot coffee as he resumes to look at the computer screen to his side. Suddenly, his phone goes off and he's quick to shift his attention to it because it's slightly odd for this time of day. People don't normally call him unless he's settled on a phone call meeting ahead of time, and he doesn't remember booking any calls tonight.

"Hey." San picks up when he realizes it's Jongho. Okay, so he maybe he lied. He does take a few calls from close friends, most who are also professors at the same university. "What's up?"

"How's your T15 report going?"

"Long. It's terrible."

"Well." Jongho laughs. "Perks of being you, I guess." San rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah, thanks. Very enlightening."

"Anyways, I wanted to call really quickly. I figured you hadn't seen it yet, but wanted to put it on your radar. I looped you into an email for a possible collaboration. We're trying to meet this week if you're free. Might be good to see what it's worth, could get us more funding. Open more collaboration opportunities in the future." San presses the phone against his ear, holding it with his shoulder as he navigates to his inbox on his computer. He has a bunch of unread emails that he'll eventually respond to, paying a tad more attention to the pressing ones when he has a moment. He's not gonna lie, he does ignore a few if it's not of interest to him, or something he doesn't feel like he can contribute much to. He'll typically respond with a 'so sorry, no can do' if people get pushy and constantly follow up, but for the most part, he does his best to keep up and respond where it's warranted.

San sees the email Jongho is speaking of, but right underneath it, he sees another email from a student inquiring about rotating in his lab for the upcoming quarter. He's always interested when students reach out to rotate in his lab, but he can't accommodate all, especially when he doesn't feel like his research aligns with their goals. He usually takes 1 per quarter if it fits, otherwise, he doesn't have any at all. 

Out of curiosity, he clicks on the email since it has been awhile since anyone rotated in his lab. 

From: yn@atz.edu To: choisan@atz.edu Dear Professor Choi, I hope this email finds you well. My name is Y/N, and I'm currently a bioengineering grad student who is interested in rotating in your lab for the upcoming quarter. I have been thinking about diving deeper into computational analysis, mice behavior, 2-photon excitation and opto-stim work. I've spoken to your postdocs, Sunwoo and Belle, about their current projects and potentially collaborating since they seem to be touching up on all these aspects. I was hoping we can find a time to meet and chat a bit to see if it would be a good fit. The deadline to submit my rotation selections is coming up, so I'd like to make sure we meet beforehand. Let me know, happy to work with your schedule! Best, Y/N Y/L/N

The thing about San is that he's pretty good at picking up on a student's vibe through their emails. It's the tone, the professionalism, the way they write and carry themselves. He can tell when some people are a little more egotistical and ignorant, and he doesn't want people like that in his rather small, but mighty lab. His current grad students and postdocs all get along well, and they're bright people who are very passionate about their work and studies. He doesn't need people thinking they're above the others. In addition to that, he can also tell when students are just trying to get their name on a published paper doing work in his lab, or when they're just trying to wing their way through grad school. It's a shame, but he definitely has come across a few students in his inbox. They do exist.

You, though? He's intrigued. You seem bright. Genuinely passionate about the specific areas you're interested in diving into. Poised. He appreciates that. He quickly scans over your CV and the little blurb at the bottom that highlights the work you've done in your undergrad years and internships. Your work history. He sees that you've already dipped your toes in a few of the different areas you've mentioned. Worked with a few professors he knows. You've volunteered at a couple of places.

An all-rounder.

"Did you see it?" He almost forgets he's on the phone with Jongho.

"Mm, yeah. I'll respond in a bit, I think I can meet on Thursday. Sorry, I just got a little distracted. Saw another email about a potential rotation student."

"Gonna take one on this quarter?"

"Maybe. If it fits. She seems to be interested in a lot of the work we do. She knows Sunwoo and Belle."

"Oh, nice. That'll be cool."

"What about you? Taking on a rotation student?" Jongho is an assistant professor in the electrical engineering department, and he is often bombarded with inquiries himself. He usually always has a rotation student, and they almost always choose his lab to work in after their rotation program is up. San doesn't blame them— Jongho is brilliant, and his work creates a lot of different pathways for students to navigate and try. San's can be a hit or miss; it's quite niched, and students often find that it genuinely is tough to play around in his field.

"Yeah. Think so." 

"Alright. Thanks for giving me a heads up. I'll check my calendar and respond in a bit for sure." San eyes the email. "It does sound like a good collaboration."

"Figured you'd say that. Thanks, my guy! Take it easy and good luck on your progress report."

"Appreciate it." San gives off a toothless smile even though Jongho can't see him. He slides his phone off to the side and checks his calendar, upholding his promise to Jongho about responding to the email ASAP. He keeps his email short, letting the group know he can make the meeting at the desired time on Thursday to talk about the potential collaboration across labs.

Then, he pulls up your email and checks his calendar once more.

From: choisan@atz.edu To: y/n@atz.edu Hi Y/N, Thanks for your email - for sure! I think there's a lot of possibilities we could visit, especially with Belle and/or Sunwoo's projects. Can you pop into my office on Tuesday morning? 10am good? We can chat then. — San

"Oh shit." You slow your chewing when you see the email notification pop up on your screen during dinner.

"What?" Felix asks, turning his attention towards you and causing Jiung and Eunchae to do the same.

"Professor Choi answered my email."

"That was quick." Jiung takes forkful of food into his mouth.

"Professor Choi as in San or Jongho? Cause they're both hotties." Eunchae swoons and twirls her hair, making Felix scrunch his nose.

"San." 

"I'd kill to be a rotation student in their labs." Eunchae giggles. "What'd he say?"

"To meet him at his office on Tuesday to chat more."

"Well, that's good! Which other labs were you looking at?"

"I'm not sure. Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho. Kim Namjoon—"

"Isn't Professor Choi's ex-wife with Professor Jeong now?" Jiung looks up with a squint.

"Yeah, apparently when it all went down, it was a mess." Felix chimes in, and you continue to type away at your phone. "Imagine your wife having an affair with your bestfriend."

"Harsh." Jiung does a head tilt.

"I guess they don't interact much anymore, do they? Seems to be water under the bridge."

"I don't think so, but Professor Lee works in the Chemical Engineering department so they might have to from time to time if students in her lab wanna be co-advised or collaborate with him. Professor Jeong, though."

"Awkward. At least they can keep it civil." Felix shrugs at Eunchae's response.

"They lowkey have no choice." Felix looks up in thought before shrugging. "Still sucks to know your bestfriend was involved."

"Seriously." You add.

"Either way, those are good labs to possibly rotate in. It'd be cool if you could get into Namjoon's lab. Heard he's cool as fuck even though he's the department chair." Felix tosses his napkin into his empty paper bowl.

"Yeah, same. I'll keep you guys updated." You send off your response to Professor Choi with a small sigh. "There. Hopefully my rotation will be settled for the quarter."

From: yn@atz.edu To: choisan@atz.edu Hi Professor Choi, Yes, I can meet you at 10am on Tuesday. Thank you, and see you then! Best, Y/N

"Maybe you'll get more out of the rotation, especially with Professor Choi." Eunchae nudges your side and you let out a small yelp before you playfully pinch her bicep.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jiung snorts.

"I'm just saying, he's successful. A hottie. Young. Single—"

"Here she goes." Felix lets out a breath.

"Bro. Calm down." Jiung laughs. "He's still a professor."

"What if you two get close during rotation and he falls in love with you?" She looks at you ever so seriously. 

"Relax." Felix laughs. "What kinda movie did we fall into?"

"Eunchae, please." You poke her cheek. "You know we rarely ever see the professors in lab. We get like.. five minute meetings with them and that's about as much of a personal interaction we'll get. They're busy people. Sorry to burst your bubble, bae." She shrugs.

"It was fun to think about." She giggles. "But no, that'll be a good experience for you if you get to join his lab for rotation. The others are great, too. Is he your first choice for a dissertation advisor, though?"

"As of now, yeah. But, we'll see how it all goes."

"Keep us updated." Jiung sips some water. "I think I need to reach out to one more professor for this quarter. Needa figure out my shit before classes start."

"Same." 

Meanwhile, San sees the notification from your email pop up in the corner of his screen and he immediately presses on it. He smiles a bit when he realizes how easy scheduling that meeting was— most of the time, people say they'll work with his schedule but end up pushing back. He slots you into his calendar before he can forget and switches his attention back to the progress report he's close to finishing up. 

San thinks it'll be nice to host a rotation student again, as the experience has always been useful, eventful, productive. He thinks it'll be like any other time; the experience being useful, eventful. Productive. He trusts in his group, the students, to come up with great ideas and be able to execute from start to finish.

So, he doesn't think much of it. He thinks he can hand you off and trust you with Belle and Sunwoo.

Little does he know that's where he gets it all wrong.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @lynnsqueendom

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Office Space 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you're an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life. 

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Another thick folder falls on your desk. You look up as Mr. Fowler strides without a word into his office. No explanation, no directive, as ever he's elusive but demanding. 

You sigh and push your mouse aside, bringing the folder in front of you. You open it up and find stacks of hand-written notes, receipts, and reports. You get the happy task of digitizing each one and sorting it into the electronic archive for investigation.  

Your boss closes himself into his office as you sit in the vacant silence of the small lobby. It's no walk-in location. PI work doesn't exactly operate that way. Corporate investigations are even less advertised. Fowler does more than find the corruption, he scrubs it when necessary. 

You expect the discretion of the work is why he hired you. You don't talk much. You do you work without question and clock out. Still, it doesn't keep you from after hours or early arrivals. He texts and you're where you need to be. 

You sort through the thick folder. Chronological or by type? Some don't have dates and what would you categorize a cocktail napkin as? You get up and haul it all into the copier room. It's the smallest room in the rented space, made tighter by the filing cabinets and the industrial printer. 

You unhook your laptop and bring it into the copier room. You put it on the narrow table and go to task. It's mindless work. You fall into the pattern of scanning, numbering, and cataloguing. The copier hums in the empty static. 

No music, no noise. Your request for white noise was declined without consideration. You accept without argument. Fowler isn't the type to entertain pushback. He's the boss. 

Whatever, you wouldn't trade the silence for the top ten on repeat at your previous retail gig. The people are enough to make you tolerate the isolation. Besides, it's a job, it's not meant to be fun.  

You get your kicks after work; a drink with your fellow corporate drones down at Retro's. Thinking of, it's been some time since you had a spicy margarita. You pause your work and go to retrieve your phone from your purse. As you find it hiding in the middle pocket, Fowler's door opens and he promptly marches over to stamp his mug down on your desk. Shoot. 

"Emergency?" He wonders as his blue eyes narrow at your grip on the phone. 

"No, sir, checking the time," you lie and drop the cell back in your purse and hide it in your drawer. "Coffee?" 

He doesn't answer, merely taps the brim and walks away. He leaves his office door open as he retreats. You give a tight smile to the empty office and snatch up the dark blue cup. 

You take it into the little room meant to be some sort of break space. You don't take breaks and neither does he. You approach the expensive nespresso machine and go through the motions. Cappucino. You've become a pseudo-barista since you started the job. 

The smell of coffee tempts you. You're permitted to have one of your own but you have to supply your own coffee and dairy. It's easier to hit the cafe on your way or pack a cup from home.  

You carry it out and tentatively approach Mr. Fowler's door. You peer inside and clear your throat. He sneers at his phone without acknowledging you. You near and place his cup on the marble coaster beside his apple mouse. 

"We have an extra mug?" He asks without looking up. 

"Yes, sir, I think--" 

"I don't need you to think, I need yes or no." 

"Yes," you swallow down his bluntness. As you least you never have to wonder what's on his mind. He'll tell you. 

"I'm in expecting someone in twenty minutes." 

That's it. You have the pieces, put it together. His visitor will require their own beverage. Lovely. A rare drop-in is hardly exciting, more stressful. If they're important enough to come in, they're important enough to be concerned. 

You go to find a second cup. You have your own, a red travel mug without a handle. You’ll leave the silicon lid in your drawer and give it a quick rinse.  

You wait behind your desk, the mug clean and sparkling beside the nespresso in anticipation. You’ll go back to your scanning once you have the visitor settled. You know Fowler wouldn’t want them walking into an empty desk. In the meantime, you sift through another case file on your screen. 

When the door opens, you pop up, overly alert. That’s not your usual state. This place makes you sleepy. You stand up to greet the man as he steps through. 

He’s tall, taller than Fowler, but slender. While his shoulders are broad, the rest of him is trim. His blonde hair is kept neatly and his blue eyes are crystalline where your boss’ are dark and stormy. This man is like sunshine compared to the usual grim cloud over this place. 

“Hello, uh, sir,” you smile, “you must be here to see Mr. Fowler.” 

“Yes, that’s me,” he says breezily, “Jonathan Pine.” 

“Okay, erm, I’ll let him know you’re here,” you round the desk, hitting your hip on the corner but hiding the pang it sends down your thigh, “uh, would you like a coffee?” 

“How kind to offer, but no, I’m more of a tea drinker,” he replies, “pardon, but I didn’t get your name.” 

“Elfie,” you utter instinctively, “er, excuse me, I’ll just go let Mr. Fowler--” 

You scurry to the office door and it opens before you can reach it. Mr. Fowler steps out and sends you a sardonic look. You wince and step back out of his way. He struts by and approaches Jonathan, Mr. Pine properly, with his hand out in offering. 

“Pine.” 

“Nick,” the man answers familiarly, “long time.” 

“Not long enough,” Fowler counters as they shake hands firmly. He’s a few inches shorter than Pine though hardly falters at the fact. “Elfie, coffee.” 

“She did offer,” Pine intones, “I politely declined. You know it isn’t my style.” 

“Mm, yes, I know your style too well,” Fowler rebuffs and lets him go, gesturing him through his office door. As he follows, he glances back at you and arches a brow. What did you do wrong this time? 

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 6

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 16.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story* It's break up time, kiddos! Patrick Jane can fuck right the hell off. Jammed up wedding plans, mention of a fire. Two nerds flirting naked. Summary: In the aftermath of the State dinner, there are decisions and plans to make. But nothing else is quite as big as the favor Marcus needs to ask of you. Notes: Sometimes grand gestures are the friends we made along the way...or something like that. 🧡

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

The buzzer rings past midnight, cutting through the quiet music playing in the bedroom with an angry hiss. It makes the clink of a wine glass on a coaster and the slap of a paperback novel on wood seem very definitive, along with the footsteps that pad out into the living room to hit the buzzer. "Yes?" It's the polite way of asking who the hell is at the door this time of night.

“Hey.” Marcus leans against the intercom, bow tie undone and his jacket discarded. He had been dropped off at his house and immediately grabbed his keys to leave once more. Needing to talk to her. “I know it’s late, I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “Can I come up?”

"Marcus!" Vanessa's surprise is obvious, but she still hits the button on the speaker panel to let him up without hesitation. "Sure, of course. Come on up."

The door clicks and Marcus opens it, pausing for just a second before he enters the building and makes sure that it closes behind him. Knowing that he is doing the right thing. That it is what’s best.

As usual, it takes four minutes for someone in the lobby to get upstairs to her apartment. Vanessa is in the small kitchen beside the living room when the knock comes on the door, and she steps over to the door to pull it open. "Look at you all dressed up," she hums, seeing that he's still wearing his tuxedo. He looks exhausted, but handsome. "Come on in. How was the dinner?"

“It was good.” He doesn’t want to tell her that it was life changing, but it was. Even as hurt as he was when finding out that you were aware of the connection between you, he had realized one key thing. He is not a man who would be able to continue a relationship with Vanessa in good conscience. It wasn’t fair, but it also wasn’t fair to be stringing her along when he was pining for you.

"Just good?" That seems a little too simple, especially for someone as usually verbose as Marcus, but she doesn't push. Her own night was...complicated, and it's good that he came over. "Do you want a drink or anything?" Vanessa offers, motioning toward the kitchen. He's only been here once, but he knows she keeps the apartment well stocked. "Wine? Coffee?"

“Coffee, if you don’t mind.” Marcus shrugs slightly and follows her into the small kitchen. “It was long.” He admits. “The names and faces have kind of blurred together, if I’m honest.”

"State dinners are hundreds of people. I would be surprised if they didn't." Coffee for two seems like a good idea, and she pulls two Nespresso pods out of the cannister by her machine and takes two mugs off the rack under the cupboards.

“The food was good, open bar – though no one got sloppy, and more security than I’ve ever seen in my life.” Marcus chuckles, moving to the small dinette table and pulling out a chair.

"Do any of the faces still stand out at all?" She has something she wants to talk to him about but she's going to hold off until the coffee is ready and they can sit down and talk like reasonable people.

“Spanish royalty?” Marcus snorts. “An award-winning chef.”

"Did you actually get to meet the royals?" Never having been to a State dinner herself, she hadn't been sure if that would happen. So when she brings two cups of coffee and the container of creamer from her fridge over to the table, she's actually interested.

“Actually.” Marcus huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “I was in the receiving line with the family and the President, like I was supposed to be there and not just some friendly favor.” There’s not a tone to his voice beyond amusement, he’s working hard to make sure of that. Because in a sense, he did belong there. Feeling guilty because of him technically dating Vanessa right now. Which is why he’s come over.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Vanessa takes a sip of her coffee, steadying herself from everything that has happened tonight. She had planned on calling Marcus in the morning, but…well, he’s here now. “And actually, I’m glad you’re here,” she says, trying not to sound foreboding.

“Me too.” Marcus busies himself with making his coffee, trying to gather the right words now that he’s in front of her. It had been so clear in his mind when he was at home, on the drive over. Even when he was knocking on her door, but now he feels like an asshole for wanting to break up just because he knows who his soulmate is.

Not one to draw out the process, or to make it overly flowery, or even to embellish it unnecessarily, Vanessa sits with her legs crossed at the small table in her kitchen and straightens her back and shoulders for the clarity of mind it gives her. “I think we should see other people,” she pronounces clearly, letting there be no mistake or hesitancy in her tone.

Marcus pauses, his eyes shooting up from the spoon as it swirls around the cup and he drops it. “I…see.”

“Not because of anything that went wrong,” she clarifies right away. Just because she’s dumping him doesn’t mean she wants to hurt him — Marcus is a sweet guy. He’s just not her guy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on doing this tonight.”

“No, um, that’s okay.” He’s also quick to reassure her. “I think that we both knew that it wasn’t permanent.”

"I think it could have been," Vanessa admits. She clutches her coffee cup in both hands, holding onto the warmth for reassurance of her own. "But I...found my soulmate."

“That’s…” Almost amazingly coincidental but he doesn’t say that. “Amazing.” He hums, almost reaching out to take her hand, but he doesn’t. Feeling a little relieved but also picked last again if he’s honest. Never quite good enough, not even for you. “That’s amazing. I’m happy for you. Do you want to tell me about it?” He knows that sometimes soulmates like to keep their discovery a secret and he wouldn’t pry if she didn’t want to talk about it.

“It was kind of an accident,” she admits, complexion reddening with a pleased blush. “And I haven’t even said anything to him yet. But now that I know who it is, I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

“I get it.” Marcus smiles and reaches out this time, touching the back of her hand in a friendly gesture. “I hope that you have that dream life you want.” Just because he wasn’t her soulmate, doesn’t mean that they hadn’t discussed dreams, hopes for the future. “I wish you the best, truly.”

"I hope you find the best girl in the whole world who will give you everything." Squeezing his fingers back gently, Vanessa offers him the most heartfelt wishes she possibly can. Marcus deserves the world. He's a good guy and a good partner and she probably wouldn't be doing this at all if she hadn't found her future tonight. "You deserve to be happy, and I hope you find that soon."

“Thanks.” He smiles, knowing that it’s what he’s supposed to do right now and glances at the clock in her kitchen. “I better go.” He decides, not even having taken one sip of his coffee. “It’s late and…” he trails off, the silent continuation of his comment fading between them. He’s not her soulmate and now he’s not even dating her, so he has no reason to be at her apartment so late.

"I'm glad you came by." Breaking up with him over the phone had felt a little cowardly, and she's glad to be able to have seen him face to face one more time. If nothing else, it feels more respectful.

“Yeah.” Marcus stands and picks up his coffee cup to move over to the sink. It wasn’t quite how he pictured this conversation going, but he isn’t going to protest when she is clearly on the same page he is.

There is something of a stalemate at the door, and if Vanessa were more of the hugging kind of friend, she might have offered one. She might also have expressed that they could stay friends, but that seems futile. It is entirely likely she’ll never see Marcus Pike again despite them living in the same city. But she does wish him well one more time and say a polite good night. After all, she knows she did the right thing.

“Goodnight.” Marcus flashes her a grin and steps back, waiting until the door closes and he hears the security locks being latched before he walks towards the staircase.

Sunday is rarely a work day for you, and thankfully today is a very usual Sunday. Agent Sisson is still here when you get up, not having slept very much after the State dinner from all of the thoughts whirling around in your head. Aside from your little outburst, you had a fantastic time. Marcus is the perfect date and had even charmed the rest of your family. The brooch that he gave you is sitting securely in your jewelry box to be worn at the next possible opportunity. Everything is good.

Except you have about a hundred messages on your phone when you finally pick it up after getting out of the shower to get dressed for the day. A dozen different people have texted you, your social media accounts are going haywire, and you even have a missed call and voicemail waiting for you.

The knock on your door is quick, opening just as quick as Sydney pokes her head through the door. “I’ve brought Danish.” She calls out.

“Come in! I’m getting dressed!” A favourite blouse and comfortable jeans will do for today. Nothing over the top, just a day to relax with your best friend and get a few things done. Syd is always fun to do your weekly grocery shopping with. Deciding to check your phone afterward — it’s probably just people wanting to know how the dinner went — you quickly get dressed and shove your phone in your pocket to come out into the kitchen. “Good morning sunshine.”

Danish isn’t the only thing that she’s brought, although Agent Sisson has already snagged a blueberry lemon muffin and a chocolate bacon croissant and refresh the coffee in his cup before retreating back to the couch. “Good morning to you, princess.” Sydney throws you a grin. “That’s your new nickname. The Times called you ‘First Royalty’.”

“Oh god.” The groan she gets from you is immediate, and you huff as you reach for the iced soy hazelnut white chocolate mocha that Sydney brought you. “The Times wrote about me? Really? That seems…I mean there was actual royalty there.”

“Apparently you and Marcus made a splash.” She snickers, showing you the copy of the newspaper she had made Juan run out and get copies of. She actually made him get all the papers, just to see the pictures of you.

“Ohhhhh no…” It’s above the fold of The Washington Times. The Post has it in a collage of photos just below the fold, since they had the decency to put the President, King, and Queen above the fold. The Washington City Paper has it front and center with no regard for the important guests of the night whatsoever. In every single paper, you’re right there in Marcus’s arms: being dipped low with beaming smiles and dreamy expressions on both of your faces. First Princess and Mystery Man Sweep State Dinner: What Will the Congressman Say? asks the City Paper and you drop into the nearest chair with a groan. “Oh, this is so bad…”

She winces and shrugs slightly. “In your defense, it’s just a dance.” She huffs. “If he’s so upset about a dance, that’s just unreasonable. It’s not like you were making out with him.”

“But I wanted to.” You slump over with your coffee clutched in two hands and huff loudly, knowing you sound ridiculous as you groan again. “Syd…he has my appendicitis scar…it’s not just theoretical anymore.”

“You saw your scar?” Her brows wing up as she tries to figure out how you had seen his stomach in some innocuous way.

“No, no, god no. Can you imagine? That is what would have ended up in the papers.” The papers. Ugh. “He mentioned having scars from his soulmate and his childhood all mixed together, and when I asked him about it a little later in the night he pointed to the exact place where my scar is and made a little jagged swishy motion with his finger exactly like my scar.”

“So he’s your soulmate.” She nods, having been more convinced of it than you had. “What did he say when you told him?”

“I didn’t.” A fact which makes you cringe completely. Mostly in shame. “I convinced myself on the spot that I shouldn’t tell him until I’ve broken up with Sam. Plus, ya know, he’s still dating Vanessa. So there’s that. If they’re happy then I don’t want to fuck things up for him at all. He doesn’t deserve that.”

She blows out a disappointed raspberry and rolls her eyes. “God, really?” She snorts. “I – are you scared?” She asks seriously. “I’ve never seen you hesitate this badly in your life. Not even when Bobby Brasino dared you to jump off the bridge when we were in ninth grade.”

It isn’t the first time you’ve been grateful that she can pretty much read your mind, but you flop backward in the chair and have a sip of your coffee with a deep sigh. “I’m terrified,” you admit finally, but point one stern finger at her. “And that was a very small bridge. Plus, Bobby Brasino was a dick and he deserved to be embarrassed in front of the whole football team. I stand by that.”

“You had bigger balls than Bobby Brasino.” She laughs. “I would say that you still do, but babe…” She reaches out and takes your hand. “How upset would you be if the roles were reversed?” She asks. “If he suspected for over a month that you might be his soulmate and never said a word. Wouldn’t you be hurt? Upset?”

“I would want to know why.” You can readily admit that. Wanting an explanation isn’t too much to ask. “But as long as he had a good reason I wouldn’t be too upset. And I spent the last month agonizing over wanting to be with him or talk to him every single second, so I think that should earn me back at least one or two points that I will inevitably be losing for being a fraidy cat.” Reaching for the pastry box in the middle of the table, you pull out a peaches and cream Danish and flick your eyes back to Sydney. “And…I think I came up with a plan last night. Or at least half a plan.”

“Tell me your plan.” The fact that you plan on doing something is a good thing and she picks up the blueberry Danish she had been craving.

“I’m gonna need Juan for this one, but I think it’s going to work.” Even though the breakfast she brought is absolutely perfect, it’s less important right now than telling her what you’ve been thinking. “I’m going to go over to Sam’s today and end things. No more scaredy cat procrastination. And then I’m going to mine Juan’s knowledge for all of Marcus’s favorite things and put together an actual, big grand gesture. He talks so much about meet cutes, and true love, and romantic gestures…I think he deserves to be on the receiving end for once.”

Syd hums, impressed with the idea and she is happy that you are willing to woo the agent. The man that Juan thinks is perfect for you, because he is. “I think that’s perfectly plausible.” She agrees. “Have you talked to Sam?”

"Not yet. I woke up, took a shower, and then you got here." The coffee she got you is amazing and it's already half gone, giving you a little caffeine and sugar buzz to go with your determination. "But it needs to be today. I don't want to have to fight with him about these newspaper headlines for no reason."

“I don’t think he will fight with you.” She hopes he doesn’t fight, not when you have no control over the media’s headlines. Of course they sensationalized a moment to sell papers, he should know that. It’s just heartwarming instead of scandal, which the world needed more of in her opinion.

"I'll get called a few names, probably. But at this point I might deserve it, I don't know." You shrug slightly and chew a large bite of pastry before sitting forward at the table again. "Everything he said last night...all the things that line up so well between us...I just...I want to make sure that Marcus knows he's worth having a fuss made over him. I mean, he told me how he got his ex-wife to go on a date with him and that man seems like he is all about the grand gesture."

“How did he get her to go on a date with him?” She’s curious and takes a sip of her decaf tea, wishing it was the coffee that you hold in your hand. Eager to hear some juicy details as she picks up a croissant and nibbles on it.

"According to her, playing guitar and bass wasn't enough to make him a real musician." The heavy way you roll your eyes shows how much you disagree with that, but it's clear that this particular woman had strong opinions. "So he learned violin, taught himself Bach’s Violin Concerto in E Major, and played it for her. Then she agreed to go on a date with him."

“Holy shit.” She whistles, having heard about how difficult violin concertos are, and she wasn’t even that close to someone who plays.

"See what I mean?" Your eyes light up as it seems to click in her head as well. "Grand gesture. It's the way to go."

“It seems like it might be the best thing.” She nods, taking another bite of the pastry and humming. “Juan thinks so highly of him.” She admits. “When he finds out that he’s your soulmate? He’s going to be over the moon.”

"He's having dinner with us, right?" Sydney's husband was going to spend the afternoon running their own errands and seeing some friends before the three of you sat down to dinner together, and now it seems all the more important. "My Mom called Marcus handsome, by the way. Right off the bat. I could have burst into flames in embarrassment."

“Well, babe, he is handsome.” She points out to you, like you aren’t aware of that fact. “Not has handsome as my husband, but I might be a little biased.” She snorts. “Although they look like separated at birth twins.”

"They really could be brothers," you snort, amused at the thought. "Can you imagine? If they were separated at birth or something?"

“That would be amusing.” She grins. “If they are, I vote that Marcus’s parents are my real in-laws.” She jokes, having a tumultuous relationship with the widowed Mrs. Badillo.

"Are you sure?" That has you raising an eyebrow at her over your coffee. "His mother is a psychiatrist."

“Has to be better than Juanita.” She snorts, still amused after all this time that Juan’s name was chosen after his own mother’s.

You huff, but still smile and shrug a little as the last sip of your coffee disappears up the straw. "If I ever meet her, I'll let you know."

“You don’t believe that All-American Marcus Pike isn’t the type to bring his soulmate home to mother?” She teases, pegging Marcus for exactly that.

"Just because we're soulmates doesn't mean this no longer ridiculous and now totally justified crush I have on him is actually requited." Do you hope it is? Of fucking course. But you would never expect it. You still believe in the right to make your own choice, and that goes for Marcus, too.

“Are you kidding me?” Sydney jumps up and grabs the newspaper again. “Do you see this?” She demands, shaking it in front of your face. “This is Disney Princess shit, man!”

“I don’t want to expect anything of him.” It’s a clarification, though, and you still take the paper from her and cradle it in your hands like something precious. “I swear I almost kissed him after that dip,” you tell her with the dreamiest, softest sigh. “I don’t know how I controlled myself, honestly.”

“Juan would have been dragged into a coat closet.” Sydney agrees, grinning wickedly.

“If we were both single?” You throw one hand up in a sort of resigned dismay. “You would’ve found him here when you brought breakfast this morning.”

“Too bad you weren’t single.” Sydney pouts. “It would have been cute to see Marcus blush when I ask him how does it feel seeing that tattoo on someone else for a change.”

“You’re awful.” The burning is in your cheeks, not Marcus’s, and you swat at your best friend futilely even as both of you erupt into giggles. “Maybe one day. But not yet. That’s just…I really don’t expect him to just fall into my arms or anything. I just want to make sure that he knows he has a choice.”

“That man wants his soulmate.” She groans, shaking her head at how absurd you are at times. “He wants to love and be loved. His soulmate? He will think your fart rainbows.”

“I do fart rainbows,” you tell her solemnly, adopting as sage a fine as you possibly can. “I’m adorable and medically concerning that way.”

Sydney snorts and rolls her eyes as she tosses a napkin at you. “Yes, you are a modern miracle.”

“My Mommy says I’m a national treasure,” you snort, erupting into giggles all over again.

“Oh God.” Syd cackles and throws her head back. “Nic Cage is gonna want to steal you now.”

The two of you are cackling uncontrollably at the table when your phone starts to ring. It takes a few seconds to dig out of your pocket, but the image of Sam’s face taking up your phone screen is fairly sobering. With the gut instinct that this can’t possibly be a happy phone call, you reach over to squeeze Syd’s arm and wait until she stops laughing to answer. “Hello?”

“Good morning.” His voice is rough, raspy with the obvious rawness that illness brings. “I need to apologize. I only realized what day it is today.”

“No, you’ve been sick. There’s no need to apologize.” He sounds strained and still ill, but not angry. So that’s a bonus. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I could go back to bed and sleep.” He admits with a small laugh that turns into a cough.

“Then that’s probably what you should do.” It feels like a special kind of asshole move to just dismiss him, and that’s not actually what you intended to do but it’s what it sounds like. “Do you have food in the house? Medicine? All of that?”

“I actually do.” Sam sounds a little confused by your question. “Didn’t you drop off some medicine and soup?” He asks.

“I did, yeah. And I asked Vanessa to keep an eye on you, but I wasn’t sure how fast you would go through what I brought over.” It was a week ago, after all. You glance over at Sydney and chew your lip, wondering if doing this on the phone would be cowardly.

“Thank you.” He pauses for a moment and coughs again. “It looks like the dinner was a success.” He starts tactfully. “I’m glad that being sick didn’t leave you without an escort.”

There it is. You bite your lip just a touch harder, steeling yourself for the conversation, and shift at the table to sit forward. “It was better to bring a friend than to spend all night with a staffer I’ve never met before. I’m sorry you had to miss it, but it’s good that you’ve been able to rest.”

“I would have been horrible company.” Sam can acknowledge that, even if he’s not too pleased with how the picture on the front page looks. “I slept most of this week when I was thrown out of my office.”

“You were highly contagious and needed rest.” This is exactly the kind of conversation you anticipated having with him — the insistence that going easy on himself is essential to the healing process and that his staff was right to send him home. “Nobody wants an international incident because the King of Spain caught pneumonia on his visit to America.”

“That wouldn’t be a good thing.” Sam admits, although he would have been a little more settled if that picture wasn’t splashed over the front page. The headline was inflammatory, but he knows you and your feelings on cheaters.

“It’s…” Reaching for Sydney’s hand to steady yourself, you squeeze her fingers and swallow your nerves. It’s already past time to do this. “It’s good that you called, actually.”

“I know I need to apologize to you.” Sam murmurs softly. “I was out of line on Valentine’s Day. Would you let me make it up to you? Dinner tomorrow night?”

“Sam…” squeezing Syd’s fingers a hair tighter, even your eyes squeeze shut this time. “I was going to talk to you about this last week, but that turned out to not be an option. I think…” Come on, breathe. You can do this. “I think it’s fairly clear that we have different visions of our futures. It’s…I think this isn’t going to work out.”

The seconds tick by and Sam is silent as he absorbs your words and processes them. “I….see.” He’s hurt, slightly upset that you have chosen to end things without a real conversation and over the phone, but he doesn’t say that. “Well then, I guess dinner is out of the question.” He attempts to be lighthearted but the words come out hurt. There’s a flash of an incoming call and he pulls the phone away to see who is calling. “I’m sorry, I have another call coming in. I—I should let you go. Take care? I’ll call you later?”

“Of course. I still want us to be friends even if we’re not together. And I have a few things of yours to return to you.” It isn’t much. A lent book, a sweater, a scarf of his that he said brought out your eyes. “And—I am sorry, Sam. This isn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“Of course.” Sam clears his throat. “Goodbye, Birdie.” He clicks off the line quickly.

All you can do at that point is put down your phone and groan quietly. You let go of Sydney’s hand and rub your face with both hands, shaking your head the entire time. “I shouldn’t have done that on the phone,” you sigh after a second. “I just got so anxious when he apologized and asked me to dinner — I almost said yes.”

“I’m sure it will be alright.” She comforts. “I didn’t hear any yelling, so it doesn’t seem like he was angry.”

“Worse than that,” you sigh and let your forehead hit the table with a soft thunk. “He got quiet and cold. Which means he’s very upset.”

“Of course he’s upset.” Sydney will always be on your side, and boost you up. “You’re amazing, for one. Two, he loves you. Thirdly, he probably knows him being a dickhead on Valentine’s Day caused this. And fourth…” she doesn’t have a fourth point so she just shrugs. “Did I mention you’re amazing and a hottie?”

“I love you, too, Syd.” Turning your head to the side on the table, you huff at yourself for a moment before straightening up. “I guess we can cross driving to Maryland off the list for today. Do you still want to go food shopping with me? I think there’s going to be extra sweets in this trip.” Even though you’re the one who did the breaking, breaking up still sucks. And it’s going to require chocolate.

“Of course!” She grins at you. “I’ve already told Juan; I’m craving macaroons now.”

“We’ve moved on to a fancy craving! You must be ecstatic.” It’s just a little tease, but you can feel a little of the tension slip away almost immediately. “Agent Bailey should be here for the shift change in a few minutes. I’ll throw on some shoes and we can go to the market when she gets here?”

“That works.” She smiles and wonders if you are planning on calling Marcus today, just to keep in touch while you plan your grand gesture.

You stand from the table but pause to look at the papers again, smiling with a touch of relief as you look over the photos of you and Marcus dancing together. “I have to admit…we do look good together.”

“‘Atta girl.” She belts out a laugh and takes her last sip of tea. “You go get ready and I’ll poke through your cabinets to see what you need.”

“I have a list, but check my spice cupboard and make sure I’m not out of anything you consider mandatory.” Quickly arranging the papers on your table, you snap a photo and send the text off to Marcus.

To Marcus: In case you haven’t seen the papers today, we seem to have made a splash.

Marcus is sitting in a moderately comfortable chair, drinking subpar coffee to try and keep himself awake so he doesn’t miss the announcement. When his phone digs, he looks down at it and hates the way his heart flutters when he sees that it’s from you. Smiling slightly as he replies: It seems as if the press corps was enjoying themselves. I’ve seen that video running through the news cycle…First Princess.

I’m not sure I’ll get used to that moniker anytime soon, but it’s all thanks to you. I hope you had as wonderful a time as I did last night. You hit send but continue to stare at your phone, chewing the idea over and over while you shove your feet into your favourite pair of boots by the door. Any chance you’re free next weekend? I still owe you that rescheduled dinner.

Marcus winces, sighing softly as he types back: Depends on if I’m back by then. I’m sitting in the airport waiting for my flight to London to board. Interpol called me at 4:30 this morning.

The thud you make when you lean against the doorway with a pout is very audible, making both Syd and the newly arrived Agent Bailey peek around the corner to make sure you’re okay. When they find you still face down in your cellphone, they stop worrying.

Did you manage to get any sleep or can you maybe rest on the flight? We’ll go for Indian whenever you get back. Frowning at the message, you added one more thought to the end before hitting send. And stay safe out there. I know you can take care of yourself, but still. Stay safe.

It’s a little gratifying that you think of his safety at all, making Marcus soften slightly. Thanks. I’m planning on sleeping on the flight. I had a great time at the dinner, hopefully you aren’t getting too much shit for the photos.

Sydney thinks they’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. I think she might be right. Thank you for an amazing night. Sleep well and I’ll talk to you soon? It’s a relief to be able to be honest. With yourself as much as with him. If you could tell him his much you’ll miss him — how you already miss him — without coming in too strong? You would do it without hesitation.

Marcus stares at the message for a moment, wondering what you mean by that, and he pops up when he hears his section being called. Shoving his phone into his pocket, he stands up, wishing that he could have seen you again before he left.

It's hours later, after errands are done and you have had a chance to let a little of the guilt roll off your shoulders about the break up, that you and Sydney and Juan are sitting down in their dining room with an overflowing bag of Indian take-out and a copy of every single paper or tabloid you could find with your face on it.

It's surreal to see them all – because there are so many of them – and even more surreal that you've decided you don't really mind very much. Because it's Marcus on that page with you. You're so happy in these photos and it's a kind of radiating joy that you wouldn't have ever expected from yourself.

“I have to say, I never expected this reaction.” Juan admits as he gestures to all the papers and magazines. When you and Sam Chase were first spotted together, you hadn’t wanted to see the photos or articles until your mother’s PR team wanted to chat.

"I guess it's different this time?" Admitting it feels silly, and your cheeks are burning all over again, but the smile on your face is undeniable. "I'm less nervous with him."

“I can tell.” He grins, having already been informed of the soulmate status, and leans back. “He’s a good man, Birdie.” He promises you. “The best. I don’t know if I’ve ever known a man as good as him.”

"He's so sweet, and such a good dancer..." You cringe slightly, but end up giggling. "And so hot. I really...I'm not even holding back anymore."

He laughs at your almost defiant expression and holds up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I’m not saying a word. But it sounds like you’ve fallen head over heels at the idea of your soulmate?”

"Does it make me a hypocrite?" You ask honestly, a little worried about that fact as you unpack the take out bag and start spreading various containers of curry, rice, samosas, and onion bhaji around the table. Syd grabs the gulab jamun container to bring into the kitchen so she doesn't forget to get the ice cream to go with it and gets some plates in the process, but you're busy pairing serving spoons with all the various containers while you talk to Juan. "That's the only thing I'm really getting stuck on now. After spending a year talking loudly about freedom of affection, to then go and find myself feeling like this for my soulmate? It's...a lot."

“I don’t think that it makes you a hypocrite.” Juan shakes his head. “You’ve never bashed soulmates or said that you would never be with your soulmate, and you and Sam were in a real relationship.” He shrugs slightly and his arm curls around his own soulmate’s shoulder when she drops back down onto the seat next to him. “What would be the difference between the spark fizzling out or you finding you’re incompatible without knowing about Marcus?” He poses. “Just because you didn’t see the flaws in your relationship with Sam doesn’t mean they weren’t there.”

“It’s very adult, right?” You hope it is, at least, as the three of you dig into various take out containers with aplomb. “To be able to step away from a relationship with grace?”

“It is.” He can admit that, groaning at the first bite. “I swear this is the best fucking take out ever.”

“Isn’t it?” You’ve been thinking of this butter chicken for weeks, and even if it’s a Basic Bitch kind of choice for Indian take out, you don’t care. It’s amazing. “Best samosas in DC. Hands down.”

“Oh that’s perfectly accurate.” Sydney moans as she takes another one after already eating the one she had.

“Think it’s too late to tell my mother I want Indian food for my birthday?” Even asking the question makes you snort. With barely more than two weeks left until your birthday, you’re sure every single plan is set in stone. “She won’t even tell me what pub we’re going to. I assume you guys got your invitations already?”

“Of course we have.” Sydney grins. “I could hint to your mother that you want to have some Indian appetizers?”

“If the invitations are out then the menu is already set,” you shrug, knowing that it will be good no matter what it is. If you didn’t know your parents were fully capable of throwing a fantastic party, you would’ve insisted on having more input. “Frankly I’m more worried about the fact that Mom was just going to ‘tell Sam where to bring’ me.”

“Are you not planning on telling them soon?” She asks, forking up some of the rice and butter chicken sauce with peas.

“I am patently terrified to tell them.” It’s childish, you know that, but your parents love Sam. They approve of him in every way they can, largely because you never tell them about your disagreements. There is no reason to get them involved in your love life beyond having them meet the guy you’re seeing and sometimes share a meal or an event. “Dad had practically started planning the wedding.”

“Well…you don’t have to tell them right now.” She reminds you. “Just give it some time and then it will seem like you just grew apart.”

"You're right. It doesn't have to be a dramatic announcement or anything." After all, the break up itself had been fairly anticlimactic as well. It simply is what it is, and sometimes life throws you curveballs. "I have more important things to think about right now." You flash Juan a grin. "Like how to tell my soulmate that he is, in fact, my soulmate."

“Yeah.” He hums in agreement and ticks his left eyebrow up. “How are you planning on doing that?” He asks. “Get a new tattoo?”

“I was sort of hoping for some help brainstorming,” you admit sheepishly. “I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s…just a little more important than asking Garrett Hawkings to prom.”

“No, that was a big deal.” Your best friend smirks as she remembers how you almost puked when you asked him. “But this has more of a lasting meaning.” She admits with a shrug.

Juan tilts his head. “What do you have in mind so far?”

“Right now I’m thinking something music oriented, or maybe art?” That’s much too basic, and you slump in your seat a little. “I really only have one idea, but I don’t know if it will actually be fun or if he’ll just end up hating it.”

“You don’t want to announce it on the Jumbotron at a Nationals game?” Juan asks, chuckling at the idea. Even if it’s corny, it’s also cute.

“I want to tell him, not the whole world.” Even if the thought did cross your mind, you’ve already ruled it out. Marcus deserves something special. Something unique. Plus, the first game of the season is too far away. You really don’t want to wait that long.

“What do you have in mind? He might love it.” He takes a sip of his tea and then hands another samosa to his wife, the last one from his own plate.

“There’s this place in Old Town that just opened up a few months ago. It’s an art gallery, but once a week they have what they call ‘Wine and Watercolors’. They open their bar, bring in a live band, and you can pay a little materials fee for a canvas and watercolors to use for the night.” It sounded amazing and romantic to you, but Sam had had no interest. Which, in hindsight, doesn’t surprise you.

“I don’t know if Marcus likes to paint, but it’s romantic.” Juan admits. “He loves things that he can spend time doing with his significant other.”

“That’s kind of my roadblock.” There is a bite of chicken on your fork and you sigh at it like it’s personally responsible for your dilemma. “He said he’s not a very good artist, and I don’t know if that means he doesn’t like making art at all.”

“Nahhh.” Juan shakes his head. “Marcus is an experience kind of guy. He can’t cook for shit but he used to go on those ‘couples cooking’ dates with Lara. Enjoyed it because it was new and he was spending time with her.”

"Besides." After eating the offending piece of chicken, you point your fork tines at Juan. "If we're drinking while we're painting, then no one in the room is aiming for museum quality."

“I can’t argue with that logic.” He laughs. “Besides, if it’s abstract art, it’s supposed to look like shit.”

"But..." Cutting your eyes between Juan and Sydney, you can feel the heat creep up your cheeks. "If I just so happened to paint my tattoo...that would be a bit of dramatic reveal in a good way. Right?"

“Can you paint it?” Juan asks curiously. He’s never seen you paint so he has no gauge on your abilities. “To make it recognizable?”

"I'm not exactly going to be forging an Audubon anytime soon, but I'm not a terrible artist." This little plan that has been cooking in your head all day does rely on it, after all. So you need to be able to pull it off. "I'm going to have to practice a little, but I think I can do it."

“Then I would start practicing.” Juan snorts. “When are you setting up this date?” It might seem quick to some, but to most soulmates, the fact that you have suspected for a month is forever.

"Whenever he gets back from London." That little fact had certainly put a damper in your plans, but there's nothing to be done about it. You would certainly never be upset with a significant other for having to work, let alone a friend.

“Oh?” He seems surprised that Marcus is out of town so quickly and you know about that. “Did he leave right after the dinner? He didn’t say anything the other day.”

"He got the call early this morning." That creeping heat in your face is all the way down your neck though, which how very pleased you look about your little bit of insider information. Even Sydney snickers at how much like that cat that got the cream you are right now. "I texted him this morning and we chatted a little."

"I see." Juan glances over at Sydney and smirks when he glances back at you.

"What?" If it's totally innocent, then there's no reason for smirking or glancing, right? "Friends text. That's not unheard of."

"Friends is not what I see in those papers." He reminds you. "And if you texted him this morning, you were obviously dreaming about him the night before." It's a general teasing tone, winking at you playfully. "Prince Charming in your dreams."

"I'm not going to deny that." Not anymore. Not now that you're unattached and free to give affection to whomever you see fit. The part of you that rises up into your throat whenever you look at those printed pages is definitely in control of your mind right now. "I just don't want to get ahead of anything. Just because I feel whatever this is...it doesn't mean he does, too."

Juan chuckles and rolls his eyes. "That man – he said that he didn't care about soulmates, but he does. He was so sappy every time one of our fellow agents talked about finding their soulmate. He loves love, but I think that he always hoped to find you."

"I don't see any world in which Marcus isn't ecstatic to be with his soulmate," Syd agrees, although she's only known him the month or so since he first arrived at the restaurant. But already, she and Juan have spent much more time with him since then than you have.

"I just don't want to assume that kind of reaction and be disappointed," you rationalize. "It would only be my own fault."

"Caution is good." He doesn't think that it's needed, but rationally it's never a bad idea to be levelheaded about the matter. It's rare to have a soulmate interaction with clarity of thought.

"That's all it is. Just caution." Even though you're nodding your head, there is still a dreamy sort of expression on your face that you can't shake and you're not even sure you would want to if you could. "Will you tease me forever if I ask you for stories from when you guys were at the Academy?"

"Of course." He snorts, as if it's ridiculous for you to even ask that question. "I will lovingly tease you forever while still thinking that it's adorable to witness you fall for Marcus even more through stories."

"I am not falling for anyone." The biggest lie you have ever told in your life and everyone here knows it. "I just have a teeny, tiny, ever-growing crush. That's all."

“Teeny, tiny my baby-growing ass.” Sydney snorts. “I think if you had been single last night, Marcus Pike would have been having breakfast with us.”

"Maybe." It's not even worth disputing, if you're honest. You would have brought Marcus home with you last night in a heartbeat except for a few very important factors. "But there's still the whole Vanessa thing. For all I know they're madly in love."

“I doubt that.” Sydney scoffs. “That woman – I’m sorry – she was, is, in love with Sam.”

"That probably should have been something you pointed out to be while I was dating him," you roll your eyes at her while the takeout containers are getting passed around for everyone to have seconds.

“There was no reason to spike jealousy when you know that Sam never would have risked a scandal.” She reminds you. “He always talks about those who do have infidelity scandals need to resign.”

"To be honest?" Another piece of honey ginger naan hits your plate and you suck a drip of honey off your thumb after putting the container down. "I could never tell if it's cheating he hates or just being sloppy about it."

“I would hope it’s the cheating.” Juan huffs, knowing that he and the congressman would have gotten sideways if he had cheated on you. Being Sydney’s best friend puts you firmly in little sister territory for him.

“I would hope so, too.” You just shrug though, knowing it’s a moot point. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Juan agrees. “Are you planning to talk to Marcus while he’s gone? Where did he go?”

“He said he was going to London and he wasn’t sure for how long.” The sticky sweet naan on your plate is early dessert and you dab at the spicy ginger honey happily. “I said we should talk later but I haven’t heard from him since. They probably had him working the second he touched down, though.”

“Probably.” Juan agrees. “Marcus, the few cases we worked on together, was always one to hit the ground running.”

“A man of action,” Sydney teases, grinning at the way your expression turns even dreamier.

“Marcus was always popular among the female agents.” Juan warns you. “But the man I know would rather take a bullet than cheat.”

“Good.” Though you had a feeling that he trended that way, it’s nice to have confirmation. “It would be nice to not have to think about that at all.”

“No, you don’t have to worry about that.” Even though it’s been a number of years since he’s spent a lot of time with Marcus, some values are just true to their base layer and that’s one of them for the other man. “But—” he holds up a finger. “You could consider his job his mistress. The Bureau can be a demanding one at times. Stealing him away during dinner when that damn phone goes off. So…beware.”

“I love that he’s dedicated to his job. And that it’s a job that actually helps people. I’d rather have that than a partner who comes home miserable after work every day.” Spouses busy with work is something you’ve seen. Something you’ve lived through. Something that you were directly in the middle of as a kid, before your dad decided to stay home with you and your siblings.

“I know you can handle it.” He assures you. “I don’t know if Lara understood for some time though.” He admits with a sigh. “He was stretched thin for a bit when she was upset about all the training. That man will pull himself apart at the seams to making someone he loves happy.”

Looking up at Juan, you sit forward in your chair a little and frown, almost shaking your head. “When was the last time he actually had someone put him first? It…sounds like he’s always the one making accommodations or bending to his job or his partner. Do they ever do the same?”

“From what I’ve heard….not really.” Juan admits. “With Lara, he was already married when we were at the academy together, but he told me about Teresa.” He shrugs. “They were both agents, but it seems like she had an interest in a consultant she worked with and used Marcus to either make him jealous or try to get over the other guy.” He sighs. “They got engaged and she was supposed to move out here with him to DC in the position he pulled strings to get her.” His frown is very judgmental. “She called him from the plane and then the other guy did the grand gesture of boarding the flight to ‘win her’ and she never showed up.”

There is an intense moment of silence at the table, followed by you very firmly putting your glass down with your jaw on the floor. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Wish I was.” He sighs again, thinking back to the conversation he had with Marcus. Feeling slightly guilty about sharing it when it should be his story to tell, but hopefully it will give you some good insight into the man the universe linked you with. “He stopped dating for nearly a year, enrolled in therapy and worked on himself after that.”

“How could a man that sweet just never have been anyone’s priority?” It’s enough to make you actually mad, which is something you hadn’t expected, but you’re deeply upset on his behalf. And with the realization that you had done it too — contributing to the problem when you cancelled dinner on him a few weeks ago. No wonder he was upset with you. At that point you were just one more person in a pattern. “Well,” you decide firmly. “It stops now.”

“Uh oh.” Juan snorts, recognizing the determined tone of voice. He hasn’t been married to Sydney and not spent enough time with you to see the stubborn streak ten miles wide inside you. “Are you planning on love bombing him?”

“I would definitely not call it love bombing,” you insist, since the term has some fairly extreme negative connotations. “But I am going to make sure he knows that he’s valued and appreciated.”

“Poor guy won’t know what to think.” He hums sadly.

With the idea that you’re going to take Marcus to Wine and Watercolors when he comes home from London, you find yourself doodling on a pad of paper in your office the next morning while you review the bookings for the coming week. There are a few repeat customers on the books and you want to make sure you anticipate anything they might need, and you’ve also had a few room cancellations over the weekend that you need to clear out of the system so they can be snatched back up by new guests.

The time difference is vast and he's happy that it's later in London. Having just got off the phone with a nearly hysterical Cameron, Marcus hopes you aren't too busy and can help. He dials your number, figuring this would be best to talk about in person than text.

"Hey, have you seen this?" Sydney opens the door to your office and waves a paper around. "Derby Farms burned to the ground yesterday." She huffs, walking over to your desk and depositing the newspaper down so you can read the article and see the photographs of the burnt rubble. "The entire venue is gone."

“What the hell happened! I loved that place.” But just as soon as you pick up the paper to begin to read, your cell phone goes off on the desk on your other side. Marcus’s name is splashed across the screen with one of the media photos from the State dinner that you had put with his contact info. Flashing a grin at Sydney, you scoop up your phone and answer it quickly. “Good morning, sunshine,” you greet easily. “And good afternoon, too, since it’s…almost tea time there?”

"Hey." It's a much warmer reception than he had anticipated, but he reminds himself that you are friendly, not to read too much into it. "I hate to call and start off with 'I need a favor'." He huffs. "But...I need a favor."

“Of course.” It wasn’t so long ago, after all, that you were talking to Sydney and Juan about people not making Marcus a priority so you’re going to stop that trend in its tracks. With a little humor, of course. “Are we talking treason, because that does get sticky. Agent Bailey is very good at her job.”

He laughs, slightly relieved that you are willing to hear him out. "So I have an agent on my team. Lovely woman. She was set to be married in two weeks at Derby Farms but apparently that entire venue burned down yesterday." He explains. "She took off work today and when I called to check on her – because she never calls off – she was nearly catatonic with grief. She's already paid for everything."

"In two weeks?" Your eyes blow wide and you glance up at Sydney before opening the inn's operations calendar on your computer. "Do you know the exact wedding date? Sydney just brought me the article about the Farm to read, I loved that place."

Marcus gives you the day and sighs. “I know it’s a lot to ask. Is there any way you could help her out?” He asks. “Even if you aren’t available, do you know someone who is? She’s lost all of her wedding plans. Up in smoke – literally.”

The second he says the date, you know you don't have anything booked. There is a reason that you don't have anything booked. Juan had asked for the weekend off almost a year ago so he could go on a ride with his friends, who were all planning on taking their bikes out along Route 66 for a few days for the nostalgia factor. Without your wedding planner on premises, you hadn't booked in a wedding.

It's not that you can't do a wedding yourself. You used to do them before, when you managed the inn under the previous owners. And this is Marcus asking. Marcus who you fully intend to support and make feel valued. "Absolutely," you tell him, changing the date in the inn's calendar to a saved booking. You can absolutely handle this, and the poor bride doesn't deserve to have her day ruined through no fault of her own. "We don't have a booking that weekend, so she can have it here if she wants to. Do you want to give me her number so I can contact her, or is it easier for her if you just pass her my number?"

“I can give you her number. Cameron is really sweet and right now, I know she’s overwhelmed. Her and her fiancé are debating postponing, although they don’t want to.”

"That won't be necessary," you promise him, already mentally clearing your schedule of absolutely everything else to make this happen. "I'll give her a call as soon as we hang up. Everything will be fine." The small smile that graces your lips can only be seen by Sydney beside you, but he can probably hear it over the phone line. "You're a good man, Marcus. Helping her with this is a huge deal, and I hope she knows she's lucky to have you in her corner."

“I feel bad for her.” He waves off your praise, even though it’s a lovely little warm spot inside him and his cheeks heat up. “It’s not her fault the place burned down and I doubt the owners can help her right now.”

"I'm sure they have plenty of their own problems to deal with right now." The nightmare of losing the place had kept you up at night for months after you bought your own inn, you can only imagine how the owners of the farm are feeling right about now. "But we'll make sure Cameron's wedding is still beautiful. Cross my heart."

“Thank you.” He murmurs softly. “I will owe you any favor you want.” He promises with a small laugh. “Are you ready for her number?”

"I'll remember that," you tease, just keeping the thought light and having no intention whatsoever of cashing it in. This is for him. "Go ahead. I have a pen."

Marcus gives you Cameron’s number and sighs softly in relief when you repeat it back to him. “Thank you….seriously. I hate when I can’t help someone and I can’t do anything over here.”

"You've done something enormous." He really does put everyone else first, and you would just shake your head at him if he were in the room with you. "Don't worry about a thing, Marcus. I'll take care of this. Your agent is in good hands."

“Thanks again.” Marcus hums. “Well, I hate to ask for a favor and running, but I have to meet Interpol in about twenty minutes. Talk later?”

"Absolutely." That has you grinning like a mad woman, and you don't care to apologize for it. "Call me when you stop moving for the night. I'll let you know what's been worked out and you can vent about whatever you need to. Deal?"

“That works.” He agrees, smiling through the phone at the care you are showing. “Bye.” He waits for you to acknowledge and then hangs up, staring at his phone and wishing that he could say something to you about the fact you have shared tattoos.

"I apologize in advance for keeping you very busy coming up, but we are going to do Marcus a favor." Even if you bite your lip when you put your phone down, you're serious by the time you look over at Sydney who is now sitting on the edge of your desk. "One of the agents in his department had their wedding scheduled at Derby Farms in two weeks. I'm going to call her and offer her the date here. But it's the weekend Juan is going to be away, so it'll be just you and me running the show."

“Holy shit….poor girl.” Sydney huffs, motioning to the paper. “They reported that the Derby doesn’t have fucking insurance.” She groans. “They let it lapse.”

"Of all the stupid ass things to do." You shake your head and groan. "If I ever say something as dumb as that to you, please wave this article in my face and slap me with it." Picking up your office phone, you glance down at Cameron's number and nod to no one in particular. "Alright, I'm going to make this call and then I'll come and let you know what's up?"

“Sure, let me know. I can throw a tasting box together quickly.” She promises, walking towards the door as she starts to think of what cakes to make samples of for the unhappy couple to hopefully cheer them up.

"You're the best!" You call after her, already dialing the number you wrote down as the door to your office clicks shut again. It rings three times and you start mentally preparing a message to leave before the call connects on the other end and a sniffling voice answers.

"Hi, Agent Cameron?" You introduce yourself by name, careful not to talk too fast and overwhelm the upset bride. "I'm the owner of The Inn at Jones Point in Alexandria. I got a call from Special Agent Pike just a few minutes ago and he let me know about your situation with Derby Farms. With your wedding day coming up so quickly and the situation being so unusual, I'm calling to see if you would like to relocate your big day."

“I— what?” She is completely confused and on the brink of tears again when she registers what you are saying. “He— he called you? To see if you had availability?” Wiping away tears on her cheeks, she hates how nasally she sounds right now. Crying always makes her sound like she has a head cold. “I— I don’t— it’s all been such a mess. I’ve heard of the Inn but I don’t— I’ve never been there.”

"I know you're very busy with everything that has happened, but I'm confident that my chef and I can help you straighten things out and get them back on track." Trying to sound as confident as possible on the phone might come across as arrogant to some people, but when you're in the middle of a mess sometimes confidence can be a buoy. "If you would like, and if you're able to, why don't you and your fiancé come out to the Inn today so we can talk through everything? Our in-house restaurant caters all the weddings that we do here and our chef will have some fantastic samples for you to try out."

“Really?” The first threads of hope rush through her only to be deflated a minute later. “We— I don’t know if we can. We had already paid for everything, and now— I don’t know if I’m getting my money back.”

"I understand things are up in the air right now. And weddings are a very costly day. Why don't you bring your vendor contracts and assorted paperwork with you when you come, and we can go through things together?" It's going far above and beyond what you would normally do for a couple that has had scheduling mishaps, but again – this is for Marcus. "We'll find a way to make it work."

“I— do you know Marcus?” She asks curiously, sure that this isn’t something that would be done for everyone, although she’s about to start crying in gratitude.

"Yes, I do." Clearly his agent hasn't been reading the papers lately but that is neither here nor there for you, you just smile into the phone. "He's a very good friend, so I'm going to do everything I can to help."

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” She gushes. “I— my fiancé and I can be there in an hour? Is that too soon?”

"That's just fine. I'll take you on a tour of the property when you get here so you can make sure you like the place before we sit down and start working through the details." You give her the address and the phone number to call back if she has any questions, and assure her once again that you'll make sure things are taken care of before hanging up the phone and heading straight to the kitchen where Sydney is working with some cake batters already. "I hate to tear you away from brunch, but our couple is going to be here in an hour. Thank you so much for jumping on board with this."

“I can’t imagine how stressed she is right now.” Sydney sympathizes. “Two weeks before the wedding. Just contacting everyone on her guest list to tell them a change of venue will be a massive undertaking.”

"I'm going to take them on a tour first thing, and set up the table on the back porch to talk through things with them. Are you thinking standard tasting samples?" There are certain things that brides gravitate towards from Sydney's catering menu that you know she can put together quickly, and right now that's a bit of a boon.

“I am, but if there’s any curveballs in their original menu, let me know and I’ll adjust.” She promises. “I’ve already got six different mini cakes baking.” She had dry ingredients mixed together all the time for the most common cakes so all she had to do was measure and mix in the wet.

"You're an angel, I love you, and I owe you a spa day." Blowing her a kiss, you gather up a tray of glasses and tasting plates to set on the table on the back porch with a reserved sign. That can be set up immediately, to sit and wait while you do a perimeter walk of the property and think through everything that will need to be arranged.

Two minutes before the hour is up, a sedan pulls up into the gravel parking lot. A couple gets out and the man immediately walks around the car to wrap his arm around the woman, pretty and petite, although it’s clear from her puffy eyes that she’s been crying.

"Agent Cameron?" Having stopped to check your clipboard at the front desk just a moment ago, you step out onto the front steps of the inn with your best reassuring smile when the couple get out of their car. "I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice."

“Soon to be Agent Wiley.” The man who is protectively holding her extends his right hand to shake yours. “Michael Wiley. We are so very grateful for your time.”

Cameron nods, almost ready to cry. “I’m sorry— I’ve been so emotional about all this.” She explains, fanning her face to try to keep the tears away.

"There's no need to apologize. You've been through the wringer today but hopefully we're going to bring that to a halt for you." You shake both of their hands and nod to the path that takes visitors around the grounds behind the inn. "Let's just start with a walk. I'll show you the facilities here and you can tell me what things you had picked out at Derby Farms so we can try to bring the two things together."

“It’s a lovely place….but—” she bites her lip and looks up at Michael who nods slightly. “We have already spent so much. My— um— we aren’t soulmates, and my family won’t pay for the wedding.” She admits, aware that some wedding venues will not marry non-soulmate couples. “Now that we might not get anything back…”

"We don't discriminate here. My staff is made up of all kinds of people in all kinds of relationships from all kinds of backgrounds. So don't worry about that at all." It's part of what you talked about when you would talk about freedom of affection on the campaign trail, so you're sure as hell not going to let it stand in your own business. "Did you bring the vendor paperwork that I mentioned when we spoke on the phone?"

“Yes!” Almost forgetting it, she breaks away from her fiancé she dives back into the car to pull out a thick binder. “I’ve got all the contracts and, well, everything for the wedding here.” She promises you, hesitating a moment before holding it out to you.

"Sometimes there are clauses in these contracts that have contingencies, and wording can be tricky," you explain, accepting the thick file and setting it on top of your clipboard. "Something terrible happened outside of the realm of your control, but we're not going to let it ruin your wedding. We'll find a way to make the money work." In that, at least, you can make a real promise to this couple. "I own the place. No middle managers in this conversation."

“Oh!” She takes the first really good look at you and tilts her head in surprise. You had told her your name, but it hadn’t clicked. “Oh God, you’re the President’s daughter, right? I’m so sorry,” she apologizes. “I didn’t make the connection. I’ve been so frazzled.”

"Honestly, it wouldn't even have phased me if you didn't make the connection at all." The only thing that comes close to bothering you is those people who go out of their way to tell you that they did not vote for your mother, but even then you just smile politely and remind them that the beauty of democracy is that they get that choice. "Besides, this day is all about the two of you. I just want to make sure you're able to enjoy your wedding."

She’s wary, but she nods with a smile. “I appreciate this so much; I know that it’s so last minute.”

The tour goes reasonably well for the overwhelmed and emotional couple, and you show them the manicured gardens for pictures, the main grounds for their ceremony, and the old carriage house which will easily transform into a full reception space in the event of rain. It mirrors the tone of the barn at Derby Farms that they had originally planned on using and allows them to breathe away a little bit of worry. By the time you make it back to the porch for cold water and a tasting, they are looking just a little less harried and you take that as a good sign. "How are you feeling about the space?" You ask them once they're sitting again, and you smile at the pitcher of ice water that Syd has put out before pouring out three glasses.

“It’s gorgeous.” She admits with a shy smile. “This is an incredible place and I’m so surprised you are not booked up.”

"We are, most of the time," you admit. "The reason your weekend is still open is that my event planner is away. So I would be coordinating your wedding personally."

“Oh.” She shoots you a guilty look. “That’s— you are okay with that? If it’s too much— I, we, understand.”

"I'm perfectly okay with that. In fact, from what you've told me about your original plans for the day, it sounds like it will be beautiful." The file of their contracts still sits next to you, and you already know you aren't going to charge these folks a dime. "But it's also why I'm prepared to offer the space to you. I'm the only one taking on extra work beyond a normal wedding weekend, and I'm happy to do that. I will work through your contracts and contact Derby Farms regarding their lack of insurance to take that off your plate. You already have your photographer and florist, correct? Did the Farms' in house catering include your wedding cake?"

“It did.” Her mouth drops open in a small sigh. “Another detail to work through.”

Michael squeezes her hand. “We will figure it out, baby. Even if we are serving cupcakes.” He promises softly bringing their joined hands up to kiss hers.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." Sydney emerges from the back door of the inn with her tasting plate and a smile, the ever-growing bump under her chef's coat on display as she comes to the table. "I prepared a tasting of our most popular cake options for you to try out today, and while you do that I'm going to go ahead and make us all some lunch. Can you tell me about what you planned on serving originally?" You had discreetly texted her during your tour, letting her know the relatively small size of the guest list and the good impression you had of the couple. It sounds like an intimate wedding that will be beautiful, and she wants to make sure it's perfect.

"Sydney Badillo is our chef at Il Corvo," you introduce with a smile. "She's going to be your caterer."

“Oh my god!” Cameron’s eyes light up when she sees the plates with the mini decorated cakes. “I— okay, we had gone with the most popular choice according to Derby.” She explains. “Sliced roasted beef or baked chicken with a vegetable medley and whipped garlic mashed potatoes.”

"Sounds like a very nice, popular option." Sydney isn't going to pan the options that the other venue gave them considering the disaster they got stuck in, but she knows she can do better. "Did you need a vegetarian or pasta option? Our restaurant's menu is Italian so we have a little bit of room to play in."

“I— um,” she looks to Michael, who nods.

“Tanya is vegetarian, babe.” He shrugs and looks back at the two of you. “Perhaps a few plates?”

"We can definitely do that," Sydney assures them. "I'm going to go make us some lunch and you have your dessert first." She scoots back into the building quickly, gone in the blink of an eye.

“I love Italian, what do you think?” Cameron asks her fiancé before looking at the cakes closely.

"At this point, I'm ecstatic to not have to reschedule and to not lose all of our invested money," he admits with something akin to a grateful laugh. He finally feels like he can breathe for the first time since they got the news. "We had just gone for a simple white cake with raspberry at the Farms," he tells you honestly. "Nothing was revolutionary but it was all good quality. We just want to have a nice night with our friends and our family."

"If you want to stick with that, we can definitely do it." You take the raspberry cake off the tasting plate and cut it half, setting both pieces on plates with forks for them to try. "This is our vanilla cake with raspberry jam."

Cameron forks up a bite and her eyes flutter closed on a moan. Michael chuckles but he is also groaning when his own bite hits his tongue. “Oh, this is so good.”

"The other three mini cakes are our house chocolate, which we do with a strawberry layer and ganache, a lemon cake with fresh blueberries, and an almond cake with fresh plums and buttercream." It's good to see them smile a little, and enjoy themselves in the face of so much adversity.

“That sounds amazing.” She gushes. “All of them.” There is a small idea that is forming, but it might be way too much to ask with the short time left before the wedding.

“Give them a try, and if none of these quite hit the mark, we can talk about other options.” You’re going to make this work come hell or high water. It’s far more than Marcus asked of you, and maybe it’s not awesome that you have an ulterior motive in helping these very sweet people, but the fact is that they’re going to get a great wedding out of the fact that you want Marcus to think of you as someone he can rely on.

The couple digs into the cakes with gusto, enjoying themselves and unwinding as they cheerfully debate the best one, grinning and laughing as they feed each other small bites.

“What do you think?” When they’ve tried everything and managed to pause before filling up on cake alone, you fill up water glasses and take out your pad of paper to start taking note of any ideas or questions they might have.

"They are all so amazing." Cameron admits, looking longingly at the pieces of cake left. "If I had booked with you to start with, I would say do miniatures of all of them, but...." She glances at Michael to confirm and grins as she looks back at you. "We want the lemon cake with blueberries."

“Well when it comes time to do your anniversary party, we’ll have a big batch of miniatures.” Jotting down the cake choice, you nod and sit up again with ease. “Obviously with just a few weeks to go we’re not looking at a terribly elaborate cake, but it will be beautiful and delicious.”

"No," She shakes her head and leans forward. "We were— are planning to have the florist bring flowers to decorate." She explains. "I guess I need to call them and tell them that they will be bringing the flowers here?"

“That would probably be best.” At least they’re smiling again, which is an enormous boon as far as you’re concerned. “Flowers in the cake will be gorgeous.”

“Oo, did we pick?” When Sydney comes out the door again, she has a heavy tray of three family-sized plates and a stack of lunch plates alongside it.

"We did." Cameron informs her with an awe inspired gaze. "Your lemon blueberry cake is amazing. I've never had one that isn't too sweet."

“It’s all about balance,” Sydney smiles proudly. “That’s what we had at my wedding, too. It’s honestly one of the most popular choices.” The tray beside her starts to be unloaded, and there are more happy groans all around. “These are our versions of beef, chicken, and pasta for a wedding day. Veal Marsala with roasted garlic mashed potatoes, chicken piccata with roasted delicata squash and parmesan polenta, and a mushroom and ricotta rigatoni al forno.”

Michael's eyes are wide, unsure of where to begin and Cameron just moans again as the smells tingle and tease her nostrils. "You are amazing." She huffs. "It smells so good."

“If you don’t like the side, we can switch things up,” Sydney promises. She also brought plates for the two of you, and grins as all four of you start to eat together.

"If you don't mind me asking, how do you know Agent Pike?" Cameron asks curiously. "He never said a word and then when he showed up on the front page of the papers, he conveniently had to fly out of the country."

"He is an old friend of Sydney's husband, actually." Deflecting a little from the newspaper story, you will give your friend all the credit here for providing the connection for you to meet your soulmate – though that detail will remain quiet. "They were at the Academy together. One day last month he came by to see Juan and to check out the restaurant, and we made fast friends."

"Wow. It's a small world." She hums. "He's a fantastic friend so I can see why it was so easy. He's a real sweetheart."

"He's fantastic." The side eye Sydney gives you when you say it is subtle, and you ignore it so you don't say anything gushing and give yourself away. "We haven't known each other long but I'd call him a good friend already."

"Obviously." Cameron agrees. "He never asks anyone for favors and he asked you for a big one."

"He knows how important this day is to you." The warmth that spreads through your chest at the recognition that Marcus might think a little highly of you in any way is elated and giggly in a way that you have to work very hard to contain. "And I'm glad to do anything I can to help you – and him – out."

"I don't know how we are going to pay you, but we are eternally grateful to you." Michael tells you. "You have changed our lives. We had thought we were going to have to cancel."

"I'm going to comb through these contracts of yours to see what sort of money I can recoup for you, and that will be plenty enough payment." You got a glance at it earlier and saw a few clauses about fault for cancellation that will probably bring in enough money to cover expenses for the night. Beyond that, you and Sydney already agreed to forgo taking payment for yourselves for the wedding to make sure that your staffs don't have to worry about pay cuts. It's going above and beyond, but hopefully you'll come out of this with a few room reservations in the future from the wedding party and guests, and plenty of business for the restaurant. It wouldn't be the first time you accomplished a hell of a lot on a shoestring budget. "Focus on enjoying your wedding, that's what matters."

There's a moment where he stares at you before he nods. Reaching for Cameron's hand again. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to us."

"Is there anything else you'd like us to know about your day?" Sydney prompts, noting that the couple have dug into the plates she prepared with enthusiasm. They seem to love her food, so her part in this should be fairly easygoing. At least as far as weddings go.

"We— we've invited our families, but we don't know if they will show." The bride admits, looking down at her plate and sighing softly. "I would love to say that we won't need security, but I'm just not sure."

"Do you have reason to think that any of your family members might try to interfere with your day?" Scribbling quickly on your notepad makes the bride and groom flinch in front of you, but you stop immediately to reassure them. "We have had events that need security plenty of time before. We can manage it. I just want to make sure that you're safe."

“I don’t think so.” Michael clarifies. “We just aren’t sure. Most of our family acts like we’ve not ever said anything about getting engaged.”

"Alright." You nod at that, knowing that the trend of families being particularly hard on children who choose partners other than their soulmates can...particularly fierce. "Try not to worry over it if you can help it. We have plenty of practice at handling that sort of thing here and I promise you that we can handle it. Just focus on making sure your guests go to the right place and your vendors know about your change of venue. We'll handle everything else."

There's a release of tension from both of them that seems to just make them sag with exhaustion. They hadn't slept, couldn't, after learning of the fire and the worry had been so palpable. Now that it's nearly fixed, they lean against each other happily. "God, I'm going to sleep for twelve hours tonight." The female agent groans.

"I hope it's fantastically restful sleep." With everyone set the way it is now, you hope these two lovely people get all the rest they could possibly need. They've had a hell of a day. "If either Sydney or I have anything we need cleared up, I will give you a call. And of course you can call me about anything you need."

“I think I should get her home.” Michael apologizes. “We didn’t sleep last night and…”

"Of course." You stand to shake their hands, glad to see reassurance and relief on their faces. "I'm very glad to meet you both."

“Thank you.” Their gratitude cannot be expressed enough and their protests about paying for the tastings go unheard as you usher them to their car, the dwindling energy apparent when the first yawn breaks.

"Well." When you turn back to Sydney after they've left to help her load up the tray, you heave a sigh of relief. "They're absolutely sweet, and I'm glad they won't have to postpone their wedding."

“I can see why Marcus called you to help.” She agrees. “They are wonderful.”

"They really are." Offering Sydney a smile, you blow out a steady breath. But before it's even done, you're laughing at yourself. "Ready to throw an entire wedding for people I've never met at the drop of a hat just because he asked. Maybe it's a tiny shade more than just a crush."

“You think?” She snorts playfully, hip checking you. “I think we’ve crossed over into at least head over heels territory.”

Huffing at your best friend, you heft the tray up in your arms and stick your tongue out at her in what is clearly a very mature gesture. "Shut up," you grumble, following her back into the inn as she laughs all the way.

It’s been agonizing to watch the clock and wonder what is happening. Marcus checks his phone and sighs. It’s getting late and he’s already back in his room, meal eaten and the beer he had ordered still in the bucket.

By the time you're back in your apartment with the dinner dishes washed and your shoes kicked into a corner, you look up at the clock and calculate the time difference. It's late in London, and you should have called earlier, but there was an issue with a guest's room that you had to deal with to free Malachi up to be able to take care of the regular check-ins. Selecting Marcus's entry in your phonebook, you tap the call button and tuck your phone between your shoulder and chin, pouring yourself a glass of cheap, sweet wine to relax with.

“Hello?” Marcus isn’t asleep, the time charge has messed with him and he is not even tired. Sitting in his surprisingly spacious bathtub with a beer in his hand.

“Hey.” You can hear yourself smile down the line, even sounding perpetually dreamy now. “It’s Birdie. How was your day?”

“Hey.” There’s a softness to your voice that has Marcus longing to believe that it’s directed towards him. “It was good. Did you and Cameron talk?”

“We did. She brought her fiancé in for a meeting and we got everything squared away.” Leaning against your kitchen counter, drinking wine, and on the phone with Marcus…the combination of things sends a shiver of rightness down your spine. “They’re so sweet, and I hate that such a bad thing happened to them. You’re an angel for reaching out to help them.”

“They are fantastic. Cameron has asked if I can give her away if her father doesn’t show up.” He admits, shuffling slightly and the water splashes.

“You must be a hell of a boss if—” The sound cuts your thought off at the root, leaving you confused but amused on your end of the phone. “Are you in the hotel pool or something?” Don’t think about Marcus in a bathing suit…Don’t think about Marcus in a bathing suit…

“I-” Marcus coughs slightly, hoping you won’t be offended. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep, a beer in the bathtub helps.” He admits sheepishly. “Needed to get my second beer.”

“That…” You look down at the glass of wine in your hand, imagining sitting in a screaming hot bubble bath with beautifully scented bubbles all around you and letting the stress melt away. “Sounds incredibly comfy.” Almost as soon as you’ve decided you like the sound of it, you’re grabbing you wine bottle and heading for the bathroom.

“Yeah? You aren’t offended?” He asks, almost jokingly. “Technically I answered the phone in the bathroom, which is completely frowned upon.”

“Offended?” The psshh sound of disagreement you make is an immediate dismissal of that idea. “It’s not like you picked up the phone and ripped a massive fart or anything. Although honestly? I probably would have laughed. I’m actually thinking I might join you,” you admit, rummaging through your bottles of bubble bath that have stood untouched for ages.

He pulls the phone away from his ear and calculates the time difference. “You should.” He agrees. “Done with work for the day and needing to relax. Hot baths and alcohol are some of the best ways, especially if you can’t have a massage.”

“Can’t have a massage for the next four years.” You remind him, laughing at the ridiculousness of it. “Or eight. Depending.”

“Why is that?” He frowns, not understanding.

“President Mom’s rules of deportment.” Selecting a bottle of foaming bath salts from the shelf, you plug up the tub and dump the appropriate amount in. The hot running water will start dissolving them in no time. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for the First Kids to have intimate contact with strangers. Even professionals who sign NDAs.”

“Oh I wasn’t- talking about a professional massage or anything.” He admits, figuring that you would ask Sam for a back rub sometimes. He shrugs even though you can’t see that. “I didn’t think about the rules of deportment honestly. That sucks.”

“It’s mostly things for safety. Like having a P.O. Box for my mail so it’s hard for paparazzi or people who disagree with my mother’s politics to figure out where I live.” The bathtub in your apartment fills up slowly, and you sit on the edge to pull off your socks and sweater while you talk. “My parents would prefer me to being living in the White House but I can’t see doing that at almost thirty years old.”

“No, you can’t do that.” Marcus agrees. “Plus you run a business, you can’t just leave it in someone else hands, that would drive you insane. Plus you enjoy your work.”

“I do enjoy my work!” It’s almost exasperating that Marcus sees that so clearly when Sam needed to have it rammed through his thick skull. “The only way I’m ever moving out of this apartment is when I’m ready to live with my partner and get married, and then this goes back to being the caretaker’s apartment. Hang on.” Huffing at yourself, you put Marcus on speaker and set down your phone so you can get undressed. “The bath is ready.”

Marcus swallows and looks up at the ceiling as he tries to not imagine you undressing. It’s not technically wrong, he’s single, but you are seeing someone and he’s never been the type to cause issues.

It takes a minute or two, but the sound of water plopping comes next, and you pick up the phone again with a sigh. “So what was for dinner?” Just as conversationally as if you were in the same room, you set your phone on speaker on a shelf in the small, open cabinet beside your head and just talk.

“I thought it was a requirement to have bangers and mash when in London?” Marcus asks as a joke. “Or is it fish and chips? Anyway, I had the bangers and mash in this tiny little hole in the wall. It was amazing, but I’ve learned something about myself.” He tells you. “I hate mashed peas.”

“No!” Your animated gasp of shock is genuine, as silly as that seems, and you laugh to yourself as you pick up your wine glass. “Were they mint mushy peas? Because if not, that’s the reason they sucked. I don’t know why but the mint saves them.”

"I don't exactly know?" He admits, laughing quietly as he picks up his beer bottle and settle back into the bath. "I just know that I reverted back to my early childhood where my mother force-fed me mushed peas and sweet potatoes and I almost lost my entire lunch on the bar."

“That will definitely do it.” The two of you laughing together is musical even if it’s soft, the sounds mingling together with the splashes of water and sipping of drinks. “Go for curry tomorrow. Stay far, far away from the mushy peas so you won’t have flashbacks.”

"Either that or the fish and chips." He hums. "You know they pour malt vinegar on them?" He asks. "It's pretty good." It's easy to talk to you and he doesn't want to stop, even if it is late for him. Taking another swallow of the beer, he waits to hear your voice again.

“I did a semester abroad in London when I was an undergrad.” You tell him with a hum. Whatever the hell this wine is that Malachi recommended, it’s amazing and sweet and fruity. “I went to London and Syd went to Rome, and the plan was to visit each other back and forth whenever we could but she never made it to London often. That’s when she fell in love with food.”

"It's hard not to fall in love with food." Marcus agrees. "It's fucking delicious."

“True. I will give you that.” Sitting back in our own tub with a relaxed sigh, you turn to look at the phone like he was sitting right next to you — though no amount of wishing will make it so. “Where’s your favourite place you’ve ever gone?”

"Is it terribly cliché if I say Paris?" Marcus asks, huffing out a small laugh at himself. "I loved Paris almost a ridiculous amount. Although I wished it hadn't been for work and for pleasure."

“It’s not cliché if it’s honest.” It’s easy to picture him there, running through sunny streets or ducking into cafes to avoid the rain. Sightseeing and lingering over dinners and walking along the Seine. It’s dreamy. Fuck it. He is dreamy and you’re not afraid to think so anymore. “I’ve always wanted to go. It sounds…perfect. But I know that’s just because I’ve seen Amélie too many times.”

"Sabrina for me." Marcus hums, acknowledging that he has a romantic streak. As if you didn't know that. "I still wish the Concord was still flying. Going to Paris for a weekend would be so much easier."

“God, I love Sabrina, too. Charade and An American in Paris.” You snort, listening to yourself list off names. “I think I might have an addiction. Or just a dream. Maybe both.” Another sip of wine is a gentle burn down your throat and with whole Booze Bath thing might be your new favorite way to unwind. Especially if he’s on the other end of the phone while you’re at it. “And I’ve always wanted to go to Harry’s New York Bar and try to sit in every seat, just so I can make sure I sat in the same place as F. Scott Fitzgerald.”

“Are we drinking Old Fashioned or Negroni’s?” He’s asks, inviting himself along on the adventure that sounds like an amazing time. “Because I think that to sit in his seat, you need to have one of his cocktails in your hand.”

“Fitzgerald’s favorite cocktail was a Gin Rickey,” you tease down the phone, enjoying the ease of having so many small things in common. It’s never felt so genuinely comfortable talking to someone new and yet so very exciting. Marcus makes you feel like you could fall asleep in his arms with your heart blazing on fire. “So I will definitely be drinking a Gin Rickey.”

“I could have sworn I read somewhere he liked those drinks too.” Marcus pouts slightly, not really caring for Gin, but if that’s the drink, that’s the drink.

“I think Hemingway was a Negroni guy along with his daiquiris.” He sounds like he’s pouting on the other end and the overwhelming urge to reach through the phone and kiss it away is stunning. “Either way, we need to sit in every seat at Harry’s. Wherever Fitzgerald’s ass was, Hemingway’s was sure to follow. And vice versa.”

“Fuck, I’m thinking of The Great Gatsby.” He groans, hanging his head at his own mistake. This is what happens when you don’t reread the classics.

“I’m always thinking of The Great Gatsby,” you admit with another laugh. “When I was a preteen I begged my parents to take me to Long Island to see his house. I refused to believe he was made up.”

“I don’t blame you.” He hums. “It would be amazing if it were real.”

“Amazing and sad. But still amazing.” Returning the sound without thinking of it consciously, you hum back to him and close your eyes in the hot bath. “What’s the book you wish you could step into? Just crack the binding and fall down into it like Alice down the rabbit hole?”

“How many nerd points and I going to accumulate if I tell you that it’s The Fellowship of the Ring?” He asks with a snort, tilting his bottle back to drain the second beer.

“That’s such a good one though!” Immediately sitting up again, the slosh and splash of water is audible but you don’t care. “Whether you’re taking the place of someone in the fellowship or just going to live your best hobbit-y life in the Shire, that is a fantastic choice. Ten thousand points and a fancy ring you should never wear for Marcus.”

He laughs, easily and freely with you. “Maybe an extra companion on the journey.” He hums. “Another Merry or Pip.”

“Oh sure.” The sound of his laugh is magical, and you know without hesitation that you’ll continue to do whatever you can to hear it. “Because that’s what they need. More trouble. You just want second breakfast and Elevensies.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus insists. “Luncheon, and supper, and tea too.”

“Why do you think I was so excited when my best friend decided she wanted to be a chef?” You pose, hoping he’ll laugh again. “It’s purely for the food benefits. I’m just a hobbit girl at heart.”

“Are you hobbity enough to have a movie marathon where you have complete meals that are inspired by the Hobbits?” Marcus asks teasingly.

The sound you make is best described as an indignant harrumph, and this time it’s your turn to pout. “I would be if I had anybody to watch them with. Syd won’t watch them with me anymore. Apparently I outplayed that hand college.”

“The only way to watch them is the director’s extended cuts.” Marcus tells you. “At least every three years or so. Because it does take an entire weekend.”

“One hundred percent. I could not agree more.” All these small, nerdy parts of you that just line up are such a deep breath of fresh air to be able to share. “And mead is proof that there is magic left in the world.”

“You know….I’ve never actually had mead.” He admits, leaning back in the tub and looking up at the ceiling again. “Do I lose points for that?”

“Hmmm…maybe?” Pretending to think about it, you shrug your shoulders like he could somehow see you. “We’ll just have to get you some mead to try when you get back. While we plan our trip to Paris and Middle Earth.”

“Can we visit Middle Earth first?” Marcus asks, indulging in a dream situation where he would be able to travel with you for real. “Never been there before.”

“Absolutely.” In fact, you might agree to just about anything he asked of you in that lazy, sleepy voice. A voice that makes you glance up at the clock and sigh. “But honey…how long have you been awake? You must be exhausted.”

He pauses when he hears you call him honey, but he figures it is a friendly term. “Uh…” he pulls the phone away from his ear and glances at the clock again. “Thirty-six and half hours?” He answers. “Give or take?”

“And how are you supposed to be the Sherlock Holmes of Fine Art if you’re sleep deprived?” It’s not that you want to stop talking to him. Quite the opposite, in fact. But you know what it’s like to be sleep deprived with something important to do. You make silly mistakes that can sometimes cost.

“Jet lagged.” Marcus hums sleepily. He’s relaxed now that he’s talked to you, or maybe because of you. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“How about now?” If you could sneak your way into that hotel room and wrap him up in a soft bathrobe and snuggle him right into bed, you would do it in a heartbeat. The following morning would probably be very dirty, but still the sentiment remains. “Are you feeling a little more relaxed?”

“I could probably catch a few hours of sleep.” He admits, eyes slipping closed. He leans back even more and yawns. “Your voice is soothing.” He mumbles.

“Yours is, too.” So much so that you’re feeling boneless in your bath. Though after you hang up the phone you might keep thinking about him…for other reasons. There’s an undeniable ache building that will eventually need relief.

“Should probably let you go.” He huffs, the slight pout to his tone one of sleepy regret. “You sound tired.”

“You wanna call me tomorrow?” After crossing this comfortable threshold into not just friends, but friends who dance and chat on the phone? You’re not inclined to give this up.

"I can try." Marcus promises. "I don't know what the day might bring, but around this same time? If I'm not sleeping?"

"Sounds good." Though you won't voice it, you know you'll be waiting by the phone hoping that he's able to call. "I'm glad you got there safe and that you're going to get some sleep tonight."

“G’night, sweetheart.” Marcus has to drag himself out of the bath, but between the bath, the beer and talking to you, he’s ready to slip off into dreamworld.

"Good night, honey." The first time you hadn't even realized you had said it, but the second is as full of warmth as a hot toddy on a snowy day. And as the call disconnects you sit back in your bath with nothing but beaming giddiness on your face.

______

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My Masterlist!

[equallyshaw]

ᴅᴀʏ ꜱɪx: ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴍᴀꜱ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜ - ᴄᴏɴɴᴏʀ ʙᴇᴅᴀʀᴅ

part of holidays with equallyshaw

warnings: none!

word count: 4.5k + 🫣

also for context, she is a year older than him, so shes 19 right now almost 20.

ᴄᴏɴɴᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴇʟ ʜᴀᴅ been friends since birth, or well they used to be. ironically noel ended up in chicago after growing up in vancouver for 14 years and when connor had gone off to regina. it seemed as though noel had forgotten about connor, he had surmised. and hoped that once he came to chicago - officially - that the two would see one another again.

ofcourse as luck would have it, they would.

❅

"noel!" she heard her name yelled from downstairs. she sighed, putting down her romance novel, and took in the white flurries that had miraculously come just in time for christmas eve, in a day. she stood up, picked up her coffee mug, and headed down the three flights of stairs. when her father moved her and her brother to chicago, they quickly fell in love with the brownstone that just happened to be available as soon as he took the job. especially in the area that they were, and because noel adored the area so much she opted to stay in the city and go to school in the loop. after her freshman year of dorm living, she convinced her best friend abby from highschool to join her in off-campus housing- and now here she was back in her bedroom, for holiday break.

noel had made it down to the landing, right before the foyer and heard her dad talking with somebody, and the two were laughing. her eyebrows crinkled, unsurely. as soon as she hit the top step, connor froze. he swallowed, his gaze shifting from noels father and towards his best friend and the girl that he had loved for some time. she jogged down to the last step, and that's when she recognized him. she tilted her head just a bit, and gave a weary smile. "connor?" he stood silent for a minute before speaking, "hey noel, its good to see you." he said and she nodded softly. "yeah, you too." she hummed, pulling a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "how long has it been?" she questioned, shifting her hold on the mug before her dad swiped it from her. "ill get you some more." he said before leaving the two.

"about 6 years almost." he stated and she nodded, "right." she hummed looking at the historic wood floor. "oh! congrats by the way. my dad was really excited that chicago drafted you. apparently, they needed a good ole canadian to lead the team again." she said grinning, and he nodded smiling. "yeah i was pretty stoked when i remembered that you guys had moved here. my parents had hoped that we'd cross each other's path at some point. they were thankful and relieved to know your parents were here." he exclaimed and she nodded, "they always did say that you were like their second son. which doesn't hurt." she grinned, "do you want something to eat? drink?" she questioned and he shrugged, "did i hear coffee?" he smirked and she nodded, "ofcourse! my dad can never go a day with out." she hummed, pulling him towards the kitchen. "nice house by the way." he said as they went through the dining room and then down two halls. she nodded, "yeah. things changed a lot when my dad got the job. my dad was finally able to give the historic home my mom had always dreamed of." she shrugged, before htye entered the black and white marble floor. "connor!" her mom gushed, putting down her knife and rushing over to see the boy.

"mrs. murphy! how are you?" he questioned as she pulled back a bit to inspect the now 5'11 boy. "good good! how are you?" she questioned, returning to her chopping board. noel took her coffee mug out of the nespresso machine, and placed another one for connor. she took out the medium roast pod from the drawer, before grabbing coffee creamer from the fridge. oh shoot, she thought, she didn't know what he liked in coffee. "hey connor? what do you want for coffee?" she questioned, turning back towards him. "whatever you're doing is fine." he said before her mom pushed connor into the island chair. "sit sit, i want to hear all about your time here so far. tell me about regina too!" her mom said continuing to prepare dinner. noel brought her mug to her lip, not to drink just yet but to hide the small grin that was forming. connor flicked his gaze towards noel for a brief second, before looking at noel's mom. noel turned back towards the coffee machine, putting some creamer in his cup before bringing it over to him. she sat down next to him, and he made a weird face. "this is so you." he said but continued to drink it. "last time i checked, i didn't start drinking coffee until i was 17." she said without really catching her self. connor nodded softly, a wave of uneasiness filled him. "so connor! tell us about your parents!" her mom butt in, and noel silently thanked the universe for it.

a few hours later, with a home-cooked meal and some cookies placed in a tin, noel was walking connor out. "please come back soon! we'd love to have you for dinner again." her mom said hugging the boy tightly. "i can never go without your cooking again! giving my mom a run for her money." he joked, and her parents laughed. she pulled away before he went to hug noel's dad. "ill walk him out." noel announced and then she walked him back through the halls and to the front door. "wheres your brother?" he questioned, "oh! he's uh, he lives in the loop now with his girlfriend." she said shrugging waiting for him to slip his shoes back on. she peered out the window next to the door and smiled, it was still snowing. "well drive safely, its still snowing." she said as he finished. he nodded, "would you, would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow? my parents fly in tonight late, and so they wont be up for a while." he explained. she waited a brief second, before nodding. "id love that connor." she smiled before pulling him in for a hug. a good chill went up connor's spine and butterflies erupted from within noel. she began to pull away, and she could feel his breath at one point. she tried to hide her blushing as they pulled away for good, "how about philz coffee in lincoln park, say 9 ?" he questioned and she nodded. "ill be there." she grinned, before opening the door. she waited a few seconds before shutting the door, once he opened the small courtyard gate and then he was gone.

❅

it was 9 am the next morning, and noel had just sat down at a table with a hot coffee. her leg tapped anxiously, as she waited for him. and even though connor wasn't that guy, she was worried about him bailing on her. because, again- she was the one who stopped talking to him once she moved. her roommate and best friend abby had just woken up when connor walked through the door. abby and noel were on the phone, and abby was harping about something when she noticed connor find her within he coffee shop. he waltzed over to her, and sat down in front of her. she held up a finger, and nodded at whatever abby was saying. "ill be by afterwards and then we can talk about this." noel said before saying bye to her friend. "sorry my best friend was trying to explain what happened last night when she went out." she shrugged, sipping her coffee. "no problem, im gonna go order and ill be back." he said standing up and walking over towards the counter. she sat back, pulling off her long coat and sipped her coffee.

connor heard his name called a few minutes later, and he quickly swiped it from the counter. "so! tell me about your friend." he said, trying to start the 'catching up' conversation. she smiled, "i met her the first day of highschool, and we've been inseparable since. we had joint grad parties, and we roomed our freshman year at depaul, and now were still together down the street actually." she said shrugging, "she's been my best friend through everything. i couldn't have picked a better person to share so many amazing memories with." she added, and connor nodded. "that's nice." he hummed, sipping his iced coffee. "yeah, it made moving here a lot easier." she finished. he nodded, "yeah, it was hard after you left but me leaving at 15 definitely helped." he began, "oh right ! you left for regina." she said before grinning, and then out a soft chuckle. "you're such a child!" he said joining her. "i promise im an adult but everytime, its made me laugh." she hummed, her giggles claiming down. "but anywho, continue!" she squeled, placing her arms on the table. "it was good! met a lot of my close buddies there. was basically homeschooled when my mom was there." he shrugged, "oh right! they do things differently here." she said sipping some coffee. "but that was sweet of her to relocate. im sure melanie likes being back home now." she giggled, and he nodded. "yeah, it definitely helped my parents relationship. oddly enough, they got closer when she came to live with me. and now that they go back and fourth with my sister, its evident." he said sipping his coffee. "how is mads doing?" she questioned, "shes good! started her sophomore year at Calgary in business and is working at lululemon as she takes classes, up at bc." he said and noel smiled, "that was her dream. ubc." she hummed smiling widely. connor took in her wide smile, and in turn smiled.

"god i miss that girl. sister i never had." she hummed, "is she here for christmas?" she questioned and he nodded. "oh that's right! my mom wanted to know what you guys were doing tomorrow." he said.

❅

an hour later, the two walked out the coffee shop doors and they began their descent toward her apartment, that she lived in. they chatted the whole way there, catching up and laughing over some good times. they took the elevator up to the third floor, and quickly made their way over to the door. "abby?" noel called out, opening up the door all the way for him to slip through. "abby?" she called again, slipping her shoes off. "hey! hey?" abby said stepping out to the hallway and didn't realize connor was there. "ouu! you're connor bedard the one she neve-" and noel cut her off, "yes abby, miss chatty cathy." noel joked, as abby grinned. "anywho im abby her best friend and you are connor bedard that everybody in this city knows about but i could really care less." she said before turning back to the kitchen. noel snickered as she rolled her eyes playfully, "that's her." she said as connor said, "that's her." he laughed, as she began to take him on a tour of the apartment. "and here is my room." she said allowing him to walk in first. she leaned against the doorframe, watching him inspect her room. he took in all the photographs she had on the all and the one next to her bed. a picture of them when they were 12, and they had finished up a school project. "you still have this?" he asked, picking up the frame and looking at it closer. she nodded, "yeah that was one i knew i had to take from my parents house, it was too good not to." she mused, taking off her jacket and hanging it up.

she sat down on the bed, and he set the frame down before joining her. she sat there pretzeled styled, "so what trouble did you get into when i left?" she teased.

❅

when connor left to uber back to his fancy apartment building, abby drilled noel with questions. "oh come on you still like him!" abby accused her as noel just blushed. "he was the first guy i really liked, and always believed that if i hadn't moved away we would have ended up together. but he found somebody back in vancouver." noel said tucking her chin on her knee. "wait, but i thought that rumor wasn't true." and noel shrugged, "beats me." she hummed. "but he for sure likes you i know it! i saw the way he looked at you when yall walked in. it was hard not to notice. like you hung the stars and the moond!" abby further explained- the last part sing song, but noel shrugged. "nah. thats just connor. he probably looks at mads and his mom the same way, hell he probably looked at my mom that same way yesterday too. its just how he is." she shrugged but abby wasn't buying it. "whatever you say, but are you guys going to have them come over tomorrow?" she questioned. "i don't know, i sent a text to my parents but haven't heard a thing. but we used to have christmas morning together, we'd pile into one house and open presents, and then have brunch before afternoon mass for us." noel explained, "i always looked forward to christmas eve since the three of us and my brother would have a sleepover at whoevers house it was at that year, it was our tradition. the murphy-bedard christmas story." she smiled, a flurry of memories flooding her mind. "maybe you'll get lucky, and find yourselves under the mistletoe your parents put up." abby grinned, sipping coco. noel rolled her eyes, before standing up. "ill see you tomorrow, im going to chill in my room." she said beginning to walk off, "no phone sex!" abby called and noel groaned playfully.

back at connor's place, he was talking to his sister madi. he was explaining each and every detail of that day, his face lightening up the whole time. madi just sat back and grinned, asking questions here and there. she hadn't seen connor be this giddy in a long while. "did you ever tell her?" madi questioned as connor finished, "tell her what?" he asked as his eyebrows crinkled, while leaning to grab his hot coco. "did you ever tell her about your relentless crush as a kid?" she grinned, before sipping hers. he shook his head, "i don't know what your talking about." he mused and she chuckled. "connor i love you but don't act like a dummy. brendan and i both knew that yall liked one another. so no lying here." she chastised. he sighed, resting the mug on his knee. "she's never once expressed anything, so i never said anything. so why would i say it now?" he questioned, and madi did the same. "maybe then you two would finally get together." melanie stated as she walked into the living room that overlooked the city. "you knew?" he asked, bewildered. melanie laughed, "its a parents job to recognize these things. do you remember how heartbroken you were when she left and what she didn't call or text you she'd made it to chicago? absolutely wrecked." she mused, as madi snickered. "see?" madi said, cocking an eyebrow. connor sighed shaking his head.

❅

"im back!" noel announced walking into the brownstone. "sweetie, good you're here!" her mom said coming out to greet her at the door. ""whos here?" she questioned "im gonna go change and ill be down to have some brunch." noel said and her mom shook her head, taking her coat and bag and placing it near the door. "no need." her mom smiled taking her hand and pulling her into the kitchen and where the breakfast table stood. "noel!" she heard the famous melanie bedard voice call out as soon as she entered, "melanie!" noel smiled widely and melanie walked over. "soo good to see you again missy. we've missed you." she smiled pulling back a bit to place her hands on the side of her head, like she had as a child. "nelly!" madi said from beside her, and melanie let her go. madi and noel hugged each other tightly, truly the sisters they never had. "oh my god i could cry!" noel said giggling and madi joined in. "if you do im gonna and it isn't gonna be pretty." she said as they smiled at one another. "i cant believe you grew!" noel said as they parted, "i cant belive you didn't." madi joked and everybody laughed. noel was the odd one out in the family, barely coming out to 5'4 while her family was 5'10 and above. "hush now. im sure i could still drop kick you and beat you on beam." she said eyeing her, and giving her a playful finger point. "that you could." madi hummed, pointing right back at her. "hi tom!" she said as she finally found the very tall dude, "hi sweetie! so good to see you." he said and she nodded, "you as well. all of you guys!" she smiled looking back towards the rest of the family. connor was missing. "he's with your brother." madi answered her, and noel nodded.

"coffee?" her dad asked and she nodded, taking the expresso. "been saving the last one for you." he smiled placing the mug in her hand, and she grinned. "thankyou." she smiled, sipping her peppermint coffee. "thanks dad." she hummed, placing it on the counter. "ill be right back, i need to go check something." she said to her mom and her mom perked up, "grades?" she questioned and noel nodded. "let us know hun how ya did." her mom smiled, and noel nodded again. noel made her way upstairs to the third floor, and heard laughter coming out of her brothers room. she hurried to her room on the opposite end, and shut her door behind her. she leaned against it trying to collect her thoughts, which ranged from grades, money and ofcourse connor. all the above, as any college student thought.

she sat down at her old desktop her dad had given to her a few years ago for her birthday, saying that the old computer still worked well. she signed in quickly doing the damn double sign in her college did, and she waited for the screen to load. as soon as it loaded, she did a double take before smiling widely. her hard work had paid off, earning herself a 3.7 gpa. she logged off and headed back towards her door and when she opened it, she was surprised to see connor standing their patiently with a hand raised to knock. she swallowed hardly, a blur of anxiety washing over her.

"uh..hi!" she said opening her door like she had at her apartment, and allowed him to walk through. as she was shutting it, she saw her brother do a small salute before he jogged down the stairs.

"whats up connor?" she questioned, as he sat down in the desk chair. he spun around in it, and leaned his forearms on his knees. "everything ok?" she questioned heading over to her closet and slide the door open. "i wanted to talk to you about something, something that I've wanted to speak to you about for years, now." he said nervously, and she looked back at him as she tried to grab a bin from the top shelf of her closet. she growled, turning around and hopping a bit to grab it. with no luck. connor stood up and took a few big steps, reaching her. he grabbed it, and she now only recognized how close she was to the 5'11 hockey player. she swallowed, "thankyou." she said staring directly into his blue eyes. he smiled, "ofcourse." he said not moving an inch. he was too mesmerized by the girl, as cheesy as that sounds. "we shoul-" he cut the girl off by doing the one thing he'd wanted to do for years. it was the same thing she'd wanted to do as well.

he pulled her in closer as his hands found her back, and hers found his neck. she even stood on her tippy toes, to find the back of his head. they pulled away after a few seconds, blushing like fools. they rested their foreheads against one another. their breathing heavy as they looked at one another. "you don't know how long I've waited for that to happen, truly." she hummed smiling. "you don't know how long I've waited you to do that so i could tell you how much i liked you." she added, "liked?" he questioned, and she grinned. "ok i still do, i..honestly never stopped." she said giddily. "I've had a crush on you for so long, i just always told myself you didn't like me back." he said pulling away a bit more. she shook her head, "i never said anything because i always thought you had a thing for shannon." she said giggling a bit. he shook his head, placing a finger underneath her chin. "it was always you noel, always nelly." he smiled, leaning in again to kiss her. she felt heat creep up throughout her body, noel not being able to get enough of the dark blonde boy. connor was absolutely mad about this girl, and kissing her made him go absolutely wild. she pulled away when she felt they were getting carried away, "okay connor as much as i'd like to continue this. we need to go back down there." she said pulling away from him. "but i promise that once i start up school again, and your parents go back north- there will be much more time for this. whatever this may be." she hummed, picking up her phone from the desk. connor nodded, coming up in front of her, and pushing her gently back into the desk. "promise you're not gonna disappear on me again. ghost me?" he mused, cocking an eye brow. he was being semi serious, she could tell. "i promise not too. you're stuck with me boy." she grinned pushing him back and took ahold of his hand, pulling him into the hallway.

❅

it was around 9 pm when the bedard family were leaving for the night. they promised to come for one last dinner before the three of them went back up north, and the murphy family would keep them to that promise. noel had just walked into the kitchen to grab a tin and place some cookies her mom had made the day before. connor came in and stood behind her, placing a soft hand on her back. "coffee tomorrow morning?" he questioned, placing his hand on the counter beside her, and he now hovered behind her. "shore. how about someplace near here? i can pick you up if you'd like." she offered but he shook her head, "ill pick you up, so you don't have to walk any place nor pick me up." he offered and she nodded. "i guess that'll be okay, but i swear to god connor if you try killing us, im never letting you drive in this place again!" she said and connor chuckled. "she isn't joking, she'll hold her promise. or grudge." brendan her older brother said as he walked into the kitchen. connor quickly shifted away from the girl, but brendan only laughed. "didn't we just have the conversation?" brendan teased leaning his arms on the counter, and noel whipped her head towards connor. "what conversation?" she questioned and connor blushed. "me giving him the go on asking you out, once and for all." brendan said shoving a cookie in his mouth. "suttle brendan, suttle." noel said shaking her head with a fake scowl. "just no funny business, or at least don't kiss in front of me. i don't want to see that." he said fake gagging. madi then walked in, "see what?" she asked and connor groaned. "told them i don't want them to kiss in front of us. we already have to deal with their presence, we don't need all that kissing or touchiness." brendan said making madi giggle. "i agree." she said taking a cookie and biting it. "can we like not? but you knew?!" she whipped at madi who nodded. "good lord, seems like we were the only oblivious ones." she hummed, and madi nodded. "we had a running bet on what age you two would realize." madi grinned. "oh fuck off, the both of you." noel said closing the tin full of desserts and held it out for madi. "thankyou, gonna go finish this tonight." she smiled before leaving the kitchen. "text me soon?" he asked connor who nodded. brendan left the room so now it was only the two lovebirds. noel sighed, cleaning up some of the cookies.

"i cant believe that everybody noticed before we did." connor said chuckling. "i know, i fear its gonna haunt us forever." she hummed, and connor looked over at her. watching her sort cookies, for a few seconds. he smiled softly, "you know as a kid, its so dumb, i used to ask santa for you to- y'know, like like me." she gushed, popping an oreo ball in her mouth. "oh really?" he grinned, taking a peanut butter cookie and taking a bite out of it. "uh uh, remember when we heard the song 'all i want for christmas?' she paused waiting for him to nod, and he did. "i always used to say, all i want for christmas is for connor to like me or maybe y'know kiss me." she mused as her nerves flared. "really?" he quizzed and she nodded. "oh most definitely. every year before i moved." she smiled softly.

"come on connor, were leaving!" they heard melanie call out and noel had an idea.

"wait! come here." she whispered, grabbing ahold of his hand and pulling him out of the kitchen and towards the back room that was a small reading area, library and had a fireplace. she stopped in the doorframe and waited for him to realize.

"what?" he questioned, watching as her smile turned into a grin. "use your eyes, bedsy." she hummed, "bedsy? thought you hated that nickname." he mused, and she shook her head. "nah i just hated that i didn't come up with it." she smiled. he smiled back before looking around and then up above them. "oh. i get it now." he said looking down at the girl. "do you now?" she hummed, and he nodded leaning in closer. he placed his hands on her pale cheeks, before kissing her softly.

it was cut short.

"i literally told you not to kiss in front of me." brendan called out before pretending to gag. noel giggled, pushing her forehead into connors chest in embarrassment. "oh my god! ew no!" madi said recognizing where they were at.

"mommmm!" brendan called out and noel only laughed in response, as madi called out for melanie making connor laugh too.

"the murphy-bedard story - continues!" melanie screamed, with her mom adding a cheer with her.

"ready to face our audience?" noel grinned looking up at him, and he nodded. "just one more." he hummed before kissing her once more.

hope you all enjoyed!!!

tags: @cuttergauthier @toasttt11 @jayda12 @jackhues @dancerbailey

[jarofstyles]

Flame 3- Ignite

Hello… here she is. 🫡 finally. Bffrry has arrived! Part 4 is on Patreon now.

It’s basically pure smut so 😁 enjoy! Sorry for the wait

Check out our Patreon!

—————-

She should have taken Harry seriously when he said it would be an addiction.

It fucking was.

It seemed like the man could barely go a few minutes without a kiss in her presence, and she couldn’t be bothered to lie and say she didn’t absolutely fucking love it.

His lips found her neck as she sipped her coffee, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. Last night was an outing with their friends for Adam’s birthday. They’d celebrated sober, though no one else was. No one batted an eye at Harry’s hand on her thigh or when he had dragged her to dance- but more so make out heavily on the dance floor with a memory that would stick far clearer than any of their others. The taste of lime and tequila on his tongue and his hand gripping her hips while she moved them was an aphrodisiac, her lips still tingling from the nip he had given it when her hand slipped under his shirt.

A weak, sleepy whine left her throat as his teeth grazed the curve of her neck, biting down lightly on the sensitive flesh. His newest thing had been hickies. Attempting them, at least, trying to see how he could mark her. The possessiveness he actually showed towards her had reared its head the night before in ways that had made her panties ruined. Of course, they’d been tipsy and as soon as they got home they passed out in his bed for a change and regretfully didn’t get too much else.

“Don’t like wakin’ up alone.”

The timber and rasp of his sleepy voice could have made her moan out loud. Y/N hadn’t liked leaving his grip this morning, needing to use the restroom desperately- and caffeine to soothe her grumpy nature in the morning. Leaving him behind has been painful considering she had been in heaven in that bed, her nighttime shivers gone from the furnace of a man that wrapped around her like a koala- but she really had to piss, damn it.

“Sorry.” Her voice was gritty from sleepy, but added into it the spark of arousal in her body from his morning voice and the lips making their rounds on her throat. “Had to pee. And you’ve got the nespresso machine.” She giggled, squirming lightly as he rubbed his nose back and forth on her shoulder. The strong arm around her squeezed her back into him, a quiet grunt leaving his throat as she could feel him against her ass.

Oh. Fuck.

Harry could hear the breath hitch in her throat as his length pressed up against her ass, letting her feel exactly what it did to him. “N’then you want to tease me in my own kitchen? do you know what it does t’me, seeing you in my kitchen, drinking from my mug, in my fuckin’ shirt?” Fingers fell down to where his shirt hit her legs, sliding underneath it. Large palms glided up the soft flesh of her belly, settling on her ribs. “Cruel, cruel woman. But I suppose I could expect that from you.” A deep inhale was taken as another shower of kisses was slowly pressed from shoulder all the way to her jaw, biting down on the curved line with a groan. He was slowly rubbing himself against her, not trying to push it too far without more communication but thoroughly enjoying himself.

It didn’t help that Y/N let out a sweet little sigh, pressing her ass back into him as silent permission. “Shouldn’t it soothe the territorial pup in you? Nearly thought you’d pissed on my leg last night to mark your territory.” She teased back with a laugh, setting the coffee mug down and joining his hands under her shirt. “Danced with me just like this… rubbing against me. So hard then, too. Kind of wanted to make you cum on that dance floor.”

God damn, she had a hold on him.

Since their arrangement had gone around, they hadn’t done too much- but one thing they had done was rub off on each other. Y/N had gotten off on his thigh, and much like this, Harry had humped her during a movie they had been watching. It seemed like since those times, they had a hard time prying their bodies off of each other.

“You could have.” The admission was a hum, rocking against her slowly. “Looked so fucking sexy, in that little dress and letting me kiss on you. Could have burst right inside my pants.” He had no shame, as he usually didn’t. Harry was a little shit and it only got worse with age, but somehow Y/N found it more endearing than anything.

“Mmm. Not sure if I want to venture into exhibitionship quite yet. But…” she rolled her head back against his shoulder, angling her head to the side. “I’m more than happy to make you cum like this. I robbed you from the bed.” The bleary eyed smile up at him nearly broke him. Hands right under her breasts and her sweet body pressed up against his, his cock throbbing with need for her, and she was an angel on earth. His lips smothered hers, mixing the taste of coffee and mint with a tender passion.

The cool marble of the counter bled through the thin shirt as Harry pressed her closer to it. Y/N wasn’t nervous when he touched her. She was exhilarated. It made her want to take things further than they had been before. The heat of her own cunt was taking over, the glide of his wet tongue over hers making her fuzzy, she wanted him to touch more. Taking his large hands and placing them on her bare breasts for the first time, she hummed against his mouth, squeezing her hands over his when she felt him throb against her ass.

Soft. So soft and warm in his palms, the perfect size for his personal taste. At the feeling of them, he exhaled sharply into the kiss and pressed her further against the marble. This was too good to be true, this was a hidden fantasy he had buried so deep coming to the surface and making his head swim with pleasure. The slow rocking relief of pressure against her ass through his sweatpants and the taste of her mouth, it was everything the man never knew he needed.

“Harry…” the whimpery, airy whine of his name made the man’s eyes roll back, kissing her a bit harder before pulling back. Y/N knew how to make him crazy and they had only just really begun to fool around. It was interesting to see how they could be the same old friends, with him irritating Y/N and playfully fighting to this. This needy, messy pair who couldn’t stop touching.

“Yeah, baby?” He cooed, pinching both of her nipples between his fingers. “Do you like having me touch you like this?” The lips slick with the remnants of their kisses smeared across her cheek as he pulled lightly. The action made her moan, pressing back further into him. It was overwhelming how well Harry's hands seemed to know how to touch her. Like they were meant to do so.

“So much.” Her tone was even foreign to her. Y/N had never felt so airy and bubbly before, so hot. She was in need of him, the pressure building between her thighs starting to be too much. “I love your hands. Love how you touch me. I just want more n’more. How are you so good at this?” The words floated out without her permission, making her flush a little bit at how needy she sounded.

“You can have more and more.” He smirked. “Whatever you want. It’s your pace, Y/N. You’ve been driving me crazy.” That was an understatement, to say the least. It dawned on him that this was dangerously leaning into couple territory. That this wasn’t just what friends did- but he was selfish in this and wanted to do whatever she allowed. He could pretend they were dating. In his head, that’s what he wanted. So having her melt like this for him, it was a dream come true.

Her normally prickly self melted down to a soft mush as soon as he got his hands on her. Being able to touch her like this soothed an ache he had been having for a long time. The warm flesh against his hands and rubbing himself against her ass, the hunger he felt for more of her, to own this feeling grew In his chest. “Y’can have me however you’d like. As much as I want to tug up this shirt and sink into you here… I think I want some breakfast.” He nuzzled against her neck again, the sloppy, wet kisses on her hot skin meeting the cool air. Her body shuddered under his touch.

“Yeah?” She leaned her head back and on his shoulder, placing her hands on top of his while they kneaded her breasts. “I suppose I can let you. Don’t want you starving or anything like that, now do we?” She angled her head to the side, catching his jaw with her lips. “Though you may deserve it. Think you tugged my hair a bit too much last night, brat.”

Harry let out a breathless chuckle, buzzing from head to toe as she spoke against his skin. This scene was something from his dreams, and Y/N had no problem teasing him in either. “You’re sayin’ it like it’s a bad thing.” His sigh was soft as she nipped lightly at his jaw, enjoying the slight sharp feeling of her teeth. “Messy look, but you moaned. So… don’t give me that.” He released her, turning her back in his arms so she faced him.

Y/N didn’t have a moment to reply before her lips were caught with his, melting right back into the groove they were going for. Of course, she loved giving him a hard time. Harry was a little shit and loved to make her want to pull her hair out, pun intended, but he really did make her feel the best she ever has. No hook up, no cuddle had ever felt more right. His lips covered hers and had a natural air of dominance over hers that she was surprised she liked so much. Usually, she was the one in control- but for now, in these intimate moments, Harry took charge.

“Shut up.” She mumbled against his lips, squeaking as she felt his hands collar her hips and promptly lift her up on to the counter. Y/N wouldn’t let him know how much she fucking loved feeling him manhandle her a bit. “Watch it! You could have smacked my head against the counter.”

“But I didn’t, did I?” He snarked back, pushing the shirt up her thighs. “Just bein’ a gentleman is all, got to get you settled before I dig in. Been thinking about tasting your cunt for ages.” The admission was soft in the air, his nose brushing hers. “And I’ve been a very good boy n’let you do as you please, even leaving me cold and alone in the bed. But I think I’m gonna go absolutely mad if I don’t have the taste of you on my tongue in the next 3 minutes.”

The words caused her head to spin slightly. Of course she had known there had been sexual tension sometimes, but to hear him say that he had been thinking about how she tasted for a while now? It had her flushing, heat tk the cheeks as the large hands massaged her thigh, kissing down her jaw to reach her neck. How was this real?

“So for once in your life, you’re gonna be a good girl for me and let me taste what I want. You want it, yeah?” He waited for her to peep out her agreement before continuing. “Good. Stop interrupting me then, don’t be a little brat, hm? All I want to do is taste and make you fall apart on my tongue.”

………

It wasn’t hard.

Y/N had imagined his tongue before. Wondering how he would be with it. Still, he was somehow exceeding expectations. Her hands carded through the damp, silky waves, chest heaving as her head leaned back against the cabinet. Warm hands held her thighs open, keeping her from squirming too much as his tongue coaxed her closer to her second orgasm.

Second.

Y/N had been more sensitive than expected, and simply put, Harry hadn’t had his fill yet. So he continued. Y/N wasn’t going to complain. The man had a smooth talking mouth, but by god, his tongue was a godsend. Sinful and sweet, her new favorite. Soft strokes of the hot tongue melting her before his lips found her clit, no shame involved as he sucked it into his mouth slightly.

“Oh my god, oh my god- oh my…” she choked on her words as his eyes kept his dark, hazy gaze on her own. The smugness was visible, but he was so serious in his craft that he didn’t dare pull away to smirk. Instead, he slowly began to thrust his finger inside of her. Feeling her clench wildly around it, pairing the rhythm with the soft suckling on her clit.

It was wet, messy, dirty, but so fucking hot it was ridiculous. Harry couldn’t get enough of her. As if nuzzling his face into her cunt wasn’t enough, his reactions to her had been good enough to feed her confidence for ages. His growl, his proclamation of how good she smelled, how she tasted better than he had expected? Y/N knew. She knew this was going to ruin her.

“You’re gonna make me cum again.” She moaned, the awed look on her face making him hum against her. That was the point. All he wanted to do. If he had it his way, he would spend the entire day down here. Between beautifully cushioned thighs, wrapping them around his ears and muffling out anything that wasn’t Y/N and her sweet moans and cries.

Harry merely smirked against her body, angling his digits to stroke against the spot that had her thighs trembling against his touch. There was no denying that this was enough to get him off. He was so hard it physically hurt, sensitive enough that he knew it would only take a few strokes to come to his end, but he was selfish in a different way. He wanted to take her orgasm again, feel it gush a bit against his tongue. Hear his name from her mouth as she melted into a puddle of pleasure.

Y/N wasn’t even aware of the problem she had started. The need he was going to feel. He wanted her, he aches for her before they’d even touched. Just being her friend was enough to make him happy. To get close like this? He was going to be selfish, to absorb every inch of way she gave to him. He wanted her, her heart was the end goal but he would take her body as long as it was offered. Harry was selfish this way, but he hoped she was the same.

The moment he felt her begin to come over the peak, he continued the efforts with a groan. Tasting her, feeling her body arch and watching as her mouth fell into that pleasured ‘o’, he was close himself. Her weakened whine of his name and the eyes on his as he laughed deliriously into her cunt, licking her up as she orgasm flowed before pulling up, wet face and all, to kiss her.

It was the messiest kiss she had ever felt, her head still spinning as she moaned at the taste of herself on his tongue. Stroking over hers, she clutched his face, palms damp with her own arousal as she was needy with it, feeling a bit drunk with her own orgasms to care.

“Can I cum on you- please?” He asked gruffly, reaching into his shorts and hissing at the throbbing he felt. “Please baby, where can I?” The desperation in his voice was new, something she found her sensitive cunt reacting to. He was never weak like this around her, never begged seriously, and fuck- it was hot. Seeing his slick face and dark eyes, flushed cheeks. This was raw.

“On my cunt. Do it.” She dared him, licking her bottom lip. “Go ahead, baby. You made me feel good.” There’s an intimacy to it. She couldn’t deny it. But feeling the tip of him brush her, her legs wrapping around his waist and encouraging him forward felt unbelievable. “Let go for me.”

With his face dipped in her hands, his mouth open and the beautiful furrow between his brows, Harry choked out a broken groan as he stroked off, letting go. It didn’t take long at all. In fact, just feeling the wet heat against his cock had made him crumble so fast it would be embarrassing if it was with anyone else. But it wasn’t.

It was Y/N. His cum decorated her cunt, the creamy strands making a mess of her as his legs got a bit weak, falling into her a bit as he got the last long stroke in before he got too sensitive.

“Fuck.” The silent petting of his hair had made it all the much better, dipping his face into her neck while he pecked tiny kisses to her sweaty skin, shirt falling off her shoulder. It was the quiet comfort. No awkwardness as he pressed a longer, chaste kiss to her mouth and used some tissue to clean her up, whispering apologies when she jumped.

The soft moment was over, however, when a loud grumble of Harry’s stomach lit up the kitchen and she had to giggle. “Thought you’d just had breakfast. Aren’t you full?” The kick of her heels against the cabinet and her messy hair taunted him, the swollen mouth begging for more kisses as he grunted, stepping back between her legs with a banana in hand.

“When you’re the meal?” He scoffed, hands grabbing her bare thighs with a squeeze. “I highly doubt it’ll ever be satisfied with just a taste.”

[thefairylights]

It’s like a sucker punch straight to my heart: chapter 9 (Loustat coffee shop au)

Firstly, I want to thank everyone for the incredible comments you have left. They're so kind and well-meaning, and I literally adore every single one of you. Thank you for consistently coming back and indulging in this little caffeinated universe I have created for myself. I always mean to respond, but I become overwhelmed. Anxiety is not my friend! I will let you know I do interact and respond more at my tumblr so if you ever want to come on over and send me a message, I'll reply. My tumblr is linked at the end notes of every chapter.

Secondly, it took me longer to update because I lost half this chapter. Losing it pretty much devastated me, and I wasn't able to write for a while. Thankfully, I finally pushed through, and now I love this chapter more than the original I had written.

Thirdly! This chapter is explicit. Basically, happy birthday, Lestat. Enjoy all the sex. You too, Louis.

I would also like to add that I have updated my Cafe du Lac playlistappropriately and you should begin with Rihanna's song Birthday Cake to get into my headspace while writing this chapter.

Also, I did create a series for Suckerpunch because I wrote a one shot set in this universe.

And finally, here is my coffee recipe:

White chocolate peppermint mocha (it is tastier than what I get at Starbucks.) Use your machine of choice! I used my Nespresso. Double espresso pod (you can use however much you want. I just prefer more caffeine) Place white chocolate on the bottom of your mug Brew the espresso into the mug until it has finished, then mix together. I use my handheld mixer to do this because I never do it right with a spoon. Add in milk of choice. I use oat milk and shake it up real nice because it tastes creamiest this way. Add in 2tsp peppermint syrup I then make some frothed oat milk, pour it on top. If you would like, garnish with crushed up candy canes. Enjoy! <3

here it is:

suckerpunch (Lestat’s version): Part four. (6730 words)

[fluffyprettykitty]

Firstly, congrats on 1800 fucking followers! So happy that everyone loves you as much as I do! Second, for your sleepover, can I request poly!Valkryie x poly!Maya Lopez x poly!fem!reader that run a coffeeshop and are testing new drinks one afternoon for the fall rush? I'm in a fluffy cozy mood lol

Pairing: Brunnhilde x g/n reader x Maya Lopez

Word Count: 500 words

Outline: Fixing new drinks in the coffee shop alongside your two girlfriends and business partners.

Author’s Note: ​That's such a cute idea! And you're ever the sweetest! We are going with a total no-powers au for this! hope you will enjoy it!

Main Masterlist ・❥・Valkyrie Masterlist

It's the first cold night after a hot summer and you are sitting on the counter in the back of the small corner coffee shop that you share with your girlfriends. Brunnhilde is pouring some syrup into a full coffee cup followed by Maya pouring some foam over it.

"Hmmm, smells amazing." Your comment and take the cup in your hands bringing it to your nose. Maya signs to you that's too hot, don't be stupid but you can only chuckle at her and scrunch your nose. You blow some air over it and then you bring the mug close to your lips taking a small sip. Brunnhilde is shaking her head because she knows what's coming next yet. You immediately push the mug away, place it on the counter and run for the sink.

Maya signs to her 'what did you put in there' Brunnhilde just shrugs. "Just the perfect ingredient for the fall. Pepper."

Maya laughs as you are drinking water trying to stop your mouth from burning hoping to cleanse it. She rolls her eyes and signs to you 'told you to be careful.' you can only roll your eyes back to her as you are hanging on for your life. The next moment Brunnhilde is placing another mug on the counter, this time an orange one with a big white skeleton head on the front. She first pours in some caramel syrup and then pours inside some hot cappuccino.

"No, pepper!" You shout.

"Don't be greedy. This one is for Maya." Maya winks at you and then places some hazelnut syrup inside, making it extra sweet. Maya liked her sugary drinks, especially on a cold evening so she knew something like that would be a hit for the store. Brunnhilde then adds a couple of Halloween orange and black truffles on top of it and sets it aside. She signs to you 'I will wait a few minutes first' and you just stick out your tongue in response.

It's time for you to make a drink as well and you aim for an iced coffee. "For the sexy girls in the fall." You tell them and pour a cup into the Nespresso machine for some coffee to be made and then place a glass under it. You prepare another glass with ice, pumpkin syrup, and a little mix of creamer and milk and then pour the coffee over it, giving it a swirl with your skull-clad metallic straw, you proceed to take a sip moaning at the taste.

"Right..." Brunnhilde comments and takes the glass from you, taking a sip for herself, and then Maya does the same with a smirk. "Not bad, for a beginner. Could be much worse." Brunnhilde comments and Maya agrees.

"I am going to count it as a win."

The rest of the night went a little bit like this, trying new recipes for drinks and trying to decide on what to order for the store next.

The fall season is upon us.

for updates follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary

[tsunflowers]

lately at work I like to mix sugar and creamer with hot water to form a horrid slurry before putting my mug under the nespresso machine in order to get an extra weak and milky cofy

[alberta-sunrise]

Morning 🙊

[bloodypinata]

Hello! I’d like to hear about your favourite cup if you have one!!!

Short answer this is my favourite mug:

It’s one I made when my wife and I went to a ceramics studio for one of our anniversaries. It’s a thrown vessel in buff clay with a pulled handle. It’s got different shades of blue slip on the outside and a is bare inside. It holds 2 nespresso espresso coffees with a dash of milk.

Long answer: I have 4 other favourite mugs. Each of them for a different hot drink.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Office Space 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life. 

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Girls’ night leaves you wanting. The single appletini has you less than content but you know better than to push your limit. Not when you have to face work the next day. You’re even more put off by the man who sent the complementary drinks; Dizzie’s boss.  

It feels like he’s trespassing, even if he keeps his distance. You are all well aware of the presence of him and his colleagues. Rosie is flustered and Billie is further demotivated by the looming shadow of the workplace she sought to forget. A grey cloud dampens the long-awaited get together. Maybe next time you’ll try somewhere new. 

You leave at a reasonable time, just after Georgie’s early departure. You feel lame for it. Even if you’re not due at the office until noon, the impromptu shift throws off your whole schedule. Your errands will have to be done around Mr. Fowler’s schedule. 

You have breakfast, get your laundry through the cycle, do half the dishes, then get ready for work. You put on a collared-wrap blouse and some peach-coloured slacks. It won’t hurt to bring a bit of colour to the gray office.  

As you come in sight of the office, another approaches from the next corner. You slow as you recognise the man’s lithe strides and his blonde hair. His stature puts him above the other pedestrians as he meets you at the door.  

Mr. Pine smiles as he greets you, “Elfie, fine timing.” 

“Sir? I didn’t know you were expected,” you poke around in your purse in search of the keys. 

“No? I’m fairly certain Fowler should be awaiting me, no?” He reaches for the door and opens it. Ah, your boss must already be in office, “after you, darling.” 

You look up at the pet name but don’t comment on it. You’ve been called worse. He’s only being nice. You step in ahead of him and stop just beside your desk as you glance back. The door closes heavily at Pine’s back as he follows you in. 

“Tea,” you reach into your bag and pull out the little canister you plucked from your cupboards last night, “I’m afraid I only have Earl Gray.” 

“Well, I do appreciate the thought,” he says, “if you wouldn’t mind, a cup would be in order. Thank you, Elfie.” 

It’s as if he makes a point of calling you by name. It does sound rather delicious on his tongue. He doesn’t hesitate to knock on Fowler’s door. 

“Nicholas,” he calls over the rap of his knuckles. 

You enter the break room and put the kettle to boil as you start on Fowler’s usual. His mug is waiting dirty beside the machine. That’s his demand. He often tells you what to do in gestures rather than words. 

You wash out his mug and drop a bag of Earl Gray in yours. You let the tea steep as the nespresso grinds loudly. You come out with both cups and find the office empty. Fowler’s door is open. You sweep around and approach cautiously. 

“Excuse me,” you use your toe to tap on the door frame. 

Fowler nods as he continues his diatribe to the other man. As your boss sits in behind his desk, Pine paces and flutters his longer fingers along his lapel. He stops as you enter and accepts his cup from you with a murmured thank you. You retreat as he tugs on the string of the bag and dunks it over and over. 

You leave them and shut the door. You return to your desk and finally get yourself situated. You put your purse in your drawer and stretch out your fingers before you set to your digital cataloguing. The click and scroll of your mouse fills the void as you sort yesterday’s work into tidy folders and subfolders. 

Fowler’s door opens and you pause your task. You look up expectantly as Mr. Pine emerges. To your surprise, he nears your desk. 

“I must praise you on your immaculate work, darling,” he says, “the tea as well,” he places the empty cup on the corner of your desk, “but I did appreciate the level of organization.” 

“Sir?” You prompt. 

“Fowler says you did much of the archiving around here. He is ever thorough but I know he cannot do it on his own,” he purrs, “I’ve a mind to snatch you away. I’ve been well in need of a decent assistant.” 

“She’s taken,” Fowler startles you as he looms in his office door. Pine’s lips slant and he angles towards the other man. 

“Of course, it is a spot of humour, chap,” Pine insists, “I have, however, bartered us a partnership. I have a project in need of doing and you’ve a shining reference and rather benevolent boss.” 

“Elf,” Fowler marches to your desk, standing next to Pine, “my colleague with be taking over the floating office for the next few weeks. He will forward his files. You know what to do.” 

“Oh, yes, sir,” you affirm, “of course.” 

“Your usual tasks remain in place,” Fowler girds, “I know you can handle it.” 

“Um, yes, Mr. Fowler,” you stand and clasp your hands behind you, “should I open the floating office now?” 

Fowler nods curtly and spins on his heel. He strides back to his office and leaves the door open. You smile at Pine and point him past the doorway, “just down there.” You come around the desk with your keys, “used to be a storage room but Mr. Fowler doesn’t like clutter. Converted it to a workspace after there was a leak in his...” you stop at the door and unlock it, “I’m sure you don’t care about all that.” 

“Mm, it is a charming little place,” he remarks as you step back and he enters the barren office. 

“Dusty,” you tut, “I’ll grab some lysol wipes and get it cleaned up.” 

“I might do that myself, darling, you’ve enough on your plate,” he insists, “but bring me the supplies and I will get all in order.” He turns to face you and casually slides his hands into his pocket. The light blue of his suit compliments his eyes perfectly, “and I dare say I owe you for that tea. You should have to let me return the favour some time.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to, sir, that’s very kind of you though,” you say.  

“Ah, but where I come from, tea is a very serious matter. I’m obliged,” he sets his feet flat and his shoulders wide.  

“Some time,” you agree vaguely, “I’ll go get those wipes.” 

You turn and come down the short hall. Fowler clears his throat as you pass and you slow, peeking inside, “sir?” 

He doesn’t look up, merely clinking his metal pen on his mug. You dip inside and take the half-finished coffee. It’s cold. You quickly retreat to make him a new one, reminding yourself about the wipes. You’re going to have to work on your multitasking. 

[coughloop]

Do u have any recommendations for someone that likes good coffee but struggles with the physical components of making it?

the absolute easiest method of coffee making that i use would be the french press, its also really cheap for a decent one (has strong tempered glass and a very fine filter metal, and it takes very little precision to get a really delicious cup of. my standard recipe is using a ratio of 1:15-17 coffee to water depending on your preferred coffee strength. you just put the coffee into the bottom of the pitcher, pour your desired volume of water nd leave it for 6-7 minutes then strain it out into a big mug. big tip is to not drain the whole thing, like dont try to get every last drop out cause you'll end up getting a lot more coffee grounds in your cup. but if you DO want every last drop i would recommend pouring it through a paper coffee filter between the press and the mug, which you can get a lot of for very cheap if thats all your using them for.

if that's too much for consistent use my second best recco would be looking for specialty coffee roasters than make custom k-cup or nespresso pods. that's much more expensive per cup especially if you dont already have a pod machine, which i dont and never will because i just like making coffee too much

other than that i dont really have anything else but hopefully one may help, i really think people hate on the french press too much cause its really really easy and really fucking good. and you dont even need a high quality scale or a fancy kettle.

[sassymajesty]

Everything good?

when you sent me this, everything was not good at all and it was mostly my fault. between getting dengue fever at the beginning of classes and the following pain flare up, i didn't really study for any classes for a solid two months. the next two months were a nightmare filled with failed exams, a to-do list longer than all the lord of the rings book put together and so many coffees that nespresso actually sent me a mug with my latest purchase

but i am doing so much better now. still catching up on sleep and having decision paralysis when trying to figure out what book to read first, fanfic to catch up on, movie to watch, etc etc. i have three weeks before classes come back, i need to start having fun right this second because time really is of the essence

[percervall]

let it snowman

Player: Kostas Tsimikas Words: 1152 Warnings: None, fluff Request: making snowmen For @lfc21, merry Christmas babe! I hope you like it <3

---

She had just put the capsule in the Nespresso machine when she heard someone storming down the stairs. She hid a yawn behind her hand and turned around to see her boyfriend pulling on his shoes somehow while still walking.

“It’s still dark out, why are you fully dressed?” she mumbled.

“Didn’t you see?” Kostas asked excitedly, pointing at the windows in the living room. She followed his finger and was about to ask him what he was on about when she noticed the grass was no longer green. The entire garden had been blanketed in white during the night. She stifled another yawn and shook her head.

“No, I hadn’t noticed yet. Doesn’t answer why you’re fully dressed tho,” she said, picking up her mug. She blew on it, before taking a careful sip of her coffee. 

“Because I’m gonna build a snowman,” Kostas replied, pulling his bobble hat over his ears. The duh was very much implied. 

“Kos, it’s half past seven in the morning. The sun isn’t even up yet,” she said, leaning against the kitchen counter, “let’s eat first okay?” 

Kostas heaved a sigh so dramatic it put many three-year-olds to shame, but toed off his shoes and pulled the beanie off his head. She shook her head and tried to keep her lips from curling up in a smile. As Kostas put his shoes and winter gear back in the hallway, she took a pot down from the shelf and got started on making them both porridge. 

“Do you have work today?” Kostas asked as he came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her. The Nespresso machine was spluttering away to make another coffee for him. 

“I’ll have to check, but if it snowed as much as I think it did, I doubt it,” she replied as she stirred. “How cross will the club’s nutritionist be if I add some of these?” she asked, holding up the jar of chocolate chips.

Kostas chuckled. “I won’t tell her if you won’t.” She quickly added more than a healthy amount of chocolate chips to the porridge and watched them melt. Kostas handed her two bowls and carried her coffee to their breakfast nook. She turned the hob off and joined him at the table. She quickly checked her phone between two mouthfuls of breakfast to see that her office had shut down due to the weather. 

“Looks like you’ll have a helping hand in building a snowman today,” she commented as she put her phone down. Kostas silently cheered before taking a sip of his own coffee. 

While she got dressed, Kostas cleared down and loaded the bowls and pot into the dishwasher. By the time she got downstairs, Kostas was already waiting by the door. She chuckled and wrapped a thick woolly scarf around herself. 

“Do you wanna build a snowman?” Kostas sang as he helped her in her coat, making her laugh. She dug a pair of mittens out of the basket with winter stuff and pushed him out the door. A shiver ran through them both when the wind blew in their faces. 

“Come on!” Kostas called, making his way to the end of their driveway. She noticed they weren’t the only ones outside. A handful of the neighbourhood children were already working on building snowmen in their own gardens. She waved at one of their elderly neighbours stood in the window before shifting focus to Kostas. She laughed as she saw him try and roll a snowball over the ground to pick up more snow. 

“Babe, have you ever built a snowman before?” she asked as she walked over to him. 

“Once,” Kostas confessed with a chuckle. She shook her head and took over, showing him it was easier to build up first before rolling to get more snow. 

How it happened, she wasn’t sure, but they had somehow ended up with a group of children in their front garden. She and Kostas had abandoned their own snowman to help the children build theirs. 

“Do you have carrots? Dad says we don’t have any,” one of the little boys asked her. 

“I don’t think we do. I also don’t think we have enough scarves for all these snowpeople,” she said. Kostas looked up at them, eyes twinkling. 

“No, but I do have something else. George, how many snowpeople are there?”

“Uhm,” the boy said before counting them, “six I think.” 

“Perfect,” Kostas said as he made his way to the door with the promise to be right back. She had no idea what her boyfriend was up to and told the children as much. It didn’t take long for Kostas to return with an arm full of clothes. 

“I remembered I have a closet full of jerseys,” he explained as he started handing them out. With a little help, all six snowpeople got dressed in various Liverpool shirts. She had even managed to dig up a baseball cap for one of them per request of one of the girls who lived across the street. By the time they were finished, the sun had started to peak over the rooftops, throwing long shadows on the snow covered ground. Kostas wrapped an arm around her as they admired the snowpeople. 

“A snowy five-a-side team complete with a manager,” he said. 

“You should send a photo to the lads, I’m sure Jordan and Milly will be thrilled they’ve been replicated in snow,” she added with a chuckle. Kostas laughed softly but dug his phone out of his pocket. As he put his gloves back on, one of the parents came outside with a tray of mugs. She could see the steam rising off them. 

“Who wants tea?” he called. She recognised him as one of George’s dads and gladly accepted one of the mugs. 

“Thank you for keeping an eye on them. George was so excited when he saw it had snowed. Daniel barely managed to get breakfast in him,” Martin said. 

“I know the feeling,” she said with a chuckle, nodding at Kostas, who in turn stuck his tongue out at her. 

“Dad! Look! We made a snow-Hendo!” George beamed at his dad. 

“I see, darling! Looks good! Did you say thank you to Kostas?” George nodded and handed the empty mug back to his dad. 

“Alright, your far is waiting for you. He made some food for grandma and grandpa,” Martin said and planted a kiss on the boy’s woolly hat. George waved goodbye and ran back to his house. She returned the now empty mug to Martin, thanking him for the tea. 

“What else is on your snow day to do list?” she asked him when Kostas pulled her in for a kiss. 

“Snuggle up under loads of blankets and watch Christmas films,” he replied, rubbing his nose against hers. 

“Mm, I like the sound of that,” she murmured, kissing him once more.

10 gold stars for anyone picking up on the easter eggs in this one 🌟

Tags @football-and-fanfics @kostasstsimikass

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