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wardenparker · 2 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 7

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: 18.3k 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* Relationship drama, family teasing, parental/societal demands, light discussion of politics, handful of sex jokes, Marcus is a menace. Summary: A gesture you weren't expecting, a memorable phone call, an admission at dinner, a surprise for a friend, and one more grand gesture that you definitely *did* plan. Notes: A gif from Sabrina feels extremely appropriate for this chapter, and this one is even the outfit inspo for Birdie at a certain point. You'll see it 🧡 (Outfit inspo, but not in any way indicating her body type. Wear the clothes you love!)

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

The next few days fly by, as working on the Cameron/Wiley wedding takes up all of your spare time. The only thing you've managed to do on your second day off is to comb through their contracts and get things straightened out with their florist — an agonizing series of phone conversations that nearly ended with you going down to the shop in person — but it is finally the end of the day. You're going to make yourself eat something reasonable, which is to say not the fast food you're craving, and you're going to take your yoga mat down to the studio in Old Town for puppy yoga. It's the single greatest way to relax and destress apart from the phone calls you've been having with Marcus — three now — and while you're bummed that you won't be getting a call tonight, at least he was courteous enough to text you and let you know that he is working late on a new lead.

You've got your leggings and t-shirt on under a sweater dress and you're ready to sneak out the back of the inn with Agent Bailey when you get stopped in the lobby.

“I am sorry, there is a gentleman her to see you.” Malachi rolls his eyes. “A flower delivery. Says that he must deliver to you personally.” He sniffs, a little annoyed that he had not been left the blooms so he could be nosy about who they are from by reading the card affixed to the front. He huffs. “He must be one of those singing flower deliveries.

“So he didn’t give you the card to read?” You tease, knowing Malachi has a penchant for gossip. “It’s okay.” Looping your arm through his with a playful grin, you walk with him out to the lobby. “I’ll let you read it first.” The hope in the back of your mind is very real and present, though — thinking of the possibility that Marcus might have sent you a few buds while he’s away. Maybe as a thank you for helping Cameron, since he’s still in a relationship.

“That is the least that you can do.” He snorts sassily and is eagerly looking forward to finding out who had send you such a beautiful bouquet.

“Hi there.” Greeting the delivery man easily, you’re immediately distracted by the tall cut vase of stunning white flowers with greens strewn throughout to enhance the beauty of the arrangement. “They sent you with quite an armful, didn’t they? Let me take those for you.”

The delivery person is dressed sharply and he confirms your name with Malachi, since you are distracted with the flowers. Instead of handing them to you, he starts to sing. “Baby, I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time. And maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you. Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time. You hung me on a line.”

The striking way your face falls immediately, draining of blood and leaving your eyes wide, leaving your throat dry right along with it. “I—um—thank you. Uh…thanks. That’s enough. You—you don’t have to sing anymore.” The way you had been desperately hoping Malachi was teasing about a singing delivery has been flushed down the drain, and you fish in your purse to tip the man so he can be on his way. “Oh god,” you mumble to yourself immediately, mortified and feeling like you’re about to throw up.

It’s not uncommon for someone to not wish for the song to be finished so when you tell him to stop, he sets the flowers down on the counter and accepts the tip. The transaction has been fulfilled in his eyes and he won’t insist the song be completed. “Have a nice day.” He tells you quickly.

“Thank you.” There’s no reason to be impolite to the man even though you feel like you’re going to be sick, and instantly you know that not even the cute little puppies at yoga are going to be able to cheer you up from this. “What the hell am I going to do with these?” The question is mostly rhetorical, even though Malachi is standing right next to you. “And why the hell would he send them?”

“Is it not alright for your boyfriend to send you flowers?” He scrunches his brow in confusion. “You love flowers.”

“Mal…” Lowering your voice, you grab the lapel of his jacket and drag Malachi behind the desk to make it look like you’re talking about something work related with the flowers acting as a shield between you two and the rest of the lobby. “I broke up with Sam earlier in the week,” you confide, as quietly as you possibly can.

His eyes widen in surprise and he folds his arms over his chest in mild annoyance you have not told him before now. “What? Why? You love Sam.”

“It’s complicated.” Is the best excuse you can really give him in this exact moment, which feels weird and wrong, but the whole situation is so odd. “Only Sydney knows, so please don’t say anything? You know I prefer to keep my private life private.” Which is yet another reason that the singing telegram is not exactly your style.

“I do not know what to say.” While Malachi loves to know all the gossip and details, he does not share information. He claims he is more of a gatherer.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you assure him, exhaling a long and haggard breath. “Just…help me look for a card or something? Sam having the delivery guy sing ‘our song’ is a little pointed, but there might be a note too.”

“Of course.” He nods and he starts looking through the massive arrangement to find a card.

“Here it is.” Tucked deep into the arrangement between the most massive white carnations you’ve ever seen, is a card in Sam’s scrawling print. Not one to go back on your promise, you hand it to Malachi first, but you have a sinking sensation that you know what it will say.

Malachi opens the card and clears his throat to start reading. “My love, I know I have much to apologize for, but I will spend as much time as it takes to win your forgiveness. Love, Sam.” He reads out loud and looks up at you. “He is begging for forgiveness, Birdie.” Ticking an eyebrow up, he smirks. “Looks like Congressman Chase is trying very hard to win you back.”

“Apparently so.” Although you can’t say that you’re thrilled about it. “Where am I going to put these flowers? This thing is enormous.”

“Your office?” He asks. “Or make it a centerpiece for the family table.”

“Emily Post says never use fragrant flowers in a table arrangement so they don’t alter the scent of your food.” The factoid — learned from your grandmother — spills out of your mouth instantly and you sigh softly. “I’ll bring them upstairs. The side table in the living room has room, and I need to call him now anyway.” Privacy is better is the implication there.

“I will send Charlie up with them.” Charlie is boy who works afternoons carrying luggage and delivering tea and meals to the rooms. As well as working in the kitchen when another pair of hands is needed.

“You’re an angel, Mal. Thank you.” It still leaves you with a phone call to make, but that is up to just you no matter what else happens.

“Of course.” Malachi nods and quickly walks off to find the burly younger man. Knowing you wouldn’t want the flowers to be downstairs for long so no one would ask questions.

Turning around again is an option, but Charlie is bringing the flowers upstairs and you’re already dressed for yoga, so you slip out the back door in the vain hope that an hour of stretching with very cute puppies will help. You can call Sam and have an uncomfortable conversation later when you’re feeling more centered.

The puppies are just what you need. Scampering and yipping through the posed arms and legs of people might not seem like it would be relaxing, but it is. And short of hearing Marcus’s voice, it’s the most relaxing thing you can possibly think of right now. Hopefully it works.

Fridays are always busier than any other day. Getting through the work day and having a little time to decompress before going to family dinner is always a task, but tonight you’re having an evening cup of coffee in your living room while you hammer out the scheduling assignments for the wedding which is now only one week away. Everything is falling into place, thankfully, and you’re going to give your team a big thank you for hustling to get everything ready in time.

The incoming call isn’t a normal one, and Marcus hopes you don’t mind. He wants to show you something and hopes you like it.

If he could see the smile on your face when his photo pops up on your phone screen, he would know for sure that you don't mind at all. "Hey G-man." You greet him with a voice full of sunshine, and since it's a FaceTime call he can actually see the grin this time as well.

“Hey.” Marcus grins back at you, very pleased that you seem happy to see him. “I’m sorry to call you at such a weird time, but I’m somewhere I thought you would appreciate.”

"Don't ever be sorry to call." As if to prove it, you heft the notebooks off of your lap and sit back on the couch. "Where are you?"

“The Tower of London.” He turns the camera around to show you the area.

"No!" Immediately you're sitting up in your seat again, trying to inspect the image on your phone like you might be able to climb into it if you try hard enough. "God, I miss London! Have you gotten to poke around anywhere? That whole place is so cool and so haunted."

“I’ve been allowed back into the Jewel House.” He admits. “They said that it’s okay if I’m on a video call while I’m there. Do you want to see the jewels up close?”

"Did you seriously just ask a girly girl if she wants to see the Crown Jewels? Marcus Pike you are a dream." The few minutes you have before you need to leave will be perfectly spent just like this and you grab your coffee to sip while he moves around the space.

He snorts, thankful that the camera is off of him so you can’t see that he’s blushing. “Here we go.” There is a moment that he has to wait for the doors to be unlocked, but then it’s opened up and he steps into the Jewel House.

"Did you know the Black Prince's ruby in the Imperial State Crown isn't actually a ruby?" The excitement bubbles over you with the instinctive knowledge that Marcus won't judge you for it. Getting excited about history isn't a bad thing, after all.

"What is it?" He asks, glancing around to see if he can find the Imperial State Crown to show you up close. "Oh, there it is."

"It's a balas stone." When he starts walking up to it you practically squeak with excitement. "They say Henry V wore it in his helmet at the Battle of Agincourt. Like a good luck charm."

"A good luck charm, hum?" Marcus smiles as he pushes the phone's camera closer to you can see it under the bright lights of the room. "I need one of those." He huffs. "Been running out of luck lately."

"Dead end with the case?" You ask, genuine concern in your voice despite humming over the large gem. "I hope not. You're supposed to be back in a week for Cameron's wedding."

"Nah." He doesn't want to turn the conversation to things that will bring down the mood. "Professionally, things are great." He promises. "I'm going to spend the next few days wrapping up to turn over to Interpol and I'm hoping to be back two days before the wedding."

"So..." Biting your lip is a nervous tick that you never quite got rid of, but you're smiling into the camera regardless. "Does that mean I can give my parents your RSVP for my birthday when I go to dinner tonight? Since you know you're going to be back in time?"

“Yeah.” Marcus shifts the camera back around so you can see him nod. “I’ll be there. Sorry that I’ve been gone, it’s probably sitting in my mailbox. But tell your parents I’m happily accepting the invitation.”

“I’m happy to accept it on your behalf, but since they still insist the location has to be a surprised, you’ll have to check the card for that.” Once he’s back in frame, that smile on your face gets beaming all over again. “So are there any corners of that jewel house that we peasants don’t get to see and you do?”

“Yes.” Marcus smirks and turns the camera around. “Would you like to see the personal jewels?” He asks, walking over to another door.

“You’re kidding?” Another gasp and giggle comes out of you as you readjust on your couch. There’s only one last sip of coffee at the bottom of your cup but what he’s showing you is far more exciting than hazelnut creamer. “Yes please! Absolutely.”

“Okay, but I’ve been instructed that I cannot pick up or touch any of them. So….yeah.” He doesn’t know why he would say that, it’s not like you can come through the screen and pick up the jewels.

“Oh my god…” The room that he’s in is full of cases, shelving, and careful lighting that make the stored pieces glint and glitter. They wink at Marcus as he moves about the room, teasing you through the camera and making both of you gasp or giggle alternately. It’s just such an enormous measure of opulence that taking it in together is surreal.

“What do you think? Pretty amazing, right?” He’s a little giddy, and soft, sharing this with you, even if it’s through a screen. “The sheer monetary value of this room is more than every house I’ve ever owned.”

“Same,” you huff, and laugh when he throws you a doubtful look. “We don’t own the White House. We’re just borrowing it for a while.” You remind him with a grin. “And I don’t even live there!”

“Yeah, buuuuuut…” he flashes you a grin. “You can sleep in the Lincoln bedroom anytime you want. I bet your mom wouldn’t say no.”

“You probably could too.” A little poke at the screen is the closest you’re going to get to touching him, and you hate that fact. “After the State dinner, she probably likes you more than me.”

“Nahhhh.” He shakes his head and shrugs. “You’re her daughter. She loves you unconditionally. Me? She just likes that I look good in a tux and can dance.” He reminds you. “Those are mutually exclusive things.”

“If you think she loves me unconditionally, remind me to tell you about the time I lost the fifth grade spelling bee to Maude Appleton,” you snort, nearly in giggles on the couch again. “I’m a disgrace to the family, Marcus. Truly.”

“The black sheep, huh? I can tell.” He rolls his eyes and cheekily sticks out his tongue at you. “You have a sitting President planning your birthday party.”

“One that she absolutely does not need to be throwing, and that you will be at.” The fact that he’s coming tickles you more than a little, and you grin like a moron for a moment longer before the alarm on your watch goes off. “Speaking of Madam President,” you huff a dramatic sigh and lift yourself off the couch. “That’s my cue. It’s Friday night dinner.”

“Go, enjoy your dinner with the President while I skulk around the Crown Jewels and dream of being King Marcus.” He jokes, smirking at you through the screen.

“Just remember, every king needs a queen.” The moniker First Princess flashes through your head again and your cheeks burn with it. “Or at least a Princess.”

You are moving to your door and Marcus is about to come back with slightly flirtatious comeback when he spots the gorgeously large bouquet of flowers on the table. A slap in the face reminder of who you are and despite that, you are taken. “Yeah.” The agreement is a little flat for the previous tone of the conversation. “Well, um, I better go. The President doesn’t need to be kept waiting.”

“She’s still just my mother.” The change in his tone doesn’t escape you but the reason does, and you furrow your eyebrows at the screen but swallow it down. He’s still dating Vanessa. Don’t make it weird. You remind yourself harshly. “I’ll talk to you later.” It’s always how you sign off your calls now, and you know you sound hopeful but you don’t care one bit.

“Talk later.” He agrees and disconnects the call. Staring at his Home Screen for a moment before sighs. “You’re a fucking idiot, Pike.”He grumbles. “She’s dating a fucking congressman. She doesn’t want you.” When he gets back home, he needs to look at the dating apps again. Needing to forget about you and move on.

Friday night dinners are ritual, soothing, although June is eager to get this particular one over with so she can go out with the potential boyfriend she had met at the party last Friday. Nervous, she exudes that kind of boundless energy she had as a child, since she likes this guy so much it surprises her.

“Someone’s in a good mood tonight.” Your father observes with a wry smirk as the five of you sit down at the table together. He’s particularly excited about dinner tonight for purely food reasons, but he likes seeing his children happy and buzzing.

“I’m going to the movies.” She volunteers, knowing that the security detail would have already informed her parents anyway.

“With Kiley?” Alex assumes automatically, knowing that Junie’s best friend is a movie fanatic. “What are you guys going to see? I might tag along.”

“No!” She’s almost spitting out her refusal and then realizing that it sounds suspicious, she backs down. “I mean, I’m not going with Kiley. You can’t come.”

“If you’re not going with Kiley…” Alex’s eyes widen as he picks up his drink, not bothering to hide his growing smirk behind the glass at all. “Did you meet somebody, Junebug? Please tell me you are smart enough not to get bamboozled by a frat boy or a post grad.”

“Shut up.” She hisses, throwing her napkin at him. “It’s none of your business and I’m smarter than that.”

“So you did meet someone.” You join the smirking too, knowing that razzing your sister is all in good fun and that you and Alex would go to the ends of the earth to protect her. “What’s their name? How’d’ya meet? Give us the dirt, Junie.”

She narrows her eyes at you, feeling slightly betrayed by you essentially ganging up on her. “I met him at the party last weekend. His name is Bryan and before you say anything…” She holds up her hand. “He is in a fraternity but he was the DD for the party.”

“Sounds responsible.” Your father commends from one end of the table. “We just want to know you’re safe, Bug. That’s all.”

“Oh, no.” Alex shakes his head as the salad course hits the table. “We want dirt.”

“He may have passed the Secret Service’s background check, but not the older sibling one,” you agree with a nod.

“Oh my ggggggggoddddddd.” June groans, dropping her head into her hand and giving a moan of embarrassment. “I think he might be my soulmate, okay?” She huffs.

The room is dropped into a vacuum as all the air is sucked out of it. Four family members sit stunned before all hell breaks loose in excitement as everyone starts talking at once.

“Why do you think so, honey?”

“Junie, that’s wonderful!”

“Holy shit, are you serious?!”

“Are you excited? Did you ask him how he got the scar on his leg?”

“I haven’t seen that scar.” June admits, groaning slightly and now worried that she might have raised everyone’s hopes for nothing. “But it’s not like it’s obvious like your tattoo.” She snorts, throwing you an amused look. “Although Agent Pike didn’t seem to think it was dumb.”

Halfway to picking up your salad fork, you freeze all over again. “Why would you say that?” The carefully affected breezy tone in your voice doesn’t fool your family for a second, and your blood is pounding your ears out of sheer fear for your baby sister’s answer.

“Oh, we talked about it while we danced.” She confirms, unaware of the turmoil she is causing. “He’s really nice. He actually didn’t make fun of where you put your hummingbird like I do.”

“June Allegra…” There is as much warning in your voice as there is fear and worry, your eyes blowing wide as they narrow on her across the table. “You told Marcus about my tattoo?”

“Was it supposed to be some kind of secret?” She asks, startled by your reaction. “I didn’t— you’ve never really hidden it before. Are you— did I do something wrong?” She throws her parents a confused look.

“I hadn’t said anything yet,” you admit, feeling sick to your stomach at the realization that Marcus has known for an entire week that you are soulmates. Through the phone calls and the chats and the work you’re doing for his friend’s wedding. He’s known, but he’s still with Vanessa. “I’ve suspected for weeks, but I didn’t…it hadn’t been confirmed…”

“Suspected what?” She’s still not grasped what you are talking about, but your mother and father exchange a very pointed glance with each other.

“Oh honey.” Your mother sighs.

June huffs. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Agent Pike is Birdie’s soulmate.” Alex’s voice isn’t nearly as teasing, more of a soft tone of understanding cutting through the tension in the room. “And you told him before she could.”

“I’m not mad,” you assure your sister quickly, but your heartbeat has leapt up into your throat. “It’s just…it’s complicated.”

“Oh shiiiiiit.” Her eyes widen and she looks like she might cry. “Why— why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t you? You’re soulmates? What about Sam?”

“I broke up with Sam.” That admission is heavy enough on its own, knowing that letting the cat out of the bag with your family is now officially necessary. “Not…exclusively because of that. But it made me think about things. And…I hadn’t told Marcus yet because I wasn’t sure. Plus, he’s seeing someone else. And I didn’t want to complicate things for him.” June really does look like she’s about to cry, though, and you get up and circle the table to hug her. “You didn’t know, Junebug. It’s okay.”

“Oh shit.” It’s not often your mother curses, but she does now. “Sam got an invitation to your birthday, I wouldn’t have dreamed of not inviting him, but if you’ve broken up….”

“I still want to stay friends with him.” The clarification is obviously important since it does change expectations a bit. “And Marcus will be home from London in time to come to the party, so please just…I will let you guys know when I’ve talked to him, okay? If I don’t say anything to you directly will you all please assume I haven’t gotten to talk to him about it yet and not say anything?”

“Damn.” Alex whistles quietly. “I thought my soulmate status was complicated.” He snorts. “You’ve got me beat, big sis.

“Your soulmate status isn’t complicated, people are just bigoted,” you toss back, knowing that Alex and David have been crazy about each other forever. They just stay quiet about it to avoid unnecessary commentary on their personal lives. Which you give them a lot of credit for, honestly. “This is…a lot.”

“Yes it is.” Your father speaks up. “And only you can decide when the time is right to talk to Marcus about this.” He agrees. “You said he was also seeing someone?”

"Yeah..." As the five of you slowly start to eat, the sick to your stomach feeling is subsiding a little and you nod. "Um...Vanessa D'Amario? She's, uh...she's Sam's aide."

Your mother winces. “Also daughter to Judge D’Amario.” She tells the table. “Federal circuit and on the short list for Supreme Court.” She would never tell you to not follow your heart, but she does want to caution you. “Just be honest and let Marcus decide what he needs to do before you take any steps.”

"I just want him to be happy." It sounds cliched, but as soon as it's out of your mouth you know it's true. That the feeling that's nestled deep into your ribcage is new love and that it's real enough to make you both selfless and just a little stupid. "If that means staying with Vanessa, I'll just have to deal with it."

Alex shakes his head. “That man is a romantic.” He snorts. “He probably is waiting for the right moment. Some big gesture.”

"I don't know what's going to happen," you admit, stabbing a piece of apple and some cheese rather violently with your salad fork. "But what I do know is that for now, I'm excited about Junie maybe meeting someone she's interested in and my birthday happening in a week." Your eyes raise to your mother on one end of the table and you offer her a lopsided smile. "You might have to tell me where the party is after all, Mom. Unless you're going to have somebody else drive me."

“I can have Marcus bring you.” She offers with a small grin.

"I honestly think he would forget how to speak if you called him." It's an enormously sweet and endearing thought, trying to wrap your head around how Marcus might react to the sitting President calling him up to ask a favor.

Your father chuckles and reaches over to take your mother’s hand. “Well, she might talk him into it if she demands a dance with him. She was grumbling about not being able to dance with your escort herself after the State dinner.”

"There's going to be dancing?" You raise your eyebrow at your mother, no longer able to get any kind of read at all at what kind of party this is going to be.

“That entirely depends on the music that you choose.” She grins at you. “Doesn’t have to be ballroom dancing. I can still break a leg.”

"It's cut a rug," June huffs, still amazed that the woman who somehow uses turns of phrase just barely incorrectly convinced an entire country to make her President.

The President laughs, aware of what the phrase actually is, she just enjoys watching her children cringe at times. “Whatever.” She huffs, waving her hand. “Either way, Birdie’s party will be wonderful.”

“That’s how your tattoo came up!” June huffs. “Your nickname. Again, I’m sorry, Birdo.”

"You couldn't have known, Junebug. It's okay." At another point in your lives you might have been the right ages for you to hold it over her head, but not anymore. You and June have just under ten years separating your ages and that difference has united you in as many ways as it's separated you. "And I'm going to be honest, along with all the different songs from the years of my life? It's a lot of 80s dance music. I gave the list to Dad when I got here."

“Perfect.” Your mom winks at you, “I loved the 80s.”

"We know, Mom." Alex snorts, shaking his head as he eats his salad. "Just promise you won't do the Running Man or the Robot or anything."

“My Robot is amazing!” She protests with a laugh, knowing that while she can dance, she’s goofy with that move. “Okay, okay I’ll resist.” She huffs dramatically.

“We acknowledge and appreciate your sacrifice,” you tease, raising your glass to your mother in salute.

“As long as my accomplishments are acknowledged.” She teases back, smiling at the three of her children. Happy that all of them are on the way to knowing their soulmates, even if they don’t choose to be with them. “So how do you feel about the idea that Marcus Pike might be your soulmate?” She asks softly. “That’s the most important thing.”

The opportunity to think about your answer while tonight’s main course comes out is appreciated, and when it turns out to be your mother’s very favourite thing on the planet — chicken cordon bleu with roasted potatoes and broccoli — the softness on your father’s face at seeing her delight reminds you of the warm, tight feeling in your chest every time you hear Marcus laugh. It tingles its way up to your cheeks and you end up smiling just hearing his name. “He’s a good man,” you say finally. “I think I’m lucky.”

She watches you with a sense of pride. “Good.” She hums and lifts her glass of lemonade. “To Birdie and Junie.” She poses. “May their soulmates be worthy of the wonderful women they are.”

“Here here!” Your father’s addition may not be long in the way of words, but he sees your reaction, and the soft way you smile, and has a feeling that things will end up okay.

June smiles, still feeling guilty for letting the cat out of the bag, but honestly she wonders if Marcus is aware that you might be soulmates. He didn’t seem to react too much from what she can remember.

“So…” Your mother sits up tall at the table and looks between her three children at the table. “Am I allowed to do a little business at supper? Since I have all of you here?”

“Oh boy.” Alex immediately rolls his eyes. “I knew we weren’t getting a great meal and there not be strings.” It’s an old joke in the family about how no one eats for free.

"Oh, you'll like yours," she waves one hand at him, unbothered by her middle child's habitual sass. "I just wanted to let all of you know that someone from my office is going to be contacting each of you in the next month or so with some opportunities for good publicity. There are plenty of websites and magazines that want to talk to the three of you and different businesses that want to be associated with you. We're going through all of it before we approve requests, and I thought each of you should be allowed to have some say in each of your approvals." She meets eyes with each of you individually, knowing what the first question will be. "And I'm sorry, but no publicity is not an option. That's why we're curating each list carefully. To keep things controlled and try to avoid things coming at any of you from left field."

June is the least social out of all of you and it’s immediately apparent that she is not happy. “Whhhhhhhhhy?” she whines. “You’re President, not us. Go adopt a puppy or something.”

"That's actually on the list," she admits, chuckling at how on the nose some of the choices are for her kids. "Since animal rights and animal welfare are the things that you've always cared the most about, we thought you might be willing to partner with a local rescue and pick out a new dog for the family." There has been a lot of time and effort put into making sure that the things being presented to each of the kids is something they actually care about and something that is representative of who they are. Hopefully that makes things a little less overwhelming for each of the kids individually.

“Wait…really?” Her parents have been loving and wonderful but the busy lifestyle they had lead hadn’t been fair to an animal. At least for a long time. The last family pet had been a cat who had died of old age when June was eight. “Are you being serious? This isn’t a joke, right?”

"They'll be your responsibility to take care of, for the most part," your mother warns, but she's glad to see the way June lights up. "I'm sure Alex will help, and Birdie too, when your sister is around. But...we know we're asking a lot of your kids. So we thought you should get something out of it, too."

“You had to wait until I’m practically out of the house?” Alex huffs playfully.

“Four years in the White House with a puppy still sounds like a pretty good time,” your dad contends. From the way he’s smiling it looks like letting Junie get a puppy was probably his idea. Even more so when he adds: “And I have some thoughts about the name.”

“We are not naming it Scout.” Alex warns him, pointing his finger at his father.

“But it’s a good name!” Your father protests in response, sending everyone into intermediate laughter and sighs. It’s always what he wants to name pets. Even the baby bird Junie rescued from the park when she was five.

“But we need something more dignified for a White House pooch.” June insists, grinning at her dad.

“Don’t tell me. You want to name the dog after Eleanor Roosevelt or Susan B. Anthony?” Alex jokes. “Why don’t we meet the pup before we name them? They might turn out to be just as goofy as the rest of this family.”

“We should get a really dopey puppy and name him Goofy.” June snickers happily. She picks up her glass. “I want to adopt.” She insists. “And make sure they are spayed or neutered.”

“I think Junie might be enjoying her assignment after all,” you observe, flashing both of your parents an impressed smile. Whatever they have for you, you’ll take the responsibility of more spotlight onto your shoulders with as much grace as you can muster. While it’s not your favourite part of your mother’s victory, it’s a very real part of how things will work for the next few years. And you did willingly sign up — for lack of a better phrase — to be as helpful as you could be.

“Good.” The President watches over all of you with a small smile and nods back at you. She knew that it would be difficult at times, but you are all handling it with as much grace and aplomb as could be expected.

“In other news.” With things going fairly well after the shock early in dinner tonight, your father is glad for the change in tone. “I hope everyone has the White House Easter Egg Roll already on their calendar.”

“I’m finding the golden egg!” Alex declares with a laugh. “There better be big money in it this year.”

“There will be prizes for the kids, and a nice lunch.” It earns Alex a smirk from your father, though. Of course it does.

“Are we supposed to do anything besides dress appropriately and be proud of you at the podium while you make a small speech?” It’s a valid question, directly aimed at your mother, but the question you’re afraid to ask is whether or not this is something they would prefer the three of you have escorts for.

“I’ve decided to change things up a little this year.” The President admits with hopeful smile. “We are bringing in one of the local orphanages, I was hoping that you and any friends you want to bring, along with my staff, would pair up with a child for the egg hunt.”

“You’re going to piss off a lot of judges and legislators with that one.” And you don’t mind pointing it out to her. It’s often seen as a privilege of the position for high-ranking government employees to get that coveted invitation for their families to attend White House events. Letting ‘just anybody’ in is a mark for your mother to the public but possibly against her to a lot of other people. “I’ll be sure to bring a whole crew.”

“Fuck ‘em.” She huffs, rolling her eyes. “It is the People’s House. That includes children that haven’t found their forever home yet.”

“Besides,” June smirks, the admiration for her mother clear as day on her face. “What are they gonna do? She’s the President. You can’t impeach somebody for being nice.”

“They are really going to be pissed when we push the homeless initiative.” She has a list of things that she wants to tackle before she has to worry about re-election or leaving the office. Honestly, she wants her record in office to do the campaigning for her.

“And we’ll be even prouder.” There hasn’t really ever been a time when you haven’t been proud of your mother, but seeing the things she wants to accomplish while in office really does hammer it home for you. If the number of homeless and unemployed drops across the country like it did in Pennsylvania while she was governor, it will be enough to put her in history books all by itself.

“Thank you all for your help, your patience and everything you put with.” Right now, there isn’t a Secret Service Agent in sight, they all stay outside of the private residence, but she knows that it chaffs sometimes.

“We’ve got your back, Mom,” you promise her, because despite being a family of sass and negotiation, the fact is that you’re all very close. The age gaps between you and your siblings have never mattered, and the bumps in the road that you’ve all weathered were manageable because you got over them together.

The invitation to your birthday is beautiful and Marcus smiles when he sees the theme. Finally home, there’s plenty of mail to open and things to do before he changes and runs over to the inn for the wedding rehearsal.

His cell phone is perpetually on his person, always ready to go at a moment’s notice, but he isn’t expecting any calls. He’s just concentrating on getting through his stack of mail and getting his head on straight when his phone goes off. The word Private across his phone screen isn’t necessarily unusual, but having just come home from a case, there is an uncomfortable possibility that this is work related.

“Special Agent Pike.” He tucks the phone under his chin as he sets the mail down, pulling out a notebook in case it’s someone about a case.

“Good afternoon, Agent.” The President’s voice is distinct and recognizable to anyone who has heard her speak as many times as a government agent has, but she introduces herself anyway. Arrogance isn’t a characteristic she typically has. “Do you have a moment?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Marcus straightens immediately and wonders if something is wrong. “What may I help you with?” The President of the United States is calling him, he is going to do whatever she needs.

“I know you have an important night, so I won’t keep you.” She is well apprised of the wedding you are coordinating in just two days’ time. You’ll be missing family dinner for it, but your business and your integrity are important enough to take precedence. “But I’m afraid I have to ask a small favor of you, if I may? Are you Stateside again, Agent Pike?”

“Yes Ma’am, I am.” The fact that she knows he was out of the country means you talked about him with her, even if it was concerning the invitation to the party. It warms him in a way that it shouldn’t, given your relationship with Congressman Chase. He knows that whatever the favor, he will gladly do it. “Whatever you need, I’ll be happy to help.”

“It’s small,” she promises with a chuckle. Just as you had said — and as she had seen a little bit of at the State dinner — Marcus Pike is an earnest sort of man. “I was hoping you would be willing to pick Birdie up for her party on Saturday to bring her to the venue? The location is a surprise and I know she’d appreciate being able to ride in with you.” Instead of one of her siblings is the end of the sentence in her mind, but these days she’s fairly certain that you would pick Marcus Pike over almost anyone.

“Of course.” He agrees immediately, almost without thought, but he wonders why Sam isn’t bringing you. He opens his mouth to ask, but quickly shuts it before anything comes out, deciding he doesn’t want to know if there’s some birthday surprise involving the congressman. “What time do you want me to have her walk through the door?” He asks instead.

“Seven-thirty would be ideal.” The invitations say to arrive at seven, and she wants everyone assembled at the club before you get there. “She’s never been to the Statesman Club, I checked with Sydney. So she shouldn’t have any idea where you’re bringing her. And don’t let the half-hearted protests convince you of a thing. She loves a surprise.”

Marcus chuckles quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He promises. “Seven-thirty.” He repeats. “I’ll have her there on time. Will Agent Bailey follow us or ride with us?” He asks.

“She will follow.” In fact, as a mother, she made sure of that. The chance to give you and Marcus some time alone seemed important. “Hopefully nothing will be complicated, and everything should be fun. I do appreciate the favor, Agent. It won’t go unremembered.”

“I am happy to help.” He feels slightly strange about having the President feel indebted to him, not that he would use it for anything at all. “Sincerely.”

“Wonderful.” There’s a smile in her voice, but a finality as well. “Well, I won’t keep you. Have fun at the rehearsal dinner tonight and the wedding on Friday.”

He’s surprised she knows the plans, but why, he’s not sure. You are close to your mother and he doubts you don’t talk about your work. “Thank you Madame President.” He hums quietly. “Have a good evening.”

“Good evening. And thank you again.” The call clicks off with a pleasant tone, and the President smiles to herself on the other end, knowing you didn’t think she would actually go through with having Marcus bring you to your party.

Marcus just stares at the phone for a moment, feeling like that was a surreal moment. He’s certainly never had the President call him for a favor before. Chuckling to himself, he moves towards the bathroom, needing to shower before he gets dressed for the rehearsal.

The rehearsal dinner truly is the easiest part of this process. For you, at least. You’ve done large handfuls of them in the past to be a help to Juan, and the number of people at this particular rehearsal is going to be incredibly small. Cameron and her fiancé had asked for just a family style meal after the actual rehearsal and you had set up a round dinner table in the gazebo in the grounds for them to enjoy their night with a few friends and family in relative privacy. Per your usual protocol, everyone working the wedding will be in black tonight and for the ceremony on Friday, and you’ve set yourself into a long-sleeved black blouse and cigarette pants for tonight with a smart pair of flats to complete the Audrey Hepburn look. There was a lot of back and forth about it between you and Sydney and Juan, but now that you know Marcus knows about your soulmate status? You’ve got to talk to him tonight. You may even have a few surprises up your sleeve, since you had to change your plans for that grand, romantic gesture.

Marcus tries to make his outfit seem casual, a more tailored suit than he wears at work, no tie. Loafers instead of dress shoes. He shows up right as Cameron and Michael do. Smiling as they get out of their car and he hugs the bride, shaking the groom’s hand. “You survived.” He jokes.

“Thanks to you.” Cameron — Joyce outside of work and to her friends and family — happily hugs Marcus instead of shaking his hand. “I don’t know what you said to her but she has bent over backward to make this happen and we’re so grateful.”

“I just asked her for a favor.” He admits with a sheepish grin. “That’s all.”

“Well, then she’s an amazing friend and we’re grateful for that, too.” She’s absolutely beaming in her white floral sundress and happily ready for this week’s celebrations. As stressful as everything had been, it has also been wonderful to feel like the day isn’t in jeopardy after all. “How was the case?”

“Interesting, but I want to focus on you and Wiley.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out an envelope. “I want to help with the costs. I know you guys got screwed having to pay twice.”

Cameron shakes her head adamantly, touched by the gesture even though it isn’t necessary. “We didn’t have to pay twice,” she tells him, acknowledging how remarkable that is. “I don’t really know what she did, but she hasn’t asked us for any money. The whole thing is just…it’s been a miracle.”

“Wow.” Marcus’s eyes widen and he wonders if you managed to get the other venue to cover the costs, but he knows in his heart, you just aren’t charging them. “Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re sure.”

“You’ve already helped us so much.” As a coworker and a boss, Marcus is fantastic. But as a friend? She will always be grateful for everything he’s done. Their long friendship has been through plenty of ups and downs, but this is above and beyond any call of duty that she could possibly think of. “Are you…still okay with walking me down the aisle?“

“I am looking forward to it…although…if you want someone else to do that, I understand.” Marcus hums as you walk outside to greet them.

“Joyce, Michael, you look fantastic. How are we feeling tonight?” You are nothing but professional smiles despite your own nerves for the various things that are set to happen tonight. Hopefully it will all be emotional in good ways only. “I’m glad you were able to get back in time, Marcus.”

“Me too.” He smiles politely, trying not to moon over how good you look. It makes him want to reach out and pull you into his arms, although that’s not right. “Are we all set?”

“Just about.” There’s a tingling in your fingers and the nervous butterflies in your stomach bottom out, but things are as ready as they’re going to be. You’re not about to steal the thunder from this couple on such an important night, but Marcus looks so good in his more casual and stylish suit that you have to remind yourself that you can’t just drag him upstairs. “Let’s take a walk out to the back and I’ll just give you a few moments to say hi to everyone before we get in place for the rehearsal. Okay?”

“That sounds good.” She’s excited, of course she is, but she’s also very disappointed. Wishing that she had her family here. The upside is that Marcus and her other friends are the best kind of family she could ask for.

“We’ve set up a table out in the gazebo for dinner. It should fit all eleven of you just fine.” A slight smile touches your lips, knowing that the couple only told you to expect nine for the rehearsal. The first surprise of the night is waiting for them out in the garden.

Cameron frowns slightly, tilting her head as she catches the error. From what you’ve shown her, you don’t make mistakes. “Eleven?”

“Eleven.” Waving one beckoning hand, you head out to the garden with Marcus, Cameron, and Michael in tow.

There are big batches of raspberry iced tea ready for tonight and all the guests gathered in the garden have glasses already. A few people are chatting but mostly they are looking around, inspecting early flowers blossoming in the flower beds from the warm spring, and the large planters that have already been brought in to be part of the decor for the wedding. In amongst the guests — the joyful friends and select family members who had offered continuous support — are Agent Cameron’s parents.

“Mom? Dad?” Cameron’s tone is nearly disbelieving and that makes Marcus’s heart hurt.

Mr. Cameron unwinds his arm from around his nervous-looking wife’s waist and rubs his hands together. “I hope we aren’t crashing your party.” He wants to set her and Michael at ease that they aren’t here to cause trouble. “I got a call from your boss a few days ago.” He glances over at Marcus briefly before turning his attention back to his only daughter. “Who told me, in much more eloquent terms, that I was a horse’s ass and would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t support you and Wiley.” He explains. “Your mother and I….we would like to come to the wedding and if it’s possible, maybe I could give you away?” He hopes that she will let him but if not, he would understand.

“Really?” A grown woman of more than thirty years, Joyce Cameron tears up immediately and clutches her fiancé’s hand while staring — gob smacked — at both of her parents. The whole thing doesn’t even register for a few seconds before she looks over at Marcus with a watery smile. “I don’t know a lot of people who can say their boss saved their wedding, and this is so much more than just one day.” She turns to hug Marcus fiercely before walking the six steps across the lawn she needs to embrace both of her parents.

Michael hangs back, giving his fiancée her moment with her parents as he turns to look at Marcus in astonishment. “How?” He demands, making the older man shrug.

“I asked them if they would be proud of the union if you shared marks.” He tells him. “They said you were a good man, and I reminded them that is all they should want for their daughter. A good man. One who treats her like a queen. And she’s found that. In you.”

"I guess it took somebody from the outside." Wiley shrugs, though, watching his fiancée hug her parents with happy tears in her eyes. "She deserves this, Marcus. Thank you." He murmurs, before stepping up to shake his soon-to-be father-in-law's hand and leaving Marcus standing with you on the edge of the garden.

Marcus smiles, happy that he has been able to help Joyce again, even if it means that he’s lost out on walking her down the aisle. He will happily be relegated to just a guest in this case. After a minute or so of quiet where Marcus doesn't step away from you, you nudge his side playfully with your elbow. "It's good to see you in person again."

“Glad it’s not accompanied by screaming parents, disturbing the peace and police reports.” He snorts, turning and giving you a friendly grin. It’s all he can muster but hopefully it’s believable. “But at least I didn’t get thrown into the dungeon for trying to steal the jewels.”

"They were very meek and apologetic when they got here," you assure him. The maid of honor — a cousin, apparently — had been shocked to see them but things had gone okay after the initial surprise wore off. For now, it's only good things with this wedding party so you can turn your attention to Marcus. "It would've caused quite a scandal if I had to go over there and bail you out, so I'm also glad you didn't get into any scrapes across the pond. I don't know if my curtsy is good enough for groveling."

He laughs slightly and then looks back at the older couple talking with the younger one. The relief is staggering from both sides and he sighs happily. “Guess I’m out of the rehearsal.”

"No reason you can't stay." It probably comes out too quickly, but the last thing you want is for him to leave. Not when you have...things you want to say. "You're the hero of the night. Stay and have a little supper, at least. I'm sure they don't want you to go."

“I wasn’t planning on leaving just yet.” He assures you. “Not when I can stay and bask in the happiness that my meddling worked.”

"Bask in it all you like. You earned it." Just like you're basking in this — just standing here beside him while the warmth of his presence washes over you like an exquisite sunset.

“Just like you.” Marcus turns towards you. “Are you not charging them? Or did the other place pony up some money?”

"I couldn't bear to charge them anything," you admit, shrugging your shoulders slightly. It's not something you're doing for the praise — it's something you're doing for the love of him as much or more than any other reason. "Derby Farms' lawyers are putting together compensations for all the clients who lost their dates and deposits and all...and it covered the expenses here. They already paid for their wedding once. And Sydney's food is better than what they serve anyway."

“So let me give you this.” He pulls the envelope out of his coat again. “To help. Because you just said they ‘are’ not they ‘have’.” He points out. “You have expenses.”

"You don't have to do anything, Marcus." Pressing the envelope gently back toward him, you just shake your head once so you don't draw any kind of attention from the happy wedding party or their officiant as he gets them all into order. "You asked me for a favor and I take that very seriously."

“I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t be paid.” He huffs, knowing that your time is precious and you have worked miracles with the short amount allotted.

"I know. But this is...it's more than just a few days of business. It's their happiness. And—" Your head tilts slightly, knowing that you didn't plan for this kind of timing but now you have a bit of extra time. "Do you...would you mind if we...talked? Just for a couple of minutes, since the rehearsal will go perfectly smoothly without either of us?"

Marcus feels his stomach flip and he swallows slightly, wondering why you want to talk to him. “Sure.” He says breezily.

You nod to the right, to where one of the small outbuildings that you use as a staging area has been staged for tonight, instead. Set up with twinkle lights and a little set of Bluetooth speakers and a small something for Marcus, you feel like you're visibly shaking as you walk to what used to be a shed and is now quite fixed up and neatly painted. The lights and music aren't on — not wanting to force a romantic mood on him in case he reacts poorly in any way to what you have to say — but privacy is good regardless.

"I...before anything else, I owe you an apology," you start, inhaling and exhaling deeply once the thin door has tapped shut behind you both.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” His rebuttal is automatic, along with the frown on his face.

"Yes I do." The nerves are running through you like lightning strikes, but you wrote out all of what you wanted to say and if you get through half of it you'll be very proud of yourself. "I kept something from you. Something important. And I thought I had kept a lid on it until I was prepared to really explain why I kept quiet. But then I found out at family dinner last week that Junie had gone and spilled the beans on me at the State dinner and I just..." Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. "I should have told you that I suspected we were soulmates right away. And I didn't. So I'm sorry, I just hope you'll let me explain why."

Marcus freezes and he wants to walk away. Fear, true fear curling in his gut. The fear of being rejected by the person the universe had said was supposed to be his. To realize that he wasn’t good enough for anyone. “You don’t—” he shakes his head. “Please don’t. Not right before Cameron’s wedding.” He asks softly.

"I know." You hang your head in turn, the bravery evaporating from you far faster than the weeks it has taken you to build it all up. "You're seeing Vanessa. And that's part of why I kept things to myself. If you really—" Nearly hiccupping at the idea of full-on rejection when you had been dreaming of any other reaction, you nod dumbly and try not to look as crestfallen as you feel. "I'm sorry. I should have kept it to myself a while longer, I guess."

Marcus chuckles dryly, surprised that he can in a moment like this. “I went to her after the State dinner.” He admits, looking down at his loafers and wishing he was still in the wedding after all. “I needed to tell her that I— that it was— to end things.” He sighs and gives a self-amused smirk at the ground. “Only to get dumped before I could open my mouth.” He shoves his hands into his trouser pockets. “She apparently discovered who her soulmate was.”

"When it rains, it pours." Your laugh is hollow, still afraid, and you twist your arms behind your back nervously. "So...all the phone calls...all the times I swore to myself I wasn't going to flirt with you on the phone...we've both been single the whole time?"

“You’re dating Sam.” He murmurs, as if to remind you even though it’s odd you would say that. It is too much of a hope to have that you had ended things with him.

"I told you at the State dinner that I was ending things." Although it does, somehow for the very first time, occur to you that you didn't actually tell him you had done it. "I meant it. I broke up with him the next day."

“Why?” The question is quiet, although he would normally never pry, he needs to know.

"Do you want the complete or abridged list of reasons?" Attempting at humor falls short, and you find yourself swallowing down that fear mixed with bile that is threatening to bubble up your throat. "Well... whichever list you pick... this biggest reason is... is actually you." Inhale. Exhale. Try to remember everything you wrote down over the last week. "Because from the moment you walked in the front door of the inn, you took my breath away. And not just because you're handsome, although I admit that's undeniable. It's the way you seem to make things effortless. Easy conversations and god you have the most incredible laugh. It's like music. Everything about you has just built up and built up and... and somehow it isn't just oh, I like Marcus more than I like Sam. It's the way something inside me started tugging toward you right away and I didn't know what it was. All the cracks in the veneer I had built up of convincing myself that I was happy before... I've been happier being friends with you than I was in that entire relationship."

As the rambling boils over, the small speech you prepared is abandoned, and for better of your worse you find yourself laying your heart bare right there on the floor of the work shed. "I told myself I couldn't tell you that I was falling in love with you until I had made sure that I was doing it for the right reasons, but I don't even know what the right reasons are anymore. I just... know that my entire life I've felt like I was reaching for the moon. And every time you smile at me, it makes me feel like the moon is reaching for me, instead."

There’s a moment when his heart stops. Skips a beat or just falters from the emotions. Recognizing the line, it’s almost embarrassing how misty his eyes become. “You quoted Sabrina.” He murmurs, finally able to catch his breath and pure pleasure rushes through him when he realizes that this isn’t the ‘sorry we can’t’ speech he had been anticipating. “I didn’t want cause you problems.” He admits softly. “But I was – expecting this to be more of a reasons why you couldn’t be with me, speech. So you’ve surprised me.”

He smiles at you again. “From the moment I met you, I felt like I knew you. That you were someone precious to me.” He whispers. “And you are. Not just for the ridiculous tattoo we share—” he jokes, reaching for your hand. “But because of the woman you are. Hardworking, kind, smart, generous, beautiful – inside and out.”

His touch soothes and burns all at once, scorching you and making you feel lighter than air. All the grand, elaborate plans you made have gone out the window, and now it’s just you and Marcus standing together alone with your hearts in your throats. “Every realistic way I imagined this going…most of them ended in a polite denial or a reminder that you’re seeing someone,” you admit, exhaling a shaky breath. “I almost don’t know what to do now.”

“Neither do I.” Marcus can only laugh because he’s so hesitant right now. So sure you had wanted to just pretend he wasn’t your soulmate, he hadn’t even realized he had discounted the possibility you wanted the connection.

“I had a whole plan.” A fact which now makes your cheeks burn just as much as your hand is where he’s still holding it. “It was much more romantic than just spilling my guts to you all at once, I promise.”

“A plan?” He frowns slightly in confusion.

Not willing to take your hand back from him, you reach over with your free one and flip a few light switches — turning off the main lights in the small room and turning on the twinkling fairy lights instead. The small Bluetooth speaker crackles to life to begin playing Edith Piaf’s La Vie en Rose, and a small, cylindrical box nearby holds a single, ivory Eternity rose. Opening it now feels almost backward, but you still want Marcus to have the small token of your affection. “My first thought was honestly to whisk us both off to Paris for a weekend,” you admit, laughing at your own romanticism. “But when I reined myself in a little, I realized that all I really want is to spend time with you. So… Marcus Pike…” you hold out the wax treated rose just like a nervous high schooler and admit to yourself that that is how you feel right now. “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

He’s been asked out before, he has. He’s been hit on in bars or through dating apps, but this feels significant, because no one has ever put a lot of thought or effort into doing something for him. “Maybe Paris next weekend.” He chuckles, taking the rose and reaching out to cup your face with it in his hand. “This weekend we have a wedding and a birthday party.” He hums softly. “And maybe the flea market on Sunday?” He would say a baseball game, but the season hasn’t started yet.

“I’d really like that.” With his hand there it’s nearly impossible not to lean into his palm, and the feeling of nearly shaking apart with excitement shoots through you again. “As long as…” The nerves return, but you swallow them down carefully. “You don’t mind being seen out with me? People tend to take notice these days… and there’s always a chance of being photographed. Well… you saw the papers after the dinner…”

“I don’t care if the whole world knows that I’m out with you.” Marcus murmurs softly. “I’ll be proud to stand beside you. Not because I want any kind of fame or recognition, but because I’m with you.” He smiles. “Although sunglasses and a baseball cap work wonders for making people second guess if you want anonymity.”

“We’ll have to give it a try.” You’re beaming at him, absolutely grinning from ear to ear, and the feeling of rightness in this moment is nearly overwhelming. “I would’ve told you all this two weeks ago if I’d known on that first phone call that we were both single already. But I’m glad we got to do this face to face instead.”

“Getting away was best.” Marcus admits softly. “I was having a hard time reminding myself that you weren’t available.”

Nuzzling your cheek into his hand is as easy as breathing, and you laugh softly. “I think if you had asked, I would have come running.”

He smiles and gazes at you softly. “This is real? I’m not dreaming?” He jokes.

“If you’re dreaming, then we both are.” It’s nice to know you’re not alone in this giddiness, and even getting lost in his eyes at this moment feels like a gift.

“Sweetheart…” Marcus brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “May I kiss you?” Even if you are his soulmate, and want to be with him, you deserve to be asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” you admit after a soft laugh. “I’m glad we’re already on the same page.”

“Good.” Marcus is stepping closer the second you say that. His other hand on your hip gently and he smirks slightly. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to kiss you during that dance.”

“About half as badly as I wanted to kiss you?” It’s good that you didn’t, of course. Not in front of so many people and while you were both still attached to others. But now? In privacy? Your heart is beating wildly out of time. “Please?”

Marcus is happy that his lips aren’t chapped, pressing them together and then parting them slightly. Watching you in wonder as he leans in.

The knock that comes just a second before your lips meet is probably the single most unwelcome interruption in history, and the disappointed sigh you let out when you hear your name called from the other side is practically a growl. "I'll be right there!" You call back, wishing you'd just hesitated slightly less and gotten to that kiss a touch faster.

He chuckles quietly and his own sigh of frustration is smothered. “Duty calls.”

"Hold that thought." You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and give him a gentle hug before turning around to shut off the electronics of your little surprise. He's still holding the rose bud with its trimmed stem, and you gently tuck it into his lapel with a smile. "I'll make it worth being interrupted, I promise."

“It’s okay, Birdie.” He uses your nickname for the first time. “You take care of what you need to.”

"If they're done it means it's time for dinner." It's still his friend's night, even if something has also happened here for you and for Marcus. "Come on." As much as you don't want to, you both have to go back out there. "Sydney made a ton of panzanella salad, giant pans of lasagna and these amazing parfaits of Madagascar vanilla panna cotta, raspberry jam, and pistachio brittle. I can't allow you to miss this dinner." It absolutely sucks to have to open the door, but you're practically beaming you're smiling so hard. "Sydney can't get over the fact that you were talking her up to José Andrés, by the way. I think you have a private chef for life."

“That sounds amazing.” He groans, having missed the last few meals due to traveling. “And I was only telling the truth.”

Coming out of the work shed, you see the wait staff starting to bring beer around to the table — as requested by the couple instead of wine or champagne with their casual rehearsal meal — and you nod toward the gazebo. “Go join your friends. I’m going to go check in in the kitchen and make sure Syd has everything under control.”

“Talk later?” He asks seriously, lifting a brow at you. There’s a lot to talk about obviously, but he does want to kiss you.

“If you want to stay late, I’m not going to be upset.” As soon as it’s out of your mouth you realize it could be taken as an overnight invitation, and while that wasn’t what you meant originally, you’re also not going to turn him away if he wants to stay the night. Apparently your old tendency to be fast-moving in potential relationships is back with gusto.

He smiles softly and nods, trying not to read into it, but he will be talking to you later.

Telling yourself you’re walking back to the main building at a reasonable pace, you know you’re racing when you bust in the back door and practically fling yourself into the kitchen as the waitstaff is bringing dinner out to the wedding party.

“There you are!” Sydney is rushing around, checking everything as she grins at you. “You disappeared on me.”

“Sorry.” In all honesty, you hadn’t expected things to go so well, and you were happily tucked away in a little vortex where time didn’t exist. “I lost track of time…talking to Marcus.”

“Oh!” She immediately stops and comes over to you. “How did it go?” She knows you’ve been worrying over possibly the most important conversation of your life.

Absolutely deadpan — or at least as close to it as you can get right now — you tilt your head at Sydney. "I'm firing your head server for interrupting us before he could kiss me."

“Done.” She snaps her fingers playfully. “Gone.” She insists. “Oh my god! He was going to kiss you! How did— so obviously he’s not upset, right? Unless it was going to be an angry kiss? But I don’t see Marcus being an angry kisser. Do you?” She’s rambling because she’s happy, ecstatic for you really. Now dreaming of a happily ever for you.

“It was definitely not angry.” Now that Syd is bubbling over too, you start giggling all over again. “We’re going to go out on Sunday, which means we’re spending like half the weekend together.”

“Half?” She snorts and shakes her head. “You mean all.” Holding up her hand she smirks. “Wedding Friday, you are going to attend and you know it.” She holds up one finger. “Then your birthday party.” She holds up another finger. “And now a date on Sunday.” She holds up three fingers altogether. “That’s all the days of the weekend, my love.”

"I will be working the wedding and seeing him for part of each day doesn’t mean he’ll want to see me all day." Even as primly as you try to present it, you know she's right, and the giggles boil over once again. "He's got the rose in his lapel and I can't wait for him to realize that it's the special kind that's been treated to last for years."

“And in return, he’s going to support you like you’ve never been supported before.” She snicker, beaming at you. Now that Sam is gone, she’s realizing how much more enthusiastic you are about the inn again. Like the zeal had been suppressed when you were with him. Or maybe planning this wedding is what has snapped you out of the funk.

“There was a dirty pun in there somewhere,” you observe, giving her a playful side eye. “Or maybe I just hope there was.”

She smirks and waggles her brows at you. “Are you needing a good romp, Birdie?” She asks playfully.

“Listen.” Wagging a finger at her, you blow out a breath and lower your voice, making sure no one else can hear you. “There nothing wrong with missionary. Nothing, as long as it’s done right. But a girl likes a little variety.”

“You mean you want your hair pulled while you’re railed from behind and he slaps your ass right above that dirty little tattoo and calls you his filthy, gorgeous little cum dumpster?” She winks wickedly at you.

Your deadpan expression comes back just long enough to tease her, and you put one hand on your best friend’s shoulder seriously. “Thanks for the insight into how my goddaughter was conceived.”

“You’re welcomed.” She snorts, laughing at herself. “I wel-cummed too!”

“Oh my Fuckin god.” Snorting, you turn away to grab your clipboard and try to compose yourself but are still laughing when you head for the door again. “Okay. I gotta back out there and pretend I’m not thinking about fucking that gorgeous man in the bathtub. Byyyyyeeee.”

“Byyyyyyyyeeee!” She afflicts the same tone you do and waves happily before diving back into making sure every dessert is perfect.

For a wedding that has been so fraught with stress, the rehearsal dinner goes perfectly. Dinner is delicious and by the end of the night, it’s obvious that Cameron and her soon-to-be husband are feeling both much more relaxed and more excited for their big day.

“Tonight is about you.” Marcus lifts his beer in a toast and smiles at them. “In two days, you will be married.” He chuckles. “And then I don’t want to see you in the office for two weeks.” He tells his agent fondly.

“She’ll be in good hands, I promise.” From the edge of the gazebo, you offer everyone a smile.

“You have planned everything perfectly.” Cameron smiles and stands quickly, walking over to hug you.

“It’s been my pleasure,” you assure her honestly, giving the very sweet bride a squeezing hug back. “I forgot how much I enjoy the hustle of wedding planning.”

“You have done such an amazing job. I would never know you didn’t do it all the time.” She promises you.

"I'm glad you're not upset to be stuck with second fiddle while Juan is out of town. I promise I consulted him every step of the way." The two of you exchange another hug as people start to get up from the table, all of them milling about and not quite ready to say good night. "You have a spa day tomorrow for your bachelorette right? Enjoy it."

“My mom is coming with me too.” For a moment, she looks like she’s going to cry again. Only happy tears though. “I can’t believe it.”

"Bask in that happiness, Joyce. You deserve it." Over the past two weeks it's become very routine for the two of you to check in with each other, and the text message thread you share has been as cram full of memes, music recommendations, and little affirmations as anything else. It's an unexpected start to a friendship, but a friendship nonetheless.

“I can’t believe Marcus called them.” Even hearing it from them again, she’s still in awe. Especially because they had changed their minds. “I just wish Michael’s parents would be here. That would make it perfect.”

"They might need a little more time to come around, but don't let that hold a cloud over your day." You squeeze her arms gently in both hands, prompting both of you to smile. "It's going to be a wonderful day no matter what. You get to marry the man you love. That's what matters."

“That is all that matters.” She smiles in that giddy, secretive way as her eyes automatically drift over to where her fiancé is talking with Marcus and her father. Looking a little more dreamy when she sees the man she will create a life with.

"Go on." Nudging her a little and grinning, you have to acknowledge that at least half your smile is for Marcus, but it's a private acknowledgement. "Have a fantastic day tomorrow and I'll see you Friday morning to start getting ready."

“I will.” She promises. “And when we come back, I want to take you and Sydney out to lunch. One that she doesn’t fix.”

"Deal. We'll want to hear all about the honeymoon anyway." As soon as you agree she's skittering off again, excitable and oh so ready to spend some time with her almost husband.

Somehow, Marcus has been talked into a round of golf with Cameron’s father and Michael tomorrow, although he’s not sure how that happened.

You don't butt in and don't eavesdrop, just quietly start clearing the table of dirty dishes and loading up trays with silverware and glasses to be brought back inside to clean. The party has already started slowly wandering across the lawn to the parking lot so you know it won't be too much longer before you can shut down and get upstairs. If Marcus is too tired after everything to want to talk tonight, you'll absolutely understand. It's not like you won't see him again in just two days' time.

Marcus says goodnight to everyone and looks around, finding another tray of dishes loaded up to take inside and he picks it up. Assuming you are already taking more back and he can help you clean up.

When he walks into the kitchen with a full tray to hand off to the dishwasher, your already bright smile gets impossibly bigger. “You’re a guest,” you remind him, lifting the tray from his hands and reveling in the tiniest touch of skin to skin regardless of how fleeting it is. “You don’t have to clean up.”

“And you shouldn’t have to do everything when I have two empty hands.” Marcus replies with a grin.

“As helpful as you are handsome.” Now that the line has been crossed — now that you can — flirting is probably going to bleed through into just about everything.

He doesn’t know exactly how to respond to that enthusiastic flirtation, so he just shrugs slightly, aware of how his cheeks are heating up. “I try.” Is all he can muster.

“Sorry,” you cringe for a second, realizing you might have stepped too far over that newly crossed line, and you bit your lip. “Too much?”

“No.” He shakes his head quickly, not wanting you to feel like you have done something wrong. “Not at all. It’s just—” he shrugs self-consciously again. “I liked it, a lot.”

“Okay.” The momentary pause with both of you smiling at each other like star struck idiots is broken by the sound of Sydney clearing her throat.

“Go,” she insists to you, even making a shooing motion with her hand. “We’ve got clean up. Go upstairs.”

“I— are you sure?” Marcus frowns slightly, aware that Sydney is pregnant and has to be tired.

“I have tons of help.” Motioning around the kitchen before she shoos you again, Syd considers his concern for her an extra mark in his favor, but insists. “Seriously, go on. And don’t let her do any more work tonight. She’s been going nonstop without the benefit of a whole staff to help her.”

“I won’t.” Marcus promises, looking back at you. “I’ll make sure she does nothing but relax.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” Sydney grins, throwing you a wink before turning back to the tray of things she was unloading.

He doesn’t know what all was said, but obviously there’s been a conversation between you and your best friend. “Do you want to buy a bottle of wine to take upstairs?” He suggests.

“Sounds perfect.” More than anything it implies that he wants to stay for a little while, and you’re very happy to hear that.

He figures that will let you relax; you can have some time to talk and then you can go to bed after he leaves. “Okay.” He smiles. “Any particular bottle you’re fond of?”

“I don’t know a whole lot about wine.” You had been trying to absorb whatever Sam had told you about a particular bottle or style, but it hadn’t been sticking well. “I’ve been sticking with sweeter wines, but if you have something you like I’d love to try it.”

“Sweet.” He decides it’s a perfect time to flirt back. “I’ll try to pick one that’s as sweet as you are.” He promises before he walks out of the kitchen to look at the wine rack.

"If you'll excuse me." Glancing over at Sydney, both of you grin at each other. "I'm going to go scream into a pillow about how cute that man is."

“Maybe you’ll scream into a pillow for a different reason.” She teases, throwing you another wicked wink. “Go get your soulmate, Tiger.”

While you absolutely would not mind, you don't think that's on the docket for tonight. Still, you smack a kiss on your best friend's cheek and head down the hallway to find Marcus coming out of the bottle room with a bottle of Riesling in hand. "Find something you approve of?"

“I think this will satisfy us both.” He hums, smiling at the sight of you. “Are you hungry? We could order something to be delivered.”

"I have the makings of an excellent charcuterie in my fridge upstairs, if you're interested?" While the wedding party ate, you picked minimally at a small bowl of salad and gotten some other things done, so a snack along with your wine sounds perfect. "If nothing there looks good to you, there are lots of places that deliver."

“I always love a good charcuterie.” Marcus admits, nodding easily. “As long as you are content. I notice you didn’t eat much and I’m sure you didn’t eat in the kitchen when you were running around.”

His caretaking tendencies are endearing, and since he had mentioned to you before that his ex wasn't a fan of them, you offer him a sincere smile. It's...sort of remarkable the way he notices things but you have to think that some of that comes out of his professional training. "You were supposed to be having fun, not keeping an eye on me," you chide gently as you walk together toward the elevator. Agent Bailey is keeping her distance but always present, trying to give you a bit of privacy while still doing her job.

“It’s hard not to notice a beautiful woman.” Marcus comes back easily. “Especially knowing what we know now, it’s impossible.” He isn’t going to rush you, not on the heels of a previous relationship, but he wants to get to know you. Learn more about his soulmate.

"That makes me feel slightly less self-conscious about always feeling like there's a magnet in my eyes whenever you're around," you admit. The elevator dings on the bottom floor, expelling two guests, and the three of you get in together once it's empty.

“I felt extremely guilty about how interested I was in you, from the very beginning.” He admits softly. “But I never would have said a word. That invitation to dinner was just a friendly invite.”

"That's all I took it as. And how I meant it when I accepted. It's just...that interest has always been there. For both of us, I guess." The ride to your apartment in the attic doesn't take long. It's only four floors, after all.

“Good. Soulmate or not, I don’t— cheating is not something I approve of or want to engage in.” He assures you. It’s not like being a soulmate would prevent cheating, there are still crappy human beings in the world.

"Cheating is really my biggest...I won't call it a trauma from earlier relationships, but definitely the issue that weighs most heavily on me. I absolutely do not and cannot condone it." The door to your apartment swings open easily and Agent Bailey steps inside to do her usual check of things before settling onto a chair by your door. Marcus has only been to your place once, but it's not exactly large so it's easy to see pretty much everything from the front entry. "My agents have free reign in my kitchen, also. Just...in case I never thought to mention that. I keep snacks they like on hand, and the coffee they like. Plus sometimes you might see a lunch bag or something on the bottom shelf. It's my home, but it's also their workplace, so I try to make sure they feel like they can be comfortable."

“That’s very nice of you.” He chuckles and glances at Agent Bailey. “I’m sure it’s appreciated. Sometimes eating during work is hard isn’t it?” She nods and he glances back at you. “Why don’t you go change into your comfy clothes and I’ll get everything?”

"There's platters and boards in the cabinet to the left of the refrigerator." On a more casual evening, you would have tipped your head back to kiss him, but something in your gut tells you that your first kiss with this man will be anything but casual and not to waste that little bit of magic. "I'll be right back."

“Take your time.” He smiles. “Agent Bailey can help if I need to find something.”

If it wasn’t the first time you’re spending time together like this, and if there wasn’t a Secret Service agent on hand, you might have gone into your room and found something slinky or lacy or otherwise revealing to put on. Slip into something a little more comfortable, as the movies always used to say. Instead, you trade your cigarette pants for a pair of yoga pants that you routinely sleep in, and trade the very tailored, carefully fitted blouse and push up bra for an old tank top that is soft on your skin and an oversized sweatshirt from Kings College, back when you were in London. The decision to wipe your makeup off and just be a bare, clean version of you is one you take very seriously. Some men expect their partners to be ‘on’ at all times and that isn’t you.

Marcus finds your kitchen to be small, but set up in a very easy to use kind of way. He follows your directions for the board, and opens the wine to let it breathe before diving into your fridge and small pantry to put together a board based off what you have. You were right, you have all the makings for an excellent board and he hums as he works.

It’s certainly less than ten minutes that you’re gone, but when you reappear again, Marcus has created a masterpiece of a board and fished two wine glasses out of your cupboard to boot. He looks so natural — standing there in your kitchen with his shirt collar hanging open and a look of deep concentration on his face as he works to twist slices of prosciutto into something resembling a knot or a flower — that it makes you downright emotional. In all the months you were with Sam, he had barely done more than fix you a cup of coffee.

Looking up when he senses movement, he beams at the sight of you all dressed down. Even more beautiful than you had been when he arrived. “How did you manage to do that?” He asks, abandoning the prosciutto to scoop up a wine glass and walk around the bar to bring it to you. “You look even better than you did when you walked into your room.”

“He prefers the casual look.” You beam at him, letting the heat in your cheeks burn the rest of your face as well. “Noted.”

“You are beautiful dressed up or dressed down.” He promises, smiling as he hands you the wine. “Go sit and I’ll bring the food over. The couch?”

“Perfect.” It seems like you’re saying that a lot, but your face is on fire with the compliment as you accept the wine glass from him and glance back at your living room. There are a few candles around just because you like the ambiance, and you quickly gather them to put out on your coffee table. When was the last time anyone had just…taken charge and spoiled you like this? Maybe years ago? Maybe never. It’s certainly not something Sam ever did — those situations always seemed to be you serving him and never about meeting in the middle or treating you. The realization stings, but only for a moment.

“I hope you don’t mind.” It takes him a second to gather up the board, his wine and the bottle, but he manages it before he starts to walk over. “I found a little bag of chocolate candies and I love having chocolate with cheese.”

“I don’t mind at all. You’re perfectly right about those two together.” The board he sets down looks like it belongs on the cover of a cookbook or a food blog, and it looks like he found your nearly-done jar of blackberry jam too, because there is a ramekin of it on the board next to some of your favourite sesame crackers. “This is…” It’s perfect, but since you keep using that word, you search for another. “It’s such an indulgence, and a beautiful one, too.”

He’s never described himself as someone who preens, but he definitely wallows in your praise just a bit. “I took a charcuterie board making class.” He explains. “I thought it would be a good date. Food, learning, wine. The date didn’t work out, but I enjoyed the class.”

“And you clearly absorbed everything they taught you.” Shifting over on the couch, you take the wine bottle from him and set it on a thick coaster before inspecting the magic he’s made of all the bits and pieces from your kitchen. “Thank you for this. I know you must be tired from traveling and everything, but I’m glad we actually have a chance to talk.”

“You’ve been busy too.” He reminds you softly, leaning over and nudging your shoulder gently. “Putting on a wedding in two weeks’ time with little help.” He huffs slightly. “I hope you know that’s not exactly what I had in mind when I called you for a favor.”

“I know it’s not.” The first sip of the wine you take is sharp and fruity up front, mellowing on your tongue and warming you through just seconds later. “But you wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important to you, and…you’re important to me. So I wanted everything to be perfect.”

He can’t help but give a pleased little hum in the back of his throat, covering it up by taking his own sip of wine. “I appreciate it, so much. You can see why it was important. Cameron— I guess I need to start calling her Joyce— and Michael are such good people.

“I wanted you to know you could count on me,” you admit, sitting forward to compose your first little bite. “And I ended up making new friends in the process.”

“I think that is probably the best part.” Marcus smiles as you pick and poke until you get the bite you want on your cracker.

A sesame cracker with creamy Brie and a little dab of Calabrian chili jam — not traditional, but an experiment of Syd’s — is first and you practically giggle at how well it all goes together. Even the sweet wine seems to be perfect with the spicy jam. “So…” The beginning of something like this, not that you’ve ever sat down to have a methodical chat with your soulmate before, feels important and intimidating. “Do you mind if we sort of lay things out in the proverbial table? Just kind of be open with each other going into this?”

“I think that would be the best way to handle things.” Marcus admits, hoping that the way you’ve phrased that isn’t some kind of ominous prelude of what’s to come. You surely wouldn’t flirt with him and then crush his hopes? He picks up his own cracker and puts a slice of very sharp cheddar and a fig onto it with a smear of the blackberry jam on top.

“We’ve already talked about wanting kids.” That day at Eastern Market has stuck in your mind, although you couldn’t have known then that it would become such an important topic for you. “And I…I’m actually looking forward to being married. To have a partner who is my confidante and my friend and my support as well as being along for whatever fun and mischief might come up in our lives. I just…my family means the world to me and the fact that I couldn’t see a future with Sam where we were equal partners in an equal marriage was one of the major reasons I knew it wasn’t going to work out.”

Marcus chews his bite, understanding what you are meaning. “So you are asking if I can handle the political, social spotlight and put up with the interferences that it might cause in our personal lives?”

“Partially.” You nod and go back in to build another bite. Serious conversations somehow always make you hungry, so this was a good idea. “I’m also asking if your dream or your future includes a wife who stays at home with the kids, because that isn’t a version of me that I have ever found realistic.”

Marcus laughs, shaking his head and reaching out to pick up a candy, offering it to you instead of eating it himself. “No.” He snorts. “God no, I’ve never had any dreams of having a wife at home to cook and clean, bring me my slippers or anything of the sort.” He assures you. “My parents both worked, my father was constantly traveling. My mother would sometimes work late. We had my family, family friends, babysitters to help her when he was gone. I know that this inn is important to you.” He stresses carefully. “What you decide to do, that is what I would want you to do.”

The chocolate drop is such a small offering physically, but the warmth is spreads through you to accept is something you can’t really describe. Marcus just puts you so at ease, even with small gestures. “I saw my father give things up to help my mother achieve everything she ever wanted,” you tell him honestly. “And while I know he’s happy, it isn’t what he dreamed of. And I’ve just always wanted to find a way to make sure my partner and I could both have our dreams come true.”

“My own dreams are pretty simple.” He shrugs. “I want an equal partnership. Kids. A healthy family dynamic where sometimes I have to take off work because the kids are sick, or you have to take them to work because I’m out of town. I like compromises.”

“Compromises are good.” The chocolate melts slowly on your tongue, mixing with wine and making you smile again. “I like traditions, too. Mixing your family traditions with mine and then coming up with some new ones all our own.”

“And I understand that for the next three to seven years, your family is….well, prioritized, for lack of a better word, and I’m okay with that.” He knows that there will be press obligations and holidays where you need to be present. He wouldn’t begrudge you that.

“You don’t mind Friday night family dinners, or a Secret Service detail, or the fact that people are going to feel entitled to know things about us or have opinions about us?” Sam had said he didn’t mind. And sometimes you thought he even basked in it a little, but the reality is that he doesn’t like things he can’t control. You just hope Marcus is willing to be a little more flexible.

“Do I love the idea of people judging our lives when they don’t actually know the details?” Marcus shrugs slightly. “No, but at the same time, I understand that it will happen. I’m not going to be upset at you for it.” He glances back at Agent Bailey who is comfortably sitting in a chair and trying to not listen in on your conversation. “Your detail is a necessary evil. I would never want you to get rid of them. I know the types of threats your family can receive.”

“My Dad’s already gotten a few.” Of course your mother has, but as the first female President she had expected that and has just handed the pertinent materials over to the Secret Service. “He just says it’s proof that Mom is a strong leader that some people also feel strongly against her. But that doesn’t have anything to do with you and me.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He can agree with that. “But some think that the sin of the mother, in this case…” he picks up a grape and offers it to you. “Are you worried I will hate it, or love it?”

“The attention?” Without even thinking, the bite of cheese and prosciutto in your hand instantly becomes his in exchange for the grape, like a reflex. Sharing easily and just instinctively giving things back and forth without worry. “I’m terrified that you’ll start to resent it and resent me by association.”

“Never happen.” He can promise you that with absolute certainty. “I am the son of a therapist, remember?” He teases lightly, tapping your nose. “I talk when things bother me. I don’t hide from them.”

“I’m the daughter of two lawyers, one of whom turned politician.” It’s impossible not to nudge toward him, the endearing little boop to your nose making you smile like an idiot all over again. “We’ll talk about it, but as soon as you’ve given me your opening statement I’ll have a cross-examination, a motivational monologue, and an emotional closing argument ready to go.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “You do realize that I’ve got quite a bit of experience on the stand, right?” He asks, picking up another cracker and recreating your first bite to hold out to you. He had enjoyed the way you moaned over it.

“And if I remember correctly, you said you also debated at the family dinner table.” This time you spread some of the goat cheese from the board onto a piece of baguette and top it with a chocolate drop for him to try. “So I think we’re going to be just fine and the communication front.”

“I don’t foresee any grand problems.” He agrees. “But if there are issues, we talk and work them out.”

“I completely agree,” you even nod as you hold the bite out for him to try.

He takes the bite out of your hand, just leaning forward and eating from your hand. “Oh that’s good!”

The casual intimacy of the gesture and the slightly cavewoman-esque feeling of feeding and giving life being connected aren’t exactly things you expected to mix so easily. But here you are squirming in your seat and trying not to set on fire with it. “Damn it, Marcus,” you laugh despite yourself.

“What?” The question is innocent enough, but Marcus has enough experience to know what he’s doing to you. The slight smirk twisting his lips giving him away.

“You’re a tease,” you huff, pouting at him animatedly.

“I’ve been called that before.” He admits, picking up another cracker and putting together another little morsel for you as a peace offering. “Do you not like that?”

The slight snicker and smirk you have for him is good natured, and it turns into a wry smile. “I like it better when I’m allowed to climb the offending teaser like a tree.”

Your words hit him like a ton of bricks and he would be lying if his body didn’t immediately react. “Yeah?” His voice is a little raspy choking out the word. “You’d like that, huh?”

“I’m not planning on rushing you,” you assure him, but you still put down your wine glass. “You did just get out of a relationship.”

“As did you.” He points out, leaning back and staring at you, trying to gauge your position on this.

“I did.” It’s nearly a standoff now, but not in a hostile way. Just in a way where you’re both wondering who will break first. “So I’m not saying we should sleep together right away, but I still really want to kiss you.”

“Can I be completely honest?” Marcus asks, almost a little ashamed of even having to admit this.

“I prefer it.”

Reaching for your hand, he chuckles slightly. “I really want to kiss you too. And more….but I just flew in less than an hour before I got here.” He reminds you. “I’m afraid that I would not be at my best if we did anything tonight and I would like to make a good impression the first time.”

“That’s completely fair.” And actually makes you laugh a little. Not because you’re laughing at him but because it’s so human. “So we’ll come to it when we’re ready. And when we’re well rested.”

“I don’t want you to think that I’m not interested, because I am.” He promises. “But I also don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of learning your body.”

“Well when you put it like that, I don’t want that either.” The smile curving your lips and cheeks is bright, though, and you set one hand gently on his knee. “If you need to go home, I’m not going to be offended.”

The hours that he’s been awake are starting to settle onto his shoulders and the half glass of wine makes him sleepy. “Are you sure?” He asks softly. “I was supposed to be taking care of you and putting you to bed slightly wine drunk and relaxed.”

"I promise." A gentle squeeze of his leg is a small sign of affection, but a very real one. "You've taken care of me beautifully and this is the most relaxed I've felt in ages."

“Good.” He hums, pleased with that. It’s all he wants to do, to be a good partner and give you what you need.

"If you're already exhausted, you can crash here?" It comes out more like a question than you meant it to, but that's because you realize that you don't actually know how much he had to drink at dinner. Not that Marcus seems drunk to you at all, but everyone is affected by alcohol differently. And you don't want him on the road if he's sleepy and still a little tipsy.

Just the idea of it makes Marcus nearly yawn, sleep that much closer to being a reality. But he still has to protest slightly. “I don’t want to impose…”

"It's not imposing if I offer." You remind him, feeling the sweetness of the moment sort of float down over it like a warm blanket. "I can bring some spare blankets and pillows out here to the couch, or you can come snuggle up in bed with me. It's up to you." The fact is, it's late. And you have a wedding to put on in two days. So maybe it's not sleeping with him for the first time in the traditional sense, but it's definitely intimate in the kind of way that you want to be able to share with him. Either way, you still get to be near him.

“It’s a twenty-minute drive, but honestly I don’t know if I can make it.” He sighs. “I’ll sleep wherever you want me to. How does that sound?”

"I want you in my bed," you admit without apology. "But you deserve rest instead of a handsy girl cuddling next to you. So go use the bathroom and I'll clean up out here and grab you some blankets and a spare pillow. Do you have to go into the office tomorrow?"

Marcus huffs out a sleepy laugh, his battery rapidly draining now that he’s admitted how tired he is. “Worse.” He groans. “We have a seven AM tee time and then I have to go to the office.”

"Who are you golfing with at seven in the morning?" Lifting yourself up off the couch and starting to gather things up, you leave Marcus's wine glass with its last few sips for him to finish if he wants to. The current plan is to wrap this board up in some plastic and have the remains for lunch tomorrow.

“Michael and Joyce’s father.” He moans. “Michael asked me to join, thinking it would be a good buffer, given the fragile relationship.”

"It makes sense, but that's a hell of an early morning." When he follows you into the kitchen with both of your wine glasses, you smile at the padding sound of his shuffled steps. He's definitely tired. "So you golf, then?"

“Not particularly well.” Marcus snorts. “But I’ve had to learn since a lot of directors like to have meetings on a golf course.”

"My Dad used to take us mini golfing when we were kids." The two of you work slowly but in a good rhythm and get things put away easily. "Believe it or not, Junie is the one who really took to it. It's their bonding thing, and she goes putting as a stress relief thing. I vastly prefer yoga."

“I probably need yoga.” Marcus laughs. “But I normally just run.”

"You'd love my yoga class." You finish the last sip of your wine and set your glass on the side of the sink to be washed tomorrow. "I go to puppy yoga once a week."

“Puppy yoga?” That has Marcus both intrigued and confused, thinking that he’s tired enough to be having auditory hallucinations.

"A room full of grown ass adults doing gentle yoga poses with cute little puppies running around the room for the whole hour." When he hands over his glass you put it next to yours and take a quick inventory of things in the kitchen just to make sure that you're all set for the next day. "It's the most relaxing silliness you could possibly ask for."

“That sounds adorable.” He admits with a small smile. “And chaotic at times.”

"Best way to spend a Thursday night in the world." You reach out easily, rubbing Marcus's arm softly. "Go get ready for bed. I'll grab those blankets for you."

“I’m sorry.” He feels guilty, very guilty, that he can’t stay up all night talking to you. However, it’s technically five in the morning in London and he hadn’t slept much the night before. Just an hour or so, and then he couldn’t sleep on the plane. So he is just completely gassed.

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Promising him that is easy, like promising the wind that you appreciate its breeze. "I get the feeling that you don't let a lot of people take care of you the way you take care of everyone else. So allow me to be the one person who gets that privilege. At least for now?"

“Can’t be disappointed when no one will if you don’t let them.” He’s so tired it pops out of his mouth without realizing he’s said it, his inner monologue gone.

The utter shock to your system is as much about the hurt in his voice as anything else, and in less than a heartbeat you're wrapping your arms around him to hug him more tightly than you probably mean to. This gentle, sweet, kind man just...put up his walls a lot closer to himself than most other people do to keep his heart guarded from the very worst hurts, and that makes you ache. "I'm sorry people have disappointed you before. But I'm going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Shit. “I didn’t mean to say that.” He sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t move away from the hug though, slightly leaning into it.

"I was going to do my best to take care of you anyway," you tell him, overwhelmed in the honesty of the moment. "The only difference is now you know I'm doing it. That's not so bad, right?"

“No.” He can’t deny you, not right now. “Thank you.” He murmurs quietly.

"Come on, honey." When his arms loosen after a few moments, you turn into his side to walk with him. "Let's get you ready to sleep."

“God, I’m sorry.” He snorts. “Think I’ve had…three hours sleep in the last forty-eight hours?” It’s almost a question and he can’t quite calculate it.

"That's alright. I'm just glad I didn't send you out onto the road this tired." You never would have forgiven yourself if anything had happened to him, so you're doubly glad that he agreed to stay.

Getting ready for bed is relatively quick. You give him a spare toothbrush and he cleans up quickly for someone so tired. Eager to sleep. Two extra blankets and a spare pillow from your bed make the couch cozy enough, and you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek before leaving him to get comfortable. "Good night," you hum the words, finding his sleepy state endearingly cute but not wanting to tease him about it. "Soulmate."

“Goodnight.” The good thing about Marcus is he can sleep anywhere. Your couch is far superior to the one in his office and he’s almost asleep as his head settles into the pillow. “My beautiful soulmate.” His eyes are already closed. “Can’t believe you’re mine.” He whispers.

______

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

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

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jimmys-zeppelin · 2 months

Text

moonbeam

ch. vii

table of contents

may 26, 1998

What was Jimmy buying?

The question plagued Sabrina for far longer than she wanted it to. It was stupid, really, but she couldn’t shake the thought from her mind. The egg on her frying pan sizzled as she thought on Jimmy’s buying habits. The white began to brown at the edges and the smell snapped Sabrina from her daze.

It was already noon and there would barely be enough time to eat her still-cooking egg before she’d have to leave. Then again, she wasn’t worried about coming in late. It wasn’t like she’d be reprimanded for her tardiness. Taking five extra minutes wouldn’t put her job in jeopardy.

“I’ll just have to hire you to take care of my clothing mishaps, then,” Jimmy’s voice echoed in her mind from earlier that morning.

“Stupid,” she chuckled quietly, taking the frying pan off the fire and shaking it onto the waiting plate beside the stove. She hadn’t bothered to sit at the table because if she got too comfortable, she knew she wouldn’t get up. So she leaned over the counter, her Coca-Cola fizzing quietly in front of her. Distantly, she heard a buzz.

Her phone was ringing.

"Ugh, not the time," Sabrina mumbled as she shoveled most of the egg into her mouth and crossed into the living room where her purse lay on the sofa.

She could feel the buzz and heard her unmistakable ringtone of The Spice Girls' "Never Give Up On The Good Times" and she anxiously hummed along as she shuffled through her bag.

Finally, her fingers gripped the tiny black Nokia device. "What the—"

Jimmy Page — mobile

ANSWER | DECLINE

Without a second thought, Sabrina clicked to answer the call, choosing to ignore the indiscernible sinking feeling in her chest that came with seeing his name on her screen.

“Hello?” she answered with a start. Perhaps she was too quick.

“Sabrina, hi. Erm, hello," he sounded as if he were correcting himself.

“Hi, Jimmy,” Sabrina said, going back to her egg and Coke. "Another fashion emergency?" she teased.

There was a short pause, then he laughed. The bubbly laugh that hit her ears forced a smile onto her face and a flutter in her heart. She didn't want to feel this way about him, but she couldn't help it. He was so much older and there was no way in hell she'd be ready to get into anything else with someone else so soon. Despite Shaun’s having obviously moved on with Sarah.

But the way Jimmy drew her in made Sabrina feel like a dazed cartoon character being led blindly by an enticing piece of meat. She wanted him. And she knew he shamelessly flirted with her. She loved it more than she cared to admit.

"No, no, I just, uh," he paused, trying to find the words, "Well, I felt bad that our conversation was interrupted earlier at Boots this morning."

"Oh!" Sabrina took a sip of her soda. She grabbed the half-empty can and put it back into the refrigerator for later. Her egg was a leftover piece of whites—arguably the most boring part of the egg. She tossed the rest of it as she thought up a response. "Well, I'm about to head out to work, but I have a few minutes to chat." As many minutes as you need, Jimmy....

"Have I got you at a bad time?"

"Not at all. I'm the only one who's keeping the alterations business going. It's nothing too serious if I'm late," Sabrina shrugged on a windbreaker. It began to drizzle when she'd come back from Boots and she was sure the weather had gotten worse in the meantime. "Hey, you weren't serious about paying me triple for my job, were you?"

"If you want to work for me I can guarantee it'd probably be better. You'd only have to put up with me," Jimmy chuckled, "Plus you'll get to travel with me....and other benefits."

The tone of benefits made Sabrina’s heart beat just that much faster. If there was one thing Jimmy did well, it was his ability to talk to women.

"Benefits?" she questioned, an allure to her voice.

"Yes, well," he chuckled again and sighed, "I know you don't have time to talk now. Next time I see you I'll bring out the contract."

"Oh, God," Sabrina laughed, stuffing her keys into her pocket. She'd begun to grab the last few items she needed before leaving her apartment. "Your other suits are ready, by the way." Changing the subject was the only way she could slip out of the confrontation of admitting anything to Jimmy that she’d regret later.

"Ah, yes, I nearly forgot....I'll come by to get them. Maybe tomorrow. Unless you do house calls and can drop them off for me,” Jimmy said, hopeful.

"Well, I'm not your assistant, Jimmy,” Sabrina retorted with a chuckle, tugging the building door closed and ensuring it was locked. She yanked her hood over her head as the rain began to dot her cheeks.

"Doesn't hurt to ask," he replied. She knew he was smiling. "What time do you get off work? If that's not a strange question to ask."

It was certainly a question to ask. Strange? She couldn't tell.

"Store closes at eight. Whenever we finish the closing duties I'll be out," she said, taking her tube card out from her back pocket in preparation to tap it at the turnstile. She stood to the side, though, for fear that if she tapped in, she'd lose any and all phone signal. "Are you planning on ambushing me?"

"Perhaps...." Jimmy teased. "Just curious, really."

"Hey listen, I have to go, but if you want to talk more you can call the store and help me pass the time by pretending you’re putting in another order or something.”

"It's alright, I'll let Clarence's have their best employee for another day. I have some things I've been putting off myself."

"Alright. Well, let's talk soon, hm?" Sabrina said, picking at the bit of loose skin at the edge of her nail. For the second time that day he was nearly sending her into cardiac arrest. If they didn't get off the phone soon, she'd quit her job and run to work for Jimmy Page at his (probably) big, fancy house.

"Absolutely, Sab. Be safe out there, love."

Her stomach did about four somersaults.

"Thanks, Jimmy...bye."

"Bye."

He didn't hang up, and Sabrina watched the time duration continue on to 5:10, 5:11, 5:12 until she hung up. Sabrina had never felt this way for someone she had known for so little time. And someone famous, no less. She was terrified.

☽

The late May rain poured down outside. Humidity fogged up Clarence's thin, glass door, the logo decal barely visible from where she stood inside.

It was 8:15 in the evening. Sabrina felt grungy and gross. She needed a shower more than anything and knew her hair was in need of a wash. She had the next day's opening shift in twelve hours, but she knew already that she wouldn't be getting nearly enough sleep to power her through to the next day.

Most of Clarence's staff had gone home for the day, citing the rain as their main reason for heading out early, but Sabrina and a few other stragglers remained.

Luckily, Conner had worked the morning shift that day. After he'd left her place, he'd taken the train right to work and said he'd head home afterwards. Sabrina knew she wouldn't see him when she came in, and she was beyond thankful. She hadn't been ready to face him quite yet after the events of the previous night had transpired.

They kissed, they touched, and when they were nearly headed to their final destination, a rotten feeling in Sabrina's gut had taken root. Conner was more than understanding and Sabrina was terribly embarrassed, but they both went to bed on good terms. Things would sort themselves out between them, but Sabrina wanted to avoid Conner for as long as she could until then.

Sabrina yanked the vacuum cord to a more clear path. Thinking on all this, she realized she had been clenching her jaw. Grinding her teeth wasn't new, but her subconscious did it without her mind taking notice. She needed to schedule with the dentist.

As she finished up the area she'd been working on, the bell over the door jingled, the hefty winds and white noise from the rain became louder.

"Sorry, we're closed! Come back tomorrow, please," Sabrina called out, beginning to follow the cord to the vacuum when a soaked pair of loafers came into her view. Jimmy's.

"I'm sorry, I just—" he was out of breath, like he'd been running, "I needed to come see you."

"What?" was her automated response. His perfect curls were flat against his forehead. His cigarette-tinged cologne mixed with rainwater. Rain drops rolled off his soft leather jacket and dripped onto the carpet with muffled thuds. Sabrina could hear her own breaths. The texture of the vacuum cord suddenly became obvious to her fingertips.

"Sabrina, I know it's a horrible time, I'm soaked, I'm a mess, the store's closed, but I," Jimmy could hardly get the words out. Sabrina knew what he was going to say. She was so starstruck she almost didn't want to hear him say it. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since the day we met."

"Jimmy—" Me, too.

"Let me take you to dinner. Friday at seven. I'll pick you up. We'll go someplace nice."

Sabrina stood stunned. No words left her, her jaw hung ajar, her eyes searching his for any sign of a lie.

"If you say no I—"

"No, yes. Yes. Let's. I—" she stopped herself. The nerves were starting to hit. "Me?" she asked.

"There's no one else here, Sab. You're...I barely know you but I haven't felt like this about anyone in a long, long time. One date. That's all I ask."

"I don't even know how old you are..." Sabrina chuckled.

Jimmy's gut jumped with his laugh. Sabrina felt her insides melt a little at the sight. "I'm fifty-four. If it's too much, I think I'll die."

"Twice my age," Sabrina said, a smile playing at the edge of her lips. Mum's gonna hate this, she thought to herself.

"Twenty-seven," Jimmy said. Sabrina nodded. "Alright."

"Alright?" Sabrina said.

"Yeah...." he took a breath, letting himself take a look around the tiny store. "Now that I'm here," he started.

"I'll go get your suits," Sabrina smiled. She locked the vacuum into a standing position and dropped the power cord to the floor. Their eyes met briefly, but the look he gave her was different that time. Just as she passed him, Jimmy took hold of her hand, a slight tug held her back.

“Don’t be long…” Jimmy trailed off. The start of a cheeky smile played on the edges of his lips. When their eyes met, his lips grazed her middle finger just above her knuckle. A rush of excitement coursed through her.

“Don’t worry,” Sabrina replied, her voice so soft it was nearly a whisper.

Once sequestered in the fitting area upstairs, Sabrina tried her best not to jump and squeal out loud like a teenage girl, but with varied success. She couldn't help the unmoving smile on her face and hoped Jimmy would stay downstairs until she could better contain her feelings. The soft footsteps behind her proved her wrong.

Jimmy couldn't help but smile either.

"Excuse me, sir, this area is for employees only," Sabrina said.

“I couldn’t stay away,” Jimmy replied dryly, a chuckle on the horizon.

“Yeah, yeah, I bet,” Sabrina chided, zipping up the suit bags after ensuring both were Jimmy's.

She didn’t know what it was, but Jimmy felt right. She didn't want to take this for granted. Not one bit.

There was a pause, then he spoke. “How are you getting home?" Jimmy asked, his fingers tracing down the length of her arm until he reached her fingertips. He toyed with them in his hand. Sabrina wished he'd take and kiss each one of her fingers.

"It's alright, Jimmy, I was going to just tube it," she shrugged.

"Nonsense," he said softly. "I'll give you a lift home. It’s pouring rain out there.”

She didn't want to fight. Plus, the more time she could spend with him, the better.

"Fine," she conceded. "I just have to finish up downstairs and we can go."

☽

Sabrina knocked her knees together anxiously. The radio played softly in the dark interior of Jimmy’s car. He wasn’t driving, as she quickly learned that he’d had his own driver—Giuseppe—who took him all over whenever he pleased. Hell of a job that must be, Sabrina thought, Driving around Jimmy Page on his personal ventures.

Giuseppe was Italian, as she could infer from his heavy accent. They spoke briefly, Sabrina introducing herself upon entering the vehicle. Silence quickly followed. She could feel Jimmy watching her from where he sat at his opposing seat.

The moment was officially awkward.

“Where are you planning on taking me for our night out?” Sabrina asked, shadows of raindrops on the back windshield obscuring Jimmy's face.

Jimmy smiled slightly, “Um, well, I’ll have to see for sure where I can get us in, but I’m thinking Italian food. I know someone who owns a nice restaurant in Central London."

"I love Italian."

She loved pasta. And meatballs. But genuine Italian food was something she wasn't quite familiar with.

"It's nice, not too fancy. I wouldn't imagine you'd be thrilled with anything too extravagant."

"Well, I enjoy some extravagance sometimes," Sabrina giggled, "But you're right. The more intimate, the better."

Giuseppe made the turn onto her block. Sabrina almost didn't want to leave. What would they possibly talk about? She could just sit staring at him until the car ran out of petrol, nary a word being traded between them, but the thought of Giuseppe sitting there....waiting....would be much too awkward.

"Yes, good," Jimmy said, reaching for Sabrina's hand where it rested on the seat close by. He kissed her ice cold knuckles again, and noticed how her hand trembled slightly. "You alright?"

"Perfect. I'm always cold. Also I may or may not have eaten since we spoke on the phone earlier. Just a bit hungry."

And not to mention the absolute ride the last hour was for her.

"Sabrina..." Jimmy trailed off with a laugh, like he wanted to lecture her, but knew it wouldn't get him anywhere. The car slowed to a stop outside Sabrina's building. Jimmy peered out at the brown brick apartment complex. "This it?"

"Yeah. It's quite shitty, honestly," she exhaled a laugh, looking over to the building along with Jimmy. It was home to her. More of a home than her home for the previous three years had been. After university, Sabrina and Shaun had gotten a place in Chelsea. It was nice, yes, but Sabrina always felt a detachment to the place. The building was too modern, tenants rude, and near constant fucking or fighting occurring on the other side of opposing flat walls.

Sabrina hadn't been near the building since moving out in January. It harbored horrible memories—especially towards the end of things. Staring down at the positive pregnancy test, rejecting Shaun's proposal of marriage on New Year's Day, the bump was only just beginning to peek through her form fitting dress...

She hadn't thought about those days in a long time.

Jimmy squeezed her hand.

"Let me walk you to your door," he said gently.

His face held a sincerity she realized that not many did. The words didn't come, so she nodded.

The usually short walk from the sidewalk to her door felt like it lasted miles. Sabrina fumbled with her keys, the rain wetted the metal pieces and soon there was a dark shadow covering the yellow-white light over the old door. She looked up, seeing the interior of Jimmy’s worn leather coat over her head, protecting her from the rain.

“Such a romantic,” she chuckled, finding the right key seconds later.

“I didn’t have a chance to grab an umbrella on my way out."

"If you thought about me a little less, you may have remembered."

"Maybe so," Jimmy sighed. Rain drops landed on his curls, the locks of hair rustling like leaves in the wind. Sabrina wondered if she should invite him upstairs; let him borrow an umbrella...give him an excuse to see her again, maybe kiss her this time. His lips pursed as she watched him. "What's that look for?"

"Sorry," a shot of adrenaline ran through her, "Got a little lost in my thoughts."

"Lost in my eyes, yeah?"

"Shut up," she nudged him with her foot. The door opened. If she looked up at him again, then the moment would end. She sighed.

Jimmy's foot tapped hers, drawing her attention up to him. The glint in his eye made her heart's presence in her chest obvious to her ears.

"I guess I should go..." Sabrina started.

"I'll see you on Friday night," he said, using his free hand to graze her cheek using the backs of his fingers.

Sabrina hummed in agreement, "Now you have my address."

"Right-o..."

She exhaled a laugh.

"Sabrina—" he started.

She reached for him, her fingers light on his cheek to steady him as she drew him in. His lips were soft—softer than she'd expected them to be. The moment was quick, but definitive.

Their eyes met long enough for Sabrina to see the smile creep up on Jimmy's face, then she hurried inside. There was a quiet "Bye," said through the rain falling around them as she started into the building. Jimmy lingered for a beat, a smile permanently etched onto his face. Then, he shrugged his leather jacket back over his shoulders and started back to the car. Upstairs, he saw the glow of a light switch on.

masterlist | playlist

taglist: @knotnatural @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 @hejustsatisfiess @salixfragilis @rosyfingereddawnn @reincarnated70sbaby @starstofillmydream @kyunisixx @blackberryblossom @jimmypages @foreverandadaydarling @lzep @n0quart3r @verrbena-in-the-air @groovyysav @mystify1222 @maziecrazycloud if you want to be added to the list let me know!

#giggles mischievously #jimmy page #led zeppelin #fanfiction #fanfic #moonbeam #1998 #90s #rock and roll #classic rock #rock stars

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sillygoose067 · 3 days

Text

Over the 7 Seas

Ch. 33

Charles Leclerc x Reader

The next few days pass with a kind of mundaneness, going through the motions of your everyday life as usual. You text and call Charles in between breaks, usually late at night, because, as Sabrina Carpenter said, “I’m working late, ‘cause I’m a singer [and music producer]”.

Charles sends you a text one night. Are your suitcases packed?

…No,why?, you reply.

You didn’t forget that I’m taking you with me to LA, did you?

Shit. It had completely slipped your mind with how busy you’d been on a recent project.

…I did. Ok, thanks for the reminder though, I’ll get that done ASAP.

When’s the flight?

Of course, baby. I knew you had a lot on your mind. Flight’s in 2 days, I’ll pick you up around 1:30 pm, we board at 2:45.

…

The day of the flight, the moment Charles steps into your place, you drop everything and rush to him, hugging him tightly. He oofs in surprise but then reciprocates. “I missed you”, you mumble into his hoodie, squeezing him tighter.

When you part, he regards you with soft eyes and a little smile, cupping your cheek (which you lean into), and bending down to leave a peck on your lips. “I missed you too Cherie.”

By the time you’re boarding the plane, which you find out is somewhat private, meant to transport all the grid drivers to their destinations together, you are a ball of nervous energy. Now that you knew that the other drivers and their WAGs (a term Marie taught you, now that the two of you were a part of the category) would be there, you were worried about first impressions.

You hear loud laughter coming from inside the aircraft, and Charles manages to drag you in. You feel all eyes turn to you as your boyfriend pulls you along to your seats. You stand awkwardly, unsure of how to act when one of the women rises and welcomes you, taking your hand to come sit with her instead. “Hello! I’m Francisca, but just call me Kika. I’m Pierre’s girlfriend. Come sit with me and the girls so we can get to know each other more. Us women need to stick together, you know?”

Turning to Charles, you silently ask if it’s alright for you to leave your intended seat and join the WAGs instead. You get your answer when one of the other drivers, Max? claps Charles on the shoulder and hands him a Nintendo controller, plopping down into your original seat as Charles shrugs at you.

You get introduced to Kelly, Lily, Heidi, Lily Z., Carmen, and Rebecca, all wonderful, beautiful women. You share stories about your different occupations, and how each person met their partner. You meet P, Max and Kelly’s daughter, a sweet little girl bubbling over in curiosity. When it’s your turn to share, you tell the ladies about California being your home state, and one of your plans being to go to some beaches.

“Wow! Can we come too?”, asks Kika.

“Sure, I’m sure Charles won’t mind.”

“Yay! Ok, I’ll just check with Pierre, he should be fine with it.”

“And I’ll talk to Carlos. There’s no way that man’s going to refuse me”, says Rebecca slyly.

Kelly tells you that unfortunately, she’d already made plans to take Penelope to Disneyland, and Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, tells you that she’d love to come, but she has a golf tournament the entirety of her stay.

The eight of you bond over how cute your drivers are and predict how the next GP will go.

…

When you land in LA, you’re met with a sweltering heat you certainly hadn’t missed. The staff drop all of you off at our respective hotels. Charles changes out of his sweater and into a T-shirt. You decide to stay in for the day and rest.

“Wow! An infinity pool! That’s so cool, I’ve never seen one before!”, you exclaim excitedly as you skip around the hotel room– No, actually, the hotel suite because your boyfriend just didn’t know how to even pretend to be broke. Not that you minded, duh. Poor man had to follow you around as you yanked him around by the arm.

You both take some cooling showers and change into some thinner clothes for the sake of not melting into the ground from the heat.

Refreshed and lazing around in each other’s comfort, Charles rolls on top of you. “Oof”, you groan. He simply ignores you and lays his head on your stomach while you run your fingers through his hair. “Cheri, I think I’m going to take a nap like this.”

You let out a horrified shriek. “Charles! I will literally die if you do that. You DO know that you have a huge head… and a lot of it is from your ego.”

He tickles you in response and you squeal, squirming to get out from under him, but his weight on top of you traps you, his fingers relentles. When you finally manage to take a breath, cheeks flush and glowing, hair askew, Charles pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of you. “What was that for?”

“Mmm, I finally have the perfect lock screen wallpaper, duh.” He sticks his tongue out at you.

You hum, unable to move yet. “Your fingers are evil”, you comment.

Your boyfriend just lifts his head and smirks, mirth in his eyes. “Really? You’ll be saying something VERY different about my fingers in a few months.”

You just quirk an eyebrow, confused by what he means when it hits you. Somehow you find it in you to smack him. “Charles, ewwww!” And the little bitch just cackles. You mumble something into your arm.

“What was that baby?”

You whine, refusing to repeat, but he pokes your stomach again and you’d rather not be tickled again while you’re already so weak from the last round. “I said… it might not take a few months…”, and somehow you manage to turn even redder while you watch his eyes widen and pupils dilate.

#fluff #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #smut #f1 #formula 1

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justrandomfanfictionskh · 1 year

Text

We Should have Stayed in Gotham ch 4

(Almost every Maribat fic I read has the akuma class going to Gotham. But tell me which is more likely, a class touring the city of crime, or a class touring the city of lights? So here it is, the Daminette fic that only I asked for, where Gotham goes to Paris, and the poor students have to grapple with the fact that they have competition for the most dangerous city in the world. I wonder what will happen?) (a/n: Warning dark Conversation. Don't be taken off guard.)

ao3 Beginning Previous

Despite what his brothers might say, Damian did not hate fun. He just hated their idiotic brand of fun that usually found them needing Bruce and the WE PR team to bail them out of jail while Barbara laughed at them from the other side of the bars. (He would never forgive Todd from stopping him from freeing the Zoo Animals. They would have gotten away with it if he had just followed orders.) Still, he planned to have fun on this trip, especially at the Louvre. He had always wanted to see the inside of this place, the art, the history, maybe even correct some of the factual errors. A scavenger hunt would not interfere with that, even if it was tedious and pointless.

But then Alix and Kathryn had skated by waving a half-completed work sheet shouting, “You’re falling behind!” Apparently, they had gotten a head start by going through her father’s office. Mendeleiev just groaned as manic grins spread across multiple students’ faces, including Marinette’s.

And so it was, that before any of the teachers could stop them, the Parisians had grabbed their Gothamite’s hand and took off running through the halls of the most famous museum in the world. Damian didn’t know how to react as Marinette pulled him through wing after wing, her hand holding his in a vice grip, until they stopped in the Egyptian hall. He was surprised to see that she wasn’t panting, even though she had to be running at full speed in order to stay ahead of him.

Instead she just skidded to a stop and began to say in very broken German, “Ok…the first…question…is about…”

Damian cleared his throat, and said in French “You want to win this, right?” Marinette cocked her head but nodded. “Then I think it will be best if we stick to our fluent languages. We can help each other after we finish demolishing your insane classmates.”

Marinette grinned and then said in English, “Very well, but what about your classmates. Won’t they be a problem?”

Damian glanced at his work sheet and raised an eyebrow. “I doubt they will be much help. After all I’m not even sure what this first question means. Is it some sort of riddle?”

Marinette laughed and pulled him deeper into the wing. “Sabrina and your class representative, no you call it president, made this to encourage us to ask questions about each other,” she explained, “‘The scroll that awoke the Pharaoh, and revealed the secret of the Bug,’ is a reference to the akuma Pharaoh. He was a researcher here at the Louver whose theory on resurrection magic was dismissed, so he was akumatized in order to prove it worked. He tried to sacrifice Alya to the god Ra.”

Damian squashed a quip about how that would not have been the worst thing, instead settling on the more pressing question, “And the secret of the Bug?”

Marinette stopped in front of an old papyrus scroll, her smile fond and almost nostalgic as she looked at it. She pointed at the image of a woman with a yoyo in a spotted robe fighting the Pharaoh. “It was during this fight that it was revealed that Ladybug was over five thousand years old.”

Damian nodded as he looked at the scroll with consideration. “I thought the SpotsOn blog said that the title of Ladybug was a mantle passed down.”

“It is,” Marinette said as she scribbled on her work sheet. “But it was this scroll that set the question in motion. Since then scholars have been scouring the artifacts looking for people who could have a Miraculous Holder.”

“So why is it on our work sheet?” Damian asked.

And Marinette once more smiled as if at a fond memory. “I was with Alya when she found this. I got turned into one of the hundred mummies meant to aid in the sacrifice. Believe it or not we were actually good friends back then.”

Damian opened his mouth to say something, but Marinette clapped her hands and spun towards him with a smile. “Alright, the first one was for Paris, the second one should be for Gotham. Alix and Kathryn, have a good head start, but if we run, and take a few short cuts I know, then we should be able to catch up and beat them!”

Damian stifled a grin with a smirk. Her competitive spirit was infectious, and it pulled at his own instincts to push them to victory. And he was so tempted to give into it. He was the Son of the Bat after all, there was no way they could lose. But Grayson was always warning him that he overdid it, so he fought the urge to string trip wire everywhere and looked down at his sheet. His smirk turning devilish. “Are there any bat artifacts in the Chinese Wing?”

Marinette nodded briskly, “Tang Dynasty, this way!” And with that she had grabbed his hand and was once again pulling him through the Louvre at a devastating pace. And as the game went on, Damian stopped denying the genuine and bright smile that was slowly growing on his lips. But even as he gave into his more competitive instincts, he noticed a few interesting details about the Parisians.

For example, the Museum had obviously prepared for them, because they had roped off designated running lanes so the students could go wild without breaking anything or disrupting the other guests. And as they zoomed past, while the tourists stared in shock, the employees and locals laughed and cheered them on. It was strange considering that in Gotham they would have had security called on them ages ago.

Another thing was that all the Parisians were strangely athletic. Even the ones who should have been out of breath at the first sprint, vaulted and laughed as if it was nothing. At the pace he and Marinette were keeping, he expected that she would have to slow down after the first three questions. Instead, she only seemed to gain speed as she pulled him after her in a rush of adrenaline. And she never slowed down. Even when her classmate, the tall Chinese one, barreled toward them with his partner on his back, Marinette never slowed. She just pulled Damian down so that they slid down the slick floor, as the boy vaulted over them with ease.

Leaping to her feet, Marinette continued to pull Damian along even as her peer shouted, “I’m going to get you Mari!”

“In you dreams Kim!” she shouted. She beamed with pure joy, and Damian felt his own adrenaline muddling his senses, because he found himself mirroring her.

“What was that?” He demanded when they reached the Enlightenment Room.

“Hm?” Marinette said even as she searched the artifacts, “Oh, have you ever played the floor is lava?”

Damian grimaced against the memory. Grayson had thought it was a good idea to yell that phrase in the middle of Titan’s Tower, resulting in Jon scooping him up and hovering over the floor. Everyone had laughed as Damian thrashed like a kitten in the bath. It was one of his more embarrassing memories. “Once or twice,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Have you ever played it with real lava?”

Damian cocked his head at the question then nodded his head in understanding, “Lava Boy, he was a level 10 right?”

“You read the list,” Marinette said with a smug smile.

“Tt,” Damian said has he scanned for their opponents. “Of course, I did, I’m not an imbecile. But what does this have to do with the fact that your entire class seems to be experts in parkour?”

“Not the entire class,” Marinette mused as she jotted down the answer. “Just those who know to pay attention in gym. Parkour became a curriculum requirement after Lava Boy. Every Parisian school teaches it as apart of our Physical Education. Or as we like to call it, ‘Running from Akumas 101.’”

Damian nodded his understanding. It was smart. It made him wonder why Gotham schools didn’t teach self-defense. But then again, maybe they did. He never really paid attention in class. But he had no time to ponder, because Marinette was grabbing his hand again and pulling him to the next artifact.

They ran into Alix and Kathryn twice, and saw that they were catching up, as the pair debated if they should be going towards Modern Art, or Ancient Greece. Which was when Damian noticed something else about Marinette, she was smart. When she had competed with him in languages, he had known that she had intelligence. But now she barely had too look at the clues to know the item they were talking about. And they really were some of the strangest clues, for example, “This Queen’s spear is lauded as Luck’s greatest hand.”

“That could be anything!” Damian exclaimed.

“Queen Hippolyta’s spear was donated by Wonder Woman back in 1983, as a gift to her adopted city,” Marinette stated and then dashed off.

“Wait how did you know that?” Damian cried as he chased her.

“Hippolyta was the first named Ladybug, although technically she was the second holder. The first was the Oracle of Khepri, although her name was lost to time. We saw her scroll like ten minutes ago.”

Damian just shook his head and followed her without question. And that was another strange thing that he noticed. He didn’t mind following this girl around. Under normal circumstances, he would have demanded the lead. But Marinette just pulled him along as if her leadership was the most natural thing in the world. And as of yet, Damian could not begrudge her for it. And so it was in less time than he thought possible, they were racing back to the teachers with Alix and Kathryn hot on their heels and gaining. Then Marinette pulled out a bag of marbles and scattered them on the floor.

“Hey!” Alix yelled as the two girls were forced to slow down, “That’s cheating!”

“No rule against it!” Marinette shouted back as Damian laughed.

Mlle. Mendeleiev was pinching her nose as the pair skidded to a stop in front of her and handed her their completed work sheets. “I hope,” she said in her stern voice, “That the two of you got to talk at least once during that…escapade?”

“Yes Mlle. Mendeleiev,” Marinette said with her signature bright smile growing even as Damian sunk back into his signature scowl.

“Oh, and what did you learn about each other,” Bustier said with her signature plastered smile and too sweet voice.

“That Damian knows a lot about bats but not a lot about bugs.”

Damian couldn’t help the amused snort, even as the teachers rolled their eyes and took their sheets. But it was one of the Gotham teachers, Miss. Faustus who said, “You finished three hours early. Why don’t you two go back through the museum slower this time? Or perhaps spend time at the museum’s café?”

The two nodded their assent and then waited for Alix and Kathryn to turn in their sheet. “Well,” Marinette said, beaming so brightly, Damian was sure he was going to go blind. “We won!”

“You cheated!” Alix cried in mock annoyance as she skated up to them.

“Tt,” Damian said, “You were the ones with a head start, not to mention you were on skates. If anything, you were the ones that cheated, and yet we still were victorious. I do not know if that proves the depths of your ineptitude or the height of our excellence, but either way, you cannot argue with the results.”

Kathryn face palmed, as Alix stared at him in shock. Suddenly Damian was very aware that offending the wrong person in this city could result in a villain chasing him down. But he refused to back down as he tilted his chin to the girl, daring her to question him. Instead, Alix just turned to Marinette who seemed completely unfazed by his attitude.

At her friend’s questioning look, Marinette smiled gently. “Imagine if Kagami and Chloe were one person, and male. That’s him,” she said jutting her thumb at Damian. He furrowed his brow at the comparison, but faced Alix undaunted all the same.

She however just said “Oh,” as if that made perfect sense and then studied him more critically. Then her face split into the widest, most mischievous grin, Damian had ever seen (and he lived with Jason). A little nervous he took a step back even as Alix leaned forward and said, “We kill Lila!”

“Alix, no!” Marinette cried.

“Alix, yes!” Alix cried grabbing Damian’s shoulders before he could even begin to process what was happening as she said in a hissing voice, “Come! We have murder to plan!”

“No murder!” Marinette cried, even as Damian threw her hands off of him.

“First,” he said coldly, “Never touch me again. Second, I assume you have a strategy?”

Alix cackled and led him to the café even as Marinette screamed in frustration.

---------------------------------------

“So,” Kathryn said once they were all seated at the Museum’s outdoor café, “Who is this Lila and why are we trying to kill her?”

Damian remained silent as he watched the Parisians. They had only ordered drinks, because apparently the best bakery in Paris was catering their “Getting to Know You Party” later. So he sipped his as he watched Marinette tense, and Alix huff in frustration. It seemed, that now her adrenaline from the game was spent, the roller blading menace was ready to be serious. But it was Marinette who began the story.

“Lila,” she said simply, “Is a compulsive liar in our class. The only way to ensure that she didn’t akumatize anyone from Gotham was to pair her with the worst French speaker in your class, because she doesn’t know a lick of English no matter what she might claim.”

“When she first came here,” Alix said anger dripping from her every word, “She would tell all of these crazy stories about the places she’s been, and the celebrities she’s met. Of course, none of us actually believed her. We actually personally know a lot of the celebrities she likes to name drop so we always knew she was lying. We thought it was just some sort of game she liked to play, so we entertained her. It wasn’t doing any harm.”

“I never liked the game,” Marinette said as she stirred her coffee. “So I asked her to stop, and she threatened me. It was the only time she’s ever been completely honest.”

Alix took a deep calming breath, an action which Damian was quickly learning to associate with deep negative emotions from the Parisians. “That’s when her lies became a little less obvious,” she said, “She started sneaking subtler lies in with her obvious ones, slowly turning the class against Marinette. Started framing her for stealing, cheating, and bullying. Things like that.”

“She almost got me expelled,” Marinette said into her cup. And Damian couldn’t stop the shock from spreading across his face.

“Are you saying that your teachers believed her?” Damian demanded. He had only known this girl for an hour and a half, but already he felt that her being anything other than a model student was just preposterous.

But Marinette didn’t seem to register his outrage as she just shrugged and said, “The principle is more worried about funding and press than justice,” she said, “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but Mlle. Bustier is a bit naive. Mlle. Mendeleiev is great, and she doesn’t let Lila get away with anything. But Mlle. Bustier…”

“That woman needs her license revoked,” Alix said in a huff, “And she probably would have by now if it wasn’t for Hawkmoth.”

“So?” Kathryn said leaning forward, “What happened?”

“Adrien,” Marinette said with a sigh of exhaustion, “Another classmate. Apparently, he talked to her, made a deal with her to back off. He told me about it as if it was this grand gesture on his part. But basically, it boils down to, he lets her do whatever she wants as long as she doesn’t directly target me.” Marinette rolled her eyes, “His heart's in the right place, but his arrows don’t always hit their marks if you know what I mean.” The Gothamites nodded and then gestured for the girls to continue.

“So anyway,” Alix said, “Later, Lila comes forward and admits that she lied. Claims she has a mental disorder that forces her to lie. Only, that night Marinette goes home and does a crap-ton of research on mental illnesses and lying and guess what?”

“There’s no such thing,” Damian said with a sneer.

Marinette just shook her head, “Compulsive lying is a symptom of many different illnesses, mainly OCD and psychopathy. But neither force the individual to lie. The person is always conscious of what they are doing, and can chose differently given that they are actively working towards their mental health.”

“And when Marinette presented her research,” Alix said, “The class basically split in two. The enablers who think the best way to help Lila is to humor her. And the intelligent people, who are just sick and tired of her crap.”

“Me, Chloe, Sabrina, Alix, and Juleka are the most outspoken members of the Intelligent,” Marinette explained. “Alya, Rose, and Mylene are the most outspoken of the Enablers. Everyone else falls on a sliding scale in between. But of course, none of this would even be a problem it is wasn’t for Hawkmoth.”

“Yeah,” Alix said sipping her coffee, “Hawkmoth has everybody thrown out of whack. I mean how do you in good conscious call someone out for being an idiot, when they’re enough of an idiot to let that akumatize them.”

“Next thing you know,” Marinette said, “You're running through the city with a horribly dressed flying fox demon on your tail.”

Both girls groaned and sipped their drinks, as Damian exchanged a look with Kathryn. Finally, Damian asked the question that had been plaguing him since the moment he had heard the name Hawkmoth, “What about the Justice League? Why hasn’t anyone called them in?”

“Screw the League,” a harsh voice called out, and the party turned to see Chloe and Sabrina with Alice and Will following behind.

“Chloe,” Marinette said instantly brighter, “You’re done early. I thought you would be dragging your feet in there.”

“Chloe helped me make the scavenger hunt so she can’t participate,” Sabrina said sliding into the chair beside Marinette. “So, we decided to do a walking tour with our partners instead.”

Everyone then introduced themselves, with Damian being introduced to Chloe last. They stared at each other with narrowed eyes before huffing simultaneously and sipping their drinks. The rest of the group giggled at that before Alice said, “What do you mean, ‘screw the League?’ I know some of them are blowhards, but they do have some powerful magic users. They can help.”

Chloe sniffed derisively, but the rest of the Parisians became somber. They looked to Chloe almost as if asking for her permission before she nodded. Then Marinette cleared her throat and said,

“It was three years ago, at the beginning of this…mess. At first all of the akumas were level 1-4s. Powerful and scary but not dangerous. No casualties, and they always had limited goals. It was very rare for them to effect more than ten people. Then…then we got our first level eight, Dark Cupid.”

“I saw him in my research,” Damian said stiffly, “I couldn’t understand why he was put so high, all of the other level eights had a death count in the high thousands, but his wasn’t even in the high hundreds.”

Sabrina nodded emphatically, her face contorted with pain, “Yes. The akumas are categorized by the damage they do. Which means that the higher akumas are rated by their death count. 5 is 1-1,000. 6 is 1,000-10,000. 7 is 10,000-1 million. 8 is 1 million-10 million. 9 is 10 million to 1 billion. and 10 is anything high than a billion.”

“But there are other kinds of damage that rank just as high as death,” Marinette said as she reached over to grip Chloe’s hand which was starting to shake. “When those akumas happen on a wide scale, they are usually ranked higher.”

“And Dark Cupid was one of those?” Kathryn asked.

“I read about him too,” Alice said leaning forward. “There weren’t any fight videos of him on the blog, but it said that he made people feel the opposite of their true emotions. What does that even mean?”

The girls took a deep breath and looked to Chloe again. She just nodded as she stared numbly into her coffee. It was Alix who spoke, “Dark Cupid was a boy whose Valentine humiliated him. So he made people feel the opposite of their true emotions. Love turned to hate. Hate turned to love.”

“I don’t see the problem,” Damian said, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Oh!” Will cried, horror etched over his face. “Oh, that…that’s awful!”

“What?” Kathryn demanded.

Marinette sighed and looked them in the eyes. There was something hard and cold in her gaze, and it seeped into her voice as she said, “Imagine the person you love the most. The person you trust the most, parent, sibling, partner, spouse, being struck with a black arrow and then turning against you. They are consumed with a burning obsessive hatred for you and everything else they love. What do you think would happen?”

Damian paled at the thought. He could imagine it. He didn’t want to, but he could see it happening. His family sitting down to dinner, suddenly struck from behind…and then turning on him. It was a horrible image and he wanted to forget he ever saw it, but Marinette was not done.

“Now, imagine the person you hate. You’re worst enemy, and the same thing happens to them. Except now, with love. Or perhaps more accurately…lust. You’re enemy filled with an obsessive drive to ‘love’ you, just as your loved ones are filled with an obsessive drive to hate you. What do you think happens then?”

Damian was suddenly very glad that he had not eaten anything, because he was going to throw up. The images that Marinette was painting for them. They were horrible. They were gruesome, and disgusting on so many levels. And…and they had lived through that. He looked up and saw it. All four of these girls had faced that. Spouses turning on their partners. Parents turning on their children. Friends turning on their friends. All on a day when they were supposed to be celebrating their love and trust. And then to add their enemies into the mix…

“Only 136 dead,” Sabrina said solemnly, “But over three million reports of assault and battery, and over ten thousand reported rapes, and sexual assaults. And those were just the people who came forward.”

“We called the Justice League,” Chloe said as a single tear fell down her quivering jaw. “We broke their website begging for help, once the Miraculous Cure passed through. But they never answered.”

“Three more akumas were created because of that,” Marinette said squeezing Chloe’s hand as Sabrina wrapped her arms around her. “Eventually Ladybug gave a press release saying she got in contact with an International member, but she didn’t say whom. Here,” Marinette pulled up a video on YouTube and showed it to them. “You can watch that later. It basically says that miraculous matters are miraculous matters, and the Justice League will not be coming unless it’s a level 11 akuma.”

“Level 11?” Kathryn squeaked.

“Yeah,” Alix said with an amused huff, “Otherwise known as the ‘How in God’s Name are You Still Alive!’ Protocol.”

“If either Ladybug, or Chat Noir ever lose their Miraculous to Hawkmoth. Then the other is to retreat and go into hiding, while every citizen still alive in Paris spams the Justice Leagues number until someone shows up,” Marinette said with a small smile. “It hasn’t happened yet, but we’ll be prepared if it does.”

“Were you?” Alice looked at the shaking Chloe, her voice hesitant and soft. “I’m sorry but you told me that you used to have a lot of enemies. So…were you…um…”

Chloe sniffed and straightened, she was as rigid as a bored, but her chin was up and her jaw was set. Her eyes had not lost their fire as she scoffed and said, “Kwami no, no one touched me during Dark Cupid. I was the bitch who caused the whole thing.”

The Gothamites blinked. “What?” Damian demanded.

“You heard me,” Chloe said firmly squeezing Marinette’s hand. “Dark Cupid. The most emotionally scaring akuma aside from Sand Boy. I caused him. I was the dumb bitch who humiliated the boy and made Valentines day banned in Paris! It was my fault.”

“Chloe—” Sabrina began, but the heiress silenced her by leaning forward and growling,

“I caused more akumas, and suffering in this city, then Joker has probably done in a year. Everyday I wake up knowing that I am probably the most despicable being on the planet. But you know what? Everyday I wake up and decide to change that. It will never be enough. I will never undo the damage I did to Paris. But damn it, I’m trying! And I’m not alone.

“This is Paris. If you haven’t been an akuma, you’ve caused one, and no one is immune. Not even angels who are too good for this world like, Sabrina and Marinette heaven help them! So everyday we wake up knowing that we are villains! But every day we wake up and we swear we are going to do better. We make amends and we try. We’re all monsters, but we all have one enemy, and that’s the idiot who thinks he can put chains on monsters and not get bit!”

Chloe was seething now. Her teeth bared. Her eye wide. But she was still in control, and she stared them all down with the deadly force of a lioness. It quelled any arguments, pinning the Gothamites to there seats. As she roughly wiped the tears from her eyes, she declared,

“So yeah, screw the Justice League. As far as I’m concerned, they can all go and suck it! This is Paris, and we clean up our own messes. Besides even if they did show up, there’s nothing they can do. Ladybug is right, this is a Miraculous problem to be solved by Miraculous Holders.”

“Besides,” Sabrina said in a far gentler tone, “Do any of you really want to see and akumatized Superman? Or Batman?”

Everyone shivered at the thought, even Damian. He then drew in on himself as he thought about everything they had said. Lila. Hawkmoth. Dark Cupid. Chloe. The Justice League. Not all of his questions were answered, not by a long shot. But then he remembered the scavenger hunt. The pure joy radiating off of the Paris Class as they ran through the Museum. The genuine laughter of the employees at seeing their antics. The bright smiles of the civilians as they walked with their heads held high down the streets. They had been through hell, like Gotham never had. But where Gothamites scurried and scowled they…smiled.

Even now as he looked up to study the four girls before them, they were smiling. Bright, genuine, pure smiles. They laughed as they pulled the Gothamites out of their horror. They cheered as more of their friends joined them from within the museum. It was strange. It was confounding, confusing, and impossible for Damian to comprehend. It was…miraculous.

And so Damian whispered to himself in his heart, "I swear on mantle as Robin, and on my title as the Son of the Bat, and the Demon's Heir, I will do everything in my power to defeat Hawkmoth."

@night-ngale @annastasha @ev-cupcake @hammalammadamdam @laydeekrayzee @itsemmylie @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @doglover82 @raven-ette @atiredartistandacat

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cautiously0ptimistic · 6 months

Text

The Journey Forward

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devilsmenu · 5 months

Text

Spotify wrapped meme (@spellbcok)

🎵+ 15

13. Shirayukihime orchestra mix

"I know we supposed to close our eyes and sleep but my insomnia it's hitting me so hard. Let's watch something on streaming or talk" Ally suggested to Sabrina.

#spellbcok #feat sabrina #ch: ally

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queenscharacters · 6 days

Note

“What’s with the face? Do you not like him?” Sabrina to Carson

Carson wasn’t sure if Sabrina was genuinely uncertain, just nervous, or trying to diffuse the tension. Honestly, he was still a little more focused on the stuffed animal in his hands and her voice kind of sounded far away. He didn’t know how she managed to find a weighted toucan plush - it definitely looked like something for a nursery, but that kind of endeared him all the more - and he didn’t miss the fact that it smelled like her. The fact she was referring to it as a ‘him’ made him love the thing all the more.

And when he finally met Sabrina’s gaze, it was like he was seeing a whole new person. This was not just his best friend. She was, of course, the bestest friend he ever had, but…the love he had for her was so much more than platonic. He would never get over his resentment of his accident, but he now recognized that without it, he wouldn’t have her, and that was a trade he was no longer comfortable making.

“I don’t know what to do with you.” Carson’s voice was strangled. He made peace with crying ages ago, but he was also smiling so big now. Gently, he tossed the stuffed animal onto his bed, then wasted no more time to scoop Sabrina up in a hug. He had gotten many gifts from her before, but none that had hit him as hard as this. It made him feel so incredibly seen and loved.

“I love him, bug.” He murmured into her hair, holding her close. He kept his favorite stuffed animals on display, but his extra sentimental ones stayed locked up. This was now his favorite one of them all and he knew he’d he sleeping with him nightly. “Almost as much as I love you. Are you fucking for real right now?”

#carson and sabrina #ch: carson weaver #ask: carson

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sireditsalot4 · 4 months

Text

A cry for help CH 4

“We’re going to moon bathe? That’s new,” you try not to laugh. The look Hilda gives you makes you stop.“What does this require?”

“Nothing. Just you.” Prudence responds. Slipping her fingers underneath the material on her shoulder she slips the material down and does the same thing to her other shoulder and lets her dress drop and pool around her feet, leaving her in a black two piece lace lingerie. Your mouth drops open in shock. “Are you serious? No-” “Come on, please. It’ll be fun!” Sabrina begs. Looking around, you watch the school, Sabrina Ambrose, Prudence’s sisters and Zelda disrobe and soon you’re the only person left still clothed. You look over at Zelda who is now in a white cami lace dress with stitched in sun flowers at the bottom hem that leaves your mouth even more widely open. Luckily no one saw you.

Zelda glances around to see everyone has unrobed except you and sighs. “Alright. Everyone outside. Come on we have blankets and rugs outside ready for you to lay on.” All the students start to head for the door. Looking around you look down at your shirt and smack your lips before peeling it over your head. “That’s the spirit, love. You look lovely,” Hilda encourages. Kicking off your pants you're now left in a black and red striped low cut underwear and matching bra. Looking up you see Zelda quickly glance down your form before going back to the task at hand. A blush spreads across your cheeks. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Following everyone outside, you walk to a group of five rugs in a circle. Taking yours, Zelda takes the one on your right, Sabrina takes the one on your left leaving Hilda and Ambrose to the rest. “Now we hold hands, and pray to the moon, for he gives us the strength we’ll possess tonight.” Zelda takes your hand and you freeze. Closing her eyes, Zelda starts to pray, “We pray tonight to the moon who gives us light, that shines our path home every night,” looking up, you take this time to admire her features, her ginger hair curls laying perfectly on her shoulders and down her back, her makeup being on point as usual. After that evening with her in the living room you spent all day wondering how you were going to get back that moment. Maybe this’ll be the moment.

Zelda finishes her prayer. “Praise Selene.” A glow starts to radiate from you and you look around to see everyone else glowing.

“I feel tingly,” Sabrina squirms. You watch and you also feel tingly-

Feeling Zelda shiver, you look over and see her shivering.

#chillingadventuresofsabrina #zelda spellman x reader #chaos #zelda spellman

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nionom-art · 1 year

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Do you have a basic storyline in mind or who dies each chapter/who survives the game planned out for your Danganronpa AU, or are you just thinking about the designs for now (which have been super cute and spot on)?

I can pair each character’s potential death with a chapter number based on the DR formula and their vibes lol, and now I’m thinking about who’d survive. For some characters I can see them going both ways.

Sorry this took me so long to get to (i wanted to be sure about my chapter set up before I answered).

So- the victims and the culprits, chapter by chapter:

Ch 1.: culprit: Zoe. Sympathetic angle. Similar to Kaede in D3. Victim: Juleka. (Rose is furious and a massive help in this case- same with Luka.)

Ch. 2.: culprit: Nathaniel. Only goes after Luka once he confronts Nathaniel about having involvement in Juleka’s case. I want this case to be complicated and sad.

Ch. 3.: culprit: Sabrina. First, Chloe and Sabrina go after Marinette, but end up killing Rose instead. Sabrina then kills Chloe. Double murder case.

Ch. 4.: culprit: Kagami. Victim: Kagami. It’s pretty much Sakura’s trial in D1. (Adrien and Marinette are particularly distraught).

Ch. 5: culprit: probably Lila. Victim: Alya. (Marinette is framed- we get a ch 5 Makoto situation here).

Ch 6.: we find out who the ultimate despair is

Survivors: Marinette, Nino, Adrien, Alix, and Mark

So yeah, that’s what I got so far

#miraculous danganronpa #danganronpa spoilers #danganronpa #miraculous ladybug #ml #ask

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campbyler · 7 months

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I’ll keep this one shorter than the last ask lol

THIS CHAPTER WAS SO GOOD SJSHHDHS AND THE PLAYLIST UPDATED 🤭🥳🤭🥳 FAST TIMES BY SABRINA CARPENTER IS SUCH A GOOD SONG AND IT FITTING WITH THE FIRST LIL PARAGRAPH ABOUT MIKE IS SOMETHING SO PERSONAL TO ME 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

I was also wondering….if maybeeee….we’ll get El’s Official Camp Games Playlist on spotify…at some point…maybe…👀👀 (obviously no pressure tho but as a Proud Purple Cabin Member™️ i’d eat that up.)

VERY EXCITED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER 🕺💃🕺💃 I HOPE ALL IS WELL 🫶

FAST TIMES IS SUCHHHHHH A GOOD SONG!!!! AND THANK YOU!

you know. i didn't actually make a camp games playlist (booo i know) but if i have the time to before ch 7 drops, i'll post it. :)

I AM ALSO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!!! SUNI IS GOING TO KILL IT!!1

#asks

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jimmys-zeppelin · 4 months

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moonbeam

ch. vi

table of contents

two weeks later

may 25, 1998

The air around her was stagnant and cold. A slew of women, young and old, waited quietly. Each one occupied themselves with reading a magazine, watching the muted television intently, or talking to one another. Sabrina, on the other hand, bounced her leg incessantly and bit down at the edge of her nail, just wishing the whole process could be over and done with.

On the television, This Morning was half covered by the captions, rendering the segment on whether or not new moms should formula-feed their babies unwatchable. The content couldn't have been shown at a more inappropriate time.

"Sabrina Qualley?" a soft voice from across the room called. Sabrina shot up, barely able to sling her bag over her shoulder before she was headed for a near sprint to the nurse.

Sabrina clutched her cross-body bag as she followed the nurse through the twists and turns of the Planned Parenthood clinic.

"Come in here, we're going to just take your weight and blood pressure," the nurse, whose name tag read Veda, said. She tapped her bright pink pen at the door of the room Sabrina was to go into.

"Even for just a meeting with Jenna?" Sabrina asked.

The nurse shrugged at her apologetically, "Formalities, dear. Everyone's got to have their vitals taken."

Understandable.

Then the nurse flipped through her chart, "Plus it's been a bit since your last visit for your—" she squinted further at the first page of Sabrina's chart. "Procedure...so, erm. We'll have to take those vitals today," there was a beat, "How have you been since then?"

"Normal," Sabrina shrugged. She felt the grotesque pit in her stomach sprout. This would absolutely not be the normal day she had wanted to have.

Sabrina stepped onto the scale, unable to comprehend the number as the nurse moved the weights around until they balanced for a moment. She caught the number as the nurse scribbled it down: 12 stone. She had had her shoes on, though, so Sabrina discounted two pounds from the amount.

"Now's the blood pressure. Just try to relax yourself. Think good thoughts."

A field of flourishing green entered Sabrina's mind as she closed her eyes. Warm sun engulfed her and the grass coaxed her to lay down and take a nice, relaxing nap. To be thousands of miles from the gloom and doom of England would be most welcome.

She snapped back into reality when the velcro was ripped apart. The nurse—Vanessa, was it?—removed her pink stethoscope and gave Sabrina a tight-lipped smile. "Normal."

"Great," Sabrina replied, sounding not nearly as excited as she expected herself to sound.

"Now," she started, taking hold of her pen and clicking it open. "Date of your last period?"

"May 15," Sabrina replied definitively.

"No irregularities after your procedure?"

She shook her head. She was surprised when February 15 came along and her cycle was as on time as ever.

"Last thing...We have your emergency contact listed as Natalie Pemberton, is that still correct?"

"Uhm," Sabrina hesitated, "No. I'd like to change it to my brother if that's alright." There was a small pang of hurt when she said the words.

"Okay, they can take his information at the desk when you're leaving," Veda closed Sabrina's file and stood up. "Jenna will be in shortly."

After the door closed gently behind her, Sabrina was left in the eerie quiet of the examination room. The room was cold—as was standard for seemingly every medical practice ever—and she felt the goosebumps trail up her arms before a shiver ran through her.

When she had been at the facility last, things were much different. Though they'd broken up on January first, Sabrina took an additional week to move out of the apartment she and Shaun had shared. In this meantime she'd gone to get rid of the lock he had tried to keep on her with a misused condom.

Natalie had been there to pick her up afterwards and the two went back to her place in order for Sabrina to recover peacefully.

She never felt more alone than she had in the past four months.

The light knock at the door drew Sabrina away from her thoughts and triggered her falsified smile. Jenna came in sporting some new highlights that did not suit her. Sabrina said nothing, of course. Though she couldn't help but take notice.

"Sabrina! Glad to see you back. How've you been?"

"Much better, Jenna. Thank you."

"That's good to hear," she flipped through Sabrina's chart, "Seems like you've put on some weight. That's also good. Weight gain is healthy and normal after all that you've gone through."

"Yeah, I've been trying to save money so my diet's not the best at the moment..."

"That's okay. You can still get it back on track. Fruits, vegetables, lots of water...You know, the regulars of a healthy diet."

"Right," Sabrina answered. Jenna began jotting down a few notes and rifled through a few more pages. The sprouting pit in her stomach was a full-grown stem now. "I got a call—" she started.

"Are the new address and phone number working out for you?" Jenna spoke over her inadvertently, not hearing what she had started to say.

"Yes, very much so. Honestly the biggest problem is my mum. I still haven't told her what happened and she's desperate to get me back with my ex. She actually set up a dinner last Sunday with him to try and get us back together, but I didn't go."

"Oh, that's not good. Do you plan to tell her anytime soon?"

"Not really. She's just of that old-fashioned mindset and I really don't want her to have something else to nag me about."

"And how's your relationship with your mum?"

"It's good. I guess I seem like I harbor negative feelings about her, but I don't. Not really. She's great, I love her, but sometimes she just...knows how to get under my skin. And unfortunately there's a lot there to pick apart."

"Got it..." she jotted down a few more words. "Have you had anyone to talk to about everything that happened? Like a friend or a psychologist? Someone who you trust."

Sabrina squirmed where she sat. None of her answers aligned with what was supposed to happen in a situation like hers; what was normal. She shook her head. "Just my brother. But with him I just sort of told him what happened. He doesn't like to talk about it so much. But he looks out for me, in a sense."

"Is he older, younger?"

"Younger. He's," she paused, doing the math in her head, "Twenty-one now. Twenty-two next month. His name is Zach. Zachary."

"Sounds like a good little brother," Jenna chuckled.

"Usually," Sabrina smiled. The stem shrank a little in size. "Forced me to go to a Radiohead concert with him in March because his girlfriend couldn't go. It was actually good, though, so I can't complain."

"Music's always a good form of therapy. A lot of people don't realize that."

"It was pretty far from my norm. I usually listen to, like, Wham!, George Michael...I dabble in some Spice Girls," Sabrina laughed, looking away in embarrassment.

"Never give up on the good times, as they say," Jenna replied.

"Exactly," Sabrina said, amused. "My dad and Zach are both super into the old classics from the seventies and such—" she stopped herself. Jimmy crossed her mind then. He'd seemed to worm his way into her brain too often, creating a permanent little corner for himself in her mind. "I actually met someone—a famous musician at my job a couple months ago."

"Really?" Jenna asked, intrigued. "Who?"

"Jimmy Page. The guy from Led Zeppelin? The guitarist...He came in to get fitted for some suits recently. Very nice guy."

"Wow! I can't remember what he looks like, but I've certainly heard his name in the past. What was that like?"

"To me, it was a normal client experience because I don't know him that well, but the kid who's apprenticing under me was going absolutely mental about it," Sabrina laughed again. She tried with all her might to mask any sort of attraction she might have had to Jimmy, but just talking about him sprouted an unmoving smile on her face.

"Did you get to talk to him at all?"

"Yeah," she hesitated, "He was very flirty," her cheeks burned.

"Oh! Rock stars always seem to live in their youth, I guess. He hasn't settled down yet?"

Sabrina's bubble was briefly burst. Her smile fell.

"I'm not sure, actually. He told me he's got a daughter, but I don't....know anything about her," she picked a loose thread on her jeans.

"Ah," Jenna nodded, "Well I'm glad that's something you can, erm, hold onto. It's always fun meeting new people. But, anyway, do you have any specific questions for me?"

"Yeah, uhm. I got a call—a while back. The message said you were trying to get a follow-up on how I was doing. There's nothing more I need to…do is there?"

"Do...?"

"Like. Well, I've been doing much better since cutting off Shaun and I've slowly been detaching from all my connections to him…” Sabrina sighed, not wanting to sound insensitive, but with no way to better phrase her words. “I just want to put this all behind me.”

Jenna nodded. She seemed sympathetic. “I get it, Sabrina,” she paused for a beat and flipped through Sabrina’s chart. With a sigh, she looked back up at her. “Honestly? You seem like you’ve really progressed. Our services worked for you and everything seems to have improved significantly in terms of, you know, keeping away from the toxic environment you were in with your ex-boyfriend."

"Thank you," Sabrina said in a hushed tone, a straight smile stuck on her face.

"If you need anything else, please reach out to us. We're here to help you with whatever you may need. Are you in need of any kind of contraception? It would certainly help to avoid another situation like this."

"I will," she affirmed, “And no, I’m taking a breather from any sort of sex...for the time being.”

"I'll leave my business card and some other brochures at the front desk for you. Make sure to leave your brother's name and phone number with them as well, I see Veda scribbled something here about updating contact information."

Sabrina repeated herself and stood from the creaky examination table. "Thank you for everything, Jenna. You don't know how much I appreciate it."

"Of course, Sabrina. It's what I'm here for. I hope everything goes well for you."

Sabrina left the office feeling worse than she had come in. Lonely in her own world, she had isolated herself so much that she hadn't recognized the person she became in the last six months.

After cutting off almost everyone who she had previously called a friend, Sabrina realized that she'd barely made any connections of her own at university. Stuck to Shaun's side for three of the four years, all of the people she'd made friends with were people Shaun had known for years.

In the five months since the end of the relationship, she was making new discoveries like excavators digging up Egyptian ruins did.

She needed a drink.

Even better, she needed a night out. Sabrina hadn't been to a club since ending things with Shaun. She wondered if she was getting a little too old for partying. But then again, everyone needed to party once in a while.

☽

The air on Sabrina's freshly shaven legs sent a chill of goosebumps up to her core. She shuddered as she and Conner waited outside of the club. In the past she'd frequented the place with Shaun and their friends. Now whenever she walked past it in the daytime, she grimaced in discomfort. And because Sabrina didn’t know of many other clubs in the general area that she enjoyed, she returned to Dreams for yet another night. Plus, she felt maybe she could reclaim the space for herself and create some good memories.

Conner, who was only a few inches taller than Sabrina on a good day, was level with her in her heels. The pink satin shoes took some getting used to again after being tossed into a closet for six months, and Sabrina's matching pink dress was another piece from the previous summer that squeezed her a little tighter than it had when she bought it.

A short bout of pregnancy followed by penny pinching for six months changed her body more than she'd expected. Honestly, though, Sabrina's body was the last thing on her mind in the flurry of months 1998 had become.

"Sab, come on, we're next," Conner said. Her heels clicked quickly against the pavement as she was pulled along by him. Her head spun upon entering the club, the lights, colors, and sounds were oddly foreign to her in the time she'd been away from Dreams. A mass of people were crowded on the dancefloor; bumping, grinding, and probably more. Sabrina became uneasy in an instant.

She and Conner claimed a standing table in the corner of the club, well separated from the hustle and bustle of the sweaty bodies moving along to the beat of Rhythm of the Night.

The pounding bass thumped throughout Sabrina's entire body, the slight discomfort that came with her unmoving figure was indicative of how unaccustomed she became to clubbing.

Sabrina nodded along to the song and watched the bright lights and lasers fly overhead and over the crowd. She could hardly remember the last time she was at Dreams. Probably sometime before Shaun's birthday in October....or was it on Shaun's birthday?

"Do you want a drink?" Conner shouted over the music.

Her eyes refocused on his face and she nodded idly. She felt that everyone could notice how tense she was, how much this dress was not the right size anymore, and most importantly, how her arms were starting to resemble chicken breasts exposed the way they were. Not looking in the mirror one final time before leaving her flat was beginning to give Sabrina more anxiety than she thought she had avoided.

Could everyone notice the flab of stomach poking out from her dress? Or did it just look magnified from the angle she stood at? A tightness formed at the base of Sabrina's throat and she suddenly felt the horrible need to cry.

"I want to go home," she whispered to herself in her loneliness. For a fleeting moment, her mind touched on Jimmy. She wondered if he even attended clubs. Did he still party hard? "Rock stars always seem to live in their youth" Jenna's words echoed in her mind. Maybe he did...Probably not.

Sabrina shook the thought of Jimmy from her mind. She tapped her foot against the cracked tile floor along to the end of Rhythm of the Night as a new song was crossfaded into the mix. Sabrina wasn't familiar with it, but it seemed to be good enough to jam to.

Once she had a few drinks in her, Sabrina figured, she'd be able to loosen up a bit and have some fun. She came for the alcohol, after all. Getting drunk alone in her flat was becoming more sad than it was fun.

Conner returned with their drinks, two lemon drop shots and two margaritas. Each drink was wildly different in color.

"Right," Conner started, handing Sabrina a bright yellow shot glass. "To a good night," he held up the glass to hers.

"To a good night," Sabrina repeated, clinking glasses with Conner as the two downed the shots in a matter of seconds. With a click of their tongues, the two relished in the lemony sweet taste of the shots and nodded at each other, affirming the goodness of the shots. "We'll need another one of those later on," she said.

"Agreed," he replied, and handed Sabrina her choice of margarita—a bright red one with a strawberry settled at the bottom of the glass. Conner's drink held a similar theme, though, bright green with a slice of lime at the bottom.

They both sipped their margaritas.Sabrina felt the sugar and alcohol begin to course through her system. She felt better already.

As time passed, Sabrina and Conner felt that they'd been in a vacuum, with each song playing and the alcohol in their systems increasing by the minute, the two were nearly drunk in a matter of hours.

Sabrina touched the sweat on the nape of her neck and knew she needed to sit for a while. Taking a seat at the bar, she undid the straps on her heels, the strings coming off her calves with a slow, almost painful peel.

"Sab," Conner said, approaching her smoothly, his hand touching her waist so as to capture her attention. The feeling sent a feeling she was not unfamiliar with through her body, but she dismissed it as fast as she could. "Gonna go for a smoke, I'll be back in a sec."

"Alright, no worries," She replied somewhat distantly. Reaching into her miniature purse, she pulled an equally small claw clip. The hair she'd styled so carefully was now drenched in humidity and sweat. However, she knew those were the signs of a good night.

"What can I get ya, dear?" the bartender asked, gum smacking between her teeth as she pulled a glass from a pile of ones that were on a drying rack.

"Just some water, please," Sabrina breathed, straightening out her back. She let her feet dangle on the stool, removing some of the pressure on them. She had certainly disconnected from her anxious thoughts about herself, her dress, her body, and everything in between. She was buzzed to say the least, but if she had a few more drinks, she knew she'd be able to get pissed the way she had wanted.

Sabrina gulped down the water, catching her breath and steadying her mind in the meantime. People milled about around her, squeezing beside her to ask for a martini here, a piña colada there, another round of tequila shots elsewhere. Her eyes drooped only slightly before she heard a familiar voice a few feet away.

"Oi, three Buds, please? Thanks."

The sound of the voice alone made Sabrina's stomach recoil. If she wasn't careful, all the alcohol she'd consumed that night would be all over the bar top in a matter of seconds. It was Shaun.

"Sabrina?" Another (familiar) voice exclaimed, Sabrina's eyes diverting in the direction of the voice. "Funny seeing you here, darling! How are you!" Sarah asked, approaching Sabrina around her side and hugging her with one arm around her back. As if a flip had been switched, she was suddenly aware of every atom of fat on her body and how unflattering her dress looked when seated the way she was. Sarah, of course, could never even dream of an ounce of fat on her body. Not even on her chest.

"Sarah! Yeah, I'm alright. Just came out for a dance and a drink, you know...how have you been?" she asked, doing her best at a feigned politeness.

"Good! Good. I'm with Shaun now—he’s here someplace," Sarah said, scoping out the place and locking eyes with Shaun where Sabrina had seen him. Sarah waved him over. "You here alone?"

"Shaun?" Sabrina found was the only thing she could say.

"Erm, yeah, we're—" she tried stalling the words, she was interrupted when Shaun made his way through the crowd to where she and Sarah were talking.

"Brina!" he said genteelly, grasping her shoulders forcefull the way he had always done when they were together. She hated it. "Sucks you couldn't come to dinner. 'S'alright, though, your mum said she'd reschedule for when you were available."

"Right," Sabrina nodded, "I was actually just on my way out now. Was having a glass of water before I called a taxi."

"Taxi's too expensive, B, come back with us, we'll split fares,” he said, patting Sarah on the arm. She gave him a smile that nearly resembled a grimace. Sabrina could only assume that having the three of them in a taxi was the last thing Sarah would have wanted.

"No, it's—" she stammered, her heart pounding so hard she thought the embarrassment would kill her before the heart attack could. "I'm fine, Shaun."

“I’m gonna go find Rachel,” Sarah said, a hand delicately touching Shaun’s arm as she started off. “Good to see you, Sab!” the blonde flashed a fake smile her way.

As they both watched Sarah walk off, Shaun leaned onto the bar top with a bony, pale elbow. He attempted to force some sort of eye contact between them. "I've missed you, Brina," he said, his long, thin fingers playing at hers. Sabrina pulled her hands into her lap.

"Mhm," Sabrina answered, only minding a glance back up at him. She tried her hardest to train her eyes onto her empty glass of water.

"Don't tell me you haven't missed me, too?" Shaun asked, his voice low.

"Can't say I have," she mumbled with a shake of her head. Her palms began to sweat.

Shaun chuckled humorlessly. Sabrina felt his eyes burning into the form of her dress. Before she could beg him not to say anything, he barged through anyway. "Haven't seen this one in a minute...surprised it still fits."

"Shaun—"

"Three Buds, mate," the bartender interrupted, sliding three bottles over beside Shaun.

"Alfie and Jacob are here, too, by the way," he said, collecting the bottles with a nod to the barkeep. "I know they'd love to come say hello before you go," he whispered before leaving Sabrina alone again at the bar.

Once Sabrina was sure Shaun was gone and wouldn't be returning, she peeled her shoes off her dirty feet, carrying the heels with her to the door. After a quick look around, she saw the cloud of smoke coming from beside the club.

"I'll be right back," Sabrina said to the bouncer, pointing to Conner where he stood taking drags of a cigarette.

"Five minutes, love," the bouncer answered.

Sabrina nodded, making a heady tread barefoot on the pavement. The minuscule rocks tore into her feet, but she figured it was better than walking on nearly formed blisters.

"My ex is here," Sabrina said, throwing her heels to the ground.

"What the fuck?" Conner answered, puffs of smoke following his every word. The stench of his cigarette would've ordinarily made her nose wrinkle up in disgust, but she instead chose to ignore it for the time being.

"This is fucking ridiculous. Him and his little...squad," Sabrina spat. The tip of Conner's cigarette glowed when he inhaled its toxins. The smell almost didn't seem to bother her then. "Give me that."

"You're not gonna—"

"Let me try it. See what the fucking hype is all about," Sabrina said, taking the cigarette, holding it between her fingers as if she'd been smoking forever. Monkey see, monkey do, right?

She took a drag, letting the smoke infiltrate her airways. When the itch in her throat came about, she exhaled, coughing when the stench of the tobacco hit her senses. The taste of burnt coffee blocked her airways and she continued to cough away the taste as much as she could. "God, I hate that," she frowned.

"I told you—" Conner started, though the look Sabrina threw him stopped the statement where he left it. "You wanna go home?" he asked.

Sabrina debated it, her heart rate having dropped since leaving the club. The smell of burnt hair was now replaced by the stench of cigarettes and whatever hung in the London air. She peered over at the bouncer, who met her eye and tapped at his watch. "Three minutes," he mouthed to her.

"No," she said, defiant.

"Alright. You wanna make him jealous?" Conner asked, taking a longer drag than he had taken previously.

She almost answered no to that question as well, but something willed her not to. She hadn't wanted to make Shaun jealous. She wanted to make him angry.

Sabrina and Conner had been able to have two more drinks before they spotted Shaun in the crowd again. If Sabrina spun her head too quickly, she'd be headed for the floor in the most embarrassing of moves.

"That's him isn't it?" Conner asked, his lips so close to her ear that it sent a shiver up her spine. She'd never noticed him in any particular way before, but when she pursed her lips, it was as if the alcohol was pushing her to do something her sober mind would not have thought of.

She looked to her left, spotting Sarah and Shaun together, their thin bodies pressed impossibly close against one another. They danced like no one was watching. Sabrina knew her inability to do such a thing had made Shaun all the more angry in their relationship.

Sarah held Shaun’s cheek in one hand, pulling his face to hers for a sloppy kiss. They smiled into each other, Shaun taking hold of her ass as they bopped along to the club music.

Sabrina had nearly drawn blood when she realized how hard she'd been biting her lip. "That's him..." she answered.

"Let's get closer, hm? So they notice us."

"I don't want them to come up to us," Sabrina said nervously.

"They won't," Conner assured her. "I'm gonna grab your waist, alright?"

Sabrina nodded, preparing her nerves for impact as Conner gently took her waist into his grasp. She tried to steady herself, relax herself, but she couldn't keep her eyes from watching each and every move Shaun and Sarah made.

Sorry if I'm too soft, she wanted to apologize. She couldn't stop thinking about the way she looked, the way she felt, the way other men thought of her. Did other men think of her as their type? Did Jimmy—?

"Hey," Conner interrupted her bitter monologue. His voice was as soft as the plushest blanket she'd ever felt. When her eyes met his, her nervousness melted away. He wiped the tear that had nearly fallen from her eye. "It'll be alright. Just trust me."

She nodded, taking hold of him as if it was second nature. Sabrina diverted her thoughts, allowing her and Conner's bodies to sway in joint, fluid motions, ignoring the world around them as much as they could.

Conner's hands moved up from her waist, his fingers touching at her cheek when Sabrina's eyes began to wander to her ex-boyfriend. Finally, Shaun had caught their gaze. Conner guided her cheek so she was facing him, and in one swift motion he planted his lips onto hers. The alcohol and taste of their mouths melded into one, Sabrina's lip gloss smudging in that very moment.

Lips parted, hot breaths met, and hands wandered. For once in much too long, she felt the comfortable twist in the pit of her stomach that forced her hips a hint closer to Conner's. Drunken minds took over for a brief moment, and before their tongues could meet, Sabrina could think of nothing more than Shaun's penetrating stare into their conjoined mouths and compressed bodies.

She became uncomfortable in an instant.

When they parted, Sabrina wiped at the edge of her mouth with her thumb. Her cheeks burned and Conner's hands returned to her waist where they belonged for the time being.

"Too much?" Conner asked.

"No, fine," she said with a shake of her head. "I think I'm ready to go. I got what I wanted."

She got what she wanted, yet she wondered why she felt like shit for doing it.

Sabrina and Conner were scarcely out of the club when Conner was pulled back by an anonymous hand.

"What the bleeding hell was that?" Shaun shouted, staring down Conner, then shifting his gaze to Sabrina, who was unsure of how to meet his glare.

"She's not your girlfriend anymore, mate. You missed your chance," Conner answered.

"In front of me, B? Are you fucking serious?" Shaun asked, looking past Conner once again to try and find a crack in Sabrina's exterior. Her soft shell was always easiest to get through to in a tense moment.

"Don't talk to her," Conner said. Sabrina averted her eyes, looking behind Shaun to see Sarah hurriedly approaching behind him.

"What are you, her fucking bodyguard? She can answer for herself. Right Sabrina?" Conner asked.

"Shaun, stop it!" Sarah screamed, "Leave them alone!"

Everything following then had been a blur to Sabrina. Her anxiety took over, rendering her silent for the better part of half an hour. This was particularly bad considering she was drunk, too. Conner had ushered them into a taxi once they'd left the club, figuring that after the night Sabrina had had, it would be far better than tubing back home.

☽

"Sorry I kissed you," Sabrina mumbled as she stuck her key upside down into the lock. She corrected her error, blinking away the blur from her vision in the meantime.

"Sorry?" Conner replied, not hearing her.

"Sorry for causing a scene," she said instead. She didn't want to fully apologize for the kiss. She hadn't known if it was her who had commenced it or if Conner had, and she didn't want to offend him if that was the case.

"You didn't," he said, surprised. "It's not your fault, you know?"

They trekked up the stairs, shoes echoing on the walls of the bare stairway. Sabrina got her flat key ready. Since Conner lived outside of London—a city Sabrina couldn’t remember the name of—she let him crash at her flat after leaving the club.

She didn't answer him, her mind was too muddled for her to be able to form a whole response. Instead, she let out what sounded like an irritated sigh.

"What are you thinking, Sab?" he asked.

The answer stewed in her mind for a moment longer than she would've liked. But she wanted to keep from giving Conner a disingenuous response. Her keys jingled in the key bowl beside the door and Sabrina peeled her heels off her calves for the second time, the dirt and sweat addled soles of her feet made balancing on the slippery wood floors a difficult task. With one foot on the rug in front of the sofa for leverage, Sabrina flopped onto the sofa with a sigh.

"I made him mad. But at what cost? I don't feel any better," she said, finally looking up at Conner.

He pulled his jumper off, tossing it idly onto the spot beside Sabrina on the sofa. "Well I don't think he would've hit you. Especially not in a public place."

"He could've gone after you," Sabrina said regrettably. She had wanted to get out of the sausage skin that her dress had become, but the comfort of the sofa overpowered her urge to undress.

Her eyes met his again when he didn't respond right away. There was a look in Conner's eye that Sabrina couldn't quite make out.

"Sabrina..." Conner started, "You're too good for this world," he chuckled.

"Then why does everyone keep screwing me over?" She teased with an indignant laugh.

"You're someone's dream girl, Sab," Conner trailed off, his eyes falling down to where her hand steadied her body on the brown suede sofa. His hand touched her wrist softly, the warmth was polarizing against her cool skin.

Sabrina was more than familiar with the tone in his voice, having heard it many times from others in the moments before a kiss. Inside her, something went rotten and she felt like slinking away from Conner. Her inner instincts warned her otherwise, but her thoughts said otherwise. What if he was the one she belonged with? What if this was their first night into forever? She scarcely wanted to pass on the chance.

But Sabrina quickly realized when Conner leaned in further that he wasn't her forever. Then, he was too quick for her to pull back. Conner kissed Sabrina with a more urgent force, like he had been ramping up to it all night, hungry for more after their first kiss on the dance floor.

Sabrina squeaked in shock when his tongue found its way into her mouth, but she figured Conner must have mistaken it for a sound of confidence, as he placed his hand on her cheek and pulled her in tighter to his lips. Her heart began to race. In the kiss, she found that she was lost, unsure of what to do. So she sat still, waiting for Conner to decide he'd had his fill of her.

He took in a breath, pursing his lips inward, "Was that alright?" he asked.

With a swallow, Sabrina nodded insistently. "Great," she said softly, of course a lie. She could feel his alcohol and cigarette-ridden saliva drying on her lips. She remembered there was a lip scrub in her bathroom cabinet...

"You want to keep going?" He asked, his hand gentle, yet firm on her thigh. Her body gave her mixed signals: brain saying to stop, body begging to continue. It was so long since she'd last been touched.

"Sure," Sabrina replied with a nod, ignoring her brain for the time being. It had been so long since she had gotten this sort of attention. From anyone. She didn’t want to say no.

Conner's palm on her thigh was clammy, and she could feel her skin dampening in his touch. Sabrina ignored all this, relishing in the feeling of being given positive reinforcement. Now her heart beat faster, but she began to feel more comfortable with Conner. The damp of his hands was starting to become more of a desirable feeling.

It was then that Sabrina knew she'd jumped off the deep end.

☽

The late May air was colder than she had anticipated it to be the next morning. Despite having gone out the night before, the air felt different. Sabrina felt different.

She rubbed her tired, bare face and regretted it in an instant. Sabrina had touched all manner of dirty railings and doors on the tube ride over to Notting Hill Gate. She groaned and made the right turn into Boots.

The smell of Conner's cologne was stuck on her cardigan. He wound up sleeping on the sofa, his head resting on her cardigan which had lay haphazardly on the sofa’s arm. She didn't know whether to wash it or chuck the sweater in the garbage. Any thought that deferred her mind from the previous night was welcome. While Sabrina stopped Conner before they’d wind up having any sort of intimacy past kissing on her sofa, the less she thought about it, the better.

Over the course of the train ride to Boots, she had repeated her shopping list over and over in her mind. She knew she had forgotten something, since she'd left her shopping list in her flat, but acetone, shaving cream, and razors were a must for this trip. Sabrina was content enough with that.

This Boots branch was one Sabrina already memorized like the back of her hand, and she grabbed the green acetone bottle from the nail polish section before making a beeline for the hair removal section.

Sabrina looked closely at the razor options before her. Why did there need to be so many options, she asked herself. She reached for a pack of Venus razors, fifteen three-blade razors went for £5. Surely there was a better option. Sabrina searched for a five-blade.

Finally, tucked in the back of a pile of three-blades, Sabrina pulled the package of ten five-blade razors. There was no price, of course, so she knew she'd be surprised at the till when she was ready to pay. She shook the thought away, reaching for the distinct pink can of Skintimate shaving cream she'd been buying for the last ten years, and cutting through the back-end of the store to avoid any extra foot traffic.

Sabrina was usually this quick at Boots, leaving a minute or two for her to speculate what it was from her list that she had been missing. She stood in the middle of the store as people walked around her, oblivious to her presence.

In a move of hesitance, she took a step towards Hair Care. There were only two people in the makeshift aisle. One man dressed head to toe in black, the other, an elderly woman. She paid little mind to either of them as she perused the shampoos.

Pantene, Garnier, Herbal Essences....she wasn't sure which one looked best. She plucked the Pantene off the shelf and took a whiff of the Peachy scent. It was certainly undeniable. Sabrina took one off the shelf and tossed it into her basket. Shampoo and conditioner weren't exactly what she had been looking for, but—

"Sabrina?" a gentle voice asked; nasally. The black clothed man.

Sabrina turned, losing grip of the conditioner bottle in shock when she saw who had just identified her. "Jimmy." It was like his name was a button she could press in order to kick-start her heart. Her cheeks flushed and her ears grew fiery hot.

A smile spread across his face, the dimples in his cheeks turning into a multilayered smile. He leant over, reaching for the conditioner on the floor and placed it into Sabrina's basket. Then a whiff of something good and intoxicating lingered in her nose. "Don't look so happy to see me," he teased with a smirk. The five o'clock shadow on his chin made her draw in an extra breath of stability. Fuck he smelled delicious.

"I—" Sabrina stammered. Her brain was empty. "How are you? How was America?"

His curls were tousled, cheeks and eyes puffy, indicative of a good night's rest. It was as if he tumbled out of bed and still managed to look entirely put together. Unlike Sabrina. Try as she might, the one back strand of her hair was still frizzed out beyond belief, there was a stain on her sweater she hadn't known the origin of, and her socks were mismatched.

"I've been—It was good, great. Heat was miserable. Erm," Jimmy surveyed her face and body language, "Everything alright? You look..." he couldn't find the words.

"Not really, no. Long night. Strange night." Sabrina couldn't help but be honest. The elderly woman beside them took notice of Jimmy in the moment. Sabrina had seen her walk over and take a peek. Jimmy was none the wiser.

He nodded in understanding, "Happens to the best of us," he paused, "Listen, uh, sorry about calling you." Sabrina furrowed her eyebrows. "About two weeks ago," he continued.

"Oh! Gosh, I nearly forgot," her heart sank to her stomach, "I figured it was a mistake or something. That you didn't mean to call..."

"Erm, no. Not really. But it's fine, I got everything settled."

Sabrina took a half step back. Cardiac arrest was around the corner but she played it off expertly. "Oh?"

"Just a little accident with one of the suits. A stitch caught on my nail and—pshh, it's so stupid. I'm sorry for bothering you on a Friday night."

“Did you manage to get it fixed?” Sabrina asked earnestly. She began to mentally arrange plans for him to take the suit back to the store so she could manage a quick fix for him, but he stopped her just as she began to imagine them back in the fitting area, close as could be. She nearly shuddered at the thought. Good or bad, she couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, I found an emergency sewing kit and, uh, I patched it up myself.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I had mishaps all the time back in the Led Zeppelin days. I didn’t think, I just called before even rationalizing…Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m sorry!” Sabrina insisted, “I was having dinner with my family in Brent Cross, so I was just really…” she sighed, watching the way the look in his eye changed, “I don’t know. It would've been a welcome distraction.”

“Right,” Jimmy chuckled, his cheeks widening with his smile. All Sabrina could think about was grabbing his cheeks like her gran always pinched hers as a child. Disgusted, she shook the thought from her mind. “Well, even if you did answer, I don’t think you could’ve helped me all the way in Brent Cross.”

“Yeah, unfortunately not. But for your next fashion emergency, I hope I won’t be too far away.”

“I’ll just have to hire you to take care of my clothing mishaps, then. Have you on-call 24/7,” Jimmy teased. Sabrina’s heart beat a little faster in her chest.

“Double my pay at Clarence’s or nothing,” she teased back with a giggle. A giggle? She was only slightly mortified at her response.

“Done.”

She could no longer tell whether or not he was joking. Another customer walked past the two, eyeing Jimmy wildly like he’d just seen the Queen or something. Jimmy took no notice, but Sabrina saw the way the man watched her; predatory, almost jealous that she—a lowly woman was talking to thee Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin fame. The second her eyes met his, the man averted his gaze, paying much closer attention to the purple box dye beside him than to Jimmy and Sabrina. Or so she hoped.

“What?” she blurted out.

“I’d hire you to come work for me. Triple pay," he nearly shrugged.

“Now you’re pulling my leg,” Sabrina rolled her eyes.

“I’ve got the money, Sab. Don’t doubt how serious I can be,” Jimmy smirked. It was the sort of shit-eating smirk he gave when he knew he could win her over; when he hoped his far reaches would be taken as something more. Sabrina’s palms began to sweat. “Plus, I could take you on tour with me. I bet you’d be fun on tour.”

“Yeah, alright. Talk to my boss about it, I’m sure he’d be thrilled to have his best employee whisked off by a rock star.” She hoped she sounded like she had been deterring him rather than egging him on.

A third man shuffled by. His quick glance up at Jimmy stopped him in his tracks. Sabrina could tell the man was starstruck. Jesus, how recognizable is he? she wondered to herself. Again, Jimmy took no notice. He seemed to only have eyes for her. Now her mouth felt like someone had stuffed ten cotton balls into it. While she wanted to stay stuck bantering with Jimmy, she felt a bigger urge to run away from the Boots’ customers' prying eyes.

“Excuse me,” the third man interjected. “Jimmy?”

Snapped out of his and Sabrina’s playful trance, Jimmy blinked and the joyful demeanor was replaced by a false one, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Aw man. Been a huge fan since I was a kid. Would you mind signing something for me?”

Uncomfortable watching the interaction take place, Sabrina made brief eye contact with Jimmy once again, telling him through her expression that she’d be going. Without waiting for a nod or response of disagreement, she rushed to the till.

The sweat on her palms transferred onto the shampoo and conditioner bottles that she hadn’t planned on picking up. She took in a deep breath, Jimmy’s cologne remaining in her nostrils for one final inhale, distracting from the heady smell left on her cardigan from the night before. She was glad to have stopped to pick out some extra hair products.

a special thank you to @jonesyjonesyjonesy for beta reading this (esp while she's on vacation!!)

masterlist | playlist

taglist: @knotnatural @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 @hejustsatisfiess @salixfragilis @rosyfingereddawnn @reincarnated70sbaby @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @kyunisixx @blackberryblossom @jimmypages @foreverandadaydarling @lzep @n0quart3r @verrbena-in-the-air @groovyysav @mystify1222 if you want to be added to the list let me know!

#IT'S HERE!!!#SHE'S BACK!!!#happy birthday jimmy #part of the birthday celebrations include a new chapter #because you all deserve it #and thank you for being so patient with me #also hope this chapter wasn't too much of a downer #now yall know why I love sab so much #because I wanna grab her and hug the fuck out of her #ISN'T SHAUN THE BIGGEST PIECE OF SHIT?#I hate him #jimmy page #led zeppelin #fanfic #fanfiction #tw abortion #discussed #tw annoying ex #moonbeam

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