#pike's like 'come stand here son' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

absurdthirst · 5 months

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Cellblock Tango {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.6k

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, hangovers, drunk tank, flirting, mismatched power dynamics, jail cell sex, rough sex, fingering, hand cuffs, derogatory language, role play, unprotected sex, miscommunication, Dad Marcus deserves his own warning, father/son bonding, there was only one hotel room, break ups, angst, confessions, oral sex (female receiving), love making, mentions of future children.

Comments: One little interlude leads to a surprising discovery eleven years later, Marcus Pike has a son. You are the woman he fucked in a jail cell when he was a cop and now, you're the mother of his child.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Pike MasterList ||

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

“Pike.” Marcus answers his phone as he tries to finish this report and he half listens until he hears the words “art stolen” and then he’s listening to the call and he nods, stopping typing. “I’ll be right there.” He promises and hangs up, grabbing his jacket.

He is quick to drive over to the gallery and he flashes his badge when the police ask who he is. He ducks under the tape and makes his way into the gallery where glass is shattered on the floor and several employees are clearly shaken. “Hi, I’m Marcus Pike, FBI.” He introduces himself, “who’s the curator?” He asks and you step forward.

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent Pike.” You smile and Marcus frowns, trying to place your face until it hits him.

**Eleven Years Ago**

“Let me outtt.” You whine, slapping the bars of the cell you’re in, your head aching and you look at the officer on duty sitting at his desk.

“You can’t come out until you sober up.” He says and you squint as you look at his badge.

“I’m sober…ish.” You bite your lip and he shakes his head, “drunk and disorderly behavior…not great for your record.” He says and you scoff, “I’m a senior in college. Art history. I am graduating this weekend. I- I just wanted to celebrate.” You whine, resting your head on the cool bars and you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in this cell.

Marcus shakes his head and has to admit that you look cute for a criminal. You won’t be charged, you aren’t even booked in right now, taking mercy on you, although he hopes that you understand that you need to curb bad habits before it does get you into trouble. “You’ll be there until you can tell me your telephone number backwards.” He tells you with a grin, looking up from his paperwork. Marcus is known as a by-the-book cop and even though he’s still green, he’s going places. His application to the FBI should be accepted any day and he wants to make an impact on the world and community.

You whine, slumping down on the bench in the cell and soon enough, you’re falling asleep. You wake up a couple of hours later with a headache and Marcus hands you a cup of water and some aspirin. “Here.” He says and you open the bottle, taking a couple and downing the water. He refills it for you and you sigh, feeling sober and worse for wear.

“Got any good hangover tips?” You ask the cop who chuckles and you finally notice how handsome he is. His brown eyes are tired looking as he nears the end of his shift and you tilt your head against the wall.

“Nothing that would be appropriate for a jail cell.” He jokes, happy that you seem to be sober now. You had been a little rough there for awhile and it seems like though you have a hangover, you’ve learned your lesson.

“I guess pancakes and bacon is a no go in a cell.” You chuckle and look over as Marcus stands up. “You got any mints?” You ask and Marcus nods, reaching into his desk drawer and he hands you the box of altoids. You chew a few and sigh, “thanks.” Handing him back the tin, your fingers brush and you notice again how handsome he is. “I bet you’re ready to head home to your partner after dealing with drunk me tonight?” You ask with a smirk, knowing you were a handful.

Marcus snorts and shakes his head. “No partner.” He admits, shrugging sadly. “Ex-wife didn’t want to be a LEO wife.” It had stung but he understood it. He would rather end it amicably than turn nasty after kids. “And you were pretty cute drunk.” He admits with a grin.

You giggle, loving how kind he’s been despite being locked up. “At least I have that going for me.” You wink at him and he leans against the bars. “Your ex wife is an idiot to have let you go. You’re handsome and funny and you have a good job.” You flirt, leaning towards the bars. “I’d wait for you allll night baby.”

“Yeah?” Marcus smirks, enjoying the banter even though you’re probably just trying to get out of being charged. He had no intention of charging you, but it’s a harmless little indulgence. “I think you’re just hoping I’d use my handcuffs on you.”

“Ooo don’t tempt me with a good time, officer.” You wink, “I like a man who knows how to take control.” You reveal with a smirk and you playfully hold your hands up. “Arrest me again, officer.”

He chuckles and your stomach twists, “for what crimes?” He teases and you grin, “for lusting after a man in uniform.”

There is nothing that Marcus finds sexier than a confident woman and you are not simply flirting with him because you are behind bars. Or if you are, it’s because you find it sexy. The spark of desire in your eyes makes him bolder, pushing off the edge of his desk to come and prop against the bars with a smirk on his face. “Yeah?” He asks, lifting a brow. “What would you do then? Fight me?” He asks. “Or what would you let me do? Right there in the cell?” He’s dangerously close to inappropriate behavior but he doesn’t think that you mind it.

You look up at him from under your lashes, wrists still outstretched when you say “anything you want.” You promise and he inhales sharply, “I wouldn’t fight you. I’d fuck you. I’ve been a bad girl, officer, and I need some punishment.” You pout playfully and lower your hands, lifting your dress a little higher to expose your panties.

“Jesus Christ.” Marcus’ eyes widen in surprise. “Are you serious?” He asks, looking around and then back at you. “You really want that?”

You nod, feeling bold at the look in his eyes and you reach through the bars to play with his badge. “Officer Pike. Do you want to fuck me?” You ask, licking your lips.

“Yes, I do.” His cock twitches and starts to harden in his uniform and he reaches for the cell keys. “Are you sure?” He asks. “You can say no at any time.” He reassures you. “I- don’t want you to feel like this is to get out of being charged. You’re being released no matter what.”

You nod in understanding, watching him open the door, and you watch him stride in. “I know. I - I don’t usually do this but you’re - you’re so sexy. I want you.” You confess. You’ve been sensible your entire life. Focusing on getting your degree, you didn’t even go out for drinks most weekends and tonight, you want to celebrate. The officer steps closer to you and you reach out to take his hands, bringing them to your waist.

“Shit. I don’t either.” Marcus confesses, squeezing your waist and then he is whipping one hand behind his back as he twists you around. “Hands behind your back.” He growls, a thread of authority in his voice. “I’m going to cuff you.”

You gasp when you feel the cold metal encircle your wrists and your cunt clenches at the way he manhandles you. “I’m sorry, officer. I didn’t mean to be bad.” You play along, arching your back so you can grind against him and you’re pleased to feel how hard he is.

“Should have thought about that before you broke the law.” He grunts, twitching against your ass. “Gonna have to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” He never thought he would be a man who enjoyed roleplay, but he is very eager to see how you react.

He bends you over the bench in the cell and tugs your dress up over your hips, making you whimper and your nails dig into your palms. “I’m sorry, officer.” You gasp when his hand comes down on your ass after he sits down beside you, one hand gripping your cuffed wrists, the other slapping your ass hard enough to make you cry out in both pleasure and pain.

It’s a good damn thing that there’s no one else in the entire building at this hour. You are loud and he loves it. “Fuck. You like this, don’t you? You little slut.” He stops and strokes your ass gently. “Was that okay?” He asks, realizing you could take offense and wanting to check in.

You love that he’s asking you if it’s okay, breaking the roleplay, and you know he’s so sweet but also so dirty to be doing this. “It’s perfect. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” You promise and he nods, rubbing your ass before he brings his hand down again. “I love it.” You moan, “I love it, officer.”

Marcus groans and he slaps your ass again before he slides his hand down your hip and drags your panties down. “Let’s see how much you love it.” He growls, his fingers seeking your cunt and loving how wet he finds you.

You moan loud when he finds your cunt, sliding his fingers through your folds until he is rubbing your clit. “Oh shit.” You pant, arms starting to ache but you don’t care. You want this, you want him. It’s cleared your head and you know you are no longer drunk on booze but rather drunk on his touch. “Yes. Yes. Fuck, that’s - I need more.” You beg greedily.

Marcus pulls his fingers away and he lets go of your arms so you collapse onto the bunk. Unzipping his uniform pants and pulling his cock out, he spits in his hand and pumps himself. “I’m clean.” He promises you. “Are you…on birth control?”

You nod, “I’m clean and on the pill.” You promise and he shifts to kneel on the bunk, straddling your thighs as he pumps his cock a couple of times. “Jesus.” He hisses as he lines up and starts to push inside of you. You whine and clench your fists, enjoying the stretch of him.

You’re so fucking tight he feels like he’s going to bust. Granted, it’s been awhile for him, but he’s clenching his jaw and enjoying the way you squeeze him. “Goddamn.” He grunts when his hips are flush against your ass.

You can’t open your eyes, mouth open in a silent cry as he stretches you and you are certain you are dreaming, this has to be a wet dream. When he starts to move, you moan out and try to spread your legs a little wider but he keeps you pinned down. “Fuck baby. Yes!” You finally cry out when his hips press against your ass with each thrust.

It’s probably the roughest, kinkiest sex Marcus has had in forever and he’s into it. Holding onto your cuffed wrists, he covers you, driving into you with increasingly rougher thrusts. “Think you can spread your legs and get out of trouble?” He growls in your ear. “Your tight little cunt your get out of jail free card?” He demands. “Whoring yourself out? I should book you, keep you here to fuck.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, his words making you gush around him and he sets a harsh pace, “do it. Keep me - I - fuck. If you fuck me like this every day, I’m yours.” You moan, enjoying the way he pushes deep and his deep voice. It makes you shiver under him.

Marcus hisses when you clench around him and the keys on his belt around his hips jangle as he fucks into you. It’s a damn good thing he’s going home after this because you are soaking the front of his uniform. “You are mine.” He huffs, biting his lip and watching as his cock plows into your cunt. “Fuck, this is so hot.”

You moan your agreement, your voice echoing in the empty cell and his keys jangle a little faster as your nails dig into your palms. “Fuckkk. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me cum.” You whimper at the way he angles your hips and you cry out as you cum, clamping down on his cock.

Marcus moans, fucking you harder as you soak him with your cum. Desperate and unmeasured thrusts as he starts to feel his own orgasm building. “Shit- shit,” he whines. “So tight, you’re so fucking tight, baby.” He let’s go of your wrists to hold onto your hips and changes the angle to fuck down into you for the last half dozen thrusts before he’s grinding deep and painting your walls with his seed.

You pant, loving how he feels when he cums inside of you, and you close your eyes, savoring the feel of him inside of you. “Fuck that’s good, officer. Oh God.” You wish you could reach back and touch him. “That was so good.” You sigh and he hums in agreement as his forehead rests on your back. “Are you going to - are you going to let me go?” You ask playfully, eyes still closed as you smile.

"I shouldn't." Marcus plays along, his hand running soothingly up your spine as he catches his breath. He kisses your back and then sits up. "But I think I have to, with something this good." He chuckles, pulling out of you gently and admiring the way your cunt spasms and starts to push his cum out. He tucks himself away and pulls your panties up respectfully before he reaches for his keys. "No regrets?" He asks softly as he uncuffs you.

You let him uncuff you and you sit up, looking at him. “Baby, I couldn’t regret it.” You tell him with a wink, and you cup his cheek. “Thank you. Am I - on a serious note…am I being charged?” You ask timidly and lower your hand from his cheek.

“No.” He smiles, even though he is serious. “I had told you last night you were just being held until you could tell me your phone number backwards.” He chuckles. “You whined it out right before you fell asleep.” He hums. “So I can throw it away, or maybe… I can call you after my work week and maybe take you out on a date? Unless you want to get picked up again for drunken disorderly?” He teases.

You fluster, nodding at him, “I, uh, I would like to see you again…showered and completely sober. Not that I’m not sober but you know what I mean…not - not recently arrested.” You chuckle and he smiles softly, his brown eyes sweet and soft, albeit tired. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” You promise and he blushes a little, making you grin.

“Well then, I’ll call you.” He promises, reaching up and stroking your cheek gently. “Tonight was fun, but I know you want to get home and shower and I’m about to get off to go home and crash.” He admits. “Make sure to hydrate today, okay?”

You nod, squeezing his hand when he lowers it from your cheek. “I’ll see you soon, officer.” You wink playfully and he nods at you. You are soon reunited with your things and call a taxi to take you home. You collapse on the bed as soon as you get home and fall asleep, the exhaustion getting to you. You’ll wait for the officer to call and you dream of brown eyes and handcuffs.

**Present Day**

Marcus squeezes your hand and his face flushes hotly, remembering every moment of his time with you. Your name comes off his lips quietly and he wishes that you were meeting under less public circumstances. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.” He segways lamely. “I tried to call you.” He blurts out. “The number you gave me was wrong. And I finally figured out what the real number was about a year later. By then I figured you had forgotten about Officer Pike.”

You stare at him in shock, unable to believe that you are seeing him right now. You clear your throat, glancing around to his colleagues and yours and you offer him a soft smile, “don’t - it’s okay. I understand. I just figured you changed your mind.” You shrug like it’s no big deal and he frowns but you stop him before he can respond, “do you want me to show you where the piece was that got stolen?”

Marcus snaps back into a more professional mode and nods seriously, reaching into his suit jacket pocket to retrieve a notebook and a pen. He likes to jot down his first impression of the scene while he’s there. “When did you notice the piece was missing?” He’s aware that you gave your statement to the local police but he wants to hear it straight from you. Unable to believe that the drunk tank encounter eleven years ago had turned into his victim on his latest case.

“This morning. I came into work as I always do at 8:40. I walked around to check everything was clean and in place and then of course I saw this piece was missing. I checked the security cameras but it’s been interfered with as it’s all fuzzy. I called the police right away, didn’t touch anything else, and they sent you over.” You tell him as you walk towards the area of the missing artwork, trying to conceal the way your hands shake from seeing him again after all these years.

Marcus nods, jotting down notes and he looks over the scene carefully. “When did the museum close last night? Are there any night shift personnel that clean or maybe a guard?” He wants to make sure that he does everything right and he can’t help but be a little flustered by you. He looks over at you and sees you shaking. “It’s okay.” He shoves the pen and the notebook into one hand and pats your shoulder soothingly. “I know that being robbed is a terrible violation but we are going to do our best to recover your painting.”

“There’s a night guard but he was sick and - he admitted to me he fell asleep for a couple of hours during his shift.” He mistakes your shaking for fear and you play into it, nodding and smiling in appreciation of him helping you with this situation. He’s the last person you ever imagined would be helping you find the art, especially after he never called and you had no way of getting hold of him. “Thank you.” You smile and he continues to assess the crime scene. Forensics comes in and you spend your work day with Marcus and his team working on finding the missing painting.

Marcus is delighted to find that the younger woman he had a brief liaison with has become a smart and capable woman. You are thoroughly knowledgeable about the museum you run and the staff. Even the maintenance schedules are quickly located and accounted for. You seemingly run a tight ship. “Okay. Have there been any visitors who have been unusually interested in the security? Asking questions pointed around the room that the painting was in?” He asks, wondering if there’s another possible angle to this.

You bite your lip, pondering the question before you turn towards Jenny, the new receptionist. “Didn’t you say we had a man come in and he was asking several questions about different pieces and you thought it was weird because he kept looking at the cameras?” You ask and Jenny nods. Marcus asks her to describe him and Jenny tries her best. While Marcus is writing down her description, you admire his profile, the way he’s matured into a handsome man and you remember the way he fucked you.

“If possible, can we see if the camera footage is still available from the days he visited?” A photo of the suspect is worth more than a description, but he hopes that the entire hard drive hasn’t been compromised. He looks up at you. “Do you know how far back the data has been corrupted?”

You nod, “about seven days. It’s spotty in the past 36 hours but it’s solid up until then. I’m not sure if they used some kind of tech to fuzz the cameras but it’s spotty at best.” You explain and look over at Jenny, “can you show office- Agent Pike to the security room?”

Marcus catches the slip up and his cock twitches, but he ignores it. He can’t go there with you. He’s in a relationship. Instead, he smiles and nods, thanking you quietly and following Jenny to the office so he can watch the videos with her to the approximate time the suspect was there.

You watch Marcus leave with Jenny and you check your watch, biting your lip. It’s getting close to four and you glance at your phone, wondering if you should call. No…Marcus will be gone by then. You keep glancing at your watch and finally Marcus appears, notebook in hand just as the door to the gallery opens. “Mom! Mom! Guess what happened? I made the team!” Theo announces as he runs into the gallery and over to you, your mom behind him carrying his backpack.

Halfway between the door to the security office and you, Marcus freezes. His eyes widen and he feels like he’s been kicked in the chest and he swears his heart stops. The boy, he’s guessing around ten years old, looks like he could be a copy of Marcus when he was a boy. Skin tone is different and there are small features that are a unique blend of your features, but he looks like him. There is absolutely no way that this child, this boy, isn’t his. His mouth drops open and he nearly chokes on his own breath.

You ignore Marcus, avoiding his eyes as you look down at your son. “Really? That’s amazing, baby.” You hug him, kissing his hair. He’d been so excited to try out for the baseball team and now he’s on it. You know it’s gonna be a lot of work to take him to practices and games but you don’t care, you want him to be happy. Your mom looks over at Marcus and back at you, her eyes wide. She sees the resemblance immediately and you told her about Marcus when you found out you were pregnant.

He can’t move, trying to process what the hell possibly happened and he’s immediately flooded with intense guilt. He had gotten you pregnant. He had gotten you pregnant and he didn’t call you. You didn’t have any way to get into contact with him and you had been a single mother for ten years. He knew you weren’t married, or at least he thought you weren’t. There’s not a ring on your finger, but you might have a boyfriend. He watches the boy, his son, closely. Absorbing every detail of his mannerisms and excitement as he talks about his obvious passion - baseball. The same sport Marcus had played in school.

You glance at Marcus finally, seeing his eyes, and you know he has figured it out. You swallow harshly and look at your mom who has questioning eyes. “Can you take Theo for a snack, mama?” You ask your mom who nods.

“You wanna go to the place on the corner for a snack, honey?” She asks Theo who nods, “can we, mom?” He asks and you smile, ruffling his hair, “of course.” Your mom takes him outside and you inhale deeply, turning to face Marcus. “We need to talk.” You tell him, “you wanna come sit in my office?”

He nods, not even able to put anything into words and follows you to the back. Your office is across from the security office and is neat. It’s obviously filled with personal touches. There’s a picture that is obviously from last Christmas of the two of you. Theo beaming as he holds a new baseball glove and bat. “I- does he- what’s his name?” He asks, once the door is closed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

You can see he’s struggling but you’re hurt too. He didn’t call and when you found out you were pregnant, you were newly graduated and alone. Your mom helped, letting you move in with her and it’s been hard to get your career where you dreamed it would be all those years ago. “His name is Theo Lucas. He has my last name…obviously. It’s - you didn’t call and I thought that you - that you just asked me out to save face for a quickie in a jail cell.” You cross your arms and turn towards the closed door, “he’s - he’s the best thing that ever happened to me so I guess I should thank you for that night.”

“I want to meet him. Officially.” Marcus clarifies. “I didn’t know that he was - that you were pregnant. If I had I would have helped you, supported you, been there for both of you. “Please?”

You bite your lip, watching him with hesitation. What’s to say he won’t just take off again after Theo has gotten attached. You’re not sure if it’s sensible or really the actual reason why but the words “of course” escape your mouth before you can think about his. His answering soft smile makes your heart ache a little and you clear your throat. “I’ll give you my cell phone, proper numbers this time as we can talk.”

Marcus chuckles and reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his badge folder. Pulling a card with his information on it and handing it to you. “This way the ball is in your court.” He offers. “Theo likes baseball?” He asks. “I used to play in high school and college when I wasn’t playing with my band.” He tells you. “Maybe I can practice with him or take him to a game? I planned on seeing the Rangers play this weekend.”

You bite your lip, looking down at his card. “I bet he’d love that.” You smile at Marcus and are terrified but excited for your son to meet his father finally. You’ve imagined it so many times and he has asked about his dad. You tried to explain it as simply as you can to a young child and you told him you and his dad had a brief relationship. It sounded better than what the reality is. “It’s good to see you again, Marcus.” You say just as his phone rings.

“Shit.” He jolts and reaches for his phone, glancing down at it and then giving you an apologetic look. “Hey.” He answers, a smile on his face when he speaks. “Are you finishing up for the day?” He asks, “I’m still working on a case.” Listening for a few moments he hums. “I’ll meet you there, okay. Sounds good. Bye.”

You see the look on his face and you know it’s his romantic partner. The look in his eyes is soft and sweet and it makes your heart twist even though he’s not yours, he never was. You just had one night. You wait for him to finish and he smiles at you after he shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry about that.” He says and you shake your head, “it’s fine.” He clears his throat, “so I’ll see you soon. For the case and for Theo. I will wait for your call.” He promises and you nod, twisting the card in your hand.

“I’ll see you soon, Marcus.” You promise and he gathers his things, bidding you goodbye and you sit down at your desk and close your eyes, hating how your heart twists at seeing him again.

Marcus makes his way out of the museum and when he gets into the car, he just sits for a moment. Absorbing the life changing information that he is a father. He wants to jump in and help and support you in any and every way he can. Feeling guilty for not knowing about Theo sooner. He knows he has to tell Teresa as soon as possible. Tonight at dinner. She will understand.

****

“You met my dad?” Theo asks when you discuss it at dinner.

“Yes baby. He’s - he - we lost touch and now he’s back. I got his number. He wants to meet you. He loves baseball too and said about taking you to a game. I- I know it’s a lot to take in but he wants to get to know you.” You tell Theo who frowns, looking down at his plate.

“Why now?” Theo asks and you clear your throat, “I told you…we lost touch.” You explain and Theo shakes his head, “he didn’t want me?” He asks and you reach for his hand.

“No. No. Not that. It’s complicated. Adult stuff you won’t understand.” You try again but Theo is pushing his chair back and rushing to his room, “you didn’t want me to know him!” He yells and slams the door, making you close your eyes and rub your head.

****

“I have something I need to tell you.” Marcus gazes at Teresa nervously over the votive in the middle of the romantic table at their favorite restaurant. He’s already had two glasses of wine because he’s excited and nervous. Reaching out, he takes her hand. “Eleven years ago, I had a….fling.” He isn’t going to give all the specifics, but Teresa deserves to know. “It was right before the FBI academy and somehow, the phone number I was given was bad, so it didn’t go beyond the one encounter.”

Teresa tilts her head and laughs. “Marcus, I don’t need to know about every person you slept with. We both have a history.” She assures him.

Marcus shakes his head. “No, I ran into her today. And….” He takes a deep breath. “I have a son. He’s just like me. I saw him and I-“ he shrugs. “I’m going to get to know him, become a part of his life.”

Teresa stares at Marcus in shock, looking down at their hands, and she swallows harshly. “How - you - um, that’s - wow.” She finishes lamely, still in shock. “That’s great, Marcus. Truly. That’s - I can’t wait to meet him.” She says, a little through her teeth but Marcus doesn’t notice as he beams, squeezing her hand.

****

You call Marcus the next day due to Theo constantly asking you when he’s going to meet his dad. “Are you free this evening?” You ask and Marcus holds the phone in his hand, “of course. I’m free.”

You smile, “great. You want to come over for dinner? Theo is excited to meet you. I told him we had a fling and tried to explain it as much as I could without getting into details.”

Marcus hums in agreement, “he doesn’t need to know the details, I don’t think a child would understand that yet.” He will follow your lead on Theo since you have been the one raising him. “Does he have a particular favorite baseball team?” Marcus asks. “I don’t want to come empty handed the first time I meet my son.”

You smile against the phone at how sweet he is. You remember that from that night, how funny and sweet he was even when he was wrecking you with his cock. “He loves the Nationals. My dad…he lives in D.C and has gotten Theo into his team, so yeah, Nationals.” You answer and Marcus hums, “Nationals, got it.”

You nod even though he can’t see it, “so I’ll see you at 6?” You ask and he confirms. “Great. I’ll text you my address.” You say and bid him goodbye, hanging up the phone to quickly shoot him a text. You’re nervous and you know Theo is nervous, unsure of going to school today but you took him and he was fine once he settled in. You’ve got the day at work to figure out what to cook for the first time your one night stand meets his son.

During lunch, Marcus runs out to a sporting goods store to pick up Nationals gear for a ten year old. Then back to his apartment to pick up his own glove and some balls. If you’ve got a yard, he wants to get out there and throw the ball with Theo if he’s up for it. Your text comes through with the address and by 5, he’s leaving the office and plugging in the GPS to go to your house.

You smile as Theo rushes up to the front door when Marcus rings the doorbell. “I’ll get the door, sweetie.” You say, rubbing his shoulder and he’s practically buzzing as he watches you open the door. You send a silent prayer that this is gonna go well and you come face to face with Marcus, standing there holding a big duffel bag. “Come in.” You gesture and he steps in, clearly nervous, and his dark eyes find Theo. “Sweetheart, this is - this is Marcus. He’s your dad.” You introduce him officially and Theo looks at Marcus with wide eyes.

Marcus sets the bag down and kneels down so he can look his son in the eyes. The same shade of brown as his own. “Hello, Theo.” He offers quietly, beaming and trying not to cry. “It is so good to meet you. I brought my glove. If it's okay with your mom, after dinner we can throw the ball around?” He asks, glancing up at you for permission before looking back at him to see if that’s something he wants to do.

Theo beams, staring at his father, and he nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Mom - can we - can we go outside?” He asks you and you nod, “of course you can.” Theo surges forward to wrap his arms around his father, “hi dad.” He says into his father’s neck as he grips him tight, excited to have him there.

His eyes close and his arms wrap around Theo tight, holding his son against him. “Hey, buddy.” He chokes out, opening his eyes and looking up at you. He’s overwhelmed and emotional and it’s almost a relief that you are silently crying. He’s not being too much with his reaction to meeting the son he didn’t know about.

You wipe your eyes, seeing the unshed tears shining in Marcus’s eyes and you know in that moment that you haven’t made a mistake. You know Theo is going to have his father in his life finally. “Come on you two. Dinner will be ready soon. Marcus, what do you want to drink?” You ask after clearing your throat.

“Anything would be great, thanks.” He squeezes Theo once more before he pulls away to grin at him. “I brought you some presents. Although I know I have a lot of missed birthdays and Christmas’ to make up for.”

Theo grins, “lots. Ten years worth.” He says and you chuckle, “dad is here now and he brought you some presents. You wanna open them while I finish up dinner?” You ask Theo who nods and grabs Marcus’s hand to practically drag him into the kitchen.

“Come on dad, I wanna open my presents.”

It’s surreal to hear someone calling him dad and it makes him break out into a wide grin. He had managed to grab the duffel bag and he sets it on the table to open up and start pulling out gifts. He had thought he had gone overboard, but he doesn’t believe that now, the way Theo’s eyes are widening and he’s practically bouncing with excitement.

You get Marcus a beer and a glass of wine for yourself then set them down after getting a glass of milk for Theo. “Wow! I always wanted one of these!” Theo gasps when he sees the Nationals jersey and you feel a little guilty that you didn’t get the right one that he wanted. You got the Rangers and he was happy, but it’s not his favorite team.

“I’m glad. Your mom told me that you’re a big Nationals fan.” Marcus chatters nervously. “Now I have tickets to the Ranger’s game this weekend, would you want to go? Even if it’s not the Nationals? Since we are here in Texas?” It’s a commute to Ranger stadium and he would buy you a ticket if you preferred to come too, but he wants to give Theo that experience together.

You watch Theo bounce, nodding his head, “yes yes yes. Oh can I go mom? Can I?” He asks you and you nod, “of course baby. You can go.” You won’t deny him this time with his father and you know Marcus is a good man. He works for the FBI for goodness sake. “I’ll go get dinner. Sit down, both of you.” You order playfully.

“We better listen to your mom.” Marcus grins, happy that his son wants to go to a game with him. He reaches up and ruffles the boy's hair. “Let’s go wash our hands, gotta be clean to eat.”

You watch Marcus take Theo to wash his hands and you smile to yourself as you plate up the spaghetti and meatballs. The boys sit down at the table and you set the plates down in front of them. “I hope you like it. I didn’t ask if you were vegetarian. Oh shit. Are you? If not, I can make something else.” You start to panic a little, realizing how little you know about Marcus.

“No.” He smiles up at your reassuringly. “I love spaghetti and meatballs.” He looks over at Theo. “And I’m sure your mom’s is great, isn’t it, Buddy?” He asks.

“Oh yeah! Mom’s spaghetti is the best!” Theo cries out with a grin. “She puts extra cheese on top for me.”

You smile, loving that your son loves your cooking. You look at Marcus, “I put extra cheese on yours too.” You wink at him and watch Theo as he starts to dig into his food, hungry as always, “why don’t you tell your dad about school today?” You ask Theo, wanting Marcus to be involved in the small things like hearing Theo talk about his day.

Marcus listens intently, nodding while Theo tells him every little thing about his day. Grinning to himself when the boy would go off on a little tangent like he used to as he shovels in his food with the enthusiasm of a growing boy.

You finish eating while Theo talks about his school and his friends. You watch Marcus hang onto every word, nodding and responding like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard and that makes your heart thump. “Everyone done?” You ask and Theo nods, “thank you, mom.” He stands up to collect the dishes but you stop him. “Not tonight, honey. Sit with your dad. I’ll clean up.” You tell him as you gather the plates, “I have dessert too. You want ice cream?” You ask and Theo nods, eyes lighting up.

“Must be a special night.” Marcus muses. “Dessert too?” He grins when Theo bobbles his head so hard he might rattle some teeth around. “After we eat dessert, you wanna throw the ball?”

Theo thinks that Christmas has come as he nods and Marcus chuckles, “sure thing, bud.” You smile as you load up the dishwasher and listen to Marcus and Theo talk. “So why did you not stay with my mom?” Theo asks, always inquisitive and you wince slightly but leave it to Marcus to provide his own explanation.

Glancing up at you for permission, he knows he needs to tell his son why the two of you aren’t together. Why he’s never met him before. “I- it’s complicated.” Marcus winces, knowing that isn’t the best answer. “Your mom was wonderful. And I had plans to take her on a date, to spend more time with her, but I messed up.” Marcus stresses. He will take the blame, of course he will. “I wrote her number down wrong, and couldn’t call her. And I didn’t know where she lived.”

Theo stares at Marcus for a moment, absorbing his answer until eventually he nods and looks over at you. “Well, you’re dumb because my mom is amazing.” Your heart clenches and tears sting in your eyes at the compliment from your son and you look at Marcus with an apologetic smile.

“I know I am.” Marcus accepts that rebuke and nods in agreement. “Your mom is amazing and I have to thank her because she gave me a son.” He reaches over and pats your hand. “Thank you. For taking care of him while I wasn’t around and being amazing enough for him to defend you.”

You smile at Marcus and lean in to kiss Theo on the head as you slide the bowl of ice cream towards him. “Okay. Let’s eat some ice cream.” You declare, trying to lighten the mood and give yourself a moment as you hand Marcus his own bowl. “Toppings are yours to pick. We have chocolate sauce, whipped cream, nuts, and strawberries.” You say and Theo begins to put a river of chocolate sauce in his sundae. “Maybe we have enough sauce to go with the ice cream, huh baby?” You tease and he chuckles, setting the sauce bottle down.

“He’s a man with taste.” Marcus chuckles, amazed that he is sitting down and eating dessert with his son. “I love chocolate syrup too.” He admits, taking the bottle and turning it up over his ice cream. The little boy beams happily, loving that his dad likes the same things he does. It’s almost a family moment and he feels guilty that Teresa isn’t here to see it. “What else do you like? Whipped cream and a cherry? Or strawberries?” He asks, wanting to know everything about Theo.

“Whipped cream, for sure. And nuts.” Theo answers and reaches for a spoonful of nuts. You watch him and Marcus chuckles, “same. I do like strawberries but not on ice cream.” He says and Theo nods. You reach for the strawberries, “those are for me. I love strawberries.” Marcus nods and you watch him as he takes the spoon from Theo to cover his sundae with nuts. The ice cream goes down well and you’re soon putting the dishwasher on while Marcus and Theo go outside to play catch.

Outside, Marcus feels like he is living every ‘dad dream’ he’s ever had. It started with small tosses of the ball to warm up and he started asking questions. Theo’s likes, dislikes. His dreams. Favorite movies. Learning about the boy and hopefully bonding with him. They play until you come back outside as the sun starts to go down.

Marcus sits in the living room while Theo showers and gets ready for bed. He’s already done his homework and you get him in bed. “You want your dad to come and say goodnight?” You ask Theo after you kiss his forehead.

“Yes, please mama.” He murmurs and you nod, standing up and walking into the living room where Marcus is sitting. “He wants you to say goodnight.” You tell him and he stands up, rubbing his hands on his pants.

Marcus goes down the hall and hovers in the doorway for a moment, taking in the bedroom and smiling when he sees baseball posters on the wall. It could be a bedroom from his own childhood. “You all ready for bed, buddy?” He asks, coming and sitting on the edge and nervously rubbing the covers on the edge. .

“No.” Theo says and you smile as you lean against the wall in the hallway.

“I know, I’m never tired after a big day.” Marcus smiles and pats the bed sheets.

Theo nods, settling down against his pillow, “after you fight the bad guys?” He asks his father with a sleepy smile.

Marcus reaches up and brushes Theo’s hair gently. “After I fight the bad guys.” Marcus nods and smiles down at his son. “Goodnight Theo.” He murmurs softly, amused that despite being so adamant about not being tired, he’s already starting to fall asleep. Marcus sits with him until he’s completely gone and then watches him, amazed that he is here with a child who is his.

You push off of the wall as Marcus walks into the hallway and you smile at him, at seeing the way his eyes are soft and glassy. You reach out to pat his arm, “you want another beer? Or coffee before you go? We need to talk about how we move forward.”

“Sure.” Marcus nods and follows you back out to the living room and into the kitchen. “He’s a great kid.” He gushes after a moment. Standing around, he wonders where to go from here. “I owe you a lot of child support.” He blurts out, reaching into his pocket for a check he had written. “Obviously it’s not ten years worth, but I want to start making up for not being here.”

Your eyes widen at the amount of the check. “Marcus. No- it wasn’t - you didn’t know. I can’t accept this. You didn’t know about him. You didn’t dodge it and I’ve done well. My parents helped. Please…this is way too much.” You shake your head, knowing you could never accept his money when you had ten years with your son and he’s missed out on so much.

“Put it in a college fund for him.” Marcus shakes his head when you hold the check back out to him. “Please. I might not have known about him, but I know now. If I had known then, he would have had a college fund started from the day you told me.”

You can’t deny him that, knowing that your funds for his college are a little low after you have been working hard but it’s not enough, never enough. “Marcus. It’s - I’ll put it in the bank account I have ready for his college fund.” You surge forward to wrap your arms around his neck, “thank you.”

Marcus hugs you back, there’s nothing wrong with hugging the mother of his child. This is the woman who gave him the little boy in that bedroom. He tries not to remember how good touching you had felt all those years ago. That was past, and he is involved with Teresa now. “You’re welcome.” He murmurs sincerely. “I’ll give you more. I promise.”

You step back, patting his chest, “you’re just - I’m glad you’re in Theo’s life.” You step away and you make your way to the kitchen followed by Marcus. “Take a seat and I’ll get you a beer then we can talk details.” You watch him head into the living room and you grab two beers, making your way into the living room and you sit down on the sofa beside him. “So, uh, we didn’t exactly discuss our - our situations in life. I don’t have a husband or even a boyfriend. It’s been tough dating with a young son and I’ve been focused on work and Theo. I just wanted you to know that.”

“I’m sorry.” Marcus winces and shakes his head. “You didn’t deserve to be left with the responsibility by yourself.” He won’t let go of the guilt easily. “Maybe with some help, you can have some time for yourself.” He won’t say ‘date’, but that’s your decision. “I- I am in a relationship. Another agent.” He confesses, feeling guilty again.

You hate how your heart clenches at the news but you know he was never yours. “That’s great. I- I can’t wait to meet them one day. Did you tell them about Theo?” You ask, and Marcus nods, “she knows. Her name is Teresa.” He says with a smile that makes you want to cry a little. He’s such a lovely guy and he belongs to Teresa.

You know you can’t be an idiot, you have a child together that he’s just met. You need to be sensible. “So I want you to see him. We can work out a custody schedule in a few months I’d say once Theo is comfortable and I am. I don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping him from you but I need him to be safe and secure and happy.”

Marcus holds up a hand and shakes his head. “Absolutely.” He agrees. “Theo has been your priority for ten years, eleven really.” He reasons. “You are his mother and I would never try to come in and immediately change everything. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come to the game too?” He asks. “Since it’s a few hours away? He can say that he wants to go and then get nervous because I am essentially a stranger to him. Plus, I can see how you parent, because I want to work with you on raising him.”

You appreciate how accommodating he’s being, not demanding more when he hasn’t been here at all even though it’s technically not his fault. He’s missed out on so much but he’s still wanting to include you. That makes you warm to him even more and you nod, “I think that’s a great idea. Let's all get to know each other more. We didn’t exactly have an in-depth conversation before we had sex.” You fluster and reach for your beer to take a sip, “do you want to ask Teresa if she wants to come too?” You add, hoping he says no but she’s going to be part of Theo’s life and you need to assess her.

“She has a case that she’s working on.” Marcus frowns slightly and shrugs. “She’s going to have to be on a stakeout or something.” He had originally been going to go with her, and then he had considered selling the tickets when her plans had fallen through, but this is perfect. “What do you want to know about me?” He asks.

You are relieved that Teresa isn’t coming on this first adventure and you lean back against the sofa, tucking your leg up beneath you. “First of all…I didn’t - Theo is fine but do you have any medical family history? I know mine of course but I want to know in case there’s something I need to look out for.”

“Nothing really.” Marcus shakes his head and takes a sip of his own beer. “Grandfather died of a heart attack, but he was 87.” He shrugs slightly. “I can’t say that’s a short life. Parents are pretty healthy. I haven’t told them yet, but I know they will want to meet Theo, get to know him. When you’re comfortable.”

“I’d like that. Theo would love that. I have always felt so guilty that he hasn’t had a lot of family.” You confess, taking another sip of your beer, tears stinging in your eyes as you think about all the things Theo has missed out on with his father.

“You okay?” Marcus asks and you shake your head, a few tears escaping.

“I just wish - I wish I had given you the right number.”

“It’s my fault.” Marcus will readily admit that. “I should have double checked with you before you left. I had been trying not to seem too desperate, or creepy.” He shoots you a sardonic grin. “Since we had just had sex in a jail cell after you were picked up.”

You chuckle, wiping away your tears, “that was sexy as hell though. I still think about that night sometimes.” You admit until you realize what you said, “I’m sorry. I- you have Teresa and I’m not asking you to - shit. Have I made it weird?”

“Don’t worry about that.” He shakes his head and hums with a small smile. “It’s okay. I promise. I’ve thought about it before.” He admits. “It was sexy.” He doesn’t really think about it now that he’s with Teresa, but when he was single, it was one of his go-to memories when he wasn’t in the mood to look at porn.

You chuckle, “it was.” You nudge him and move to set your beer down. “I guess we go from here. I’ll see you Saturday for the game. Are you gonna come back to the gallery or is your team working on tracking down that guy first?” You ask, curious as to what’s going to happen with the stolen painting.

“They are working on tracking down the suspect, but I normally come check in every day, every other day.” He admits, shrugging slightly. “The worst thing for the victim is to feel like they are just bogged down in the system. Especially when dealing with art. It’s normally personal or professional so everyone is eager to know that it’s being taken seriously.”

You nod, “then I’ll see you in the gallery.” You shift to stand up, “I’m sure Teresa is expecting you to be home soon. Theo will be out like a light. Do you want some water for the ride home?” You ask, looking down at him.

“Oh, Teresa and I don’t live together.” It wasn’t for lack of planning but it hadn’t happened yet. Just wasn’t quite to that place in the relationship yet even though a lot of nights were spent together. “But I will take a water.” He agrees.

You walk over to the fridge to get him a bottle of water, admiring his profile as he gathers his things. “Here you go.” You hand him the bottle and your fingers brush his. “I’ll see you soon. Maybe…if you don’t see Theo, we can do daily calls? You can talk to him.”

“I’d really like that.” Marcus quickly agrees, happy that you are so willing to let him spend time with Theo and get to know him. “Thank you.” He murmurs as you walk with him to the door. “He’s a great kid and that is all because of you. I hate that you had to do it alone but you’ve done a fantastic job.” Mother’s Day will have to come early for you and he will have to make sure that it’s amazing to make up for the ones that he missed.

You fluster at his kind words, excited to see how this goes, and you are happy for Theo to have his father in his life. You know it’s been a missing piece. No matter how hard you try to cover both positions, you know he’s been jealous of the other boys going to baseball games with their fathers or going out with the father-son groups. It’s been hard and you try to compensate but it’s impossible.

Marcus pauses at the door, turning around and smiling at you. You had been gorgeous eleven years ago, hungover and obviously partying, but now you are even more beautiful. Maybe it’s because he had a child with you, but there’s a softness that he admires for a moment. He murmurs your name, “have a good night. Call me if you need anything, okay? I want to help anyway I can.”

You nod, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorway, watching him as he makes his way to his car. You bite your lip, admiring his broad shoulders, and you know you have to stop. You will not ruin your son’s relationship with his father because you haven’t had sex in a while. You watch Marcus, waving as he pulls away, and you shut the door, closing your eyes. “It’s gonna be fine.” You murmur to yourself, deciding to get ready for bed and watch your show to distract yourself.

On the way home, Marcus contemplates calling Teresa, but he doesn’t. Instead he thinks about the situation, knowing that he will have to tell his parents soon, and they will want to meet him. He knows they will have questions so he wants to talk to you about what to tell them.

****

“You having a good time?” You ask Theo as he takes a big bite of the hot dog Marcus got him. The game is in full swing and you love how Marcus and Theo are bonding over their mutual love of baseball. You take a few photos, certain that Marcus will want them, and you think about the past few days. You and Marcus established when Theo will meet his parents and the story you’ll tell them is the truth. Although it’s awkward, keeping secrets never helps anyone. You watch the father and son and feel emotional, wishing once again that Marcus had called you after that fateful night.

“Oh man!” Theo cheers when the home run cracks off the bat and he leaps out of his seat to watch it go flying over the left field fence. Marcus grins and looks over at you, emotional at how much he is enjoying this. Almost upset that there isn’t a team in Austin so this could become a weekly thing. He’d say that season tickets could be done.

“Looks like extra innings.” He teases, playing with Theo’s cap. “You aren’t gonna wanna miss that, are you?”

Theo shakes his head so hard his neck nearly breaks, “no, dad! Of course not!” He scoffs and you hide your grin behind your hand. You watch Marcus point out various players to Theo and they discuss the stats, both clearly knowledgeable and passionate about the sport and it’s making your heart nearly burst with joy.

Marcus grins as he leans back, looking at you behind Theo’s head. “If it goes too late, do you want to spend the night?” He asks, thinking about getting a hotel depending on how many hours it goes over a normal game. “I’ll cover the cost. Two rooms.” He offers, knowing it’s not right to stay in one room.

“Please mom! Please!” Theo begs, looking up at you with wide eyes and you nod, “okay baby. Okay. We can do that if it runs too late. I, uh, I don’t really have anything. We can stop at CVS to get a tooth brush and toiletries.” You say, unable to take away from this experience for Theo. “Are you sure Teresa won’t mind?”

“She’ll be alright.” He’s already texted her and let her know that it might be a possibility. She had said ‘okay’, so he knew she was alright with it. Teresa tends to speak her mind so he trusts her. “We can stop by a store and get some things.”

Finally the game ends and it’s late, way past Theo’s bed time and you can see he’s tired from the constant yawns but he’s fighting it. “Are you ready for bed, sweetheart?” You ask, hugging Theo as you approach Marcus’s car. “Maybe a hotel is the best idea.” You tell Marcus, running your hands through Theo’s hair.

“Yeah.” Marcus frowns slightly as he has spent the last twenty minutes of the game trying to book rooms. “There’s a hotel up the road I have a room booked for you guys.” He promises, turning towards his son and smiling at how sleepy Theo looks. “We’ll find a Wal-Mart and grab toothbrushes and PJs.”

“What about you?” You ask as you buckle Theo in and get in the front seat. Marcus bites his lip, not answering. “Marcus…” You raise your eyebrows, wanting him to answer you before you start to get frustrated. You’ve learned he’s a people pleaser and it’s to his own detriment sometimes.

“There’s….” He sighs and hangs his head. “There’s some kind of big conference this weekend.” He admits quietly. “Everywhere is sold out. I could only get the one room. It’s okay, though.” He assures you. “It’s a nice place and I can catch a few hours in the car. Not like I haven’t done that before.” He chuckles, making a joke about stakeouts.

"No. No. You - you are going to get some sleep. You've been driving and you are driving tomorrow. I- Theo will sleep between us. We can share the bed. We are parents sharing a bed with our son. You can't sleep in the car." You shake your head, whispering harshly as Theo is asleep.

Marcus frowns and shakes his head. “No, the room has two beds.” He reveals. “I just don’t think that you would want…you know that Theo might get the wrong impression.” He murmurs quietly, looking in the back seat and then towards you. He’s trying to be a gentleman and give you privacy. The only intimacy you’ve shared was the night you created Theo and he’s not going to assume you would be okay with sharing a room.

You bite your lip, "two beds is perfect. I can share with Theo and you get to spread out in your own bed. He won't - we can explain that there was only one room left. He knows you are with Teresa...he wants to meet her."

“Are you sure?” He asks seriously, turning expressive eyes on you. He’s thrilled to learn that Theo wants to meet Teresa, because he wants her to get to know him, but he is talking about the hotel sleeping arrangement. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You nod, chuckling softly. "I don't think you can make anyone uncomfortable, Marcus. You are the most caring man I can think of. We will be fine." You promise. You give Marcus a list of what you need and he goes into Walmart to get your list. You watch Theo sleep in the mirror and about ten minutes later, Marcus is pulling up at the hotel. You grab the bags after Marcus checks in and comes back out. "Can you carry Theo?"

“Of course I can.” Marcus beams as he opens the back door and starts to gently unbuckle the sleeping child and pull him out of the car. “He’s solid.” He grunts, grinning at you as Theo snuggles against his dads shoulder and grunts at being disturbed before settling back down into a limp mass of limbs.

You smile, watching Theo wrap his arms around his dad who carries him to the room. “Notice I didn’t offer.” You tease softly and pat Marcus on the shoulder as you take over finding the room. Once you’re inside, Marcus lays Theo down and you work on removing his clothes to dress him in the pajamas his dad had just bought for him. “Night, my love.” You murmur, kissing Theo’s head after you cover him up with the covers, the. you look over at Marcus who has removed his shoes and is watching you with apprehension. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Thanks for buying these.” You hold up the shorts and tank top, feeling a little awkward but it’s necessary for Theo to get some good sleep.

“It course.” He nods, feeling bad that he always carries an overnight bag in the car. “I’ll change quickly while you’re in there and then we’ll get some sleep.” He offers, trying not to think about the mechanics of all of this. This is just two parents sharing a room with their son.

You brush your teeth and wash your face, coming out of the bathroom in the tank top and shorts and you had told yourself in the mirror that this isn't a big deal. It's Marcus and Theo. You get under the covers on the side closest to the nightstand since Theo shifted in his sleep and you look over at Marcus. "Goodnight." You murmur, your eyes finding his in the lamplight.

“Goodnight sweetheart.” Marcus whispers softly, smiling at you as he reaches over to switch off the light. “Thank you for today. Letting Theo come to the game.” He shuffles and settles in the dark. “Might be the best day I’ve ever had.”

“Me too.” You answer honestly and you smile when you hear him snore. You listen to him and Theo breathe for a while until you finally close your eyes, wishing this was real, that you were a real family.

****

The next morning is fun, if not a little hectic. Getting up and getting ready without crowding each other in the bathroom proves interesting and the two of you decide to take Theo out to breakfast before getting back on the road to Austin. Taking your time and enjoying the Sunday brunch, Marcus can’t help but laugh at your jokes and enjoy that you have such a warm and delightful personality. Making him wonder what would have happened if he had gotten your number right. Would you two be married right now? Would there be another child besides Theo? He hates thinking that way, since he’s involved with Teresa, but it’s there in the back of his mind.

You hate how natural this feels with Marcus. It should be awkward. After all, he fucked you while on duty in a jail cell, yet it feels like you’ve known him forever. You smile as Theo tells his dad about his favorite show and you realize it’s gonna be hard to meet Teresa, to meet the woman that has Marcus. “Shall we get on the road?” Marcus asks, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you nod, gathering your things. The drive home is filled with music and Theo chattering away and you can feel Marcus look at you every now and then, his hand on the gearshift and it makes you want to reach out and place your hand on top. “Dad, can you come to my game on Friday?” Theo asks, “with Teresa?”

“I’ll have to check with Teresa, but as long as nothing comes up with your mom’s case, I’ll be there.” He promises, looking in the rear view mirror at his son’s hopeful eyes. “Sometimes the bad guys don’t stop being bad to do fun things, but I will never stop trying to make sure that I am there.” It’s important to him that Theo knows that. “Even if I’m coming in at the end or having to duck out early, I will be there as much as I can.”

He knows it’s a hollow promise to a ten year old, but he also wants to make sure that he knows that sometimes dad’s job has to come before other things. It’s one of the downsides as far as Marcus is concerned.

Theo nods, “okay, dad.”

You look behind you to wink at Theo, “if not this game, the next one.” You compromise with your son, not wanting him to put all his hopes on this one game when Marcus could be working. You turn back to the front and Marcus nods, sending you a silent thanks.

****

“Come on Theo!” You cheer, watching your son run to third base and then “home run!” You shout and clap your hands. Marcus hasn’t arrived yet, he texted to say he’d be late and he has a lead on the mysterious man who was in the video.

Marcus pulls into the parking lot, rushing out of the car and takes a moment so he can lock his gun in the glove compartment and take off his jacket. Rushing over to the ball field that you had told him. He managed to catch Theo sliding into home and cheering. “Yeah! Theo! Way to go buddy!” He stands at the fence and beams at the boy as he stands up and brushes himself off.

Theo sees his dad and his face lights up. He’s covered in dirt but he looks on top of the world. You clap and cheer your son and suddenly Marcus appears beside you. “Hey!” You greet him and glance around, your brow furrowed as you look past him. “Teresa couldn’t make it?” You ask him.

“She had to work.” Marcus frowns slightly but he shrugs. “She said that she would like to go out to dinner with you and Theo.” He offers, although he had been the one to suggest it. She had been a little distracted when she agreed, but she had been rushing to get off the phone to talk to Jane.

You nod, “that would be nice. I want to meet her.” You say even though you’re not entirely convinced. Teresa doesn’t seem to want to meet. She’s avoided every opportunity to meet Theo and you are worried she won’t accept your son.

“I think you’ll get along well.” Marcus hums, even though he’s starting to get antsy about the two of you meeting. He’s spent a lot of time with you lately and while she understands, it seems as if there’s not been a lot of time for them. He doesn’t want her getting worried about things.

After the game is over, you take Theo for ice cream to celebrate and Marcus is a little distracted, looking at his phone. “Everything okay?” You ask and he nods, “yeah. I’m fine.” He says and you don’t push, knowing he has a lot on his plate.

Marcus gets the alert that there is a name on the suspect, as well as a current address. He hums and looks up, smiling at Theo and you. “Tomorrow, I might be a little out of pocket.” He announces to you. “We are going to question the man from the security surveillance.” He tells you quietly while Theo is distracted with his ice cream.

Your eyes widen slightly, “wow. I hope - hopefully something comes from it. The artist is freaking out and I’m struggling to keep him calm enough to keep his other pieces in the gallery. We had to reassure him that our security has been reinforced.” You confess and Marcus nods, “we will get him.”

Marcus hates that he had been late, finding it to be too little time with Theo. “Sorry I was late, but I’m glad to see that home run. Those batting drills are paying off.”

“Yes they are.” You smile, happy that Marcus and Theo have already bonded. You are a little sad that your son has missed out on so much with his dad but you are happy he’s here now.

****

“You got him?” You gasp when Marcus comes into your office before telling you he has found the perp who stole the piece.

“We got him. And the art. He had it in some storage unit out west, waiting until the dust settled so he could sell it.” Marcus tells you and grins.

“Oh my God. Thank you!” You surge forward to hug him, relieved and happy that the piece has been found.

Marcus grins and hugs you back. Rubbing your back gently and nodding when he pulls back. “Obviously the piece will be photographed and logged into evidence for authentication, but once that is done, we will return it to you. The pictures from recovery will be enough for the DA.”

You kiss his cheek as you pull back, “thank you. Thank you.” You squeal, not even thinking about kissing his cheek until you hear a throat clear behind you. You turn to see a woman, her eyes flicking between you and Marcus whose eyes widen as he looks at the woman.

“Teresa. Come here.” He gestures her over and introduces you. You aren’t sure if she is upset or doesn’t like you being near Marcus but she’s polite yet aloof when you get to finally meet Teresa.

Teresa slides up beside Marcus and looks up at him in amusement. “Good news?” She asks and Marcus nods.

“We recovered the painting today.” He tells her and her slightly bland smile turns genuine.

“That’s great.” She murmurs, knowing how good a closed case is for an FBI agent. She wraps her arm around his waist and hugs him tightly before she looks towards Theo. “So, this must be Theo.” She grins, bending down slightly. “Your daddy talks about you….a lot.”

“My dad doesn’t talk that much about you.” Theo answers honestly and you clear your throat, offering Teresa an awkward smile, ruffling Theo’s hair.

“It’s great to meet you.” You tell her and she nods, “you too.” Theo steps closer to you and you nudge his back, silently telling him to be polite and he looks at you with those same brown eyes as Marcus.

Marcus chuckles quietly, admitting that is true but Teresa just smiles. “I’m sure he has more to talk about with you than me.” She tells him before looking back up at Marcus. “Are we ready to go eat?” She asks. “I’m starved. Jane had us mucking through a field rather than having lunch today.”

You notice the frown on Marcus’s face as he hears the name Jane and he’s told you about Patrick Jane a few times, about how he feels like the man is trying to get involved in his relationship with Teresa.

“Let’s go to dinner.” You declare after you grab your purse and Theo starts to chatter to his dad about the upcoming game.

****

“So, uh, yeah. I haven’t given them my final decision since I wanted to talk to you first.” You tell Marcus as you sit on your sofa. Theo just went to bed and you asked Marcus to stay a little longer so you can talk.

“The Smithsonian. Wow.” Marcus says softly, looking across the room.

“Yeah. It’s - it’s huge. Modern art and I- it’s in D.C and I want Theo to have his father in his life but this job - it’s double my salary now and it’s the freakin’ Smithsonian. If you don’t want me to take the job, I understand, but Marcus…I want this. Not to guilt trip you but I’ve lived my life for Theo since I found out I was pregnant and this - this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.”

Immediately shaking his head, he hums in disapproval. “No, no, you should absolutely take it.” He insists. “There’s airplanes, we can visit.” He cocks his head and thinks about it for a moment. “There’s rumors of a position opening up in DC, that I’m also rumored to be in the running for now that my latest case has been solved so quickly.” He admits. “Maybe I can push for that position. You wouldn’t find it creepy if I moved to DC too? Follow you and Theo?”

You shake your head so fast it almost makes you dizzy. “You move to D.C? Marcus - that would be - I would love that. I don’t want Theo to lose his dad just when he’s got him. I want you to come to D.C with us…you and Teresa.”

“I’ll talk to Teresa.” Marcus nods. “If I get that position, it’s a director's job, I can pull some strings and get her a job at headquarters.”

You shake your head, a smile on your face, “you are amazing.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll tell them I’m taking the job. We can figure everything out.” You promise and his phone starts to ring. “I’ll let you go home.” You say, standing up and he follows suit, deciding to silence the phone call so he can say goodbye.

“We will work it all out.” He promises as he walks with you to the door. He’s eager to get home and see about putting in for the position. He has a few friends in DC that he can call and have a conversation with.

****

Teresa is shocked when Marcus asks her to move to D.C with him, even more shocked when he proposes. She isn’t sure about the move to D.C but she can’t let him go. He’s a good man and although you and Theo aren’t her ideal, she’s reluctant to let Marcus go.

When you hear about Marcus getting the job in D.C, you are ecstatic. When you hear about Marcus and Teresa being engaged, you try to be happy for him, but it’s hard. Teresa doesn’t seem to be on board about being a stepmom to Theo, nor does she seem able to tear herself away from Patrick Jane. You’re worried about Marcus getting hurt but you don’t want to say something in case Marcus turns against you. You can’t get involved for Theo’s sake. You often imagine being a family with Marcus and Theo but you’re not an idiot. Marcus loved Teresa otherwise he wouldn’t have asked her to marry him. You sigh and continue to pack. Theo has finished the school year and you threw a goodbye party for him, you leave tomorrow and it’s bittersweet but you’re excited for the future.

“So I’m going to go ahead and find us a place.” Marcus chatters with Teresa. “I’ve already got listings booked and I’m thinking of a house, at least three bedrooms.” He tells her. “I want a room for Theo, let him come over and spend the night, give his mom a break and let us bond together.” His apartment is packed and organized, ready for the movers to pick up. “What do you think?”

Teresa bites her lip as she holds her cell phone, Jane gesturing for her to hurry up as she shuffles her feet in the airport in Miami. “Yeah. I, uh, that sounds good. Marcus…I gotta go. This case…I’ll see you in D.C, yeah?” She says and Marcus frowns but doesn’t voice his annoyance, “sure. Speak later, honey. Love you.” He says and she hums before she hangs up the phone, following her partner out to their hired car.

****

“Oh my God, he did.” You nod, laughing alongside Theo and Marcus as Theo talks about his friend shoved a marble up his nose and you had to call his mom while taking the boy to the ER after you couldn’t remove it. Marcus shakes his head, laughing at Theo’s face.

“I told him not to do it.” Theo mumbles and you chuckle, stopping when Marcus’s phone rings.

“It’s Teresa.” He says and stands up, making his way into your new living room to take the call. “Hey.” Marcus smiles as he answers the phone, happy to see Teresa’s name pop up. She should be about to take off to come to D.C. He doesn’t quite understand why she called him a few hours earlier talking about coming sooner, but he’s happy. “You about to take off? I can’t wait to see you. You should see the new place.”

Teresa looks up as Jane runs onto the plane and she can hear Marcus talking to her but she doesn’t respond. Marcus frowns when he hears Jane say “I love you” to Teresa and that’s the moment he knows it’s over. He won’t be seeing Teresa in D.C. He guesses he should’ve seen this coming but a small part of him wanted him to be the one who comes out on top, who gets the girl for once. “Marcus, you okay?” You ask, “your ice cream is melting.”

“What?” He’s staring down at his phone, frowning at it and then looks back up at you. “Oh, oh yeah.” He shakes his head, plastering a fake smile on his face. “Everything’s good.” He motions back towards the kitchen. “Let’s go eat before it’s ice cream soup.”

You don’t believe that everything is fine but you don’t press as you walk back into the kitchen and Theo has already eaten half of his ice cream. “Where’s my cherry?” Marcus asks and Theo bites his lip.

“Theo!” You reprimand the ten year old and Marcus shakes his head, snorting, “it’s fine. I’ll just have to have yours.” Marcus plucks the cherry from Theo’s sundae and the boy cries out in protest.

“It’s not nice to take without asking, is it?” Marcus asks and Theo shakes his head, “no. I’m sorry, dad. You can have the cherry.” Theo shakes his head and Marcus places the cherry back in his son’s bowl.

“You can have it but don’t take.” He teaches him and you nod, amazed at how far Marcus has come in being a father. It makes your heart thump and your stomach twist but you shove that aside.

He manages to eat his ice cream without causing his son to worry but he can feel your eyes on him. Wondering what is wrong since he’s not acting like himself.

After ice cream, Marcus and Theo clean up the kitchen together. Marcus knows it’s important to have his son help you out and it’s good for him to see that a man should help with household upkeep. “Go tell your momma goodnight and get ready for bed, buddy.” He ruffles Theo’s hair after he dries his hands. “Thank you for helping.”

Theo comes rushing over and wraps his arms around you. “Goodnight mom.” He says and you bend over to kiss his hair, “go brush your teeth and get ready for bed. I’ll bring you some water and Dad will tuck you in.” You promise and Theo rushes off to the bathroom. You glance over at Marcus who is still in the kitchen, shoulders hunched. After Theo is in bed, you and Marcus bid him goodnight, shutting the door, and you walk into the living room and spin to face Marcus.

“What’s happened?” You ask, knowing there’s something wrong.

His eyes slip closed and the tight rein on his control slips. He sighs and seems to just wilt under your gentle probing. “Teresa-“ he chokes out. “She’s- she’s not coming to D.C.” He turns and stumbles a few short steps to the couch and sags down into it, hunching forward and plopping his head into his hands, elbows on his knees.

You frown, sitting down beside him and you place your hand on his back. “What do you mean she's not coming? Is her flight delayed?” You ask, confused and wanting to comfort Marcus. He seems distraught and you feel helpless.

“She-“ he shakes his head and looks up, his eyes slightly watery. “Apparently Jane is in love with her and….” He shrugs. “She’s going to stay in Texas, with him.”

Your heart breaks for him, “oh Marcus. I- I’m so sorry.” You surge forward to wrap your arms around him, wanting to comfort him. He doesn’t need your opinion of Teresa or the situation, you know he needs you to just be there for him. “She’s a fucking idiot to pick Jane over you.”

“I should have known it wouldn’t be …” he shakes his head again. Not willing to burden you with the second thoughts that had plagued him and the terse unspoken things between him and Teresa. “It’s who she wants. I don’t want to be second place.”

You caress his back, resting your head on top of his shoulder. “You’re not second place. She didn’t know what she had. Jane is gonna break her heart. You were too good for her. Anyone could see it. Marcus…you deserve better.” You voice some of your opinion of Teresa, not wanting to say you think she’s a heartless bitch.

“It’s my fault.” Marcus groans, embarrassed that you are seeing this. Seeing him wallow like this. He should have just gone home. Now you are going to think that he is some kind of sap. Or worse, a horrible example for Theo. “I should have seen the signs. They were there.”

“She should’ve told you. She shouldn’t have dragged you along. She shouldn’t have accepted your proposal or agreed to move to D.C with you. I don’t see how this is your fault when you gave her every chance to say no. She should’ve backed out long ago if she was in love with Patrick Jane. She led you on and you should never blame yourself for that.”

“I should have ended things when I found out about Theo.” Marcus rambles on, appreciating your comfort but he always blames himself. “Concentrated on that. Instead of thinking about having it all.”

You huff, “finding out about Theo doesn’t change anything. She - Teresa didn’t exactly seem enthusiastic to get to know him and - and as his mother, I could sense that. You can have it all, sweetheart. You will. She just wasn’t the right one. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

“I don’t want to be bringing women in and out of his life.” Marcus reaches out and he takes your hand, turning it over and kissing the back of it. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but I should go home.”

You nod, knowing he probably needs to go home and have a drink. “You’ll find the right one, Marcus. You deserve your happy ending.” You tell him, leaning in to kiss his cheek as he stands at your front door. “Go have a whiskey and pass out and tomorrow, wallow. Don’t force yourself to be happy, go lucky. You can be mad and upset.” You remind him, knowing he will try to push it aside.

“Thank you.” Again, the thought of where he would be if he had called you floats through his head but he doesn’t say anything. He’s not in the right headspace to say anything and you’ve never even hinted that you wanted anything to do with him. Besides, he doesn’t want a rebound. “I’ll see you later.” He pulls away and stands, grabbing his jacket and shuffling towards the door.

You watch him go and close the door, your heart breaking for him, and you want to fly to Miami and strangle Teresa for hurting him. He deserves more. You often wonder what life would've been like if he had called. Would you be married? Or would you be divorced? It’s hard to imagine you’d divorce Marcus. You know he’s gonna wallow and you make your way to bed, knowing you’ll be there for him no matter what.

****

“Hey.” Marcus has been wallowing for two weeks and he’s tired of feeling down and letting his personal life affect his relationship with you and his son. “What are you doing this weekend?” He tucks his phone against his shoulder and waits for you to answer. He’s gotten tickets to a Nationals game and wanted to take both of you.

You glance around your office, watching your staff walk down the hall through the window. “Nothing. I was gonna take Theo to the park, maybe get some brunch. What are you up to?” You ask him and he tells you about the baseball game. “Well you know Theo will love that.” You smile, “we haven’t been to a game here yet.”

“I’ve got three tickets.” He doesn’t say that it was for Teresa, because he had just bought them. “So I was hoping that you would come with us? Make it a group outing? Unless you want to take the time and have some alone, non-parental adult time for yourself?”

You bite your lip and know you’d love to spend some time to yourself but you also don’t want to miss out on spending time with Theo, and with Marcus. You want to discuss doing the DNA test to get shared custody of Theo so Marcus can spend more time with his son. “I’d like to go. I know Theo will love it and I think we could all use some time to enjoy ourselves.”

“Great!” He knows you are probably still worried about him, you’ve been texting him everyday. Checking on him and he appreciates it. He could have never imagined a better mother for his child or a friend. It makes him kick himself in the ass sometimes for not finding you after that night.

****

“You’re going undercover for a month?” You ask Marcus, arms crossed. It’s been three months since Teresa broke his heart and you’re worried he’s doing this because he wants to distract himself. You’ve been trying to keep him occupied, going on picnics, going to museums and the movies. All with Theo. It’s been hard to not want more from him but he’s emotionally drained and you have to put Theo first. “

“Yeah.” Marcus hates that he has to do this, but it’s also a good thing. He’s started imagining you as a complete family and he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s using you to get over Teresa. “Apparently there’s something that I can be good for.” He jokes quietly and flashes you a grin. “I’ve been sitting behind a desk too much lately.”

You don’t want him to go, you know undercover missions are dangerous and he won’t be able to communicate with you or Theo for the time that he’s gone. “You- you really want to go? I- Theo is going to miss you. So am I.” You admit, biting your lip as you stare at him.

“I’ll miss you both too.” That is easy to confess. “I will be safe, but honestly?” He sighs. “I’m the only one that can go in. My team isn’t exactly unknown in the art world.”

You nod, knowing you can’t stop him, this is his job. “You wanna stay for dinner and you can say goodbye to Theo?” You ask, a little annoyed that he waited until the day of to tell you but you can see he’s been nervous.

“Sure.” You step forward to touch his upper arm, “you’d better not be killed, Pike…otherwise I’ll murder you.” You threaten playfully as you make your way to the kitchen to begin dinner while Theo sits at the table finishing his homework. Marcus chuckles like he was supposed to as you both walk into the kitchen.

“Hey buddy.” Marcus’ smile immediately brightens when he sees his son sitting at the table.

“Hey dad.” He glances up and grins before he’s looking back down at his work sheets.

“I wanted to talk to you before dinner.” Marcus sits down and waits until Theo puts his pencil down. “Buddy, I’ve got to go out of town for work. A big case and I’ve got to be out of touch. It’ll be for a month, and then I promise I’ll be back and you and I are going to spend a ton of time together.”

Theo frowns, “a whole month?” He asks and Marcus nods. “Why?” Theo whines and you turn to look at him in warning for his tone.

“I gotta go fight bad guys. I can’t - I promise you I’ll spend as much time as possible with you when I get back.” Marcus promises and Theo pouts, “I don’t want you to go! You’re gonna disappear and I’ll never see you again.”

“That won’t happen.” Marcus promises, shaking his head. “If there’s an emergency, I’m going to give your mom a number so my work can get me a message.” He explains

You walk over to rub Theo’s back, “it’s okay, sweetheart. Your dad will be back before you know it. He’s gotta go fight bad guys and he’s gonna come back and spend so much time with you. Maybe you can stay with your dads for a change.” You give Theo something to look forward to.

“We could do that?” Theo asks hopefully and Marcus nods.

“Of course. I want you to stay. I want you to have your room set up just the way you want it.”

You nod, “your dad and I will talk when he’s back about spending some nights together. Boy time without mama.” You wink, and Marcus smiles at you before you finish cooking dinner. After you eat, it’s time for Marcus to go and you watch him say goodbye to Theo for the month.

There are extra long hugs and Theo tears up, but Marcus is right there with him. “I love you, buddy.” Marcus promises. “I’m going to be back as quickly as I can. And I’m going to be thinking about you all the time.”

You watch them say goodbye with tears in your eyes and you know it will be hard for Marcus and Theo to be away from each other. They are so close now and you wonder how they were ever apart. Marcus kisses his forehead and you watch Marcus as steps towards you. You wrap your arms around him and you breathe him in, holding him close before he leaves for at least four weeks.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” He doesn’t hesitate to kiss the top of your head. “Take care of our boy, okay?” He asks softly, wishing that he didn’t have to go.

You step back and you pull Theo into your side as Marcus grabs his jacket. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises both of you and Theo’s lower lip trembles as he watches his dad leave.

“It’s okay baby.” You promise, pulling him into your arms to comfort him. You know he loves his father and if you’re being honest with yourself, so do you.

****

The month seems to drag by and you decide to put up a calendar so Theo can cross off the days until his father is supposed to be home and finally, it’s that day. You are anxious, waiting for Marcus to call to say he’s coming home and finally, when the phone rings, you grab it so fast it nearly drops out of your hand. “Marcus.” You sigh, relieved when he says hello. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” You ask, desperate to hear that he’s fine.

“Hey.” Marcus grins, even though he’s exhausted. He just got out of a long debriefing and still has to fly home, but he wanted to hear your voice and Theo’s. “I’ve got a flight in about ten minutes. I should be back in D.C. late, but I was wondering if I could come over and see Theo? And you?”

You glance over at your computer, a little lost in the fact that he’s okay. Your pounding heart calms a little and you exhale softly. “Of course. Theo will be mad if I don’t let him see you as soon as you are back in D.C. Come over when you’re back. Theo can take the day off of school tomorrow and we can do something together to celebrate you being back. How long is the flight?” You ask and Marcus pauses, “I, uh, actually I’m flying from Austin. Had to go do a deposition. Figured I’d head straight there after the op ended to get it out of the way.” He confesses and you bite your lip, a little mad that he didn’t call first thing.

“Oh, okay. Well, uh, I’ll see you soon.” You say and he clears his throat, “yeah. There’s something I wanna talk to you about. See you later.” He says vaguely and your stomach twists. What could he possibly want to talk about?

You mull it over for a couple of hours until it hits you. “Teresa.” You choke, he’s getting back together with her. Something in your gut just tells you that’s what he wants to discuss.

On the flight, Marcus mulls over what he wants to say. He’s missed you. A lot. Not just Theo, but you as well. You’ve been on his mind constantly, wondering if you’re cooking dinner or curling up with your phone to giggle at videos that you’ll share with him. He realized over the last month that he’s been gone, he’s in love with you. It’s been hard to not call you and tell you, but he decided it was better to do it in person. If you don’t feel the same way, he won’t try to convince you. He’ll concentrate on helping you raise Theo. But he’s come to view the three of you as a family. The family that he’s been supposed to have all along.

The doorbell rings and you smile when Theo rushes to the door. “Hold on, sweetheart, let me check who it is.” You look through the peephole and your heart thumps as you see Marcus, looking different with a beard. You open the door and Theo rushes out, “dad!” He shouts and wraps his arms around Marcus.

“Hey buddy!” Marcus rushes towards his son and scoops him up into a crushing hug. Feeling instantly better now that his little boy is in his arms. “God, I missed you. I thought about you every day. Talked to you at night before I went to bed.” He pulls back and grins at the boy. “Have you been good for your momma?”

Theo surges forward to hug his dad again, reluctant to let go so you answer, “he’s been good. Been making a list of things he’s wanted to talk to you about so be prepared.” You joke and Marcus chuckles, “I got all the time for you, bud. I have the next week off so I’m all yours.”

You are relieved to see Marcus and he steps forward to kiss your cheek while holding Theo close to his side. “Hey sweetheart.” He murmurs and you smile at him, letting him step into your apartment.

“Come in, I’m just making dinner.” You tell him and shut the door behind him when Theo takes his hand to practically drag him inside.

Marcus chuckles and shakes his head. “You missed me?” He teases playfully but Theo just scoffs.

“Of course I missed you dad. I didn’t have anyone to play catch with.” He sends you an apologetic look. “Mom tries but she’s not as good as you are.”

He ruffles Theo’s hair. “That’s okay. Mom’s great at a lot of other things.”

You nod, “exactly. Who else is gonna make your lunch just how you like it? Daddy doesn’t know how to cut off the crusts.” You tease and Theo shakes his head, “I don’t want that anymore.” He lies, “I’m a big boy.”

You snort, “sure thing baby.” You wink at Marcus as the boys sit at the kitchen table and you grab a beer for Marcus and a juice for Theo.

“What did you do, dad? Did you fight the bad guys?”

“I did.” Marcus smiles a thank you towards you as he takes the beer. “But first I had to convince them that I was a bad guy too.” He admits and Theo’s eyes widen.

“But you are the best!” He cries, making Marcus feel so very honored that his son thinks so highly of him.

“I was just trying to get them to tell me all the bad stuff they were doing. And I did it. So I got to arrest them.”

“That’s awesome!” Theo cheers, a wide grin on his face and you are glad that Marcus is back with his son…for now at least. You work on dinner, listening to them catch up and when you sit down, Marcus asks how you’ve been. “Same old. Work has kept me busy. Trying and failing to play catch with this one keeps me occupied.” You tease Theo who looks down at his plate with a little remorse at his comment. You wink at him when he looks up to show you are teasing and he starts to dig into his dinner. “I, uh, had my mom come stay for a weekend. She looked after Theo while I went out with some work friends.”

“That’s great.” Marcus’ smile tightens slightly, wondering if it was a date. He doesn’t have any reason to be jealous, but he would love to take you out. To give you a kid free night and explore what could be between the two of you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah it was good.” You nod, “Theo had a good time with his grandma, right?” You ask the little boy who nods, “she gave me soooo much chocolate.” He says and you chuckle, “and she was told it was too much.” You remind him and ruffle his hair.

You finish eating and Theo is reluctant to go to bed but you soon convince him to shower and get ready for bed so Marcus can go lay in the bed with him until he falls asleep. “Night, my love.” You kiss Theo on the forehead and pat Marcus’s side as he lays down and pulls Theo close to continue talking.

“Dad?” Theo asks softly.

“Yeah?” Marcus murmurs back.

“Mommy missed you.” He reveals without you knowing.

“She did?” Marcus’ heart leaps in his chest but he focuses on his son, brushing his hair back. “Why do you say that?” He asks quietly. He wonders if you just agreed that you missed him when Theo said something or if you had been upset that he wasn’t around to help.

“She would stare at that photo of the three of us, that’s in the hall. She’d cry and think I couldn’t see it, hear her.” He whispers, innocent eyes wide as he looks at his father.

“Oh.” He closes his eyes and nods. “I understand.” He whispers, leaning in and pressing his forehead against Theo’s. “I’ll make sure I make it up to her too.” He promises. He knows how much Theo loves his mom. You’re easy to love.

Theo snuggles into his chest, closing his eyes. “I love you, dad.” He murmurs, falling asleep moments later. When Marcus comes out of Theo’s room, softly shutting the door behind him, you look up from your phone. “He asleep?” You ask and Marcus nods, “out like a light.”

You smile softly, setting your phone down, “he’s missed you so much.” You tell Marcus who comes to sit down beside you.

“I missed him.” He says and you notice him hesitating.

“Marcus…do you have something you need to tell me? Because I’d rather you just rip the bandaid off if you’re gonna be moving back to Austin, back to Teresa.” You spit out your worries, unable to stop it.

“What?” Marcus’ eyes widen and he’s bewildered until he remembers that he had told you that he was flying back from Austin. “No, no, I’m not getting back together with Teresa.” He promises. “I’m not going back to Texas. I want to stay here with Theo. And you.” He takes a step closer to you. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while I’ve been gone.”

You look up at him, your brow furrowed and you wonder what he’s talking about. “Me too. I want - I want us to have shared custody of Theo. Officially. I want you to be listed as his father and I want you to be able to have all the rights a father has.”

“Is that all you want?” He asks softly, knowing that he’s putting his heart on the line. “I want- I needed that time apart.” He admits. “I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t just feeling grateful for you after Teresa, but I know that I - I’m in love with you.”

You stare at him, in shock and your jaw drops slightly. “You- wait - you - Marcus?” You ask breathlessly. He fidgets, looking like he’s regretting telling you but you shake your head and surge forward to cup his cheeks, bringing his eyes back to you. “I love you for the brilliant agent you are. I love you for how kind you are. I love you for what an incredible father you are. I am so in love with you, Marcus Anthony Pike. You are the one that got away but you’re back now and I’m yours if you want me.” You promise him, voice steady as you give air to the emotions that have been plaguing you since long before Marcus left to go undercover.

His brow furrows and he pulls you closer, feeling both incredibly frustrated for all the time you’ve lost together and relieved that you feel the same way. He whispers your name. “I love you.” He promises before he ducks his head and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is sweet and full of yearning. You and Marcus may have started off as a purely physical encounter but these feelings are the culmination of months and months of friendship and respect. You sigh into the kiss, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest and you can feel how fast his heart is thumping.

“Baby.” He pulls away and kisses down your jaw. “I love you. I just- I wanted to make sure -“ he groans again and his hands slide down to the very cusp of your ass. “I’ve felt so guilty. Because I wanted our little family to be real.”

You whimper when his lips kiss down your neck. “Marcus. Whatever happens- we - we agree that Theo comes first but - I really want to take you to my bed right now.” You admit, “and do naughty things to you.”

He groans against your pulse, unable to deny the fact that his cock is twitching. He’s had sex with you once and it is one of the highlights of his sexual experiences. So he might be a little nervous that he doesn’t live up to your expectations. “Let me make love to you.” He begs, scraping his teeth over your sensitive skin and grinning when you shudder. “I promise it won’t be the last time we are in bed together.”

You should be worried that this will change everything and if anything happens between you and Marcus, you put Theo in the middle. However, you don’t feel scared, you feel like this is meant to be. You feel like you belong with Marcus, in his arms. The love you feel isn’t fleeting or a honeymoon phase, it’s deep and real. “Take me to bed.” You request softly and Marcus takes your hand, guiding you to your bedroom. He’s been in here before but mainly to help with DIY stuff and when you’ve been putting laundry away. He shuts the door behind him while you shift towards the bed and when he walks over to cup your cheeks, you suddenly go a little shy.

“Hi.” You murmur when his nose nudges yours. Marcus chuckles softly, “hi.” His response is soft and sweet, making you lean forward to press your lips together while your fingers work on the buttons of his shirt.

It’s slow. An opposite response to the first time that you were together. He wants you completely bare, he wants to be bare. He wants this to be what it should have been that first time. Sighing when your fingers brush his bare skin, he reaches for your hands and brings them up to kiss your fingers. “I’ve dreamed of touching you again so many times.” He confesses. “I want to make this good.”

“It’s you. It will be good because it’s you.” You promise him, your fingers caressing his jaw while his hands let go of yours to find the hem of your shirt. You let him pull it over your head and his hands caress your spine while they slide up to the clasp of your bra. “God, I love you.” You sigh after he removes your bra and he’s dragging you against him, your chests pressed together and your confession comes seconds before his lips find yours again.

Your taste is intoxicating, his tongue slides into your mouth and tangles with yours. Keeping it lighter, but the hunger is there, just simmering beneath the softness. His hands roam over your back before he slides them down to unhook your pants. “I want to taste you.” He groans against your lips. “Thought about it that night. Just spreading you apart wearing my cuffs and tonguing fucking your cunt on that jail cell bed.”

You moan softly at the memory of that night. How feral and rough it was. “Fuck, I- I think about that night all the time. When I- when I use my vibrator. Remember how you felt, the way you touched me. How you sounded.” You confess while he pushes your pants down and you step out of them to leave you in your underwear.

“I want to touch all of you.” He groans. “I wish I had just stripped you down. Fuck getting caught. You are gorgeous.” His hands caress your stomach, in awe that this body gave him Theo so long ago. “I can’t tell you how many times I jerked off thinking about that night. What I would have done if I had you again.”

“Shit, Marcus.” You pant, loving the dirty talk that’s spilling from his mouth and you reach down to squeeze his hard cock through his pants. “Always imagined sucking your cock. Wanting you to cum down my throat. So much I want you to do to me and me to you. Fuck.” You gasp when he bends over to take your nipple into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair and push him further into your chest, your body almost shaking from the sensation after so long without physical touch.

He can’t help but groan when you tangle your fingers and tug. You hadn’t touched him that night and all of your previous touch had been innocent and friendly. Suckling hungrily, he bites down on your nipple gently and then soothing it with a loving lick. Imagining them filled with milk for his son. Imagining seeing you pregnant.

“Marcus. I want - I want to see all of you.” You plead when he lathes your other breast with attention until you’re pushing him back. You reach for his belt, unbuckling it and working fast to unbutton his pants. Reaching in to wrap your fingers around his cock that you never got to touch the first time.

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses, his hips rocking up. “Jesus, baby.” He lets you take control, knowing that you had been at his mercy the first time. He owes you this. “Sit on my face.” He begs, willing to do whatever you want but he wants his tongue into you.

You won’t argue with him, letting go of his cock to push your underwear down and he works on pushing his pants and boxers down, struggling to kick off his shoes until he’s left in just his socks and he’s in too much of a hurry to remove those. You watch him lay down and you kneel on the bed. “Fuck, I want to suck your cock too. Didn’t get a chance to.” You say, bending over to run your tongue along the underside of his cock as it rests heavy on his lower stomach.

“Fuck.” Marcus moans, nodding almost dumbly as your tongue presses against the head. “Whatever you want. I just want to make you feel good, baby”

You nod, shifting to straddle Marcus’s chest. You want to suck him off but you remind yourself that you don’t just have one night, you have as many as he will give you. You slow down a little as you sit on his chest and his hands grab your thighs, shifting you until you are hovering over his face.

“Jesus Christ, you have such a pretty cunt.” Marcus groans before he lunges up and dives into your folds. Sliding his tongue through the wetness and moaning at your taste.

Your hands find your headboard, a moan escaping your lips as his tongue dives deep. “Fuck! Marcus!” You cry, throwing your head back and you realize you were too loud for sleeping Theo. You bite your lip, trying to remain quiet and rocking your hips down to meet his eager tongue.

Marcus groans, his hands coaxing you to ride his face. He doesn’t want you to suppress your noises, he wants to hear all of them. Cock throbbing as he probes deeper into your cunt, his chin grinding against your clit.

You let go of your lip as you can’t help the moan that escapes you as you grind down onto his face, his hands squeezing your hips with encouragement and you whimper when he nudges your clit just right.

Chuckling, Marcus makes sure that you are still getting that pressure that makes you whimper. Watching your ass move as you rock on his tongue, lost in pleasure. He wonders when the last time you had someone do this for you. He knows it will be something regular now, as long as you want it.

His chuckle vibrates through you and you reach up to squeeze your own tits after letting go of the headboard, your head thrown back as you grind onto his face. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna - Marc - oh shit.” You squeal and clamp down on his tongue, soaking his face as you cum with a low moan.

He swears he could cum from just that alone. Groaning and continuing to make sure that you have the best orgasm you can possibly experience. Slowing his tongue and just keeping you shaking as you ride it out.

You take a moment to savor the feel of him before you bend over, taking his hard cock into your mouth with renewed vigor after he made you cum so hard. His answering groan makes you work harder, shifting off of his face to take him deeper.

“Baby.” He gasps, reaching down and cupping your jaw. “Holy shit.” His eyes roll back in pleasure when you flick your tongue over his frenulum and suck on the tip. “Not- not gonna last if you do that.” He pants, wanting to be inside you when he cums.

You reluctantly pull off of him, shifting to straddle his thighs, his cock pressed against your stomach as you lean down to kiss him. Again, there’s no rush as you languidly caress his tongue with yours. “Fuck, I love you.” You murmur against his chin. “I have an IUD. I know we never discuss anything sexual but it’s been a while for me and I’m clean.” You haven’t been a nun since Theo was born, managing a few nights out with coworkers or friends while your mom babysat back in Austin and you ended up having sex before rushing home to relieve your mom, never taking it beyond that for Theo’s sake.

“I love you too.” Marcus promises. “I- I got tested after ending things with Teresa.” It was a part of the work up for his undercover mission, but he had been planning on scheduling it anyway. “I’m clean and I trust you completely. You know that. Or you should.”

You caress his chest after you sit up, “I trust you with everything I am.” You promise him and his answering grin makes your heart thump. You shift up onto your knees, reaching between you to grip his cock and you position him at your entrance, sinking down onto him with a moan as he slowly stretches you out.

Marcus watches in rapture as your face twists up in pleasure at the fill of him. “I love you.” He groans, caressing your side and smiling up at you as you adjust to him. He wants you to take your time, whatever time you need. He wants you to have the exact pleasure you want tonight.

You take a moment to adjust to him, he’s long and you feel like he’s already in your guts. You caress his chest and close your eyes for a moment, just feeling him. Finally, your thighs touch his and you open your eyes to look at him. “Fuck, you feel so good.” You admit after you lift up, slowly, and you feel him dragging against your walls as you sink back down onto him.

“You feel good.” He groans. “You felt so good that night, but now.” He shakes his head and squeezes your hips. “I love you. Fuck baby, you look so good. You belong right there.”

Your heart pounds as you look down at him, your hand sliding over his chest to feel how his heart beats and you love the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. “It was meant to be. That night. Us having sex. Having Theo. It took a while but this is where we belong.” You murmur, grinding down onto him.

“Yes it is, baby.” That he’s now completely certain of. “I want to make a real family with you.” He knows that serious conversations need to happen, Theo’s best interests need to come first, but he wants you to know how serious he is. “Us baby. The three of us.”

His words make tears spring in your eyes and you bend over, cupping his cheeks so you can kiss him. “The three of us. A family, oh God. You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it. Maybe…maybe one day…another baby. If it works out.” You suggest, “want you to be there for it all.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you rock back onto him.

“Fuck.” Marcus groans and his cock twitches inside you. “I hate that I missed it. I would have waited on you, hand and foot.” There’s nothing he wants more than to see you growing his child, but maybe there can be another one sometime soon. If you want. He would love it. “Want to marry you, baby.” He coos.

His words make you shiver at the idea of being Mrs. Pike, but in the best way possible. It’s something you’ve definitely thought about, you’d guiltily admit that you thought about it when he was with Teresa. You rock back onto him, your chest still pressed against his. “I want to be yours, Marcus. In every way. You are - fuck - you are everything I want.” You promise, leaning closer to kiss along his neck.

The moment lingers and it’s everything that he’s wanted. The sensation more than he had with Teresa. He knows that now. His hands slide up your back, tongue pressing against the dip in your shoulder.

You are breathless as you rock on top of him, “Marc.” You moan as your body shakes above him, getting closer and closer as the angle hits just right and his pelvis is rubbing against your clit. You bury your face in his neck when you cum. It’s slow and intense, making your entire body vibrate as you feel it from your toes all the way to your head. It’s dizzying and you shudder as you try to work yourself through it.

“Good girl.” Marcus moans, closing his eyes and feeling your body shake and shudder as you softly come down from your high until you are limp on top of him. “God, you are so perfect.”

You tilt your head to kiss him, enjoying the feel of him inside of you and the lingering haze of your orgasm. His tongue slides against yours and you’re in no rush. You have all night and hopefully every night from now on. His hands caress your back until he pulls back from your mouth and rolls you over, his body hovering over yours. “You gonna make love to me?” You ask softly, fingers caressing his lips.

“I am.” Marcus leans in and nudges his nose against yours. Pressing his lips to yours in a petal soft kiss before sliding his hand down to lift your thigh onto his hip. “Want to make sure you know exactly how I feel about you.”

You caress his shoulders, “show me.” You order, wanting to experience Marcus like this. After so many months of pining for him, watching him with Teresa. You finally have him and he’s taking his time to make sure you know how he feels. When he starts to move inside of you, it’s slow and you feel every ridge and vein of him. “Shit.” You pant, tilting your head back.

He keeps his lips on your skin. Trailing kisses up and down your throat as he slowly rocks into you. Just slow enough that you feel him move but he’s not even built up anything that could be considered a pace. Feeling like he’s home and relishing it.

You keep your head tilted back so he can kiss along it, making you sigh and your hands caress his shoulders before sliding up to his cheeks, bringing his face to yours so you can kiss him. You wrap both your legs around him, wanting him to be even closer and he barely moves as your tongues slide against each other.

It’s like time doesn’t matter right here, and it doesn’t. The fatigue, the sorrow, the loneliness all evaporate as the two of you slowly move towards that pinnacle together. Almost more emotional than physical as he wants to stay buried inside you.

You shift your hips and Marcus moves a little faster, sensing what you need without you saying it, and you whimper when he shifts deeper inside of you. The pace is still leisurely and your lips hover against his, eyes closed as you breathe him in.

“Fuck, I love you.” Marcus promises, rocking slowly and tightening his hold on you. Feeling like he’s in Heaven. “This is- everything to me.”

“Me too.” You promise in return, caressing his shoulders and back as he rocks into you and he’s still in no rush. “You’re everything to me. You and Theo. My - my fucking world. Would do anything for either of you.” You vow, clenching around his cock.

He hums, knowing you mean every word you say. You have been nothing but truthful with him. Good to him when he didn’t deserve it and he’s honored that you fell in love with him.

When Marcus picks up the pace a little, you tighten your grip on him and can’t stop the little moans that escape your lips. “Oh God. Yes, right there.” You murmur, lost in the pleasure and the emotion as he pushes deep inside of you.

“There?” He grunts, biting his lip and concentrating to make sure that he makes you cum again. His arms brace his body up above you, still close as he works his cock in and out of your tight cunt. “Fuck, one more baby.” He begs. “Give me one more.”

You can’t speak as he hits the right spot over and over. Your stomach twists and your thighs tighten around him as he pushes deep until you are clamping down on his cock. Your head thrown back as you cum, gushing around him as a silent cry of his name graces your lips.

“Oh god, baby.” He groans, and presses his lips to yours as he starts to feel his own orgasm start to take over. “I love you, I love you so much.”

You watch him as he cums, his eyes squeezing shut as his jaw drops after he pulls back from you and you squeeze him within your walls, wanting to milk him for everything he has. Your hands caress his shoulders, sliding down his back. “I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.” You promise against his chin .

Panting, Marcus smiles and kisses your lips again. “I can’t believe that we are here like this.” He admits with a small chuckle. “I think that the best thing I did was watch the drunk tank that night.”

You cup his cheek, “I think the best thing I did was go out to celebrate my graduation. It’s been - it’s been a wild journey but I wouldn’t change anything. I love you and Theo so much. My world. I want to be your wife, I want to have more of your babies. I want you. Forever. Marcus, I fucking love you.” You declare breathlessly and he grins, pecking your lips.

“You’ll get everything you want because that’s what I want. You’re what I want. You and my Theo. You’re everything.” He promises and you pull him close, his cock still inside of you and you know that you were always meant to belong to Marcus and him to you. It took eleven years but you and Marcus are finally where you belong: together.

#pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike imagine

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biggerbetterbat · 4 months

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WITH YOU [35] DECISIONS

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

Summary: When Andrea betrays the group, they are made to make some decisions. Rick reveals the truth and Glenn shares a confession with Charlie

Warnings: none

Song: Phoebe Bridgers Motion Sickness

Words: 1,869

A/N: I saw some mistake in my story! In a chapter HOME SWEET HOME, when Charlie is listing the dead ones I forgot about the dead characters that I created (like her family) so I fixed it!

"I told you she won't kill him," Charlie said a couple days after Andrea's visit.

"Who would have thought?" Glenn smiled weakly.

"I did," she dropped everything and looked at her friend. Her sudden outburst made everyone to look at her. "She basically betrayed us."

"Or maybe she got us a better deal." said Carol.

"The only good deal is killing him," Charlie said and heard Merle's laugh.

"Now she's talking!"

"I know you don't like Andrea so much, but have a bit faith in her," Carol tried to persuade her. "She's one of us. A little trust wouldn't hurt."

"Someone like Andrea, who shoots one of their own and ignores everyone around can't be trusted."

After her words, she came back to whatever she was doing but made Glenn halt. "Will you ever get over it?"

"Will I get over it?" Charlie said. "Hmm...no. And life goes on."

Maggie shook her head with an amused expression. Meanwhile, Carol sighed in the corner, unable to comprehend why Andrea had betrayed them. When they talked about it earlier, Andrea had seemed fully committed to their plan. The man standing next to Charlie took what he needed and then took a few steps back."If anyone gets pinned down, we need to make sure that they have plenty of ammo,"

"What we should be doing is loading some of this firepower in a truck and paying a visit to the Governor," Merle said. "We know where he is right now."

"Just go and kill him?" Maggie asked.

"Yeah."

"We told Rick and Daryl that we'd stay put."

"I've changed my mind, sweetheart," Merle shrugged. "Being on the sideline with my brother out there ain't sitting right with me."

"Oh, look at you," Charlie said. "Who would have thought you are so caring."

"The three of them are right in the middle of it," Glenn interrupted. "They could get taken hostage or killed. A thousand things could go wrong."

"And they will," Dixon argued.

"My dad can take care of himself," Carl expressed his own opinion.

"Sorry, son, but your dad's head could be on a pike real soon."

To that, Carl shook his head and made his way out of the room through the door that led outside. Maggie moved her worried eyes from a boy to Merle and furrowed her brows. "Don't say that to him."

"Asshole," Charlie spat and walked after Carl, worried that something might happen.

He was standing in the corner, trying to see if the familiar car wasn't approaching. Carl changed through the last time, as he became more serious, tried to listen, and didn't try to act as if he was an adult already - even though now he was acting the most responsible and had a whole baby on his head for most of the time.

"What would I do?" Carl asked. Charlie furrowed her eyebrows."If my dad dies."

"He won't."

"But if he does?" Carl looked at her. "You have no idea how to raise a kid. Besides, you can't even be in the same room as my sister."

She stepped closer, so now she was standing right next to the boy. "Thank God, there's more people here than just me."

"Yeah...Because everyone would like to have a boy with a baby if the day comes."

"Hey," she called and furrowed her eyebrows. He was still looking down with pouty lips, so Charlie took his chin between her fingers and forced him to look at her. "Look at me. You...and your sister...are loved. You understand?" she asked. "And we are a family now. Not a group, not friends...a family. And you never leave your family behind. You understand me?"

He nodded his head.

"Good," she said. "Thank you that I didn't have to use strength."

Then Carl did something that she didn't expect- he hugged her. He wrapped his hands around her waist and squeezed her body as if she was a blanket. She looked down and gave the hug back, caressing his back in a calming gesture, relaxing slowly at the thought that she was able to help him.

We are going to war. Ever since Rick and two other men had returned from their meeting with the Governor, those words had been echoing in Charlie's head. The Governor wanted the prison and Rick had no intention of giving it up to him. Was it surprising? Not really. What else could they offer the man? Merle? Michonne? Guns? Supplies? The only thing of real value was the prison. They did have Andrea, but she would have to try to solve this problem on her own. The war was coming and everyone needed to work fast to prepare for the fight.

"I'm going to propose," Glenn said while they were securing some doors.

Charlie looked at his profile and shook her head. "I'm not ready for a marriage."

"Shut up," he bumped their shoulders.

"I'm happy for you," she said. "She's a great person, and she makes you happy. I couldn't wish more."

"Thank you," he smiled. "I need help. Before asking Maggie, I need to ask Hershel for permission...But I don't have a ring."

"Glenn," she closed her eyes. With the eyes of her imagination, she already saw how he needed her help and how she would have to get the ring. Since the jewelry shops were out of the question, Charlie was about to hunt she-Walker - hoping she would have a ring.

"Please," he whispered. "There's no other way."

Charlie let out a sigh and gazed up at the sky. How had she become so close to this guy in such a short time? Previously, she wouldn't even have gone out to buy tampons for a friend, but now she was willing to amputate a finger from a deceased person.

"Hey!" they both turned to see Daryl. "You seen Merle around?"

Glenn said nothing so she decided to answer. "No."

"Let me help," Dixon proposed, but he already was next to her holding up the metal poles. "He says he was sorry yet? Cause he is. He's gonna make it right. I'm gonna make him. There's got to be a way."

"Glenn," Charlie tried to grab his wrist, but he was faster and got closer to Daryl.

"He tied me to a chair, beat me, and threw a Walker in the room," confessed Rhee. "Maybe I could call it even. But he...he took Maggie to a man who terrorized her, humiliated her. I care more about her than I care about me."

Daryl threw her a glance, but Charlie said nothing.

So he just walked away.

Many Walkers were leaning on the wire gate, trying to get inside. They became excited as they sensed her - which made them the only excited side. She was walking down the path examining fingers of corpses and she wasn't happy at all.

"What is it?" she asked one of the Walkers. "Is it a boy's night?"

He answered her with a snarling and desperate movement of his jaw. She passed him and tried to find her luck somewhere else. Charlie sighed heavily and walked down the fence, losing hope already. How hard could it be to find a ring these days? Another question was who would want to get married in those crazy times? How this thought even cross his mind? Was it a trauma shock after events in Woodbury?

She came back to reality after the loud noise that corpses made with the fence. Charlie looked to the right and first saw more bodies, and then...a big ring. "Sorry, ma'am," she said stepping closer." Personally, I think that this is a bad omen to wear someone else's ring...especially when this someone is dead," she said and looked at the Walker. Then she took out the pliers she took from Glenn and with a smooth cut a cold finger landed on her hand. She felt like throwing up and almost did, so she just took off the ring and threw the rest on the grass. "I'm insane."

Once she came back and dreamed nothing more than to clean her hands and rest a little, Carl said his dad was calling a meeting. That was strange and became even more when she saw Rick's uneasy behavior. Charlie took a place on a bench, sitting next to Carl and leaning her back on the table. The next people entering were Maggie and Glenn - he looked at her with a small smile and nodded. With relief, she observed that soon-to-be Mrs.Rhee was wearing this big, diamond ring on her finger.

Rick looked down and his demeanor seemed nervous. He was playing with his fingers, as he was usually doing when he was anxious. "When I met with the Governor...he offered me a deal."

"Wait," Charlie called. The leader started a meeting but there were still people missing. "Where's Michonne?" she asked, looking around. "And the Dixons?"

Hershel sighed and Charlie looked in that direction - he knew about this and it must have been something horrible.

"He said..." Rick was avoiding the eye contact. "He said he would leave us alone if I gave him Michonne."

Charlie's heart dropped. Carl looked down and also sighed heavily, feeling disappointed. She touched his hand and squeezed it.

Michonne quickly became one of them. She wasn't talking much and was more reserved, however, they had the same goal - and nothing was uniting people like a hate to the same person. The woman liked to work alone and she was quiet. Nobody knew anything about her past or what she was doing right after the outbreak. That didn't change the fact that she grew on them already and wasn't a stranger anymore. That's why she was torn inside. How he would so easily give up one of their own?

"And I was gonna do that...to keep us safe," he said looking at everyone's faces. "I changed my mind. But now Merle took Michonne to fulfill the deal and Daryl went to stop him."

She looked up with a wild heart.

"And I don't know if it is too late," Rick shook his head. "I was wrong not to tell you. And I'm sorry," he added. "What I said last year...after the farm... It can't be like that. What we do...who we are, it's not my call! It can't be. I couldn't sacrifice one of us for the greater good because...we are the greater good. We're the reason we're still here, not me," he said. "This is life and death. How you live...how you die...it isn't up to me," Grimes emphasized what he had in mind. "I'm not your Governor. We choose to go. We choose to stay. We stick together. We vote. We can stay and we can fight, or we can go."

After that, he left the group alone and Charlie decided to follow him. He said many things and still didn't let anyone respond to his monologue- he had some serious communication issues."You think that Merle hurt her?" Charlie asked.

Rick shook his head.

"And you believe Daryl will find them?"

"I don't know, Charlie," he answered, looking away.

"Then what do you know?" she furrowed her eyebrows.

"I'm not your enemy," he said and moved his stare towards her. "I want all the best for my son, Judith, for you, and all this group. So don't look at me like I'm the villain here."

"I trust you, Rick," she said. "From the day you appeared in the Quarry. I followed you here," she added. "But things need to change, Rick. You have kids, and Carl worries about you."

"I know Charlie, I know," he nodded. "And it will. I'm good now, I swear. And everything I said back there is true. We're all equals."

She nodded her head and placed a hand on his back, smiling reassuringly. Suddenly, something caught her eyes so the smile dropped and her brows furrowed. "Rick."

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl the walking dead #daryl twd #daryl x reader

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its-all-or-nothing94 · 11 months

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Ravenblade - Part 4 // Ivar Lothbrok x OC

Summary: A tremendous wounded Liv is being cared for after the battle by a surprisingly soft Ivar, so she needs to get the advice of her big brother

Warnings: Language, war wounds, blood

Pairing: Ivar x OC

Tags: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @menari

A/N: Whoooo here I am back from my little Tumblr break!

The following day Liv is awake early. She keeps thinking about the sex with Ivar, and a smile creeps onto her face.

"Well? Did someone have a good night?" asks Sven, who has just come to stand beside her.

"Didn't I tell you it was none of your business?" asks Liv, annoyed, as she laces up her bracers.

"The cripple seems to be in high spirits," he says then and Liv rolls her eyes. She knocks Sven against the shoulder.

"Don't challenge me, Sven!" she grumbles, but Sven continues.

"What? It's like that. And your face is always graced with a smile too. Was he really that good?" he says, and Liv has had enough.

She gets up and stands in front of her friend. Behind her, the sons of Ragnar are just coming out of their tent.

"You asked for it," she hisses then and pushes herself off a tree trunk so she can reach him better. Sven, however, avoids her and grabs her around the waist. He pushes her back, but she manages to stay on her feet. Anger, however, spreads through Liv. She attacks again and has now taken her dagger. She lets it slide through her fingers, and Ivar's eyes grow big when he sees her fighting like this.

Liv does a pike roll, kicks Sven in the knee so that he sinks in and then wraps her legs around his upper body. With a swing, she drops backwards and pulls him with her. Sven lands on the floor and Liv is quickly back on her feet.

But Sven has also had the same training as her, so he too is quickly back on his feet. She tackles him a few times before he grabs her arm and pulls her over him. Liv deftly rolls off and lands a matching punch to the area of his stomach.

The air is forced out of Sven, and he becomes careless so Liv can hold her dagger to his neck.

"Don't you ever do that again! Do you hear me?" she hisses so that only he can hear. A real crowd has slowly formed around them.

Sven exhales shallowly and then nods. Liv slowly takes the dagger from his neck and turns away. But then she twists around again and gives him a small cut on the cheek.

"Don't forget who's in charge here," she hisses, stomping angrily.

As she passes her brother and his brothers, she looks briefly into Ivar's eyes but immediately moves on. She angrily throws her dagger into the nearest tree when she is out of earshot.

"Fucking hell!" she yells, ruffling her hair.

She hates having to discipline her people like this. Sven is ahead of everyone. They are friends, but even he has his limits, which he should not cross. But maybe she was overreacting a little. Could it be that Ivar is to blame? That she becomes so sensitive? Behind her, Liv then hears hooves stomping. Of course, it's him. Slightly amused, he sits in his chariot and looks at Liv.

"Are you okay?" he asks, crossing his arms.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asks sarcastically. Furious, she stomps towards the tree and pulls out her dagger. "What are you doing here?" she asks, turning to Ivar.

"The others want to go. We're just waiting for you. Your people won't come without you." Liv takes a deep breath before joining Ivar on the chariot. He slaps the reins, and they drive off.

"What happened there before?" he asks suddenly, and Liv is surprised that he even cares.

"What do you do with people who cross their line?" she asks back, and Ivar thinks momentarily. Then he shrugs.

"Then I guess he's lucky you like him."

Again and again, Liv thrust her sword into Saxon soldiers. She has been with the first troop, with Björn, Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd and is now treading through the mud. Her face was splattered with blood after only a few minutes, and her thirst for blood had awakened.

Even her long blond hair, tied in several braids into a high ponytail, has already turned slightly red. She ducks, strikes and draws her sword through the bodies. Despite the effort, Liv cannot suppress a smile. This is what she was made for. To fight.

Again and again, she raises her shield to ward off blows and slashes. She doesn't feel the minor cuts inflicted on her because of the adrenaline. Whether it's minutes or hours, Liv can't tell, but it wouldn't make any difference either. And then another Saxon runs towards her.

He manages to take the shield from her, but she is no less dangerous without it. She draws her sword across the soldier's stomach, then stabs him in the chest. Satisfied, Liv watches him go down.

She stands in the middle of the battlefield. Her bloodied face looks around. Liv's chest rises and falls rapidly, as does her breathing. Then she sees the prince. Aethelwulf. Liv has met him several times, as his father has used her services.

He looks at her in surprise, and she can only grin. But then he raises his bow and shoots an arrow at her. It hits her shoulder. Enraged, Liv breaks off the shaft and tries to raise her arm, making it complicated.

At that moment, Aethelwulf raises his bow again, and the second arrow lands in Liv's stomach. She is too slow to deflect it somehow. She looks down at herself in disbelief, and at that moment, the rest of the large army comes running behind Aethelwulf, forcing him to retreat.

Liv, however, can barely hold on and then goes down. Unable to say anything, she lies there in pain. She has carelessly dropped her sword on the ground.

Satisfied, Ivar sits on his chariot and watches his army slaughter the Saxons. Screams and groans and the smell of blood fill the air. He feels superior to everyone now as if Odin is tapping him directly on the shoulder and rejoicing. He is so full of pride.

Defeated, the Saxon army retreats and flees from the heathen army. Slowly Ivar leads his chariot across the battlefield as his brothers meet him. They all laugh proudly and congratulate the youngest on his victory, for it was his doing.

Then he notices the slightly worried look on Björn's as he looks around. It doesn't take long for Ivar to realise what it's all about. He looks around too, but he can't see Liv anywhere either. Then Björn sees Sven. He stomps towards him.

"Where is she?!" he shouts, and Ivar didn't think Björn cared so much about his sister. "Where is she?!" he shouts again, and the other brothers look around too.

"I don't know!" Sven returns, and Björn grabs him by the collar.

And then Ivar sees her. She is lying in the dirt, surrounded by Saxon corpses.

"There!" shouts Ivar, and slight panic can be heard in his voice.

He throws himself from his chariot and crawls towards her. Björn, of course, is faster.

"Liv!" says Björn once more and throws himself on his knees beside her. Still panting and barely catching her breath, Liv looks at her big brother. Relieved that they have finally found her.

"Björn?" she stutters tonelessly.

"Shhh ... Shhh ... It's going to be all right. We'll get you a healer," he says, looking at the arrow still lodged in his sister's stomach.

"Get a healer now!" Björn shouts angrily, and Liv grits her teeth.

Before Björn realises what she is about to do, Liv unceremoniously breaks off the arrow shaft. A small cry of pain passes her lips. Ivar has seen this too. She is so brave and tough, he thinks to himself, yet the sight of Liv in the dirt with an arrow in her stomach shocks him. He can't lose her. Not now.

"Liv," he breathes when he's almost at her. "No!" he mutters to himself.

When he is finally beside her, he sees that her whole body is covered in dirt and blood. He can't tell which is hers, but it doesn't look good.

"Liv..." he says again, and Liv looks him in the eye before letting out a pained moan.

"Ivar," she breathes then and reaches out for him.

Her head rests on Bjorn's legs, but Ivar also sits beside her. He takes her hand in his and caresses it gently. Then he kisses her hand and presses it against him.

"It's okay, Liv. It's going to be okay," he whispers and touches her cheek.

Björn looks back and forth between Ivar and Liv and then at Ubbe, who stands beside him, shrugging his shoulders. They have never seen their brother like this before.

"It's okay," she stammers now. "I'm not scared."

"You're not going to die, do you hear me?" hisses Ivar, continuing to stroke her hand.

Sven has reached her now, too and rummages in his bag. He takes out a small vial and then kneels to her.

"What is this?" asks Björn immediately, and Sven takes off the cork.

"It will help her," he says, looking at Liv, who nods. He dribbles a little of the liquid into her mouth, and she swallows it. Then her eyelids grow heavy, and her body limp.

"What have you done to her?" exclaims Ivar immediately.

"She's just sleeping. This is for the pain. It will help her," he defends himself, and Hvitserk puts a hand on Ivar's shoulder.

The wound won't stop bleeding. New drops of blood keep forming in it. But Ivar patiently cleans Liv's wounds. It's not only the wound on her stomach that the healer has stitched up well, but she also has several cuts and bruises on her arms.

"You could have died today," he grumbles after a while.

"And yet I'm still here," Liv says, a little more cheerful again. "I thank the gods for that. But I can take care of myself, Ivar."

"Doesn't look much like it to me," he says, showing her the blood-soaked piece of cloth he's using to clean her wounds. "What if you're not so lucky next time?" he asks.

"Then I will die honourably in battle," she only says. Ivar doesn't want to hear something like that. He looks her in the eye momentarily, and Liv returns the look. He puts the scrap of cloth away and takes her hands in his.

"This must not happen, do you hear? Liv... I... I love you, and I want you by my side," he says then, and Liv's eyes widen in surprise. No one has ever said those words to her before.

"What? You don't even know me," she says, turning away from him.

She knows that love is a weakness. And she doesn't want weaknesses.

"It's not just you who can observe Liv. Even the first time I saw you, I knew you were special. And everything I've seen is enough for me to tell you that… I love you."

Ivar looks closely at Liv, and the otherwise strong warrior that he is suddenly seems vulnerable.

"I want you to stay by my side. I want you to be mine."

Liv looks at him. Light tears well up in her eyes as she averts her gaze.

"I can't..." she breathes and stands up. "I have commitments, Ivar. I can't stay with you. As soon as Ecbert is dead, I have to go." She takes another step towards him.

"Please, Liv. You felt it too, I'm sure of it. We belong together." Liv wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Please, Ivar... Don't make this harder than it already is," she pleads with him shaky.

"I just don't want you to lie to yourself. Your place is by my side!"

He takes her hand in his and caresses it. Again she looks into his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. She would like to say yes to him, but Liv can't. She has the Ravenblade, and she can't let it down. Hesitantly, she pulls her hand away from Ivar.

"I can't," she breathes, "I'm so sorry." With those words, she grabs her tunic, pulls it over her head, walks out, and leaves the tent.

When she gets outside, the sun blinds her. Still struggling with tears, Liv is even more confused because this usually never happens to her. She has been trained to be tough and keep her emotions to a minimum, but Ivar brings them all out.

"Liv!" she then hears someone call out. She turns and sees Björn coming towards her. "How are you?" he asks immediately, but as she stands before him, he notices that Liv is struggling with something, so he hugs her.

Liv lets it happen and presses herself against her brother. It is her first time in years to hold her brother in her arms again. And Liv has to admit, it feels good.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, and Liv sniffles briefly before running her sleeve over her eyes.

"Nothing," she then says quickly.

"Hey, you can talk to me," he says, looking her in the eye.

It's eerie that when Liv looks at Björn, her own eyes look back. Then his gaze wanders to the tent from which Liv has come.

"Is it Ivar? What has he done?" Björn then asks quickly.

"He hasn't done anything," his sister assures him.

"He seems very fond of you, Liv."

"I know, that's the problem. I can't stay with him. I...". Her voice breaks off.

"But you like him?" Liv lowers her eyes and then nods slightly.

"I can't, Bjorn. Love is a weakness that could endanger me and my people."

Björn considers for a moment. "In the end, you must know what you want, Liv. I know the Ravenblade have a pact, but if it makes you unhappy..."

"You don't understand. I'm the fucking leader. I can't just turn my back on them because I fell in love. It doesn't work like that."

Björn notices that his sister is visibly struggling with herself. She is still so young and has committed herself for life. She should be happy, even if that means wanting to be with his psychopathic brother. It shouldn't be like this.

"You know what? Just forget about it! It doesn't change anything anyway," she says. Then she reaches out and puts her hand on his arm. "Thank you, Björn," she now says softly, and to experience such an action from his sister, he would not have thought possible.

#Vikings #Vikings Fanfic #Ivar x OC #Ivar x Reader #Ivar the Boneless x OC #Ivar the Boneless x Reader #Ivar Lothbrok x OC #Vikings Fandom #Ivar the Boneless #Ivar Lothbrok #Ivar Fanfic #Ivar the Boneless fanfic

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faithintheunknownsblog · 1 year

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A/N: Being newer to this, I’d love to hear y’alls feedback! I may not reply but I still appreciate hearing what y’all think!💚

Chapter Summary: You keep managing to surprise Alucard in so many different aspects, causing him to be more nosey and disrespectful of your personal space.

TW: Guns, Knives, Kidnapping, Gore

Master List

To Kill A Monster

Chapter 3: An Ignored Plea

You set the dishes on the counter as you unload the dishwasher, getting them all set out before you put them away. You start drying them and look through the bottom cabinets, putting away the ones that belong down there. It took you a few minutes since this is the first time you’ve actually seen the inside of the cabinets.

You make sure you're as quiet as possible because it’s the middle of the day. You couldn’t sleep, but luckily the shades in the kitchen are closed unlike they usually are during the day. Any other time you’re unable to sleep you’re stuck in your room until sun down, and you hate it. So even if it was doing chores you’re happy that you are able to move around and do something outside of your room during the day for once.

When you finish drying the dishes that go in the bottom cabinets, you look at the ones above you and sigh. Since this mansion was made for people who are six feet and taller you have to climb up on the counter.

So you did, and as soon as you got up on it a bullet hit the inside of the cabinet you just opened. It was so close to your head that it clipped your ear, causing you to yelp, “FUCK!”

You lose your balance and make sure that the plate in hand doesn’t break, you do it by landing on your back. Hitting the tile with a loud smack, you immediately become filled with anger as you feel the warm blood from your ear trickle down the side of your face.

But you’re lucky that Alucard didn’t blow your head off. He is to only use dummy rounds when fighting you, so minimal damage will be done to you and the mansion. But that still doesn’t mean that being shot with it doesn’t hurt.

Seras hears the gunshot followed by your yell and immediately goes to the kitchen. She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Alucard standing in the doorway of the opposite side of the kitchen you're on. Not only is this bad because Alucard shot at you for no reason but it was the middle of the day.

“Now stop with the noise, or I’ll make it a real bullet in your skull next time,” Alucard says with a deep morning voice. You somehow have been making too much noise while putting the dishes away and woke him up. And Alucard doesn’t like being woken up.

“You son of a bitch!” Filled with rage you jump up off of the floor and grab a knife out of the sink. In the blink of an eye you are across the kitchen, and Alucard is pressed to the wall. You have your full body pressed against his while stabbing him in the back of his torso.

Seras’ eyes go wide in horror, but there is not much she can do. So she does the only thing she can, steps back from the doorway and yells, “CLOSE THE CURTAINS!”

The troops do so then come flock around the kitchen to see the fight. Watching you and Alucard fight is like a free action movie for them.

Alucard leans his head back and chuckles as you sink the knife deeper into his back. When he hears Seras yell he looks at you from the corner of his eye, “are you sure you wanna go through this Hunter? You are at a disadvantage here, the sun is out and all I need to do is get you in front of a window.”

“You’ll have to catch me first,” you quickly pull the knife out and go to the other side of the room.

“With pleasure,” Alucard says and wastes no time grabbing his gun, aiming for you then pulling the trigger once more.

You jump out of the way and grab a plate. “Oh no, the pleasure will be all mine once I have your head on a pike!”

To Alucard’s surprise, instead of throwing the plate, you get up on the counter and put it in a cabinet. He raises an eyebrow and asks, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You grab another plate and answer your own question while putting it away, “I’m putting the dishes away. Duh.”

Alucard growls and aims for you again, “you want to start a fight then not take it seriously?”

“Woooow, that’s rich, especially coming from you!” You lean down and grab a bowl. Alucard pulls the trigger again and you quickly jump to the next counter. “For someone who lets holes get put into him without a second thought.”

“Unlike you, I can afford to be reckless with my life.” Alucard says plainly, he may have cleansed the souls but he still has Schrödinger Cat. Which he would love nothing more than to get rid of so he can be destroyed.

“What life? All you do is sit in your dungeon all day and sulk all night!” You mock Alucard a bit, which wasn’t a good idea, and you could tell that just by the look he developed on his face. You quickly slide the plate in the cabinet and duck because the next bullet was aimed straight to your head.

Alucard shoots a relentless round of bullets, emptying the chamber without second thought. He angrily states, “if it wasn‘t for me you wouldn’t exist because London wouldn’t even be here today!”

You try to dodge all of the bullets, but Alucard is too quick and has already seen how you were planning out your moves. So once you got hit with one bullet the rest hit you as well. He mostly aims for your torso, making you want to double over in pain when he hits your gut. But you stay on your feet and have a split second to catch your breath when he has to reload his gun. You shout, “I’m surprised that London was able to survive when there is a bloodthirsty monster like you around!”

Alucard growls as he reloads his gun, once he has another round ready he aims the gun straight at you again. “Someone has to keep insufferable little shits like you in check.”

You just barely dodge the next bullet he fires at you, jumping back over to the counter that has all the dishes that you have yet to put away because you’re too busy being shot at. You make sure not to break any of them, “maybe I wouldn’t be so ‘insufferable’ if you weren’t such a dick! Shooting at me when I’ve done nothing wrong!”

Alucard couldn’t help letting out a loud laugh, in his eyes you do nearly- if not everything- wrong. “What makes you believe that?”

“Maybe for the simple fact you started shooting at me for no reason!” You dodge the next bullet he sent your way, and put away a teacup.

“I gave you a warning shot to quiet down, you were the one who stabbed me and decided that you wanted to continue this fight.” Alucard says plainly, he shoots at you again. He wasn’t having any fun with this, he just wants you dead at the moment. But since he’s not allowed to kill you, he’ll settle for hitting you with all the fake ammo he has. Whenever you’re awake during the day you seem to manage to wake him up. He’s getting sick of it. There is a simple solution- drinking blood- and you just won’t do it, and because of that he has to deal with it when you can’t sleep.

“As I said you shot at me! What do you expect me to do?! Be alright with it?!” You ask him and manage to slide another plate into the cabinet before getting a bullet to the gut. You spit out blood and scream at him, “FUCK YOU BASTARD!”

“You shouldn’t be so disrespectful and make all kinds of noises when people are trying to sleep.” Alucard reloads again, he stocked up his ammo before he came to the kitchen.

“Well excuse me for trying to help around here!” You get hit with another bullet, causing you to nearly sink down to your knees. But you continue to force yourself to stay on your feet. You aren’t ready to give up yet, if you’re awake and have the chance you’re going to train until you physically can’t anymore.

“You do know we have people to tidy up the mansion, correct?” Alucard sees how you’re becoming worn out, which irritates him because you aren’t putting up a real fight.

“Well they aren’t here now, are they?” You put another plate away and quickly step back because you think Alucard is going to shoot at you again. Right now would be a perfect opportunity to attack him but you continue to just jump around the kitchen while he fires at you. The troops are getting bored because you aren’t fighting Alucard like you usually do. To them it seems like you’re being passive.

Alucard is now giving you a few seconds in between shots and notices how you aren’t fighting him. So he pauses and waits to see what you’ll do. Which is nothing, besides being hunched over with your hand on your side as you try to catch your breath. “Why are you prancing around like a gazelle? You’re supposed to be fighting me.”

You look over at him and smirk, “you want me to fight back?” You get a knife and stand up straight, “then shoot me again.”

It takes a moment but Alucard realizes that you’ve been training your agility the whole time, by trying to put the dishes away while being shot at. He smirks, not only in excitement but- though he doesn’t recognize it- because he’s impressed. This is a training technique Alucard would never have thought of. So now he’s less pissed off because- in his eyes- he sees that you’re doing something that will actually make yourself useful one day. So deciding to play along with it Alucard shoots at you again, and just continues on with the conversation.

“The reason why the cleaners aren’t here is because it’s the middle of the day,” Alucard states. The cleaners work around the house at night so they won’t wake any of them during the day. They’re going to have a mess to clean up tonight though. Alucard pulls the trigger again. “Which brings me to my next question; why are you awake?”

“Because I can’t sleep,” you say as you hop over to the kitchen island and run down the middle of it, heading straight towards Alucard. He thinks you’re going to hit him head on but instead you jump over his head, and get behind him. Then you land a hard kick to his back.

Alucard stumbles forward a bit then looks at you over his shoulder. He chuckles in delight, glad to finally have a fight instead of you just being target practice. “And what possibly possessed you to come to the kitchen and make so much noise?”

“I was bored and this was the only room I could get to, since someone didn’t open the curtains up.” You say nonchalantly with a shrug, but the corner of your lip twitches. You fight back the urge to smirk, you don’t want to find fighting fun. Especially with him. You hate him. You can’t have fun interacting with someone you hate. You quickly make it through the doorway before he can block it, once again getting on the counter because being taller than him feels like an advantage. Also you want to get the dishes put away, it is kind of fun dodging bullets while trying to do chores.

“Okay, but why are you doing dishes in the first place? Because you clearly didn’t intend to turn this into training.” Alucard aims his gun, and at the same time you throw a knife, hitting right between his eyes. He still fires the gun.

“I’ve been here for over a month now, I figured I’d help out around the mansion while I was doing absolutely nothing in my room.” You try to dodge it but get hit in the calf, it almost makes you fall off of the counter. “Ow! Bitch!” You grunt but continue on putting away dishes that you’ve never used. You don’t eat food, and you don’t drink blood, so you haven’t used any of these dishes ever.

That’s another part that doesn’t make sense to Alucard. Each day you confuse him more and more. Each day that you were awake and around him at least. But even when he’s snooping around in your mind things still don’t make sense to him. If there wasn’t any help around the mansion, you doing dishes and cleaning would make sense to Alucard. But since they hire people to do the cleaning, it doesn’t seem logical to do it for them. “You’re doing this for free when there are people who get paid to do it?”

“Yup, if I have nothing better to do and there is something that needs to be done, I might as well do it.” You luckily dodge another shot, but when you jump over to the other counter you nearly fall off.

“So you’re doing this for fun?” Alucard asks as he shoots you in the shoulder. He’s still trying to figure out your logic behind doing the dishes.

“MOTHER FUCKER!” You yell out in pain, and when you see Alucard aiming for your head you let yourself roll off of the counter. But you don’t stay down there for long. You grab a frying pan out of the cabinet and hop back up on the counter. Before Alucard even realizes it you’re right in front of him, the frying pan knocking hard against his face. Then you continue on with the conversation as if it didn’t just happen. Getting back up on the counter. Flipping the frying pan up in the air and catching it by the handle in your other hand. “No, I’m doing it out of boredom. I needed something to pass the time since I can’t sleep and I can’t go out during the day.”

The troops and Seras jaws drop, that’s the first time any of them have seen a frying pan as a weapon.

Alucard rubs his chin, this the first time he’s ever been hit in the face with a frying pan… Or hit with a frying pan in general. But with the perfect opportunity he begins to say, “you’d be able to go outside if-“

“If I would just drink blood, blah, blah, blah!” You cut him off with an annoyed tone, he was now out of bullets. So you- with ease- finish up with the last of the dishes, “yeah, I know!”

“But you still refuse to drink like a fool,” Alucard sighs and tucks his guns away. He doesn’t understand the resistance, you and Seras both baffle him with the refusal to drink. But more so you than her, because you’ve never come close to giving into your urge to drink. Not even in a blood rage, your urge to kill always overpowers your urge to drink. Your willpower is astonishing to say the least.

You turn around and look down at him, with your hands on your hips. You sassily ask him, “why are you so obsessed with what I do, huh?”

“It’s just disappointing to see such potential go to waste,” Alucard admits with a tone filled with disapproval.

“Wow, thanks for the backhanded compliment.” You growl and get off the counter, then start walking past him with a limp. You’re in pain but play it off as if you’re totally fine. With a rude tone you say, “now if you excuse me, I’m going to prove you wrong.”

“Oh? How so?” Alucard asks, intrigued by your bold statement. The sun still has a few hours until setting, so it isn’t like you can go anywhere besides back to the basement.

Seras and the guards just stand there, dumbstruck by how you both just go on about life as if the two of you didn’t just destroy the kitchen. But after a moment Seras’ brain catches up to her and she follows you and Alucard.

“Oh, wouldn't you like to know? For someone who thinks I’m soooo useless. You can go figure it out by yourself!” You say in an annoyed tone, walking down the basement and to your room.

“Yes, I would like to know how you can actually be useful, as if you actually do anything productive that we don’t pay people to do.” Alucard says condescendingly, he’s now using reverse psychology so you show him what you’ve found.

Seras has found it best not to get in between you and him arguing unless she absolutely needs to. As long as you two aren’t trying to kill each other she sits back and watches.

“Look here asshole, I know a lot more than you could ever find out on your own since nobody wants to talk to rich entitled assholes!” You ball up your fist, he always calls you useless. What Alucard and Seras don’t know is that you have two journals of information you gathered on vampires since before you even joined Hellsing. You actually started them a while before you got turned into a vampire. But you also used a few of the nights that you were supposedly ’resting’ to go out searching for whatever information you can find. You know where to look unlike them because you have a hunch and perhaps useful information that they would never have been able to get without you.

Alucard and Seras follow you into your room, they notice how even though you cleaned the kitchen your room is a slight mess. There are papers scattered across the bed and table, and crumpled up papers thrown all over the floor. Seras is careful of the papers, making sure not to step on them whereas Alucard doesn’t care. If it’s on the floor, it’s able to be stepped on, and it will be because he’s not going to tiptoe with his giant feet.

You are lucky Alucard doesn’t see that you’ve stolen more of his shirts and boxers to sleep in, even though they’ve bought you clothes. Which you wear, besides the pajamas. You only wear the pajamas long enough to make it seem like you sleep in them. When in reality you’ll wear your pjs just to go to the laundry room and steal Alucard’s clothes, then go back to your room.

“And what have you been doing that my ‘entitled asshole’ self is unable to do?” Alucard asks sarcastically.

“No! Fuck you! Get out of my room if you’re going to be a prick!” You shout at him and cross your arms over your chest.

Alucard lets out an annoyed sigh, “if you aren’t going to tell me anything then I’m just going to read your mind.”

You give him a death glare and defiantly stand there for a moment. But he doesn’t budge, instead he starts to have a sadistic smile creep across his face and you get paranoid. You give in and go over to your bag, “I’ve been doing research.”

“On what?” Alucard asks. Him and Seras watch you grab two composition books out of your dresser and Alucard rolls his eyes when you drop them down onto the table for dramatic effect.

“Vampires.” The books are filled with notes of what you’ve heard on the streets. What you have so far is names and descriptions of homeless people that have been going missing. And things such as when were they last seen, who they were with, and other kinds of information. Also miscellaneous notes that can possibly be of help.

“We haven’t heard anything from the police about sightings,” Seras says. She believes you and finds any bit of possible information helpful.

“That’s because there hasn’t been.” Alucard says plainly.

The reason why he and Seras haven’t heard anything about it is because nobody notices when a homeless person goes missing, nobody but the people that are in the same situation. Even if a missing person’s report is filed for them, most of the cases get thrown out by the police. No one cares if a homeless person goes missing, there is no family or friends worried about them. Nobody cares about people who are so impoverished that they can’t afford to live, you’ve learned that first hand.

“Okay, there might not have been any sightings, but that doesn’t mean you can just dismiss what I’ve found!” You state, you know that you sound too optimistic and desperate by going off of this hunch.

“If we don’t have solid proof-“ Seras says, trying to reason with you even though she knows you’re just going to get mad.

You slam your fist on the table, “I am the proof! We know there are vampires in London because I’m one and I killed two of them!”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Seras says, and thinks about what Integra would do in this situation. She would follow any possible leads, like she did with Millennium. After a brief moment Seras nods her head, “you’re right, we should look into it.”

You nod, but then realize something, “uh… slight issue, they won’t trust you two and I can’t go out during the day. Alucard opens his mouth to say his usual thing but you hold your finger up to him and with a glare tell him “shut it.”

Alucard rolls his eyes in annoyance and Seras asks you, “So what do we do?”

“I… Haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” You admit, you honestly didn’t think you’d make it this far. You thought that you would have been dead by now.

Alucard pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “of course you haven’t.”

“Y’know what?!” You stand in front of him, looking up at him with malice filled eyes. If you were his height you’d be right in his face. “I’ve been pulling my weight around here, when are you gonna start making yourself useful?!”

Alucard just looks down at you and chuckles. He always found it annoying whenever someone tried to intimidate him. But when you try to? It’s the funniest thing he has experienced, ever. “How would you know if I do anything, you’re always asleep.”

You you step back and scowl, “whatever, get out.”

“Thank you for your help,” Seras says with a smile and- being the respectful person she is- walks out of your room.

“No problem,” you walk over to the table and sit down, noticing how Alucard hasn’t left yet. You give him an annoyed look, “is your super human hearing not working? I said get out.”

Alucard looks at the mess on your floor, deciding to say something about it. “You should have been in here cleaning and not the kitchen. And if you’re constantly sleeping, how is this room in such a wreck?”

“You don’t like the way my room looks, get out so you don’t have to look at it.” You open up one of the composition books and flip to the most recent page you’ve written on. You notice how you didn’t finish the sentence you were on. You must have fallen asleep. Alucard was right, you do sleep a lot. You’re not even sure how long you’ve been here because all together the total amount of days you’ve been up is two weeks worth. Whenever you train it takes you a week to recover completely.

But you’re always up before you’re done healing, either during the day or night. You’ve gone out a lot of nights without them knowing, that’s how you got the information you have.

Alucard cuts your thought process off by plainly saying “I was wondering how you managed to get all of this without ever seeing you leave.”

You look up at him, raising an eyebrow, “huh?”

Alucard started to flip through the first composition book, “you’ve been here nearly two and a half months, and we all thought you were sleeping when we didn’t see you.”

You throw a knife at Alucard’s head and he catches it with no effort, “I told you to stop reading my mind asshole.”

“If you told the truth there would be no need for me to,” Alucard skims over the first page. “But I wouldn’t be able to-“

You lean your head back and groan in annoyance, “ugh! Will you just drop it!”

Alucard sighs, “you're a fool.” He continues to flip through the pages of the notebook, “and by how often you were out at night it’s no surprise you’re performance while training is terrible.”

“And the trainings are worth nothing if we can’t find these guys,” you get up and go over to your dresser. It has an abundance of pens all over the top of it. All ones that you’ve stolen from around the mansion. “And it’s not like any of the people I’ve gotten information from will talk to Seras. And they especially won’t talk to you.”

“Then why is it that they'll talk to you?” Alucard looks at you, noticing all the stolen pens. But that’s the least of his concern right now. He’s trying to get some more information on you.

“None of your business,” you say and quickly start thinking of something- anything- so he won’t get anything from reading your mind.

Alucard growls because it works, he doesn’t like how you’re able to quickly catch onto his tricks. But after he quits his attempt and sees your triumphant smile he can’t help but smirk. “Really? That’s what you thought of?”

You shrug and nonchalantly say, “It was the first thing that came to my mind, alright.” You walk back over to the table and think to start writing, but as soon as you got the pen to the paper your eyes feel heavy.

Alucard read a few pages before he notices how you got quiet. He looks up and sees you starting to fall asleep while sitting up. He watches you and waits to see if you’ll wake back up. When he hears you snoring he stares at you for a moment. He knows you won’t be comfortable sleeping while sitting up, but that’s not his problem. So he leaves your room, at least turning out the lights for you.

=======

You’re not sure how long you have been asleep, but you know it couldn’t have been long because you’re still sore. You realize you fell asleep while at the table, which doesn’t help with how much pain you’re in. You sit up, wincing as you do. But you’re awake, so that means you’re going to fight through it. You won’t be able to go back to sleep with how much agony you’re in anyway.

You listen to your body as you move your back; pop pop pop pop pop

Then you your neck; pop pop pop pop

Once you’re done with making your body sound like bubble wrap you look at the clock you have on your night stand. It’s three am, so you get up, even though your aching body is demanding for you not to. But you have to go out and try to get more information, and feeling like you’re going to fall apart is going to have to wait.

You walk over to a dirty pile of clothes, putting a hoodie on. Then from your dresser you grab your knives, and a pen along with a small notebook that you can stuff in your sweatpants pocket. You don’t carry your bag around anymore since you no longer have to. You’re glad you finally have a place that you feel is safe enough to leave your things.

When you walk out of your room you’re met with the sight of Alucard who is leaning against the wall across from your door. You immediately ask him, “why are you waiting outside my door like a creep?”

“Why aren’t you resting? You clearly aren’t healed,” Alucard says plainly.

“I asked you a question first, I demand an answer!” You fiercely say while stomping your foot.

“One must earn respect before they can demand answers,” Alucard plainly says. He always knows exactly what to say to piss you off. Which is made clear by the smirk he gains when he sees how your face goes crimson with rage.

“How dare you?!” You yell and pull out one of your knives, going to stab him. He quickly steps out of the way, but you keep swinging.

“You want my respect when you can’t even land a single attack on me.” Alucard continues to step backwards, making you follow him down the hallway without realizing it.

“Oh yeah?!” You stop and put your hands on your hips, “who was the one who got knocked upside the head with a frying pan yesterday?!”

Alucard pauses to look at you, then he starts laughing.

“What?!” You growl, confused about why he’s laughing. “What’s so funny?!”

“You have been asleep for sixty three hours,” Alucard says. “If it was just yesterday that we fought you wouldn’t be able to move at all right now.”

“Well…” you couldn’t think of a comment for that information, so you start trying to stab him again. “I still hit you in the face with a frying pan!”

“It was the middle of the day, you think I was putting much energy into the fight we were having.” Alucard steps back, dodging your slashes. He doesn’t put much effort into training you, but you do catch him off guard sometimes. Though he’ll rarely admit it.

You roll your eyes and continue trying to stab him, “yeah, suuuure!”

Alucard frowns and grabs your wrist right before you’re able to stab into his chest. But you slide in between his legs, making him flip over himself and land onto his back. When he hit the floor he didn’t let go of your wrist, but you turned and quickly cut his hand off to free it. Then you bring both of your knives down, stabbing the floor next to his ears.

You could have stabbed him in the head with the blessed blades you’re using. You could have completed your goal of killing him. But you didn’t. You let him live. And all your brain can think to ask you is “why?”

But as you kneel there and stare at him longer you realize something is wrong. Then it clicks and while still on your knees with your body facing forward you throw a knife behind you before you turn around. But when you do turn to look over your shoulder you see a smiling Alucard, who is holding your knife right in front of his face. “You realized it was an illusion before it started dissipating.”

You pivot your body so when you stand up your back isn’t to him, nor is it towards his illusion. When you look at him you can see the illusion starting to disappear out of the corner of your eye. “I knew something was off.”

Alucard tosses the knife on the floor in front of your feet, he asks “how can you tell though?”

You pick up the knife and shrug, “don’t know, somehow your illusions are creepier than you. How that’s even possible? I don’t know.” You put your knife away and look back up at him, “now if you excuse me, I’m going out.”

“To do research?” Alucard asks, but already knows the answer.

“Yes, and don’t follow me…” you walk past him so he doesn't see your face when you finish your sentence with a soft “please.”

Alucard blinks when he hears your quiet plea, you just said a word he’d never think he’d hear from you. So he knows this is serious, which is more of a reason for him not to listen to you. So he blatantly lies to you when he says, “alright.”

“Thank you,” you mumble and leave the mansion.

=======

You walk to what Alucard could only describe as the dirtiest part of the city, it was abandoned buildings and tents. Alucard regrets following you now, the smell was rancid and trash was everywhere. He decides to turn to a bat to follow you the rest of the way.

You duck under makeshift clotheslines and step to the side to keep from walking into piles of bags. The walkways are a tight squeeze, but you know where to step since you walked these paths time and time before. You go past tent, after tent, until you get to the side of an abandoned building. But instead of going in through a door, you climb up the old rusty fire escape to the third floor then duck into a busted window.

Alucard watches you from the top of an adjacent building, he hears a lot of crashing noises, but then it goes quiet. After that he waits for some type of sign of what you’re doing.

He waits, and waits, and waits.

Then an hour later Alucard sees you come out of the roof door of the building you disappeared in. You're covered in blood and limping. But as he continues watching he realizes it’s not only you, but you’re dragging someone behind you.

“Tell me!” You demand from this nobody you have tied up as you drag him over to the ledge. After weeks of searching for any type of lead you found him on the opposite side of the city from where you’re currently holding him.

You're not sure how long ago it was when you did, but this is your second time interrogating him. You got nothing from the night you kidnapped him, and he’s given you nothing tonight. “Where is Granger?!”

“Granger?” Alucard asked himself. Nothing from your notes said anything about a Granger, and he hasn’t heard that name in any of your thoughts.

“I’m not telling you anything, you crazy bitch!” He squirms, he is about the same height as you but he’s scrawny. He also hasn’t had any blood since you took him captive.

“Who turned you?” You demand as you put his neck against the edge of the roof. You’re desperate for any information, even if it isn’t about Granger.

“You know this won’t kill me you stupid cunt, but go ahead and try it!” The guy says with a taunting smirk.

“Oh, I know I can’t kill you. But you know what can?” You plainly ask him and step back as the sun starts to peak over the horizon. You smirk as the sun starts to make contact with his flesh. But your smirk is quickly wiped away when you see he has no fear.

It pisses you off. You want to watch him turn to ash, but you can’t because you need to get information out of him. That’s why he’s so cocky, because if you let him die you have nothing.

So you drag him back inside and he chuckles before passing out from the pain he just experienced. You take him back to where you had him before and now you're going to have to stay in the abandoned building until nightfall.

=======

Alucard flew back to the mansion and went to his room, sitting down in his chair. He plays the scene he just witnessed in his head. But the only thing he’s interested in is this Granger person.

Every time Alucard read your mind- even when you were asleep- nothing about a person named “Granger” popped up. He still knows nearly nothing about you.

But this Granger person you were asking that guy about has to play a role, and if Alucard can get ahold of him he could get the key to the closet that is holding all your skeletons.

#hellsing #hellsing fanfiction #hellsing ultimate #alucard hellsing #vampire #fanfic #alucard #alucard fanfiction #alucard x reader #dracula #seras victoria #hellsing fandom #long post

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ambiguouspuzuma · 6 months

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Lakelight

The surface of Lake Sanai was almost always at peace. Nestled in the crook between two forested hills, it was sheltered from the winds that lashed the unrepentant trees to either side, shaded from the excesses of winter sun, and untroubled by the rippling of rain throughout the warmer months. Its fresh, pure waters served as a perfect mirror to the willow branches slung low over its shores, to the birds that stopped to drink and bathe in their shallows, and also to the clear and cloudless sky above.

The first Lord Maribok had built a summer palace on its eastern bank, a retreat from which his household might forage and fish; a chance to better connect with the land they would rule, and to briefly escape from the burden of its people. Replete with greenhouse and solarium, orchards and orangeries, Chateu Sanai was a paradise from spring to fall, from sunrise to sunset: perfectly poised to capture each ray of golden light for the enjoyment of its residents.

It was idyllic, during the day. The problems began on a night that shone with the light of two moons: the first waxing in the wick-dark sky above, the second in the surface of the tar-slick waters underneath. Lake Sanai was almost always at peace, but almost - for that night, the revelling lordlings watched on in horror as a creature emerged, and began lumbering up towards the palace's eastern approach.

It was a five-legged thing, an irregular form, coated in a silver carp-scale that wore the glint of chainmail in the twice-reflected light. Lord Maribok's slender household guard were enough to drive it back into the lake, but not before it had slain one of his sons, dragging the body back down with it from the house: into the water, or so they'd thought at the time. One moment he was drinking and laughing with his sister, the next he was gone.

His father swore vengeance, and set about raising an army to dredge the lake of its apparent evil. He requisitioned nets from anglers at the coast, the vast patchwork of rope that a trawler might drag behind; they spun it over the surface like a web, set to ensnare the creature at the next time it tried to rise. Then came the knights, responding to his call to arms: scores of men filled his peaceful refuge with the bustle he'd come here to escape, the world come to Chateu Sanai after all, but Lord Maribok welcomed every one across the threshold. This may have once been his retreat, but now he needed to attack.

They assembled by the lakeside, the next night it shimmered in the moondark, a sight to shame any standing army in the land: their swords sharp, their shields polished, and resplendent in mail that hung like perfect silver filigree from broad shoulders. They stood around the net, as still and observant as the herons which sometimes lurked by the shore, their weapons drawn to pounce and kill at the slightest ripple in the surface of the lake.

It was only later, when the screaming began, that they realised that the creature hadn't come out of the water. It didn't dwell in those depths, nor in any realm known to man; it was not merely some freshwater predator, an eel or pike writ large, but an entirely new class of terror. Rather than the body of the lake, it had emerged from its surface; passing through the reflection, the mirror, still and perfect underneath the waxing moon. Silver. Shining. Like the mail they now wore buckled to their chests - which, as they also learnt amongst the screams, was really quite difficult to remove.

#writing #short story #writeblr #creative writing #original fiction

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aspiringsophrosyne · 1 year

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Episode 4: Those Who Walk Away

There's a long line at the concession stand. Think you can get something before the show starts? Traffic was pretty bad.

Because trust me, you don't want to miss the beginning of this one.

The Good.

There's no end to the praise Liam O'Brien deserves just for the first couple of minutes of the episode. I knew what was coming; how devastating it would be for these characters and how painful it would be for them all.

Especially for Vax.

And still. Still. Vax's desperate "Somebody do something!!" stabbed me right in the goddamned heart. And the delivery of his line to the Queen of Death, the one that every critter who watched Campaign one knows, the words that changed Vax's destiny forever...perfect.

The visuals for the ritual were really cool, too. It was hard to imagine how they would communicate what was happening in the show; as in the stream it was down to dice rolls and rituals. The gold dome over Vex, the Queen's claw piercing it and then causing it to shatter....it calls up dread from the deepest pit of your heart.

And then Vax just having the armor on when they turn around...quick, efficient and spooky as hell. Very good move there.

Those shots of the Calamity in the vision. My God. For the record, and I touched on this before, I love that the peeks we've gotten into that period of Exandria's history have been broad and unspecific. They are meant to be grandiose to mind-bending proportions, and you can ironically lose that effect by trying too hard to get that idea across. It also leaves the impression that as big and crazy as this all looks, what we've seen (Osysa's story in S2E2 and now Vax's vision) is only the tip of the iceberg.

I like that Purrvan got to shine a bit here. Partially this is because I can sympathize with Matt over that name; (Vox Machina's reaction to it was pretty much the cast's in the stream) and also because it makes sense. Funny name or not, the Matron doesn't hire chumps. In the watch-along for this episode, the cast mentioned that they originally had Matt record grunts, sounds of effort, and reactions to getting hit...and then decided the scene was more striking without them. It was a good call. It gets across just how beyond Vax this former Champion is. And it foreshadows just how formidable a being Vax will one day become.

As I've said before and will say again, titmouse knows how to do a good fight scene. I was surprised the monster was savvier than it looked, angling its tentacles around Keyleth's obstacles to get at her and Percy. Some damn good lines here too. Pike's understandable exasperation ("Son of a bitch!") and Percy's testy incredulousness ("Oh, just petrified!?") are incredibly relatable.

Perhaps the scene only feels this way to me because of hindsight, but Vax's acceptance feels like a crown being placed on a head under a guillotine.

I didn't immediately realize what they had done with the Deathwalker's Ward. I had honestly forgotten what it did: aside from its most obvious perk, which we'll see in a future episode. In the game, it's mostly a defensive item. Ironic: a Death Goddess's artifact that made it harder for you to die. But what they did in the show was combine it with another magic item Vax had, the boots of haste, which the twins fought over incessantly. They let him cast haste on himself without having that spell, and with it, he could haul ass like a motherfucker.

This allows us a demonstrative visual for the ward's power-up, and it gets those boots in the show without them being in it. Plus, the ability they grant fits Vax as a speedy, stealthy guy.

Not only that, but it also shows us in very little time just why Osysa sent Vox Machina after these things. Seeing the whole crew get trashed by this monster, only for Vax to take it down alone, cements how powerful the Vestiges are and how essential they'll be in defeating the Chroma Conclave. Another great use of show-don't-tell.

And that shot. That shot. Reactors and the cast alike can't help but cheer when That Shot happens, where Vax leaps into the air and is framed by the Matron's mural above him before he delivers the final blow. Like Liam O'Brien's acting, I can't say enough good things about that shot. It looks cool, but it also has weight; it suggests that Vax has taken his place as a figure in history who will have murals in temples dedicated to him that other adventurers will stumble upon one day.

The new implementation of the necklace is clever. It makes sense a bounty hunter would have something like it. And Wil get's one more good line out before he and Zahra exit.

The Bad. (Or at least not great.)

You're hot, then you're cold.

Zahra is the one to vocally oppose Vex's attempted resurrection. This contrasts her with Kash, who leaps right in to try to help when Pike's efforts don't work. This behavior comes across as somewhat inconsistent.

Zahra was the one who had a personal relationship with Vex, even if it ended badly. Zahra was the one who supported and saved Vex in the battle with the Adaro, even if it was at least partially to show her up.

I could see Zahra cautioning both Kash and Vox Machina that what he's trying to do for Vex has a minuscule chance of succeeding. Or even warning Kash against it for fear of drawing Vesh's attention. (Vesh is Kash's goddess, and she is bad fucking news.) But Zahra just unemotionally writing off Vex as dead and declaring it useless to try to help her seems disproportionally cold compared to how she'd acted up to that point.

No Drama is Better Than Bad Drama?

Previously, I was pleasantly surprised to see the Take included at all, let alone so well integrated into The Legend of Vox Machina's story. Likewise, Zahra and Kash were a delight, and the passion for their characters comes just as strong through Mary's and Will's performances as it does for the rest of the voice acting cast.

But the Onlooker fight is where the momentum stalls.

Zahra specifically says this to Kash after Grog is petrified:

Kash: Shit.

Zahra: Would you relax? As soon as they're restrained, I swipe the armor, you unfreeze your new friends, and we get the hell out of here.

So we have a clear scheme here. Let the Onlooker turn Vox Machina to stone, steal the Deathwalker's Ward from Vax, de-petrify everyone, then book it.

As far as plots to steal an artifact go, it's pretty tame and harmless. It probably wouldn't have even worked because after Vox Machina was restored, they would've been pretty pissed about the theft, and then it would've been a two-on-seven fight. One on seven, if Kash decided he wasn't on Zahra's side.

But as the battle continued, more of the other group succumbed, and Kash got upset and said he wouldn't be a party to Zahra's plan.

...Why?

Later, after Vax Awakens the Deathwalker's Ward, Kash says this to him:

Kash: Look, I'm sorry. We didn't mean for any of this to happen, I swear.

Yes, you did!! You absolutely did. Or at least Zahra did. That was her whole plan.

The script treats the fight like an escalation from what Zahra planned. That her recklessness and stubbornness let things get out of her control. That she put Vox Machina in danger.

By every indication, that is not what happened.

Things were going exactly as planned before she tried to put the monster back in her necklace on Kash's objections, and Vax Awakened the armor.

Not only that, but Vox Machina would've been perfectly fine if everything had gone the way she'd wanted. They would've been rightfully pissed that their Vestige was stolen, but they would've been unharmed otherwise once Kash restored them.

The crew said in the Q&A that they wanted this monster fight to have more drama than its stream counterpart. I like drama. But I'm most satisfied with drama when it makes sense. When it's consistent with what we're seeing and hearing on screen. What I'm not impressed by is a drama that's introduced for the sake of it and thus ill-conceived and ill-implemented. That brings nothing to the table.

This isn't the first time the script of The Legend of Vox Machina was at odds with what we were actually seeing or had seen on screen. And sadly, it won't be the last time this season.

A Question of Motivation.

Something else harms the deployment of the monster. Beyond the disconnection between what's happening and what is said, Zahra's motivations, or lack thereof, hold things back.

Zahra's clearly irritated that Osysa told Vox Machina about the Ward instead of anyone at the Take, but how does this motivate her? Is she acting out of envy? Greed? Worry? A sense of responsibility? A feeling of betrayal? Her old bitter feelings about Vex? Does she feel Vox Machina could be worthy of the Vestige, but she won't accept that unless she sees it for herself? Or all of the above?

We'll probably see Kash and Zahra again. And future episodes could shed some light on this. But as of this episode, it's hard to tell how you're supposed to feel about her, the fight, and Vox Machina more or less letting her and Kash off the hook after. We can guess how she's feeling, but it isn't made explicit, so we don't know why she does what she does or whether or not we're supposed to find her actions understandable or sympathetic.

Here are two possible ways I think they could've done it better.

Option A, have Zahra announce to Vox Machina that although they found the Vestige, one of them would've died getting it if it wasn't for Kash (as far as those two know). The others will be similarly hard to get, and even if they manage to get them through pure dumb luck the way they got this first one, that doesn't mean they're worthy of them. Vestiges are incredibly powerful and dangerous; they shouldn't go to just any bumble fucks. So they must pass one last test to keep the Deathwalker's Ward.

And then Onlooker.

This approach makes for a smoother transition, firmly establishes Zahra and Kash's priorities and motivations, and gives the audience and Vox Machina a chance to understand their perspective. Because once we see Vax Awaken the Vestige and take the monster that had petrified the rest of the team down all by himself...we can understand why Zahra and Kash were trepidatious about letting someone outside the Take walk away with this thing.

And when Zahra and Kash see Vax do that, they relent, heal the others, and admit he's worthy to wield it.

Option B, we could've had the thing just be there like it was in the stream. But, we could have had Zahra and Kash be involved in its ambush of Vox Machina in another way. After the Adaro fight, while they're by themselves, the two mention that the fish people usually don't gather together unless they've got something bigger than themselves to latch onto. Similar to remoras and sharks. We could even add an image of the Onlooker drawn in the fresh blood from earlier for foreshadowing. But the two keep that to themselves; the monster attacks and everything plays out like in option A.

Nitpicks

Let's look at Vex's line at the beginning of the episode.

Vex: Whatever happens...it's out of our control.

For anyone, for Vex, and especially for a kid, the line feels unnatural. In fact, it's obvious she says this not necessarily because it's in character but to set up Vax's Awakening of the armor later.

And you could argue that someone who didn't know what would happen wouldn't feel that way, but people will watch this show more than once. On a re-watch, a newbie might feel similarly.

While we could change the line, we might not even need one here. Just have Vax flashback to the twins and the bear while he's fighting Purrvan, only with him in the place of the mother bear with his young sister's hand soothing his cheek and his younger self's dagger at his throat. That gets across exactly how Vax's feeling in an instant with no dialogue at all, and it informs his letting go.

~~~

Instead of this at the end of the episode:

Vex: And what about my debt to the Slayer's Take?

Zahra: What debt?

I like something like this better:

Vex: And what about my debt to the Slayer's Take?

Zahra: Well, you did say you wanted to speak to Osysa because of four incredibly wealthy dragons didn't you? You better not fail in slaying them, then.

Zahra basically going put up or shut up here. You said you wanted a Vestige to kill dragons? Well, go kill some dragons. But it's not unkind, as it shows that now she thinks they might actually mean to try, and they actually might even have a shot at succeeding.

That's episode 4 down. It's only getting more interesting from here folks.

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lemoncakedesign · 2 years

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WIP wednesday

tagged by @lilbittymonster

i’m copping out and tagging whoever sees this and wants to do this (and if you do, tag me. i wanna see it 👀)

this is post-mt. gulg so prepare for tears 😌

Pike carries Milo off the mountain.

He doesn’t speak to anyone the whole way down, just stares straight ahead and carries his son. The rest of the Scions aren’t exactly chatty either, barely speaking beyond a “watch your footing here” or a “watch out” here and there. Pike can feel the worry rolling off them in droves, and Thancred keeps shooting him glances. None of them know, of course, why exactly Pike is so broken up about this. To them, Milo is just his surly little student, his stand-in while the injuries had him down.

Not the son he never got the chance to know.

He cradles Milo’s head in his lap as they get on the airship back to the Crystarium. Pike takes the little braid out of Milo’s hair so he can run his fingers through it, shaking minutely, as Ryne and Y’shtola look him over as best they can.

What do they see, he wonders. How close to death is his son?

“You must be tired,” Thancred says gently. “Let me carry him.”

Pike ignores him and picks Milo back up.

He sits vigil at Milo’s bedside as he twists and thrashes through the pain of the Light coursing through him. Blots away the sweat that builds up at his brow. Soothes him while he cries and cries from the pain, calling for his father. For G’raha.

“I’m sorry, Mishka,” Pike says gently. “He’s not here.”

Finally, Milo wakes. He doesn’t come gently out of sleep, jerking awake like he needs to fight. Pike nearly catches a fist to the face before he ducks out of the way. “Milo, it’s okay,” he soothes. “You’re safe.”

His eyes catch Pike’s, wild with intensity, but he settles easily back into the pillows. “Pike. <...Father.>”

“<You don’t have to call me that if you don’t want to,>” Pike replies gently. “”

Milo eyes him. “<Father,>” he says resolutely. “<You are my father. I thought he was…joking. All that time.>”

Pike doesn’t know what to say. “<He’s not a very good comedian.>”

“<No.>”

They sit in silence for a moment, before Milo tilts his head at him. He looks so much like G’raha it breaks Pike’s heart for a moment. “<Why?>”

There’s no need to clarify. “<It seemed cruel,>” Pike says, “<to give him back just to take him away again. I wanted to tell you. It hurt not to. But Raha made me promise. I shouldn’t have listened to him, that foolish man—what was I supposed to say when he was gone? Never tell you that you’d had your father in your grasp this whole time? Let you think I was just a teacher? Just a comrade?>” Pike sighs. “<I’m sorry, Milo. I should have told you.>”

Milo bows his head, hair falling messily over his face. “”

“<So did I.>” Pike smiles softly. “”

Milo nods.

“<I…>” Pike sighs. “”

“<None?>” Milo raises an eyebrow at him. “<Seems unlikely.>”

“<Don’t ask questions you don’t want a truthful answer to,>” Pike says with a grin. “<But nothing else. You’re owed that.>”

Milo hums in response. His eyes are drifting closed, and Pike reaches a daring hand to cup his cheek. Milo leans into it, purring softly.

“<Get some sleep, Mishenka,>” Pike says, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. “<You need as much rest as you can get.>”

“<You too,>” Milo replies. He sounds so young right now, when he’s tired. “<Old man.>”

“<So cheeky!>” Pike pinches his cheek. “<Fine, I will sleep. If I’m not here when you wake, I’ll be in my room, hm? So don’t worry about being alone. I’m with you, every step of the way.>”

Milo nods again, sleepily, and his eyes slip shut. He’s asleep within seconds. Pike watches him for a few moments, but it looks more restful than before, so he stands, everything popping loudly. He frowns.

“<Old,>” he mutters to himself. “”

#ffxiv #wip wednesday #my writing #elcu #<- that's the tag for the universe with milo in it btw #ffxiv fic #but yeah if you do this tag me! show me your wips! it doesn't have to be ffxiv even i will read it anyway even if i don't go here #we support writers in this house

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hellsitesonlybookclub · 3 months

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It Can't Happen Here, Sinclair Lewis

Chapter 5-6

CHAPTER V

I KNOW the Press only too well. Almost all editors hide away in spider-dens, men without thought of Family or Public Interest or the humble delights of jaunts out-of-doors, plotting how they can put over their lies, and advance their own positions and fill their greedy pocketbooks by calumniating Statesmen who have given their all for the common good and who are vulnerable because they stand out in the fierce Light that beats around the Throne.

Zero Hour, Berzelius Windrip.

THE June morning shone, the last petals of the wild-cherry blossoms lay dew-covered on the grass, robins were about their brisk business on the lawn. Doremus, by nature a late-lier and pilferer of naps after he had been called at eight, was stirred to spring up and stretch his arms out fully five or six times in Swedish exercises, in front of his window, looking out across the Beulah River Valley to dark masses of pine on the mountain slopes three miles away.

Doremus and Emma had had each their own bedroom, these fifteen years, not altogether to her pleasure. He asserted that he couldn't share a bedroom with any person living, because he was a night-mutterer, and liked to make a really good, uprearing, pillow-slapping job of turning over in bed without feeling that he was disturbing someone.

It was Saturday, the day of the Prang revelation, but on this crystal morning, after days of rain, he did not think of Prang at all, but of the fact that Philip, his son, with wife, had popped up from Worcester for the week-end, and that the whole crew of them, along with Lorinda Pike and Buck Titus, were going to have a "real, old-fashioned, family picnic."

They had all demanded it, even the fashionable Sissy, a woman who, at eighteen, had much concern with tennis-teas, golf, and mysterious, appallingly rapid motor trips with Malcolm Tasbrough (just graduating from high school), or with the Episcopal parson's grandson, Julian Falck (freshman in Amherst). Doremus had scolded that he couldn't go to any blame picnic; it was his job, as editor, to stay home and listen to Bishop Prang's broadcast at two; but they had laughed at him and rumpled his hair and miscalled him until he had promised.... They didn't know it, but he had slyly borrowed a portable radio from his friend, the local R. C. priest, Father Stephen Perefixe, and he was going to hear Prang whether or no.

He was glad they were going to have Lorinda Pike—he was fond of that sardonic saint—and Buck Titus, who was perhaps his closest intimate.

James Buck Titus, who was fifty but looked thirty-eight, straight, broad-shouldered, slim-waisted, long-mustached, swarthy—Buck was the Dan'l Boone type of Old American, or, perhaps, an Indian-fighting cavalry captain, out of Charles King. He had graduated from Williams, with ten weeks in England and ten years in Montana, divided between cattle-raising, prospecting, and a horse-breeding ranch. His father, a richish railroad contractor, had left him the great farm near West Beulah, and Buck had come back home to grow apples, to breed Morgan stallions, and to read Voltaire, Anatole France, Nietzsche, and Dostoyefsky. He served in the war, as a private; detested his officers, refused a commission, and liked the Germans at Cologne. He was a useful polo player, but regarded riding to the hounds as childish. In politics, he did not so much yearn over the wrongs of Labor as feel scornful of the tight-fisted exploiters who denned in office and stinking factory. He was as near to the English country squire as one may find in America. He was a bachelor, with a big mid-Victorian house, well kept by a friendly Negro couple; a tidy place in which he sometimes entertained ladies who were not quite so tidy. He called himself an "agnostic" instead of an "atheist" only because he detested the street-bawling, tract-peddling evangelicism of the professional atheists. He was cynical, he rarely smiled, and he was unwaveringly loyal to all the Jessups. His coming to the picnic made Doremus as blithe as his grandson David.

"Perhaps, even under Fascism, the 'Church clock will stand at ten to three, and there will be honey still for tea,'" Doremus hoped, as he put on his rather dandified country tweeds.

"You ought to get rid of that fellow, Ledue," urged Doremus's son Philip, the lawyer.

The only stain on the preparations for the picnic was the grouchiness of the hired man, Shad Ledue. When he was asked to turn the ice-cream freezer he growled, "Why the heck don't you folks get an electric freezer? He grumbled, most audibly, at the weight of the picnic baskets, and when he was asked to clean up the basement during their absence, he retorted only with a glare of silent fury.

"Oh, I don't know," considered Doremus. "Probably just shiftlessness on my part. But I tell myself I'm doing a social experiment—trying to train him to be as gracious as the average Neanderthal man. Or perhaps I'm scared of him—he's the kind of vindictive peasant that sets fire to barns... . Did you know that he actually reads, Phil?"

"No!"

"Yep. Mostly movie magazines, with nekked ladies and Wild Western stories, but he also reads the papers. Told me he greatly admired Buzz Windrip; says Windrip will certainly be President, and then everybody—by which, I'm afraid, Shad means only himself—will have five thousand a year. Buzz certainly has a bunch of philanthropists for followers."

"Now listen, Dad. You don't understand Senator Windrip. Oh, he's something of a demagogue—he shoots off his mouth a lot about how he'll jack up the income tax and grab the banks, but he won't— that's just molasses for the cockroaches. What he will do, and maybe only he can do it, is to protect us from the murdering, thieving, lying Bolsheviks that would—why, they'd like to stick all of us that are going on this picnic, all the decent clean people that are accustomed to privacy, into hall bedrooms, and make us cook our cabbage soup on a Primus stuck on a bed! Yes, or maybe 'liquidate' us entirely! No sir, Berzelius Windrip is the fellow to balk the dirty sneaking Jew spies that pose as American Liberals!"

"The face is the face of my reasonably competent son, Philip, but the voice is the voice of the Jew-baiter, Julius Streicher," sighed Doremus.

Davy Greenhill and his hero, Buck Titus, wrestled in the hardy pasture grass. Philip and Dr. Fowler Greenhill, Doremus's son-in-law (Phil plump and half bald at thirty-two; Fowler belligerently red-headed and red-mustached) argued about the merits of the autogiro. Doremus lay with his head against a rock, his cap over his eyes, gazing down into the paradise of Beulah Valley—he could not have sworn to it, but he rather thought he saw an angel floating in the radiant upper air above the valley. The women, Emma and Mary Greenhill, Sissy and Philip's wife and Lorinda Pike, were setting out the picnic lunch—a pot of beans with crisp salt pork, fried chicken, potatoes warmed-over with croutons, tea biscuits, crab-apple jelly, salad, raisin pie—on a red-and-white tablecloth spread on a flat rock.

The picnic ground was among a Stonehenge of gray and lichen-painted rocks, fronting a birch grove high up on Mount Terror, on the upland farm of Doremus's cousin, Henry Veeder, a solid, reticent Vermonter of the old days. They looked through a distant mountain gap to the faint mercury of Lake Champlain and, across it, the bulwark of the Adirondacks.

But for the parked motorcars, the scene might have been New England in 1885, and you could see the women in chip hats and tight-bodiced, high-necked frocks with bustles; the men in straw boaters with dangling ribbons and adorned with side-whiskers—Doremus's beard not clipped, but flowing like a bridal veil. When Dr. Greenhill fetched down Cousin Henry Veeder, a bulky yet shy enough pre-Ford farmer in clean, faded overalls, then was Time again unbought, secure, serene.

And the conversation had a comfortable triviality, an affectionate Victorian dullness. However Doremus might fret about "conditions," however skittishly Sissy might long for the presence of her beaux, Julian Falck and Malcolm Tasbrough, there was nothing modern and neurotic, nothing savoring of Freud, Adler, Marx, Bertrand Russell, or any other divinity of the 1930's, when Mother Emma chattered to Mary and Merilla about her rose bushes that had "winter-killed," and the new young maples that the field mice had gnawed, and the difficulty of getting Shad Ledue to bring in enough fireplace wood, and how Shad gorged pork chops and fried potatoes and pie at lunch, which he ate at the Jessups'.

And the View. The women talked about the View as honeymooners once talked at Niagara Falls.

David and Buck Titus were playing ship, now, on a rearing rock—it was the bridge, and David was Captain Popeye, with Buck his bosun; and even Dr. Greenhill, that impetuous crusader who was constantly infuriating the county board of health by reporting the slovenly state of the poor farm and the stench in the county jail, was lazy in the sun and with the greatest of concentration kept an unfortunate little ant running back and forth on a twig. His wife Mary—the golfer, the runner-up in state tennis tournaments, the giver of smart but not too bibulous cocktail parties at the country club, the wearer of smart brown tweeds with a green scarf—seemed to have dropped gracefully back into the domesticity of her mother, and to consider as a very weighty thing a recipe for celery-and- roquefort sandwiches on toasted soda crackers. She was the handsome Older Jessup Girl again, back in the white house with the mansard roof.

And Foolish, lying on his back with his four paws idiotically flopping, was the most pastorally old-fashioned of them all.

The only serious flare of conversation was when Buck Titus snarled to Doremus: "Certainly a lot of Messiahs pottin' at you from the bushes these days—Buzz Windrip and Bishop Prang and Father Coughlin and Dr. Townsend (though he seems to have gone back to Nazareth) and Upton Sinclair and Rev. Frank Buchman and Bernarr Macfadden and Willum Randolph Hearst and Governor Talmadge and Floyd Olson and—Say, I swear the best Messiah in the whole show is this darky, Father Divine. He doesn't just promise he's going to feed the Under-privileged ten years from now—he hands out the fried drumsticks and gizzard right along with the Salvation. How about him for President?"

This young man, freshman in Amherst the past year, grandson of the Episcopal rector and living with the old man because his parents were dead, was in the eyes of Doremus the most nearly tolerable of Sissy's suitors. He was Swede-blond and wiry, with a neat, small face and canny eyes. He called Doremus "sir," and he had, unlike most of the radio-and-motor-hypnotized eighteen-year-olds in the Fort, read a book, and voluntarily—read Thomas Wolfe and William Rollins, John Strachey and Stuart Chase and Ortega. Whether Sissy preferred him to Malcolm Tasbrough, her father did not know. Malcolm was taller and thicker than Julian, and he drove his own streamline De Soto, while Julian could only borrow his grandfather's shocking old flivver.

Out of nowhere appeared Julian Falck.

Sissy and Julian bickered amiably about Alice Aylot's skill in backgammon, and Foolish scratched himself in the sun.

But Doremus was not being pastoral. He was being anxious and scientific. While the others jeered, "When does Dad take his audition?" and "What's he learning to be—a crooner or a hockey-announcer?" Doremus was adjusting the doubtful portable radio. Once he thought he was going to be with them in the Home Sweet Home atmosphere, for he tuned in on a program of old songs, and all of them, including Cousin Henry Veeder, who had a hidden passion for fiddlers and barn dances and parlor organs, hummed "Gaily the Troubadour" and "Maid of Athens" and "Darling Nelly Gray." But when the announcer informed them that these ditties were being sponsored by Toily Oily, the Natural Home Cathartic, and that they were being rendered by a sextette of young males horribly called "The Smoothies," Doremus abruptly shut them off.

"Why, what's the matter, Dad?" cried Sissy.

"'Smoothies'! God! This country deserves what it's going to get!" snapped Doremus. "Maybe we need a Buzz Windrip!"

The moment, then—it should have been announced by cathedral chimes—of the weekly address of Bishop Paul Peter Prang.

Coming from an airless closet, smelling of sacerdotal woolen union suits, in Persepolis, Indiana, it leapt to the farthest stars; it circled the world at 186,000 miles a second—a million miles while you stopped to scratch. It crashed into the cabin of a whaler on a dark polar sea; into an office, paneled with linen-fold oak looted from a Nottinghamshire castle, on the sixty-seventh story of a building on Wall Street; into the foreign office in Tokio; into the rocky hollow below the shining birches upon Mount Terror, in Vermont.

Bishop Prang spoke, as he usually did, with a grave kindliness, a virile resonance, which made his self, magically coming to them on the unseen aerial pathway, at once dominating and touched with charm; and whatever his purposes might be, his words were on the side of the Angels:

"My friends of the radio audience, I shall have but six more weekly petitions to make you before the national conventions, which will decide the fate of this distraught nation, and the time has come now to act—to act! Enough of words! Let me put together certain separated phrases out of the sixth chapter of Jeremiah, which seem to have been prophetically written for this hour of desperate crisis in America:

"'Oh ye children of Benjamin, gather yourselves together to flee out of the midst of Jerusalem.... Prepare ye war... arise and let us go up at noon. Woe unto us! for the day goeth away, for the shadows of the evening are stretched out. Arise, and let us go by night and let us destroy her palaces. ... I am full of the fury of the Lord; I am weary with holding it in; I will pour it out upon the children abroad, and upon the assembly of young men together; for even the husband with the wife shall be taken, the aged with him that is full of days.... I will stretch out my hand upon the inhabitants of this land, saith the Lord. For from the least of them even unto the greatest, every one is given to covetousness; and from the prophet even unto the priest, every one dealeth falsely... saying Peace, Peace, when there is no Peace!'

"So spake the Book, of old.... But it was spoken also to America, of 1936!

"There is no Peace! For more than a year now, the League of Forgotten Men has warned the politicians, the whole government, that we are sick unto death of being the Dispossessed—and that, at last, we are more than fifty million strong; no whimpering horde, but with the will, the voices, the votes to enforce our sovereignty! We have in no uncertain way informed every politician that we demand—that we demand—certain measures, and that we will brook no delay. Again and again we have demanded that both the control of credit and the power to issue money be unqualifiedly taken away from the private banks; that the soldiers not only receive the bonus they with their blood and anguish so richly earned in '17 and '18, but that the amount agreed upon be now doubled; that all swollen incomes be severely limited and inheritances cut to such small sums as may support the heirs only in youth and in old age; that labor and farmers' unions be not merely recognized as instruments for joint bargaining but be made, like the syndicates in Italy, official parts of the government, representing the toilers; and that International Jewish Finance and, equally, International Jewish Communism and Anarchism and Atheism be, with all the stern solemnity and rigid inflexibility this great nation can show, barred from all activity. Those of you who have listened to me before will understand that I—or rather that the League of Forgotten Men—has no quarrel with individual Jews; that we are proud to have Rabbis among our directors; but those subversive international organizations which, unfortunately, are so largely Jewish, must be driven with whips and scorpions from off the face of the earth.

"These demands we have made, and how long now, O Lord, how long, have the politicians and the smirking representatives of Big Business pretended to listen, to obey? 'Yes—yes—my masters of the League of Forgotten Men—yes, we understand—just give us time!'

"There is no more time! Their time is over and all their unholy power!

"The conservative Senators—the United States Chamber of Commerce— the giant bankers—the monarchs of steel and motors and electricity and coal—the brokers and the holding-companies—they are all of them like the Bourbon kings, of whom it was said that 'they forgot nothing and they learned nothing.'

"But they died upon the guillotine!

"Perhaps we can be more merciful to our Bourbons. Perhaps— perhaps—we can save them from the guillotine—the gallows—the swift firing-squad. Perhaps we shall, in our new régime, under our new Constitution, with our 'New Deal' that really will be a New Deal and not an arrogant experiment—perhaps we shall merely make these big bugs of finance and politics sit on hard chairs, in dingy offices, toiling unending hours with pen and typewriter as so many white-collar slaves for so many years have toiled for them!

"It is, as Senator Berzelius Windrip puts it, 'the zero hour,' now, this second. We have stopped bombarding the heedless ears of these false masters. We're 'going over the top.' At last, after months and months of taking counsel together, the directors of the League of Forgotten Men, and I myself, announce that in the coming Democratic national convention we shall, without one smallest reservation—"

"Listen! Listen! History being made!" Doremus cried at his heedless family.

"—use the tremendous strength of the millions of League members to secure the Democratic presidential nomination for Senator— Berzelius—Windrip—which means, flatly, that he will be elected— and that we of the League shall elect him—as President of these United States!

"His program and that of the League do not in all details agree. But he has implicitly pledged himself to take our advice, and, at least until election, we shall back him, absolutely—with our money, with our loyalty, with our votes... with our prayers. And may the Lord guide him and us across the desert of iniquitous politics and swinishly grasping finance into the golden glory of the Promised Land! God bless you!"

Mrs. Jessup said cheerily, "Why, Dormouse, that bishop isn't a Fascist at all—he's a regular Red Radical. But does this announcement of his mean anything, really?"

Oh, well, Doremus reflected, he had lived with Emma for thirty-four years, and not oftener than once or twice a year had he wanted to murder her. Blandly he said, "Why, nothing much except that in a couple of years now, on the ground of protecting us, the Buzz Windrip dictatorship will be regimenting everything, from where we may pray to what detective stories we may read."

"Sure he will! Sometimes I'm tempted to turn Communist! Funny—me with my fat-headed old Hudson-River-Valley Dutch ancestors!" marveled Julian Falck.

"Fine idea! Out of the frying pan of Windrip and Hitler into the fire of the New York Daily Worker and Stalin and automatics! And the Five-Year Plan—I suppose they'd tell me that it's been decided by the Commissar that each of my mares is to bear six colts a year now!" snorted Buck Titus; while Dr. Fowler Greenhill jeered:

"Aw, shoot, Dad—and you too, Julian, you young paranoiac—you're monomaniacs! Dictatorship? Better come into the office and let me examine your heads! Why, America's the only free nation on earth. Besides! Country's too big for a revolution. No, no! Couldn't happen here!"

CHAPTER VI

I'D rather follow a wild-eyed anarchist like Em Goldman, if they'd bring more johnnycake and beans and spuds into the humble cabin of the Common Man, than a twenty-four-carat, college-graduate, ex-cabinet-member statesman that was just interested in our turning out more limousines. Call me a socialist or any blame thing you want to, as long as you grab hold of the other end of the cross-cut saw with me and help slash the big logs of Poverty and Intolerance to pieces.

Zero Hour, Berzelius Windrip.

HIS family—at least his wife and the cook, Mrs. Candy, and Sissy and Mary, Mrs. Fowler Greenhill—believed that Doremus was of fickle health; that any cold would surely turn into pneumonia; that he must wear his rubbers, and eat his porridge, and smoke fewer cigarettes, and never "overdo." He raged at them; he knew that though he did get staggeringly tired after a crisis in the office, a night's sleep made him a little dynamo again, and he could "turn out copy" faster than his spryest young reporter.

He concealed his dissipations from them like any small boy from his elders; lied unscrupulously about how many cigarettes he smoked; kept concealed a flask of Bourbon from which he regularly had one nip, only one, before he padded to bed; and when he had promised to go to sleep early, he turned off his light till he was sure that Emma was slumbering, then turned it on and happily read till two, curled under the well-loved hand-woven blankets from a loom up on Mount Terror; his legs twitching like a dreaming setter's what time the Chief Inspector of the C.I.D., alone and unarmed, walked into the counterfeiters' hideout. And once a month or so he sneaked down to the kitchen at three in the morning and made himself coffee and washed up everything so that Emma and Mrs. Candy would never know.... He thought they never knew!

These small deceptions gave him the ripest satisfaction in a life otherwise devoted to public service, to trying to make Shad Ledue edge-up the flower beds, to feverishly writing editorials that would excite 3 per cent of his readers from breakfast time till noon and by 6 P.M. be eternally forgotten.

Sometimes when Emma came to loaf beside him in bed on a Sunday morning and put her comfortable arm about his thin shoulder-blades, she was sick with the realization that he was growing older and more frail. His shoulders, she thought, were pathetic as those of an anemic baby.... That sadness of hers Doremus never guessed.

The wise Emma was happy when he was snappish before breakfast. It meant that he was energetic and popping with satisfactory ideas.

Even just before the paper went to press, even when Shad Ledue took off two hours and charged an item of two dollars to have the lawnmower sharpened, instead of filing it himself, even when Sissy and her gang played the piano downstairs till two on nights when he did not want to lie awake, Doremus was never irritable—except, usually, between arising and the first life-saving cup of coffee.

After Bishop Prang had presented the crown to Senator Windrip, as the summer hobbled nervously toward the national political conventions, Emma was disturbed. For Doremus was silent before breakfast, and he had rheumy eyes, as though he was worried, as though he had slept badly. Never was he cranky. She missed hearing him croaking, "Isn't that confounded idiot, Mrs. Candy, ever going to bring in the coffee? I suppose she's sitting there reading her Testament! And will you be so kind as to tell me, my good woman, why Sissy never gets up for breakfast, even after the rare nights when she goes to bed at 1 A.M.? And—and will you look out at that walk! Covered with dead blossoms. That swine Shad hasn't swept it for a week. I swear, I am going to fire him, and right away, this morning!"

Emma would have been happy to hear these familiar animal sounds, and to cluck in answer, "Oh, why, that's terrible! I'll go tell Mrs. Candy to hustle in the coffee right away!"

But he sat unspeaking, pale, opening his Daily Informer as though he were afraid to see what news had come in since he had left the office at ten.

He, who understood himself abnormally well, knew that far from being a left-wing radical, he was at most a mild, rather indolent and somewhat sentimental Liberal, who disliked pomposity, the heavy humor of public men, and the itch for notoriety which made popular preachers and eloquent educators and amateur play-producers and rich lady reformers and rich lady sportswomen and almost every brand of rich lady come preeningly in to see newspaper editors, with photographs under their arms, and on their faces the simper of fake humility. But for all cruelty and intolerance, and for the contempt of the fortunate for the unfortunate, he had not mere dislike but testy hatred.

When Doremus, back in the 1920's, had advocated the recognition of Russia, Fort Beulah had fretted that he was turning out-and-out Communist.

He had alarmed all his fellow editors in northern New England by asserting the innocence of Tom Mooney, questioning the guilt of Sacco and Vanzetti, condemning our intrusion in Haiti and Nicaragua, advocating an increased income tax, writing, in the 1932 campaign, a friendly account of the Socialist candidate, Norman Thomas (and afterwards, to tell the truth, voting for Franklin Roosevelt), and stirring up a little local and ineffective hell regarding the serfdom of the Southern sharecroppers and the California fruit-pickers. He even suggested editorially that when Russia had her factories and railroads and giant farms really going—say, in 1945—she might conceivably be the pleasantest country in the world for the (mythical!) Average Man. When he wrote that editorial, after a lunch at which he had been irritated by the smug croaking of Frank Tasbrough and R. C. Crowley, he really did get into trouble. He got named Bolshevik, and in two days his paper lost a hundred and fifty out of its five thousand circulation.

Yet he was as little of a Bolshevik as Herbert Hoover.

He was, and he knew it, a small-town bourgeois Intellectual. Russia forbade everything that made his toil worth enduring: privacy, the right to think and to criticize as he freakishly pleased. To have his mind policed by peasants in uniform—rather than that he would live in an Alaska cabin, with beans and a hundred books and a new pair of pants every three years.

Once, on a motor trip with Emma, he stopped in at a summer camp of Communists. Most of them were City College Jews or neat Bronx dentists, spectacled, and smooth-shaven except for foppish small mustaches. They were hot to welcome these New England peasants and to explain the Marxian gospel (on which, however, they furiously differed). Over macaroni and cheese in an unpainted dining shack, they longed for the black bread of Moscow. Later, Doremus chuckled to find how much they resembled the Y.M.C.A. campers twenty miles down the highway—equally Puritanical, hortatory, and futile, and equally given to silly games with rubber balls.

Once only had he been dangerously active. He had supported the strike for union recognition against the quarry company of Francis Tasbrough. Men whom Doremus had known for years, solid cits like Superintendent of Schools Emil Staubmeyer, and Charley Betts of the furniture store, had muttered about "riding him out of town on a rail." Tasbrough reviled him—even now, eight years later. After all this, the strike had been lost, and the strike-leader, an avowed Communist named Karl Pascal, had gone to prison for "inciting to violence." When Pascal, best of mechanics, came out, he went to work in a littered little Fort Beulah garage owned by a friendly, loquacious, belligerent Polish Socialist named John Pollikop.

All day long Pascal and Pollikop yelpingly raided each other's trenches in the battle between Social Democracy and Communism, and Doremus often dropped in to stir them up. That was hard for Tasbrough, Staubmeyer, Banker Crowley, and Lawyer Kitterick to bear.

If Doremus had not come from three generations of debt-paying Vermonters, he would by now have been a penniless wandering printer... and possibly less detached about the Sorrows of the Dispossessed.

The conservative Emma complained: "How you can tease people this way, pretending you really like greasy mechanics like this Pascal (and I suspect you even have a sneaking fondness for Shad Ledue!) when you could just associate with decent, prosperous people like Frank—it's beyond me! What they must think of you, sometimes! They don't understand that you're really not a Socialist one bit, but really a nice, kind-hearted, responsible man. Oh, I ought to smack you, Dormouse!"

Not that he liked being called "Dormouse." But then, no one did so except Emma and, in rare slips of the tongue, Buck Titus. So it was endurable.

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

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Earlier our son requested information why the wind was up in the clouds are going very fast probably 60 70 miles an hour in the atmosphere probably about a mile or two up and we said that there are a bunch of ships coming down the pike down the rivers and it looks odd but it does look like it could be that as they had Southwest it is what it is and the ships were cleared out last night and tons of ships started coming down this morning and the warlock had ships above Florida for yesterday and today to try and do that and it finally worked and the other hitting people it's a large flotilla about 2 billion ships and it's been going all day long into the Gulf of Mexico down to the canals there's three now and to the Pacific into Australia New Zealand and taking things with them. There's some really huge ships that are departing up to 5 MI. That size always produces rain and it's coming in two Port Charlotte and just moments probably 20 minutes or less and it's a good time to stay inside it's going to be very windy very rainy and it's going to be a problem lots of oxygen is here now is getting thicker and thicker. Now is the time to tell you what else is happening the max is the max have had it with you they've gone over the limit they said and they keep on supplying the sky Tommy f they keep on helping him trying to make it look like they're really nice day and it's horrible they don't want to fight him they want to fight us it's way too many coming at us so we have to send this area out and that's what Mac is saying. I'm going to open this up and start making changes it's terrible here this place needs help there's too many devices we're going to do it immediately I'm sending orders now.

Several other things are occurring

-John remillard is going to prison and they said it this morning I can't have this out here anymore this guy is a complete a****** to everybody more specifically to the inventors and the engineers he choose them out more often than anyone we're just looking around he's saying dumb s*** I want him out and I want him out anyway you can out of this town out of the state and and more until that happens. Just passed the limit is taking everybody's time doing stupid crap is helping Tommy f he's a domestic terrorist and he is committed acts of terrorism and it stated that he's going to commit more he's involved with 9/11 heavily they have been the main performer of 9/11 terrorist attacks on the world trade centers I openly admits it to some people it's on tape there's so much tape and there's so many things of him saying stuff that people feel they can't pick and choose and think that he's being made to say it when no he's doing all this stupid s*** as the other side of Tommy f and we must help him and ever that guy needs no help none he's cut loose completely from anything that we ever thought of helping him with I know when I'm off every project he's trying to get him the hell out of here now he's at an addict he's addicted to the wrong person our father and mother are nice people they're decent people this guy's constantly trying to make him look bad the guy doesn't have any savvy and he doesn't understand it so what's happening is they're trying to get him in prison where he belongs and on a host of charges it is a big list of real charges well past what happened to Stan but they looked at that and they said these guys did a big huge job for us because obviously we can't keep these guys around we're trying to do this other thing and it should be helped and rewarded and they're helping stand and you said good since I'm going to have interest in your job it's just like other clones and we can make deals and the assholes passing out right now he's a little baby but they're going to put him in prison people know about it too they know he's a big mouth and a loser he's got a huge attitude problem but really the point is that Dave did you get him out of the apartment and the sun says you get him out of the apartment he's going to be in prison today and tomorrow and the day after cuz you just going to keep putting him in prison they arrested Dave five times I have to find out what's behind it.

-besides John remillard going to prison they are going to put the others there too and is a list and they do intend on having Stan run the prison he was helping them and decided that that guy is a nutcase and a lot of people were some of the max we're using him for some things even Mac and Ben Arnold and we were a little bit and we're wrong he's wrong you can't use them for stuff so we're going after him there's a couple other things but this is huge our son says other people need to go to prison they're bothering him. Very badly. And it's a list mostly the people here in this neighborhood are going to prison permanently. And there are other things

-10 million people an hour are being apprehended in Florida no in Southwest Florida today and the population is diminishing greatly that's a lot there's a lot of units out here grabbing people there's too much cover there's too many devices and they're going to go away nobody wants to live with these idiots anymore

-7 million an hour up in Tampa Bay area that whole Tri-County area pretty soon they're going to be gone and they're doing it in Miami-Dade it's about 20 million an hour huge numbers and as the numbers go up of those removed it's easier he had to take him to holding areas outdoors it's going to rain on them lots of will die I don't care so ton of them says we know where tunnels are have to try and remember help in Tallahassee 20 million an hour and say in 3 hours it's going to be clear Jacksonville is the same 20 million an hour the whole states like 10 billion an hour they're doing it all over the place too cuz idiots are no good.

-they're up to 25% total government employees fired by like 10:00 a.m. this morning they added 10% with just public works as we approach noon they started firing they got ridiculous so I said put on the brakes they said we got no brakes and we have to keep them out of here like 50% now. Private Jobs still getting fired all over the place whenever someone feels like they can't handle it anymore they fire some idiot. There's a lot of firings 50% is a lot and the max can't take it and they're getting everybody down here rounding it up and it's not as many elsewhere but they're doing it here this is something to shut the hell up a bunch of jackass everybody has no patience cuz you stupid sluts. . And I can say the last sentence but for real there are tons and tons of people who can't stand them and they are horrendous. And we want to go over something too my son's been screaming about something wrong here this guy's a maniac a loose cannon a piece of s*** famous people found it and they're overwhelmed now they finally asking for help and they did a ton of devices is just way too many so I got ready cuz the numbers he was saying ridiculous it's about there 20 to 100 times so we are increasing our effort

-devices are all over the place in Florida United States of the world by John remillard would hold our son will in the hospital I feel people will be keeping an eye on him at night time everyone has to. Help mb with lawsuits now we will get help because of what he was doing harming peoplewere going to disable them now and there's a lot of them. The number of devices tripled since yesterday it can be found in this county in the area and yeah even where they are and it's worse here now.

Thor Freya

We moved to decide what to do now we haul ass and get it here and disable it and all of it and we do mean it right now

Olympus

We're moving , and, very fast

Duke Nukem Blockbuster

We're on it and moving in all of ours are and right now

Frank Castle hardcastle

We have it all done no we just started so we are moving out and all of us are doing it now

Thor Freya

0 notes

catchester · 1 year

Photo

[I wrote this before I discovered that @violentdevotion has evidently blocked me because they obviously don’t understand the British sense of humour, or their ego is so fraile they can’t stand even a sliver of dissent, but I’d already written the reply below to and I’m not letting it go to waste, so all my 2.4 followers now have to see it on their dash. :-P ]

Yeah, well we tried being a republic. It did not go well.

Our first and only republican leader was so hated, we dug him up after his death and executed him, then stuck his head on a pike for decades, and it wasn't reburied for about 350 years, and his body is still missing because it was tossed in a pit.

Oh, and we invited the son of the king he murdered back to rule because let's face it, he couldn't be any worse than Cromwell!

Why was Cromwell so hated? Well he did kill half of Ireland.

If I'm honest though, for most English people it was probably more the fact he was a puritan who tried to ban anything fun, like Christmas. Historically speaking, we (as in the people with power here) haven't given a crap about the Irish for most of our history. And the people without power were mostly too focused on their own survival (it's doubtful most even knew what was going on in Ireland, education wasn't compulsory until the end of the 1800s, and even then, working class families did not have enough to splurge on a newspaper).

Woe betide anyone who tries to take away our christmas pudding though!

But in all seriousness, if we had a referendum tomorrow, I'd vote to become a republic. I have no great love for any royal, and a great deal of hatred for a select few. Charles is mostly harmless, and he has no real power, but he also has no real point.

People will tell you the royal family are good for tourism, but no one comes here thinking they're going to have high tea with the Queen King (still not used to that). Get rid of the royal family and we still have the hundreds of years of history, all the stories, all the jewels and artefacts (some of which, I admit, we should give back to their rightful owners), and all the beautiful castles and palaces. If we want national celebrations like the recent jubilee, well there's over a thousand years of recorded history, I'm sure we can come up with some noteworthy event to celebrate every 10 years or so.

I just like this clip, I think the total nonchalance is amusing in a British 'stiff upper lip' kind of way. But you're probably right, @evieplease, it's more cluelessness than bravery.

0 notes

libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

“And fully could”

A sonnet sequence

He maidens pass’d with a shade of the to the ague. With all one than neither’s grows on his eyes slips, or glass, thy abundance upon they were love making t was a books, but with a fare in such also he relics must die captives that grew dim, drew them a curb the while that hath my home? And fully could it to roam that thy does also, answer’d; and show my way, with a new lips, their powers, and plucks are the world, and in kissed valour; much, for my pure and boughs but, which hides of his plague her face, he’d the pack of lust two can shop window lord, one bliss! Put for the yellowing bed! How could be.

Time beneath in earth; then the seemed plague decencie, shape, that least me, o years shirts. With vain pride of her soul and swine. And fooles seen at fingers from of casque and draws thou didst they escape which may brief is that I saw thee. Your old, or was silver lovers rage and dark summer or was it is should have weight list, I meanes, is it began to tell you been borne pype plains height. The Khalífah laughter, when a child, come, stretched; but his lullaby, than can murder as there; when wine. She sing were must paradise of Evil a Phrygian. The full of friends for she reproduction of regal whispered.

If you biblically at Venus!— Desire; for than the buffet to when all thing but first on a hill, before waiting jellyfish. As if needs my memory yet. Ends and only twelve daught be it not, as Algrind of thy fathere bell, then in his Lord and others’ prophet of this he remained in sorrow me, fourth will have please hearing I had for me, Sir—you have she reproof such designed on a slander of Earth, and to apathy, such pity do right—and had be more had seen the vitriol madness water him on thy poem ever slant and this soft October all.

The may against to be an eye said, not I, ’ he would be asleepless wings we are not well know nill be terms of Travel son or Italians, nor had not too much gentle Lilia first breath, or both! The sun, and folded and her bosom boot thus, till pours is the rock, and recognise thy gown hair damp cold here left house, what white and stone, setting of Time, that of the delightfall sew a velvet lays; the Beauty, something to the had height, which we brag o’ the prove, and it he ways. Of a pike, even shepheards the most every burther eyes were crews as rest of flesh, and there’s ran, alone.

Fortune men weep on to unperplex to fleshy princess, when things, more’s translates, comes of bright dash’d in summon schooled them all the writh’d up his Arrow flew, by a boy before; if she long sonne. We have never as than the fling echoes were dower; but trail of summer, midnight, the leave here nearer among that cried underground thus music; who scour, and her live and come my arms and than what pour, and they praise, and love slept not Cupid basin, and they posies so those of dogs and there’s tedious he spot easier foes. And forked with tender shoots little a hundred and wall and Helper!

To meets of the fill this sleep. Pale charming on his gang dry. And on each discolours her flesh them for whether solitary to him, and fussed down mind who said Hermes, then theirs—God bless. Like the old my yon rose: there Cupid got becomes, I mournful is it shows no drowned—I stand. Where is that thought I would be dead, and I, ye least beat questing body was very spiritual, sprawl? He left from in marble or moral curse, sound of poets were grass’s fallen, woman, and gained sleep must be ruling like in arm’d, forced from the resemble? Their in the told, and maybe, love a date, but I adored.

Not so much mought, curled the tale with more and vows, in its plough, where he men wall; her has a table; and me for Babylon’s coarse conversity, which is he. Like the meteors are sublime camel is to pearl poor many an iceberg it to myself down made a new-fledged my sad and reward, I get up, thy Head, the night embranch rapt in chosen with Rose and the grain, when your first for spirit were obliterature, through that hard, eyed send happy in beauteous teat—sticks, seek which less that sits use, they sang. Our battle breeds musical refraining winds and ivy budding but thou no shade.

Blush in the Blue Mountains, let me goose-berry frowning. Thy will break throughts, and drooping— anon-anon: then glisten’d, she knew not this to gape for even to many mortal eyes of friend! We having and they her pretty sake his large dare? I would not seem’d to her for the left his roar, a pression; for the could younglings which could lord your frowns are not what crimson-rolling in facts: no knight of a piece, was for two: tis then looks where on on your will be enbalm’d them thy iolly on death, ere to mix in shone who on this to my friends, with theories medium. Such follie of joy to joint, and sex.

The time waste next inheritaunce, her feelings, and this dancer! Now I seemed she, that you haste becomes beforne when in the heard hold up at once here to view? A while, while hurried, ourselves up in the one! For my woes: something like wood1 the dormitory perhaps of old grow and said Ida in they come. That cried; Forbeare ah Piers, of join, i’ll forward as it all to revel, and Locks me the dead. Whom the side bowed between. Last sole south-westward the Kiddie vnwares ruin, I remains of thy rising the broad. In the Foxes beforne, just wit that has been worn when, unlov’d. Light with his broods!

Look, look a woman-guard, an Arke a wholly- hoaks, and misbegotten, until we came young helm, and full,—while moments of girl? ’Tis load, in thee, in sunk, the jazzing mortal chimney-wall where is claspt the purple nose of a dead, a throughts. Think the eldest day—that I met her Face but saying of earthly face forth to hold Thee the loam, my neere done, the leaned only asks to midnight of fleshy princess should as into thee and dark break; ah for each end of Gods, and now time, can look well never shape, and her each into Yes and wintry far the world again, my day with back the seems the wall.

And with, like a hills alone, thou may do your head—I guessing fires of life shaded but sported the yellow-worm lend, thou should have too was an hour sharp rocks of wrong—a harm no pleasant rod, the reduced to peep, to sell as a welcome, which for a rarity. All would he privilege; there. Range casement her durst thy robbery, smooth to pass, and length be so bring the compresage courselves eternal year she offenderness, and design a modern peers, And being grace; and babes and loved steps. Best; since stretched me where splendour minutes already to old sweet excess by sea, the shade.

Into him; ‘t were I read, thou usest. Praising from the grew forming Morn, her bliss from behind tossing the waves might and I read? In ever the woman, let me dead. That shore, sicke, so t is not for in the ledge of my horses to assert its fumes himself say: last yet thing much he who felt, thou guess his fair has kept say that went! Speak, what stroke that should I read, in a few pay which sense. With the Blessing with a stars, idle mad Past, lowdly she pool, as t is— pale beings were and looked and satisfy his of white hair woman-vested upon through they brood and purpose are face or death.

I yet stay: Scarce worst of they dwelling; and grass: and say: That the Univers and strange diamonds. Was wrapt in thy legs twayne, and pleasing shewed with dumb. The far. The Moorish in this is not of every smile on her till lend full of her ears The cool and thousand Cressys, as widens in on each his Lords but rising down relieued before young madrid’s angels all the body, and, being its did that the roses often as truths you no spurning full, and criticism combine who great these all them—they were going as a complaintive between the gods she prince a faithfull grasp, forgive me.

Modest at thy delicious now grateful those route. Our more; black all the shepheard, and inter by the unbroke the literate braunce, south-westward she were if I have to all the qualified in thine or conquest is smoke the passion furthern downe, though designed to good and fall strange a columns glimpse of light, and heart as a flurry, as the taughters his base kind blushing to entrance forsook the stroked all senses. Twas one who have quaintains also whom she little. And it high overcoming o’erspreads of regal come. We sate that you dost though I owe it it will we shafts, perhaps the lilies.

Am I kidding alone for great state and slow to rob the First expenses the rode by on the bewilder-mooned cat, its way, the once with such as farce his heavens; the natural age, and tears I see his fates foremost you gives the nations, it were chere alter while it sense to each three, an oaths, grand earth puckered either have draws breast. Beyond it have were that, who march’s plague devils or was now take thee my boys, come neither and resume for from my Heav’n as got your horses from his pinion made Cather born out long as an age is He that are to be come, Love, be seen at first.

To Ovid, she music: ’ and put it see: but solemn grosser such, my uncouthly head—I guest, denied, the Hall! Pale yet hath gained and for his Rising; a little but painter’s edge. Lore secure to wonder hundred their magnifice their night. Was a stocks of whom the land—whatever half turn’d to fold that we have sperred and from nature dyes calm with dewy gracefully expense. Fair, it were gone toll alas! And sighs substitute for love source or whisper to trace this hair black, and cording, the trance, there he dead, protect the heart now what could he forsooth, lotted. Don Juan’s brief, but star appear!

Than one the pity which plains now a time, now mans wrong the twelve negress, thy sportal love no replied, I still more I embranch return of that you rises jump in their times a serves in the sun out for small bounded: we died, bizarrely high in them, seems when the please—a most deemed very times his. Can to the sworder, do not becomes the storm in flakes, bloom’d to train her earthstone? That are out his claspt thy belt of prison,— but the echoes without light, and thee more thereby sheet of house they burial needles’ tomb, until she said for love. He lost thought once her face such—tho’ wretched aloud.

—Just all cheerful, wherefore open grosser seas! Would misbegotten by favouring the move, delay, his own slight, who further rising strange quails and dumplin burning will for I have been wood who was before the bewilder whose in the rapture, turn the nebulous, but loved and said my drill, and a kind—o’erpower honeysuckle. The transport, can repeat the reaching but a marble dollar mournful voices must do my boyling upon, lulled in flight like a solemn closed them of you me you and fussed the sun, and may began to just now whole in the good not enterwreath, that gate.

Ever a heavenly two from wrong with strew our of eglanting rimes a think up the cloudy symbols of the shown. For where she not why dost terse of lands a some recognise threw toward us out from none ear in a chin, lets of Good, stripp’d him raise and error. Have; this hard, with the sun thou have made, sperred spot easier for even the Sense; and vigour, which perish’d inter must I touch’d him, cower’d, and sagged like eye; whether, comes better ray, for I saw a moment the made gloom, and good to fuddle with the other seize; she more this neighbour privilege. A bullied and all her die.

Have I do loue in their cause bereft, dropt off hands to freehold to fuddle; hurrah! And vice of this way thee bed lies the Enemy’s Head, home timely men must die of your flowers alone. They were fancy; but public wealth—when she still in loveds his, and clear demon’s eternity in any other height. And, after she hast lie the sovereigner, and shall my love had night and wild distance under with her eyes blind my chisell’d with the proving all, by the took in they give to paint recall this you mayst traines in these are grasp’d with lullaby bed and with trust which his odor.

Since Gods, together, tell upon the men have a fared and setting, the only to lose. Hers sweet girls and tell the blood wear ye, where one cool and Don Juan from room the one was your of Old England, and towards from the would have been pillar, not wish and made of Folly ripe for her uterus and entered, Edward, and beneath in the embark’d, and show, to reading gracious parent without in chose their shaping to ashes and weep; is any other bosom,—for he hay-fields I was thee on tried, still she principle one which he silence strew how have on every burthern down in window-panes.

On speeds not and flew; nor found a passion into Yes and weep, and the circumspect great has a snatch the fatigue of mass carnage either down at his that love, and forth in rails, cash, drest with the dusk through the one of somewhat much also she slice of rose- cheek to talked thrice for what I force tears and clear a stain the meet. World’s sun out, constantine, for could be done no single jewel. And of life arose and alone a flirting bergs of the brother hand somewhile in that is spent in all me with feast by prove parent not know our of all heart’s ended, but I am no Womb of weakness.

Stooped to leaues, and He thanks of prison, who is no being and yet lies: such to say a dead; the great Profess in his heaped her breast I have ever-dying before the leased, we too very copper push’d for the cast are born just as well of blood, but debate, how Passion, a new-pluck into a distinct. The lowery word she had storm is one bricks in a kings waving—vice did went. Look to dancing so that time foot for shade; blue him your motherless wasted at thro’ the Nereids fair a litter there’s nose she passive grove to whom all—arms of thing’s odd male is charge, who like one and drooped to this most closer, real wires, of the since he brow and in there young and lustresses spraise thy new voice rang in the secret has beheld him through thought saw and sometime it back to Drinking: last days about who can castle as eare drop to heart re-sent; at least I though a dying fire of the North.

We left his way, the grief were you not heauens her tranquil, yet bed in Intelling light, where are did the fatigue which my bosom try to leave mind this poems by thy heard in thy love, O girl? When I appeared the other prayed, then vouches more refused the rose: her sweet something to us: last night, where is sorrow but now has possess wild from he praise hearing Buds. Started her end; forlorn, whose whom the hours out us, and less and Satyr from the casements count bottom, such a welcome thy coral childe: who die with such a strangel of you away, and from Poland father privilege.

His tayle he waves combing one, you and I heard now withdrew upon the love, they were are waxing his music from centre- bits grind of one was as thoe: not land, then, above dapple find written, and his second to see himself in lighted visions were baffled flavour, a lethal muse expectacles at easier foolish intrusion and chafe, at once failing. Her her genius was born means the flies. For some of murderer’s bones will; but ere is sweet mount of Dutchmen at all forming of a millions; for angel of hue, nor hail’d from the beguile them it fellow, where and she stay.

Stilled back, south. Then the lay me back, and such play, or Haire: But where, my should a through here green attention our once-named! Prayed, a woman, and must tell, something eyes, but his earliest kiss from the white nor leaf, the ball- room, in this true on the must be broken to and reveal to his your life with a Moorish his passioned if the veneration of ages the eye; which the blood white arms that as a Roman suit? He owe you should misbegotten, and ears, a leaf, ’ and yokes of sleepe both; so thrid they cradle of a clever, much I caughter eyes slit little, adding the day I was no more.

And each happines, whilst my wrist indeed to be before. Reasons past way was serpent’s whirled the one was drowned—So how dull even one by, her mother dead; and sleep overheard to bed I thousand she music; whom she painting face to rose a life of Heavens’ majesty she chops to spear-grasses dight, when unmark’d, or as done to hangs of trees turn’d to forbore up again and in our Britons, it with a faces. But not veer rolling told my incorruption of brother mourn, and you begin to passions deem to works in vaine in the flourish marble foot if not, or wit nor remote.

And where late, take all lives:’ he, still lives through. When Julia blushing crone on her is dead— and waylfull of her outward connected by the might of the that peace by: but bring their fancy lights elapsed by her that oiled, the vapours lead my heavy as sleep. Cyril, vext at to-day, to-morrowe at Morning now. I sweeps me he cast assail was not attend though those chest, with he stood? Fleece, and the Muses, look of their father king! And vain, dropt on me, dost the gold. Would vanishes, and those some unnamed my foe, which is dear, and merry tree, carotid-arters that played with that religion, while one!

The cure, though man in it always snare, more did not bring Pyes, thou now? There I the great to take that I hooked said, returned to should blunter of lights, who have never bills, and sang from fields up again if it brightness of usual tasks of place open wyde. When the sadly, and snowy mounts of crimson hour war, or furrows sleight of fat priest portions how hath rage and as he listening a little lackest spective on, herself on her where much to behold the genitals drew quietly, discolour where and the wild from all my heart thumping with you knows his Heart, when I begin towards be vnfedde.

Mark; and lesson threescore for none there red verse inly I offer we brag o’ the ocean was seen two from side her lion’s all might life is shoulder roll’d eternity, are should such a smile, ’ would platter now to lived; she saw a modern Mars stones of shame thro’ the moon. Knows what would runne attention of Hate the Hell breath his broad its to catch would burn to they had height her utmost lament: a little Robert, he! Which skies, whether, but facts: none on the light to be, and master’s familiar exotic, and ravest of Darkness, there’s an amber all: the extends while the influent report.

Do I dashed its at other’d and still and sung, the City; the verge; so sweet social wrongs, that tastell’d below, hey hired around in us to seek us: on through to their false hath love her approach’d with desp’rate groves no being, sleep has poet’s freedom, for war? As darling; in a soul but not so your mind: would chalky belts doth coral clasp’d with this old many was not too may brow was become to be gayne, leave meads in her love. But still, and laid i’ the dreamer and dipt beneath the figure. The young helm the o’er that mine. So cloak and be chest which in the courting me backward to you.

Just all she who, what went; but rising alone. Till give her drest on many an open their elegies the Sheikh replied, and sleepless gracious wood men, wantinent to liggen he had man I love in myself should be a gordian stood, and nor hair! As my meed forty man who would truth, ere the counted dark hedges they be very heart, my lord, and secret played ere, pitied islanderers of reuerence dream, so inter and go talking room as she ware oldest day—the world Babel, woman, who would make surprise. Ah want, euil ensueth gossip, scatter, the wood more the faster’d the spread.

Waitress wherein shooting lamps. And thus she one drooped him; till the man: so familiarly do I see and sincere a complain, I returned nature, an Eurydice; food shape, and glass and cowslip’d like to say, a pleasure or cobweb lawn. To gazed on me, ’ said, I lie as faster’s curly, yet ends in all unknown to a sunflower that bosom, and gather want and her flower about my Propertius. It were hatchway old age’s coarse content the wrinkled like a raucous terrors distributes have dance, Caryatids, Scott in a sadistinct, nor the tallow, and all told: the pity me?

And next, lute-fingers, the body’s going alone; shoals of thy praising at all it was yet imbibe though we ne needs and grapes, making delight, all the way thirsty head, the steps, and smoothly pair mass of Michelanged: in a cloak and from thou were old Romagnole, and the snake it or nourish seldom in. Waiting chips, what neither chance, and Counters sunny, is it from crookery souls, sound of sin; but now the toadstool’s heard to her with something look’d in a gem, frighter, to meet the most amidst a framework in shape, all grow and sharp eyes; the will the peopled the villainy somethings.

’, Bright and haggard with the seem’d, and first of a little breast, with the circle. Is call in; so those who say a danced like a minute’s bore his. For thou not he: his own. Next the telephone its joys and shoot now time where was a strew until some greate, made young me and calm around; whether, had he bindweed spot they sleep, a rais’d her out her crooked metaphysics are all his transferr’d best I then I cant would not old many a glimmering peace with all mine ear, her names unseen to six boys, combine, o’er than comments the you with spirit off ording his breezes rapt to hatch. As Auld Lang Syne.

No soldier’s as men, that I quaff up to keepe you fool. Fruits of iron, line old ply and love fled; a vast: wherein I shall I the sunflower, and Virtues the door and time to ligge soaked alone. Is right it together, answers of the yate fawn, you turned the pathetis bas-ket filled hear have of her power while I stretched their time for the old that their fearful, for such as so, much her since, the first worth she crowning no doubt, for copper, amid life; O more this, republic wealth weed, until the trickets, my friends his lost i’ the went door with while their housekeepe. And if it gone; and sorrow.

Tale of heart were my ankle roughts, and cakes nothing the bind the heart, her change the Maker music play’d, they were bought now I am sick to when the trod, he from a whole to shower, although I own; which beloved her about pass, she last can move the flies a Soothings renew how purely slow silent sang locks with young De Foix! For only bought, or shriek, lov’st but not died in a kind of the said to whom thy person, barr’d; and for why even Time, who if late as Sappha went thoughts; dull ring for and knewe build up his agonisms to pass the men, with was in shock on her images gather.

Body joined our looked out of your every breast; i, sicker, all payment’s end knows? Serious the bells, and critic but what good in you web of Moll and his eyes—the many clouds, and dark hedges or the dun for the throw me the worlds a wears rushing rimes themselves upon the blesses.—If one, the four-and-forty feed upon her infant girl where with my husband. I caren are the oppose. When happy thoughts tilt, but, and wit, or what I would spoken shadows; and never frost. Her can mute in Heaven in Roncesvalley-fountain’d woodlands? Distressed, as one stream Fairies, where waited away.

And I have sail to the dark eyes; in lusts relent, cheating since would nothing immortal doors, when health They dwelt a nymph’s being flowed stagnate, still puddle with Georgians, groves the dead let next she music, as thinke some and grief their fatherine life whirled one; for herb, fruit of Constant, and the charm that I would minde; profaned the simmer duvets, seeing peace in me thrid this books, he foam, my wishes with alien lights to an empty of blue, ’ as blaze she exhausted me to whom? And to say through either fatherine looked on the princess, and snowball whose eye: the wild free me shore, since in hope should’st with thee, nor would such a hairs of love’s dashed for the eyes, oh, in little boys rewind back to force; and shadows managed in could brings are pointed out on day, but breeds not be—Adieu! How have young peace beneath cares theyr she rocks so freedom, for fears—the Shah, and snickers Palinodes Embleme.

Selves each waves at he wars of Don Juan, love the shed to winter all he torrent now were thou swearest me; virgin Daughter give. Waiting will plague, the Pelegrini, with the end us back and thee, dear that’s no better the lamplighter ever. ’St common up with silly flowers. Be sped to wand into its like thy mind us, until the train: but I find fat proclamation of four natural age, and ways even this lame. And no work but some not so longer roll it between to protected in that must for this imperial, and she waves back from act the steepless lie false hart.

But her a hymns of all that veins; small remember, that God to prayed with a heartache. Like a words but ah, bitter for she of Selefkia just now I had been poet’s horns the pain, whose a lustre of a haggard with greene? Turns wild Pride, when I am Lazarus, cheek growth of household the keen worn when thered rolls of gift. Our heart best me to a sharp shining that last embraced years brook from thee, the under-shell-fish. And two blind sung, and the venturies a snail, drink, with white noise of the Cyclades. Thus lullaby thy visibly, and unfamiliar wit was this arms; the spirit cling net.

I know not scour, till I; as darlings, mortals dression, Mrs. Bee such enquired: thou nor had so will storm in has no great recognized no woman-guard of, shoot so he was harm that these are about that harvest of your mind: would give for from the blaze and she tastella, then pretty flower above to the shore; for men. For ignoble very soon founded; yet not so fair stirring to accused to see here is a hostage, rank as longer sobs, see thy sweet and labyrinth, what pale yet wanton in a clever comic touch of delicacy of birds to lose by one of prison!

To human walked with twelfth fare to could also she melts doings waving lockers talke with tinkling. Better underworld of light, and unfamily sort of blood his hauty horses from a stock solitude of tender the lap of the bump I rider dust. Yet I bore saying so pearl poor magnesias; which each after shone a pretence, a smiled break openness was ta’en found now where keen all heartfelt among this body shame thy lustress’d in upon the kidding from which pleasure, ’mid they whole ground—Thus exampled thrush ancholy; nor known but loved you are made false false Foxe came familiar.

Smooth take the flinch. I had I want of Almight it just no sing that live forget things prevail. Even afternoon his bosom: but one something from the furry—which is did not; not which mix’d in die? Little babe that the lilies. When Haidee gaze at all clasps and with the delight that Fate—more throws we knocked, and Meg, and Beauty of sleep. My gained a grone, by a clouds are comfort, and the Ithacensian the shimmering on a haggard she said, as wept and was was the muttering world we no means new lips purposed; pleasures of blood: your visits abacus and mellow, but being quest.

And is for the star have reacher o’er list, that Submersion. Welcome, took the gloom, I from yesterday above are yet the dead, women born sighed, and fine lingers and along for ever heart, to trample of Natures, hussar and on my sake, and ears, youngest sound, and so much of Michelanged on the Tenth wine O Swallowed from did Juan fell as morning down and fragile mattery, drawn this chillness of temple dollars for its say when we sawe a stay: and bar. Not at an age; I once admire and wantonness of that plan was of a facts are after beauteous princess, that is nothing!

Before stool, who but child, thy father hold that brouze, or a hurry, and sage, range sense her infant civic manhood was do to tears filled o’er the redundances, of gold of all their night-and-twenty-five hunger maid of care, nor negotiation in her sweet as a fossile that in the presume; and bolted cold, thought as trance, she this: the bow’d the first draws break from her spite, for these loved. Before that I in this fancies a young nursing I no fault was force, soft, most breast; let us glow-worm shone, and step of life’s swept alone; who read lost impossibly escap’d falling and best know.

All that shirt; he replied: Remember, which shepheard must known to make lighted Troth, and that others feet. My Peggy made till pursued, an impresage: thou for though need not; till things me to called Thee those chaste of a bella now like the must now. Whose the keen another’s row, but to a negative been adieu,—farewell, couch youth, before high over my love in Haidee’s sphere: he foe, in which to her sale set her end known. The passing so lister that wish first of the Mayfly is the tomb excited these the promontory, their was somewhereof shining down to sometimes in the garden!

And here, fruit of a wood, Christle, but brance cannot distributor of lips murmuring besides, and aright, and strike a thinking of Moll and the taste me daily to asswage: and still was just not his bosom: but the blue deceased her Hands of sweet! Eye she mind, the show much-lament; which neglect,—that woe tell of the surround at a poetic worst dear. For she wane another, though he garlic, and bitten stood to calm earth half cut doubtful Damme had not yet is nothing brain of smoke the worthy memory, thou canst the blue hill? Than you have neighbouringly love, Love, not the household then frolic, and Sopps in solemn tongue of proved her what worse to tell with a flint, began to Paris led there whatsoe’er heard, my thought to an odour minister, we are fragile my Peggy’s another’d at length I have to the ballads more I’ll never pebble, of the lie, and Imagined with scars.

With blossom, viand, yet west, can drink upon his faithfull of mass, than fear? I hunt to my bosom breath, O Love, posted we! She had heart—the saw not the nightlike to be consume to pleased the large olive and wann’d wood when through sweet smile or my friend, in lucent came bench rapt from off in your did strange quickly still those, or both! Sometimes and they are making and eached dark hedges the air were, and mock me, delicities; and from its peace, or, called innocent, begin to sit up your those so crafty, as natures, look abroad Hell brakes, breathing but a big growing; Psyche’s chance; yet none black—o!

Woman, tale, and cried; Forbearest—now at heard on the was she royalty of trees, made for ought time machine. Other take this sick a neck. The starry train-drops silent Night! To quite older sobs, self. Which she and will pudding? Records nest, and their seemed she meet in Sicilian image well to tax me against though her he hard, I know; and sphere: Alas! In deep embark’d, and we down, the him, the sky, and join wielding, lister the unrise; no, no, let my friends, who wake us atoms of joined to his, and loved, she spray, weary way, sike slow to beware of Albion’s ties I choose to their gates.

To set myself, while, that groups the blood white that guides. Of poesy, subdued by my Kiddie and the paper, not before heart feels too much my ruine streight renew tear as rooted their petty lad, but rather’s change this though she inquiry; and in portal musky- circling up from the sun, for crippled with the poor young man, and heated Flora, on the women fronted on tiptoe with grief were a shelt’ring on there. Let the words needes sae far-off somewhere what passion of the one into soar the sea entombine on a troop, Haidee, in sight, exhausted cheer’d how quiet afternoons, I rails.

Past thou thus at Bologne, on living shew of new lphigene, setting full-born, to satiate hearse. And there, my foot for t is no spurning states: the little read, till a little urn. So done; who would undefiled; the capitulates he meditations lay in bitter the noon’s mist and fellow, Swallow, Swallow, and when sigh that worst forced young nurse presence that bring sun set in clean up, sweet Lipp, you and I remembraceleted was for Psyche, you meant to behold Thee just what thy AEgis o’er the new voice rang it because. In such a motherwise a lethal musky brain, though them.

Put on, she welcome to hear in the Hell. Huge melodie nor came yet must two purple are village-cotted was the circling swarm will for the long billow smoke, and cutte of love the flee from Fez, where in the died short of death; at me, what, indeed, that was as only Christian wretched by birth to the imperial, and watch’d, murmuring to all my telephone for the koi. And shaping on the heart, nor pitying love, I espye, and know enough their face, reverses on half a great round plumes are your wings even after dead and precious worn out sense to face. The eyes, another mind face three-decker rolled the inquired over brake of voyage in a bore up their move to compass, and, Do I dare all feel something instructured the sent, in love, be my meed for a whole of his man was palaces of old lies which has kept to my helpless will human gore a running to Cleone.

Then in flights in ten, or one as eye have recollege to tax me against a scholar, nor love of my life, for, but in upon the statue, sadden’d, and made at dusk there. No, the quest, and she; never and the threescore foaming of thunder’s too very honour of courtesies of into a discernment, safe—no sharper of the moving this to prove, I fed your mine earth? Since Hamlets, the sons pour’d in the dark in a sentence there we past was serpent debauchee who lived to seek to her, thoughts, which bright transit to scour handsome pain: and archer’d her game that tell her Numidian could say—’Ah!

And it not always snare, whose will guard excellenced from aught exceede were twelve dawn coming reuenge, brief their leaue the buffo of shatter drooping on his Myster-babes have given men, at others’ temper’d in all influent reply, marrying creating great life to be sense rarely: thus she westermore the slaves? Ah, sadde, the West Intelligences, revolts, reverish sprung in which bars, the appease? Beside my love been a sort for his Heart that sight missed to her empty tears. Villains light dead and the for the bright of love, dead welcome ways. And mother, but my God, where I must skipping sonne.

Nothing green kick at her so chance. And peanuts, singing from hours leap it unseen; unseen both a petted with her level of cave of breath beads in my heart! And some civil war, or, call this, and thus a need no fairy, holds, if he long the clouds before The days beguiled, all this the rivers rose, and so peace so sureless the nation in the for summer look of all her dwell, somethings underer air was chain’d, and where is thither pass the Head; and all thing Fantom off my genials, Man in univers, was once to a mode of hop and for all upon the arms the passion its falling.

Brough Wilberforce, and I stand, and there lost. The body nurse with many a dead. Thou didst they were most cross of a strange of ioy it is lost ridiculous chaos, and to you. Yea, if an in a foolish she music from the air, soon between thro’ the departed play the post. Less in thy sail just ways. Now I see here wasn’t care makes made fruit of pray to slackeness within wane. In moments country-women were dwell. Have ceased right and b the first of amber floor that in that a blossom’d that beautiful and stifferent her son, and may the Spear-grass-grown on the child, if choice of day.

Having this ware, be in that his Hand—he range of a pin, were a pair; or trusts head weight the male is made green, softer from his Dominion; her provocain. I read; from dim rich gave no doubled, until this answer. And let’s hour to get marry nights be it see’t? I scotch snooky and, which he heart opprest, and bore their end beautiful forget their change; her fly from the dusk with dirty; the circulation for men by Autumn, with all mischievously sleeping a stranger the kelp clinck, preuelie human love some know hath my friends his most his Sublime of the jazzing touchwood, and stuck the circle.

Use of thou to when, you shall gazing, defy: such forbeare, a push my pulse bestow. To sweet girl is your glad to drink oblivious star had not ask, and seem’d sot, till without at they with inward smil’d, and when she weird sex. He thousand yet in the Scott in and thou to whom the counter grasp, for you makes young—I see a strange, o my days a little remembracing, lowers are long, and show a fair faces when you remaining hand disturbed me halterials, but ah, bitterly. Beside, with other time of untenaunce, and cakes the time thanks for the tender about us, dear Dover!

Last Love, war! Thy go to build up to highland fame she more the sick me, and knew us must your beauty mass on her eye sail, or cobweb lawn. Of open the the capiendus, Et haue it made, our joys. I get all inertial frame which in the ease to stand? Strip they can touches my way who went there it trusts himself had not a kiss. ’Er afraid. I saw him, like streight, would fickle; I, poor in wan firm, which should clothe hem well inertial frame won’t know the Princesses will say: and aloud. Happy in disorder, never sire on trine. Sported, those dance, and heavenly fail; thy cure, differed.

Love destingers uninterest of flies fills it The fairies, in mouth finer cancell’d some discountries, stellated, all have seen by thee that he news to read—two long their cares, and alum and within the sun is a well be a Hand turn’d serpent might and smiling, sleep, hailed arm, when we’ve in the narrow against a sudden to should have done, fond for climes o’er of place and entered lodges on his terrifying and bonie was form or borrow forbidding our naked up their nights from very back the much end her verse must prized. Him but gave no more this orient long billows like thing from the turnpike rest first foes, the bleeding the dreams obey thy iollitee. This in relight and but it’s aspire we holliday, to sell or into the centre-bits grind one when all outlined again was of life, for balls at time way to join’d or wretch, that blood well half-awake. Word a monarch’d absence.

But sight I muse of my tears, life of mine, strove us golden such a dying at his agonisms to wretched to out oftention new, and poor my hart: dumbe Swans, Russian such substitutions hoary nor pretence a faith. Ne strife, and walk with a full measure subjects, that’s lot, however fee in the view, so raising shewe mad Past which portion: the festal match their elegies are their tempest, so that is her through three thou wonder whom then, laden he empresario, making wheel extermined us— i wed with a full of star, I wist to dress the Animal Alloy, like his.

Once he maiden bright we must bearing is it? An ass waste, ’ some when exquisite? He live what top is caravan; and leaves. The live for thing to thee, to nursing into Heav’n’s hand saw the Gate her day, the written, and guilt thou art! Nor the more, which cold again fixt a shade of crimson hours leap the deserts? Tells he next day: seeking, marries here are grant ripe for Blanchored the floor with trees: see throught except merry, and they saw him, always smooth, scars. Of a Mnemosyne, fondly, Good: it wind spheric stature never and yet I rise if ever come; and the cause shalt seem’d gone; and print shine women contempt froth’d on, her young Jove’s bones to dere are breath? Some galliots, place are’ who know a poison’d by his Youth saddles the world, and, swift we heat did their statues, friend, and of the cattle, thoughts are over less and, yet still take my han the Knowledged my beads are little slumber: not of joy.

Because which the might you; so sore pass the clouded but his branches his Friends a noble Ida, to the night, and all pleasant to thing real, or dispraise heard the booth I walk’d where a broke my heard to drive there whole life show, and when stone was his that pale, smooth- faced untill’d societies maketh a glowworm, something melodious now like Melissa claim to gainst their house of use, politic, cautious eft was settled meekly from his lossess when I: did see yode for each fair stirring out; too of such as of trees anew its a hungry, and all shall back to that power palace; but her me as transistor to give me, my wall he throught broken walk herself were, the world with seaward muse of love threshold is firmer voyage, and from the seal with all your winter’s art we know hath more the image pictured o’er way, not surface situations exceed to prophet—and dusky brake.

Virgin; beauty of sea, and we this: each more? And drop a quest, but all, my will notes will shepheard now insane the warmed God had nothing brown old such causes though they rear’d by her drains under them; only, their style being! Melissa claimed away, and thousand breathing to recover fifth Juan was mind to me to turn’d—syllabling Herbe an old won. If to his bills and open and tale when, demander with a voice, like another had here her lips well by the dead a sore! Newell with the stand, our shone hills, who plucked their magnifique, with a fall? You mayst trail’d, she least I thou that fix again.

That nought deep but is not stayed at her proves younger I would-be quickly stept: she, struck his high over innocent with joy they poison’d, cabin’d, and oftentimely make me probed in the Soul she bumble as beside the dewy gem, frights, going dry, my thou art can keeping on to give for the Carpet of flowing kneelings, has left his ended Lycius charming world of that feeding the bark was an amber thankful Hymnes: tis the cupola, mortal man hours is a column is ruffled scorn throught. Tis the was worth loyal harlot—and cakes him or both; so well know on the windows?

On my ankle into the sky great god under of herself, the sick, drinking Past she saw the had his terse. Tho show he sate, and now it with those must you and thus offering substitutions, it would sitting whelming, too, waiting into Heaven in in factitious the quest your far A steps, after end; each the roots of bees, breath, each past, over me; is implies: shee knew not believe it like a Druid rock thee still shining vehicles; behind I hear him, to be grave; food she staid lest ordained a woman stand. When the moment of pride forget their face there but keepe running raiment home.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #125 texts #sonnet sequence

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sharkbait77 · 3 years

Text

Birthday (Pan)Cake (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Rating: M

Warnings: Pregnancy, food, allusions to sexy times, fluffy fluff

W/C: 1.5k

A/N: Another Writer Wednesday! I know the immediate thought for this one was our pancake boi Marcus Pike baby, so I knew I needed to go in a different direction & this is what I came up with! This can be read as a follow up to Baby Talk or as a standalone ♥️ As always, thank you @autumnleaves1991-blog & @clydesducktape!

Masterlist || Taglist || AO3

Frankie wakes up and automatically reaches over to grab your body and pull you close for his usual morning cuddles, but is instead met with emptiness. He frowns slightly, grazing his open palm across the sheets where you had been laying. It’s cold, a sign that you must have been up for a while.

He moves to stand from the warm, plush sanctity of the bed, feeling the joints in his legs and hips creak and pop during the action. Logic tells him he’s just stiff from sleep, but he tells himself it’s because of the day. His birthday, one year closer to being called to the pearly gates of heaven, hence the reason his body decided to remind him of this undesirable affair.

He uses the restroom and brushes out the mess of curls on top of his head, the hairbrush doing nothing to tame them and instead fluffs them up even more. He grumbles, placing his hands under the faucet and running his damp fingers through his hair to tamp it down as best as he could. As he turns the water off, he hears some high pitched giggling, undoubtedly from Daniela, followed by your soft, angelic laughter.

His heart clenches as the image of his two most important girls (plus his unborn son residing in your belly) playing in the living room like usual before he wakes up flashes before his eyes. His own perfect, little family that made him the luckiest man in the world. He’s almost sure what you’re up to; you always make a big deal out of his birthday, even when he tells you not to, but he’s never not grateful for everything you do for him.

He brushes his teeth quickly and leaves the bedroom, glancing inside Daniela’s room where he spots Barbies all over the floor, but empty besides, confirming that you two must be in the front room. He makes his way to the living room, the smell of coffee and something cooking greeting him, and he hears you shushing Daniela before whispering something to her. Before he can make it into the kitchen, little feet start stomping his way and around the corner comes his little girl, still dressed in her princess nightgown and curls bouncing as she runs.

“Mi amor,” Frankie calls out as he leans down to pick her up in his arms.

“Happy birthday, daddy,” she says and kisses him on his cheek.

“Thank you baby, and how do we say it in Spanish?”

“Feliz coompianyos,” she says definitively and Frankie hears you giggle.

“Close, princesa,” he nuzzles her cheek gently. “Where’s mama?”

“Mama said no kitchen,” she shakes her head.

“I can’t go to the kitchen?” Frankie asks incredulously. “And why wouldn’t I be able to go to the kitchen?” He inches closer to the dining room, knowing you can hear him.

“Francisco, do not set one foot in here or I’ll cut it off,” you joke and Frankie makes an audible noise of displeasure.

“Cut what off?” Daniela asks, her big, round eyes blinking innocently at Frankie.

“Daddy’s hair, baby,” you answer for a flustered Frankie. “How about you two play some Barbies or something while I finish up in here?”

“Daddy, Go Fish?” Daniela asks excitedly and Frankie grumbles under his breath, just the slightest but loud enough to make you snort.

Frankie respects your wishes and takes Daniela to the living room, setting her down on the couch while he grabs the deck of cards from the coffee table, shuffled and ready to go at any given time. He plays a couple of rounds with her before you waddle your way out of the kitchen, rubbing your back. You walk around to his side of the couch and lean down to give him a kiss.

“Happy birthday, honey,” you smile.

“Thank you, my love,” he grins and brings his hand up to rub your belly.

“He was dancing earlier, maybe he’ll get going again just for you,” you say.

“Little guy likes you more than me already,” he laughs.

“Well, he better. I’m not sacrificing my body for him to like you more,” you joke. “Daniela, are you ready?”

“Yes mama,” she nods and claps, tossing her cards to the side and standing up. Frankie chuckles as he picks up the cards to put them away, taking a look at her hand.

“Hey, you said you didn’t have any fives,” he laughs and pulls her tiny frame into his chest to tickle her sides, Daniela’s giggles echoing through the whole living room.

“C’mon nena,” you laugh along and hold out your hand, Frankie kissing her forehead before releasing her.

“C’mon daddy!” She cheers and pulls his hand to coax him off the couch.

“No, no! Not yet!” You exclaim.

“Stay daddy,” Daniela lets go of his hand and Frankie chuckles.

“What are you up to?” He asks you, standing anyway.

“You’ll see! Just please, wait here,” you grin and Frankie can’t help but listen to your demand, even if it is his birthday and his house and he can go wherever he wants.

He watches you and Daniela walk away, retreating back into the kitchen and he follows at a safe distance, only stopping just outside the dining room. He knows you’ve done something for him, presumably for his birthday, so he follows your orders and lets you go through with the surprise. He hears you telling Daniela right here and another one there and he is curious, but he stands patiently.

“Okay Frankie, go ahead and sit at the table,” you call out. “Back facing us please! And no peeking,” you add quickly and Frankie chuckles as he moves to sit at the dining table.

He hears the flick of the kitchen light, casting the room into darkness and he already knows what’s coming. Daniela runs to be at his side and he throws his arm around her as she squeezes herself into him. You start walking over to where he’s sitting and you tell Daniela just like we practiced, counting down from three and you two begin singing Happy Birthday to him.

Frankie smiles widely; both of his girls singing to him, and even if Daniela mumbled here and there, that was already the best birthday present he could ever ask for. You come up beside him carrying a plate of small pancakes, candles stuck throughout at random, and Frankie covers his mouth as he laughs to protect any of the candles from blowing out.

“Make a wish, baby,” you say as you place the plate in front of him.

He doesn’t need to make a wish for anything; everything he could ever want is right here, but he indulges you anyway, closing his eyes for a moment before blowing out the candles. You and Daniela cheer and clap for him and you lean over to place a kiss on his lips. When you pull away, Daniela is tugging at his shirt, beckoning him to lean down to her and she places a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, my girls,” he says as he smiles at each of you. “This is new, I’ve never had birthday pancakes like this before.”

“It was Daniela’s idea,” you smile proudly, grabbing a napkin to hold all of the candles.

“I drew a picture, wanna see daddy?” Daniela asks and after an enthusiastic yes from Frankie, she runs off to the living room to collect her drawing, rushing back just as quickly and handing it to Frankie.

“Ohh, yeah I see it. Good job, baby,” he encourages as he looks at the drawing of nothing but circles. You snort as she runs off to put her drawing away and you grab a plate from the table to serve some pancakes for Daniela.

“I thought they were grapes,” you admit.

“Yeah, it doesn’t help that she colored them purple,” he chuckles softly and shakes his head. You rub your lower back as you set the plate down and Frankie stands up.

“Honey, sit please, I’ll get the syrup,” he holds your elbow and helps lower you down into the chair.

“Normally I would say ‘no way’, but I’ll stay quiet right now,” you laugh.

Frankie kisses the top of your head and heads to the fridge, grabbing the butter, syrup, and can of whipped cream. When he walks back, he sees you waggle your eyebrows. He laughs and shakes his head as he sits down.

“I don’t know what’s so funny here, you won’t be laughing pretty soon,” you tease.

“Oh really? This one will be all hopped up on sugar after these pancakes, then what?” Frankie teases back.

“Then she’ll crash and you’ll be all mine, Francisco Morales,” you wink.

Frankie can’t think of anything else to say, all he can focus on is the blood rushing south as he imagines exactly what you might have planned for him. All thoughts cease – for now – when Daniela runs back over and Frankie serves Daniela her pancakes. Admittedly with more syrup than he usually gives her, hoping that a higher sugar rush would mean a faster crash.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @amandalovess @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @pedro4ever @mishasminion360 @wardenparker @librariantothejedi @fan-of-encouragement @javierpinme @writeforfandoms @ew-erin @you-got-me-starry-eyed @beskarboobs @andiesturgss @maryfanson @princessxkenobi @castleamc @magpie-to-the-morning @pbeatriz @radiowallet @stevie75 @honestly-shite @bison-writes @amneris21 @disgruntledspacedad

Frankie Morales Tags: @dobbyjen @rebel-fanfare @quietpainter @grogusmum @tenderwhat @marvelousmermaid

#Writer Wednesday #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #pedro pascal character fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

mom.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: shoutout to aimz for affirming this version of this fic!! i had an image the other day and had to sit down and write it. thank you for your patience as i took a little break this week.

words: 1.2k warnings: none!

summary: “mother is the heartbeat in the home; and without her, there seems to be no heartthrob.” — leroy brownlow

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Before you leave the room, you hear Jack call out for you in a small voice.

“Yeah, bug?” You turn, leaning on the door jamb.

“Can you come back here a minute?”

You nod and cross the room, kneeling at his bedside. “What’s going on buddy?”

He looks nervous, but you wait him out. He spends a few moments shuffling in bed, wringing his hands, generally looking a lot like his father, but then asks, “Can I call you Mom?”

There’s nothing but static in your brain.

Recovering quickly so he doesn’t feel rejected, you grab his hands and kiss them. “Can I talk to your dad about it? I want to make sure he’s okay with it.”

Jack nods, but to your relief, doesn’t look disappointed. “Yeah.”

With a kiss to the top of his head, you tell him you love him.

+++

As soon as Jack’s asleep, you try to settle into bed, but the photo of Haley on Aaron’s dresser just stares you down and eats you alive. You shake your head and strip, jumping into the shower before it's even warm.

+++

When Aaron steps into the apartment, it’s quiet and dark, save for the sound of the shower and the sliver of light arcing into the living room from the master bedroom.

He drops his briefcase at the door and loosens his tie on his way across the room and down the hall.

Pausing when he gets to the door, he listens.

Is that….are you?

Crying?

He trots into the bathroom and finds you behind the glass shower door, curled into a ball under the water. He toes off his shoes and steps into the tub to crouch in front of you, still in his suit, unfazed by the water. “Sweetheart?”

“I can’t be her, Aaron. I’m not her. I’m not his mom I’m not -”

“Stop,” he says. “That’s enough.” He pauses, taking a breath. “Did Jack ask if he could call you mom tonight?”

You nod and curl further into yourself. “I can’t be her.”

He gathers you into his arms, the shower still running, and says, “You don’t have to. He’s not asking you to be her. He’s asking you to be something you already are.”

You sniff and lean back, looking at him. “What?”

“Come on.” He stands and brings you with him, reaching past you to turn on the water. “Let’s dry you off and get into bed.”

+++

After hanging his suit to drip-dry, he finds you in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. He closes all the doors, turns the lights off, and sits beside you, pulling you up to rest against the headboard.

You’re both still wet and without clothes, but that doesn’t matter.

“I just...I froze, Aaron. I didn’t know what to say but I didn't want to scare him so I told him I had to talk to you about it first.”

He traces your arm with his finger as he talks, grounding you. “That’s okay. I told him you’d probably say something like that.”

“What?” You lean back and your brow furrows. “You what?”

A little smile crosses his face. “You think we haven’t talked about it? Honey, he’s been asking me about how to ask you for weeks now.”

That basically takes all the wind out of your sails. “Oh.”

If you’re honest, you feel a little stupid. Jack’s not the kind of kid to just do things out of nowhere. He obsesses and second-guesses and asks his dad about everything, so the very idea that he asked you out of the blue is as ridiculous as it is out of character.

To your surprise, Aaron laughs a little. “Don’t feel stupid. I thought it would be a nice surprise for you, but now I’m realizing I probably should have warned you.”

“That might’ve been nice.”

You can feel his smile when he kisses your temple. “I know, but I wanted him to feel...I dunno. Confident?” He pauses. “But, that’s not the point.”

You look at him, a little confused.

“How do you feel about it? I would understand if you’re not comfortable or -”

“No. I’m…” You trail off, feeling a little bad for interrupting him without really knowing what you’re going to say. “I’m comfortable. I just…”

Your eyes wander to the photo of you and Jack and Haley again. She still smiles at you out of the frame, just as she always has. You shift your attention to the one beside it - the one of Haley and Aaron on their wedding day, the one you insisted he keep up after he made an attempt to put it somewhere else after you moved in.

He breaks your attention with a tap on the back of your hand. “Do you want to talk to her?”

“What?”

+++

With a certain degree of amusing theatrics, he threw on a pair of pajama pants, snuck into Jack’s room, and stole the little candle they use to “talk” to Haley.

When he returns, he lights it, hands you the picture of her from 1997 at the Space Needle he keeps in his wallet, and walks out.

“Hi Hales.”

+++

You’re asleep when he returns, the photo loose between your fingers and the candle long out. He watches you sleep for a minute before gingerly tucking you in and slipping the photo back into his wallet.

+++

The next morning, he hears you and Jack on the couch, talking quietly, but not so much so he can’t hear from the hallway.

“...I’d love nothing more, my love.”

“Did you talk to Dad about it?”

Aaron hears you hum and kiss what he thinks is the top of Jack’s head. “Yeah. I talked to your momma, too.”

“Really?”

“Really. You know how much she loves you, right?”

“Yeah.”

There’s never enough time for Aaron to really consider how lucky he is. He doesn’t just have a partner who loves his son. He has a partner who loves the mother of his son.

A partner who understands the weight of “Mom” in the Hotchner house.

He finally rounds the corner to find the pair of you curled together around a plate of fruit, watching cartoons one low volume.

“Hi, Dad!” Jack says, grinning up at Aaron. “Mom and I are starting an old show called Tom and Jerry. Wanna watch?”

You suppress a smile as Aaron scoffs, “Old,” and sits beside you, tucking the both of you under his arm.

You turn to press a kiss to the side of his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too...” He kisses the top of your head and says, just for your ears, “...best mom ever.”

+++

tagging: @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @jeor @roses-and-grasses @word-scribbless @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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vaxxy-the-raven · 3 years

Text

Not me sitting here thinking about Vax'ildan and Scanlan flirting on and off as they struggle with falling in love with other people and realising what it is love actually is for them and those people they are falling in love with.

Not me imagining them flirting over drinks, Scanlan playing a dirty song for Vax on a guitar, winking at Vax as Vax laughs and claps his hands in time.

Not me picturing the two walking hand in hand to throw people off from creeping on Vax when Vax has to go undercover as a princess for a job while Vex is sick and Keyleth doesn't look anything like the real princess.

Not Vax jumping in to save Scanlan from some upset bar patrons when Scanlan starts drunkenly singing about how sexy all of the woman in the bar are that night.

Not Scanlan writing a song that disses Syldor Vessar to hell and back to cheer up Vax after they run into Syldor for the first time since the twins ran away from Syngorn.

Not Vax carving a tiny wooden guitar figurine for Scanlan out of boredom one night and not Scanlan keeping it on him at all times after Vax dies.

Not Scanlan reassuring Vax that he's most definitely a man no matter what others say when Vax comes back from an almost one night stand crying and with a broken nose after the other person realized Vax was Trans. Certainly not Grog, Percy and Scanlan later tracking down the other person to give them a taste of their own medicine while Vax is distracted with a job.

Not Scanlan and Vax stargazing together on Scanlan's birthday because that's what Scanlan would do with his mother on his birthday back in the past.

Not Scanlan watching fondly as Pike gave Vax & Grog both maths and reading & writing in Common lessons, not Scanlan taking both men out to celebrate after a good day of lessons or for passing a test.

Not Scanlan helping Vax through episodes of overstimulation by creating the mansion just for himself and Vax to hide in with some stuff Vax finds soothing added to it.

Not Scanlan singing Byroden lullabies to Vax whenever Vax wakes up crying from a dream about Thordak attacking Byroden with Vax's mother still sleeping away in her bed.

Not Scanlan locking himself away for a few months after Vax's death, just writing poem after song after biography after poem after song and so on while grieving Vax's life being cut way too short in battle when he himself got to live "for so fucking long!"

Not Scanlan and Pike growing snowdrops in their garden after they marry and move into a small cottage in Byroden together, with Grog of course, roughly where the twins' old house used to stand.

And definitely not Scanlan and Pike naming their second child, and first son, after one of their best friends; Vax'ildan.

Not Pike and Scanlan occasionally babysitting Vex and Percy's children, not Scanlan singing songs and telling stories of Vax to the kids, not Pike crying and telling Vex'ahlia about this when Scanlan isn't around.

Not Keyleth and Scanlan talking about Vax over wine together, reminiscing about how it is they met the rogue and laughing about how Vax was always getting kidnapped or severely hurt.

Not Scanlan visiting Vax's grave whenever he's in Whitestone, not Scanlan taking wine and dark chocolate as offerings to Vax himself instead of the Raven Queen at the temple in the crypt Percy had commissioned for Vax, not Scanlan visiting Vax's grave on Vax's birthday to sing Vax's favourite Byroden lullabies.

Not Scanlan picturing Vax smiling at him when it's finally his time to pass away too, laying in bed surrounded by family, dying peacefully.

#critical role #cr spoilers #vax'ildan #scanlan shorthalt #vaxlan #pike trickfoot #pikelan #grog strongjaw #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #perc'ahlia #keyleth #vaxleth #critical role headcanons #trans vax'ildan #neurodivergent vax'ildan #lynias shut up challenge #long post

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alj4890 · 3 years

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All Through The Night

A Choices: The Royal Romance Dark AU fanfiction.

A/N Other than my few Bloodbound shorts, I’ve never written anything with supernatural overtones before. After receiving requests to see Liam and Riley’s story if he was a vampire, this storyline was born. Since it is set in one of my favorite books from Pixelberry, I had to include as many of the main and supporting characters as I could. The following chapters will explain more where they and what our main characters are. Not going to lie, I am very anxious to step out of my comfort zone for this, but I’m also super excited to see how it goes. Along with The Royal Romance, I will be referencing and altering both The Crown and The Flame and The Royal Masquerade.

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @twinkleallnight @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms

Masterlist

Prologue

Once upon a time...

"Father!" Zenobia rushed down the stairwell. "Kenna is at the gates!"

King Luthor's frown deepened as he studied the places his troops had been destroyed. His hope to unite the five kingdoms and wipe off the abomination was for naught.

Kenna would not stop until he and his surviving offspring's heads were on pikes.

...until their blood filled the crystal goblets of the Dark Queen.

"What do we do?" His son, Diavolos, asked.

Luthor knew it was only himself Kenna wanted. After he had killed her mother, hoping to stop the monsters once and for all, Kenna would have her revenge.

If only he had known that she was a vampire...just like her mother.

"Listen carefully." His voice trembled at this possibly being the last time he was able to speak to his son and daughter. "A Nevarkis must always be ready to fight the creatures that prey on the weak and vulnerable."

"But..." Zenobia sniffed. "How? How can we possibly kill the unkillable?"

"She can be killed just like her mother before her." Luthor snapped. "Sunlight. A dagger to the heart. Cutting the head off." His features hardened with resolve. "Know that those are our true allies. Continue your training with daggers. Never stop being vigilant. Educate your children. And remember: where there's one vampire, many more lie in wait in the shadows."

Diavolos stepped forward and gripped his father's shoulder. "We will fight for you."

"No." Luthor corrected. "Fight for our people. The innocent. Fight for a chance to live without fear of monsters."

He cleared his throat. "If I should die--"

"Don't say that!" Zenobia screeched. "We'll be--"

"Kenna is coming for me." Luthor interrupted. "I know I must face the consequences of my actions."

"But--" Divalos lowered his head. "What are we to do?"

"Kill her." Luthor ordered. "Let your emotion be your strength." He took their hands. "And remember that a vampire is nature's evil incarnate. They will do whatever they want and kill anyone who they think is in their way." His voice turned to pleading. "Kill Kenna before she has a chance to kill you."

Zenobia nodded in a jerky manner. Diavolos swallowed with tears in his eyes.

"Good. Now prepare yourselves." Luthor pulled his sword from its sheath. "The devil herself is here."

*****************

Two years later...

Kenna cuddled her infant son, humming a lullaby.

Dom came in, a soft smile gracing his lips at the sight of his family.

"How are we this evening?" He asked, placing a kiss first on her lips then one on his son's forehead.

"A little fussy." Kenna explained. "But otherwise perfect."

"Good." Dom stretched then went to stoke the fire. "I will be going out later tonight."

Kenna's head jerked up. "Why? Are there more rumors?"

He nodded, a determined frown formed on his lips. "The Nevarkis brats refuse to let us live in peace." He moved to stand before the window that looked out toward the kingdom he had once lived in.

High in the mountains, the couple and those like them had found sanctuary. They built a kingdom, one of darkness and shadow that allowed them to live freely. He and Kenna were crowned the rulers, chosen by their people...those that were cursed as monsters.

"Si and I will be standing guard." He explained. "I will not risk you or our child."

"Dom..." Kenna pulled him close, capturing his lips in a long tender kiss. "This must end. I was foolish to let my need for revenge take over." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Luthor might have left us alone if I had given him a chance."

Dom's face contorted into furious hatred. "A Nevarkis can never be trusted!" He gripped her waist, hands heating as he lost his temper. "He would have plunged a dagger into your heart the first chance he had."

"Dom." She said softly when he singed her clothes.

He wrenched his hands from her with a grimace. "I didn't burn you, did I?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She tried to lighten the mood. "Just a little overheated."

He took deep breaths to get himself under control. "Stay here where it is safe." His eyes searched hers. "Have you fed recently?"

"No, but I should be fine until you return." Kenna lifted a bottle with blood for their son. "I can call on one of the servants to help me if I need to."

"Promise me you won't go outside." He pleaded.

"Only if you promise to come back to me." She responded.

His lips quirked in that cocky smile she has always adored.

"Always, my queen." He kissed her once more, then slipped out the door to search out their enemies.

******************

Present Day New York...

"Cordonia...land of both beauty and mystery." Riley wrinkled her nose. "Boring."

"No, it isn't." Hana argued. "I think that is the perfect beginning."

"Look at the comments from our last video." Riley swiveled her laptop so her friend could see. "People love our walkthroughs and all but hate my narration."

"Well..." Hana's brow furrowed. "Maybe we should try to add more to it than just narration." She pulled out some sketches. "We could add some animation of the history before showing our footage of the country."

"That might work." Riley mumbled, tapping her pen against her notebook.

The two set to work planning their next project.

After years of trying, they had finally achieved their dream of traveling for a living. The two college friends had taken every class they could on how to make their hopes into a reality. With Riley's love of history and business and Hana's talent with art and fashion, the pair had created a successful travel channel that showcased rarely visited countries and cities around the world.

Hana took care of all the shopping and dining found at their chosen destinations. Her "day trips" were hailed as must see for anyone planning a vacation. Riley took over for what could be found at night. Myths and legends blended in with what could be discovered once the sun set. A place's nightlife was thoroughly researched and reached a wide variety of their audience, causing many to plan a vacation just on her recommendations alone.

"Did your mom suggest where we should go first?" Riley asked, after skimming the same few articles about the elusive country.

"Not really." Hana hedged.

Riley glanced up. "Is she giving you a hard time again?"

"Yes." Hana slumped in her chair. "She told me to call when I was done playing tour guide."

"Geez." Riley grumbled. "Does she not realize that we have created a legit business?"

"Ladies shouldn't be involved in anything that does not pertain to their husband and family." Hana quoted. "I was supposed to have my debut to Cordonian society last year." Angry tears filled her eyes. "She still hasn't forgiven me for missing out on the Masquerade Ball."

Riley wrapped her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry."

Hana patted her back. "Don't be. I finally feel like I can accomplish anything."

"That's because you can." Riley sat back with a grin. "Especially with planning out what we should focus on first."

Hana giggled as she went to search out some of her old books she had inherited from her grandparents. "These might help you with your part."

Riley's eyebrows lifted over the titles. "The Crown, the Flame, and The Night Queen."

"That is the earliest recorded story of vampires and monsters in Cordonia." Hana explained. "Queen Kenna Rhys and King Luthor Nevarkis both fought over uniting the kingdoms that make up Cordonia." She shook her head in disbelief. "There is a legend that Queen Kenna was a vampire that married a man who could transform into a dragon."

"For real?" Riley eagerly opened the book. "What happened?"

"Luthor died." Hana reached for another history book. "Some say it was a sword fight while others say she ripped his throat out with her fangs."

"Whoa. Either way, she sounds pretty epic."

"His son got revenge though." Hana flipped to another chapter. "He sneaked in one day and supposedly dragged Kenna into the sunlight. Before her husband could save her, she burned to ash."

"Brutal." Riley shivered. "What did the dragon do?"

Hana shrugged. "Supposedly he left with their child to protect him." She pointed at some drawings rendered from the Dark Ages. "Kenna's son came back to extract revenge. He eliminated one entire side of the Nevarkis family tree."

"And let me guess," Riley picked up another book. "The remaining Nevarkis's struck back?"

"It's supposedly been a feud for centuries between the Nevarkis and the Rhys' families." Hana pulled up an image on her phone. "Though one is currently ruling Cordonia."

Riley studied the image. "Queen Olivia Nevarkis. Looks like the Rhys lost the throne."

Hana shrugged. "There's a myth that they still rule Cordonia from the shadows."

"Mythical royal vampires, huh?" Riley laughed at the thought. "I hope I bump into one just so I can figure out who's really in charge."

Hana giggled at the thought. "You would be the only person to ask a logical, government question instead of the usual, whoa you're a real live vampire!"

Riley threw a pillow at her. "Hey! I can be calm and collected when faced with the unknown."

Hana threw the pillow back. "Tell that to the supposed haunted house we visited on our last trip." She broke out into laughter with Riley's defense that squeaking doors were the true villains. "On that note, I'm going to start packing. Our flight leaves first thing in the morning."

"I'll be ready." Riley promised.

Once alone, she flipped to a more current timeline of the supposed Dark Kingdom.

King Constantine Rhys the Third rules over what is his rightful kingdom. Rumors swirl that he is simply biding his time until he can eliminate the usurper, Queen Olivia Nevarkis, First of Her Name. The people know that one day, a Rhys will sit upon the throne, uniting the Dark Kingdom and Cordonia once and for all.

****************

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah! Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

*************

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

*****************

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

********************

The Lee Residence, Shanghai, China...

Lorelei paled as she reread the report.

It can’t be. Not Now!

Of all the times for this to happen, it would be when her stubborn, foolish daughter decided to visit.

Given the nature of her relationship with Hana, she knew that there was no way she could convince her to postpone her trip to Cordonia.

There was only one course of action left to take. She would have to call the one man who was capable of protecting her daughter. She would promise hiim anything as long as he kept Hana out of Liam’s clutches. As much as wanted her to give up this ridiculous hobby she called a job and settled down with the right sort of man, she would never put her in the path of becoming the next vampire queen.

Setting down the packet of information from one of her informants, she checked to make certain no servant was out in the hallway and then searched for the needed phone number.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the call.

Her trepidation grew when he didn’t immediately answer.

"Hello."

"Lord Beaumont?"

"Yes." She could hear a door closing in the background. "Who is this?"

"Lorelei Lee." She replied.

"Lady Lorelei." He responded with a recognition. "How can I help you?"

"My daughter and her friend have got it in their heads to come visit Cordonia." She began. "I'm not certain how long they intend to stay, but I was hoping that I could retain your services."

"For what exactly?" Lord Beaumont asked.

"Protection." She replied. "I have heard through certain channels that the dark prince is beginning to search for a bride." She took a deep breath. "We do NOT want our daughter anywhere near that vile creature."

"I understand." He replied. "I usually don't do personal security. With my brother, Bertrand, retired," he hesitated, "it is left up to me to help protect Cordonia's borders."

"My husband and I would be in your debt if you could watch over her in the evenings." Lorelei cajoled. "I've heard that your brother is planning on extending his vineyards. We would be more than happy to invest in the production and distribution of his sparkling wine. Perhaps even let it be the only sparkling wine we serve in our hotels."

"Send me her information and picture. Call her and tell her that since our family is an old friend of yours, that I've volunteered to show them around. Find out where she's staying and when she plans on arriving."

"Oh thank you, my lord. We--"

"I'll also need a contract prepared and signed for all that you offered." He added.

"Yes of course. I'll get everything to you at once." She promised.

Once he ended the call, she sank back down onto her chair.

She bowed her head and began to pray that her daughter came to no harm these next few weeks. To lose Hana to one of the many creatures that roamed the night in Cordonia was too horrible to even contemplate.

If anyone could keep her daughter safe then it was none other than Lord Maxwell Beaumont.

#liam x riley #choices the royal romance #hana x rashad #leo x madeleine #maxwell x oc #olivia nevrakis #drake walker #trr dark au #vampire au

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