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daycourtofficial · 2 days

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One single thread of gold tied me to you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 6.2k | Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, piv, foodplay (chocolate), oral (f and m receiving)

Summary: After a century of waiting, Eris and his mate finally have a few days to themselves to accept the mating bond.

Author's note: this is technically part of my gingerfucker series but it can be read as a standalone. Big thanks to @basketoffish for help with plotting the idea for it and for helping me edit ❤️ The people have been frothing and yearning for this and who am I deny such want any longer?

Eris never had good timing. Born too soon, bearing the brunt of his father’s cruelties. Born into a war he was too young to fight in, but too old to stay at home.

All of his poor timing was worth it for this perfect opportunity. Beron would be away for three days and three nights to improve relations with Tarquin, the newest High Lord of the Summer Court. Beron went alone - he perceived it as much more intimidating to go alone (perhaps inspired by Tamlin’s appearance in the High Lord’s meeting a few years ago, winnowing in completely unaccompanied). Beron failed to recognize Tamlin’s appearance was much bolder - he knew he would face scrutiny, but still made an appearance without anyone at his side. Beron merely did it because he wanted to look more intimidating.

Nonetheless, Eris was able to send word to you with enough time for you to rearrange your royal appearances to carve out this time with him - an entire three day span, just the two of you. Three days felt like a lifetime when the two of you were only able to schedule hour-long secret meetings.

Once, in a desperate bid just to have your scent on him, you two had met for a total of twenty minutes.

Your rendezvous were often short, full of imminent risk and danger of being caught. Today felt like a blessing from the Mother, as if she were granting her star crossed lovers a vacation, a peek into what life could be like - what life will be like one day.

You two just had to be patient.

Even an entire court away, Beron would know someone from the Night Court was on his land. Perhaps not immediately, but he would know before your three days were over. So the two of you met in the Winter Court, in a cabin you were gifted a long, long time ago. A cabin you’ve gone to on occasion over the years, whenever you needed to get away and be alone. You had set the trap perfectly for your family - you were getting into petty squabbles the entire week, picking fights with Cassian and Mor left and right that left the two of them reeling with annoyance.

Your brother tired of it quite quickly, clocking it for what he thought it was.

“Perhaps you should spend a weekend away, star.”

His tone was full of concern, for this was how you always were before retreating to your hidden cabin. Irritable, crabby, unable to have decent conversation with anyone without leading them into a spiral of anger.

“I’m fine,” you reply, intentionally clipping the words to make yourself seem in a much worse state than you were. “Besides, I have some scheduled meetings this weekend.”

Rhys nods, “Feyre has agreed to take over any duties you have that can’t be rescheduled.”

You perked up at that, feeling a little bad at the generosity of his mate. You hadn’t felt easy about this plan - preying upon your family to get what you wanted wasn’t a regular occurrence for you.

But you refused to let any negative feelings about what you were doing get in the way of seeing your mate.

“Are you sure, Rhys?”

He waves a hand, “Go, please only return once you feel rested and headache-free. Cassian is quite adept at giving migraines.”

You smile, “so no one will bother me?”

He sighs at your continued questioning, “no, star. I think we’d be too afraid to bother you, except for Amren. And she’s in Summer for who knows how long.”

He stands up, crossing the room to you, his long legs practically gliding across the floor. He wraps you in his arms, squeezing you tightly before kissing you on the top of your head. He gently sways the two of you as you wrap your arms around him.

“Thanks, Rhys.”

He lays his head on top of your own, “just send word if you’ll be gone longer than a week. I just want to know you’re alive out there.”

This cabin was a frequent rendezvous point for the two of you, much cozier than the large clearings and forests you two otherwise frequent. The cabin was more ideal, however Eris couldn’t deny how incredible it felt to be inside of you as he leaned you up against various trees in the forest, the leaves crunching beneath his boots as he thrusted over and over into you.

His cock twitched at the thought as he walked towards the front door of the cabin. The door groaned slightly as he entered, marking his entrance. He felt the slight magical barrier ripple as he passed the threshold. He shut the door behind him, taking in the small, two bedroom cabin before him.

The place was quaint and cozy, an insult he would use to describe Rhysand’s absurdly large and ornate homes, but for you it was a testament to how infectious the comfort you radiated was.

It permeated every surface - the walls, covered in various portraits and landscape paintings, along with shelves of books and trinkets.

His scent was stale from the last time he was here, but yours was fresh, as was the smell of some delicious meats and fresh breads. He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the door, catching a glimpse of you as you pittered about the kitchen. He crossed his arms over his chest, allowing himself a moment to think of what his life could be like if the two of you were ordinary fae.

He would come home from whatever job he had, perhaps a scholar of some kind, leaving at the same time every day to come home to his mate.

You two would clean your house together, bickering over your inability in any universe to put dirty socks in the hamper, and how in every universe feet would continue to make Eris shudder in disgust. In any other life, he would be thrilled to experience monotony with you.

But he’s not in another life, one of openness and free-flowing adoration, one free of constant plotting and scheming, earning favors wherever he can. He’s in this one - the reality where no one knows about the two of you, because once they do it will become an inter-court political nightmare. It is a life of stolen glances, hidden messages, and secret meetings under the moonlight, but it is a life that belongs to him, when for so long his life was not his own.

Eris would love you in all lives, your soul reaching to him in every iteration and reincarnation of the two of you. If the two of you were nothing but bacteria living on the same organism’s skin, he would find you. He would know it was you, no matter what shade of organism you wore.

The bond hums in your chest, tugging you to look towards the door where you know Eris is standing and watching. You continue the task at hand, not wanting anything to miss your notice. The bond deep inside of you grows more and more insistent, screaming at you to smell him, taste him, feel him, here, here, here. He’s here, in your house, and you need to look, look, look.

You let Eris come to you, just as you always had, just as you always will. You’re slicing bread, placing the pieces in the bottom of the bowls when the smell of petrichor and caramel hits your nose, a warm presence at your back.

“Good evening, my fox.”

His face burrows into your neck at the nickname, melting into everything that was you. His arms wrapped around you, hands meeting yours. His fingers pull the knife from your grip, gently placing it down on the cutting board.

“What are you doing, my evening star?” His voice is purposefully low in your ear, causing goosebumps to trail down your neck, his hands warming your fingers.

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

His soft chuckle warms your chest, the bond constricting around your heart at his amusement.

“Are you cooking?”

“Yes, Er.”

“I’m surprised your wraiths didn’t prepare anything for you.”

“They did,” you hum, turning in his arms, his amber eyes meeting yours, not quite certain of what they’re seeing.

His hands meet your hips, his touch warm on your skin, and you circle your arms around his neck, fingers raking through his hair at the root.

He hums at your touch, his face swooping down to kiss your forehead.

You look up at him under your eyelashes, his nose and cheeks littered with freckles, mapping out where home was. You point your head in the direction of two large picnic baskets, one of which was opened for Eris to see various jars of jams and breads.

“Why would you-” his words fall short, his thoughts racing through his mind. They stream by in words and bits of phrases, but no completed thoughts make their way through the whirl and swirl of mate, food, and bond.

He short circuits, not quite grasping what you’re getting at.

“I have never gotten to cook for you,” you shrug nonchalantly.

His eye twitches, still not understanding.

“You’re cooking… for me?” His words come out slow and uncertain, as if the mere concept of someone choosing to do something like this was absolutely foreign to him. You nod slowly, not used to seeing Eris so incapable of understanding.

“But if you-“

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll-“

“Yes.”

“Are you-“

“Yes.”

He stills, his thumb lightly brushing against your hip. Your eyes are open and bright, wanting to convey to him the certainty you felt. You lightly tug on the bond connecting the two of you and he rubs his chest at the feeling.

It’s quiet as the snow falls outside, unaware of the monumental decision you had decided on once Eris’s letter had arrived earlier in the week. You had spent the past few months researching traditional autumn foods, preparing for this day. You had known for quite a while you were going to accept the bond, you just didn’t know when the two of you would have the chance to spend more than a few fleeting hours together. You had sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother when you received Eris’s letter, soft prayers echoing through your mind each night ensuring this would all work.

“Is everything ready?”

His eyes peer into yours, a vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see, even you. His words come out soft and slightly timid, as if he’s worried he’ll scare you off.

“Yes, we just have to bring the food to the table.”

“May I help?” He doesn’t move towards the food, but one of his hands twitches, moving imperceptibly closer to you.

“I would appreciate that.”

It’s quiet as you two move to the food, grabbing platters and bowls to bring to the table. Once the table is full, a three course meal laid out in front of the two of you, the reality set in a bit. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Eris, but you were slightly concerned you were forcing his hand with this.

This was always ‘someday’, but now it was here and you didn’t know how he truly felt about it. That was until he grabbed your plate, placing the still warm pita in front of you. You placed a piece of pita on his own plate, and he looked at the baba ganoush before him, its texture so unlike anything he had seen in Autumn. “What do I do?”

You ripped a piece of your pita off, dipping it into the bowl, grabbing some of the baba ganoush on it before offering it to him. He inspects the piece, before doing the same with his own piece of pita, bringing the piece to your mouth.

“Eat. This might be the last time we’re rational enough for food.”

The two of you bite down on the pita, the warmth of the bread with the chill of the baba ganoush, the smoky, rich flavor exploding in your mouths. The room immediately shifted with the scent of your mixed arousals, but the two of you ignored it. His fingers lingered on your mouth, swiping at your lips before ripping off another piece of pita.

Heat was coursing through your veins, Eris’s emotions thrumming through you at a higher intensity. He felt electric in your veins.

You continue feeding each other until the pita’s gone and your attention shifts to the bouillabaisse. In similar fashion, the two of you poured the soup into the bowls with the bread before setting them down. You were thrumming, every part of you screamed to be closer to him, your thoughts having a background loop of mate, mate, mate.

“How did you know about bouillabaisse?”

Eris’s words send heat through you - his voice, soft and low, the actual words not registering with your insatiable need for him.

“Beg your pardon?”

His smirk is feline as he knows exactly why you didn’t hear him, but he repeats his question with no teasing.

“I um, found it a few months ago - I was in Dawn and a little restaurant served it.”

You could feel the sweat on your brow as you watched Eris’s fingers bring another spoonful to his mouth. You thought about all the things he could do with those fingers, that mouth, that tongue-

“Nobody in Dawn serves this. It is a regional dish, more specifically it is only found on the seaside of Autumn.”

Busted.

You take another bite of the soup, the flavors so different from Night Court cuisine, but you weren’t complaining. Several of the fish in the soup were only found along the coast of Autumn and Winter, some making it as far north as Dawn.

“I may have perused some Autumn Court restaurants when I was visiting once.”

Eris stretches out the fingers of his hand, moving his long fingers in torturous preparation before placing his hand on your thigh. His touch was so warm, you began pulling at the collar of your dress to let the heat escape, biting your lip to keep the moan from escaping.

“When were you allowed in Autumn?”

“Fine,” your voice came out sharp, the room much too hot for an interrogation, “I snuck into Autumn a few months ago trying to find something to make you for this. I tried a bouillabaisse at this incredible little restaurant and I paid them an exorbitant amount of gold to teach me how to make it and to not tell anyone I was there. I slipped back in yesterday to pick up the fish in this soup.”

His fingers dance about on your thigh, and you take a quick glance down at his pants, your body growing warmer at his cock pressing across his pants, desperate to be released. You can’t move your eyes away from it - knowing how it looked, how it felt in your mouth, how it tasted - you were about to start drooling before Eris’s hand came up and closed your jaw.

“Strip.”

Eris’s words were a demand, full of power and need.

“But we still have dess-“

Your words died on your tongue as Eris began unbuttoning his shirt, your eyes caught on his lean chest, littered with freckles. You were in need, too, practically salivating at your mate’s display of his body, and you can’t quite remember why you wanted him to finish the whole meal.

He huffs over to you, his hands grabbing the fabric of your dress, ripping it in half down the middle. You gasp as the cold air meets your skin, somehow making your nipples even harder.

You stare at him wide eyed, even more aroused than before. At this point, you knew your panties were doing very little to keep your arousal from coating your thighs.

“You took too long,” he snarls, undoing the ties of his pants.

You had begun pulling the remnants of your dress off your shoulder, but stopped to watch your mate hook his thumbs into his trousers and pull them down, letting his cock free.

You move forward, ready to jump on Eris, but his hand on your chest stops you, eliciting a whine from you. His other hand grabs the molten chocolate cake you had made, slowly lifting it out of the ramekin. He holds it delicately in his hand, the other hand on your chest moving up to your hair, tugging gently on the strands to pull you towards him.

Your chests were touching, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. He blazed with heat, his cock hard with need pressed into your stomach. His cheeks are dusted with pink and his blood was boiling inside of him, but he moved ever so slowly, his fingers meeting your chin. He looked into your eyes, the two of you the only beings in the world right now.

“My mate.”

Anything could be happening outside of the walls of this cabin. The snow could have all melted, a heat wave sending the Winter Court into chaos, and you wouldn’t know. All you would know was Eris’s gaze on you, mapping out every inch of your body so he can remember every detail correctly when he thinks about this once you two are apart. His thumb applied pressure on your chin, opening your mouth. He placed the cake in your mouth, whispering, “don’t bite, not yet.”

You moved your hands to his hips, holding onto him. One of his hands moves to help hold the cake up, his other holding onto your neck. He puts the other end of the small cake into his mouth and lightly tugs on the bond. You both bite into it, the liquid chocolate center immediately cascading down and coating both of your chests. You both make quick work of finishing the remainder of the cake, tearing and gnawing at the soft dessert until you finish it off. He catches your lips in a kiss, the taste of the chocolate a luxury on his tongue.

You jump, feet slipping slightly on the bits of chocolate that made it to the floor. Eris’s arms catch underneath your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips. He lays you down on the table, moving his lips from your mouth, down the column of your throat, down your chest. You’re pulsing with need, desperate to feel any friction from him. You thrust your hips up, desperate to meet any feeling of him against you. His arm moves across your hips, pushing you down against the table. He shakes his head as he keeps kissing down your stomach, lifting his arm for a ring of fire to take its place around your waist.

He skips over where you want him, instead moving his head down to your thigh, licking up towards your hips. His tongue was hot as it slid up your inner thigh, lapping up the chocolate that had dripped down it. Your breathing was ragged as you felt his hot tongue growing closer and closer to you, and it felt like it was getting warmer the further it moved up your thigh.

You looked down at him, his amber eyes that were full of heat all you can see of his face as his tongue finally slips between your folds. You moan at the contact, throwing your head back and hitting it harshly against the table. The pain didn’t register, not as Eris - your mate - was moving his tongue as if he knew every part of you, as if he knew exactly how you felt as he would warm and cool his tongue at his leisure. He lifted his mouth just an inch, his words slightly muffled by your body.

“You taste of desperation. It’s delicious.”

You moan at his words, and he flicks your clit with his tongue. His hands warm on your thighs, pressing them further apart. He slips his tongue back through your folds, your hands gripping onto his hair to keep his mouth on you. He grabs your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders before one of his hands disappears. You are writhing on the table, his grip on you lighting your skin on fire. The room grows heavier with the scent of his arousal, and you twitch your ears at the new sound in the room.

He was moaning into your pussy, the vibrations coursing through your body as you realized the hand that left you was wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously. The thought of him being so aroused at eating you out that he has to touch himself sends you over the edge, your thighs clenching over his ears as you finish on his tongue. Your breathing was heavy, and Eris’s tongue did not let up, lapping like a starved male. You pulled him up by his hair, bringing your face to his. Your tongue swipes into his mouth, tasting a combination of yourself and chocolate on his mouth. You grab his shoulders, deepening the kiss as you flip him onto his back, pressing him onto the table. His hands grip onto your hips, trying to push you onto him, desperate for any touch from you. He whimpers as you tug his hair, pulling him into you.

You place teasing bites as you move down his torso, leaving mark after mark in a line towards his happy trail. You purposefully rub your breasts against his cock, smiling up at him as he groans, your breath hot on his crotch.

You lick from underneath his shaft, your tongue slowly moving from the base to the tip before putting his cock completely in your mouth. He tasted like cinnamon with a little salt, the chocolate flavor on your tongue making him taste incredible. His hands move, gripping onto your hair as he chants your name - a prayer, a plea, you weren’t sure. Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock and his hips thrusted trying to push himself deeper into your mouth.

You wanted to tease him about needing to touch himself while his mouth was on you, but you felt the same compulsions as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. You resist the urge to move your fingers to yourself by digging your nails into Eris’s thighs, leaving half moon indents. His grip grew tighter on your hair, pushing your head down harder as he got closer to finishing, his moans filling the cabin as he finished, the hot taste of cinnamon filling your mouth and coating your throat as you swallow it. You pull your mouth off of him, his cock twitching again at the look you give him as you lick your lips.

He growled and you swiped your tongue up his still hard cock. He lunged for you, jumping off the table before his teeth sink onto your nipple, pulling the skin with his teeth. You gasp, pinching his nipple back in response.

“Do you think there’s something there about eating to accept the bond and what we just did?”

You waggle your brows at him, but his eyes are a bottomless pit of black. Gone are the amber hues of fallen leaves, replaced by an endless void of hunger. You lean up to kiss him, the taste of both of you swirling between your tongues. You start walking backward, knocking into one of the chairs. He catches you, one arm hooking around your waist.

His pointer finger moves up from your belly button to your neck, swiping up the chocolate left behind. He puts his finger in your mouth, having you suck the chocolate off.

“Maybe we should get cleaned up.”

You smiled around his finger, swirling your tongue around it as you looked up at him from under your lashes. You nodded, taking his whole finger into your mouth. He breathes in deeply through his nose, his eyes swirling with desire before you. His other arm loops around your waist, carrying you through the cabin. Your giggles echoed down the hallway as Eris moved the two of you into the bathroom. He doesn’t set you down, shifting instead to hold you up against the wall with one arm while he turns the shower on.

The water started cascading down the both of you, sweeping the remnants of the chocolate down the drain. Your feet hit the floor as Eris pushes the two of you forward, your back hitting the wall. The water fell over your face, making it hard to see him, but you could feel everything about him. You felt his skin on yours, your chests pushed together. You felt his emotions thrumming inside of you, bouncing everywhere, filling every available space. You had heard of the bond being accepted as an all-consuming thing, but you found any previous descriptions to be wholly inadequate. Every inch of you burned for him, thrumming with need to be near, to have him with you, to have him inside of you.

He grabs the bar of soap from the shower, lathering it onto a wet washcloth before rubbing it against your body, rubbing the chocolate from both yours and his skin.

“I never thought accepting the bond would be so messy.”

Eris’s hand guided the wash cloth across your shoulders, your sternum, before taking his time as he rubbed it against your breasts. His thigh slid between your legs, separating them. Lean muscle pressed against your cunt as you sank onto his thigh. His lips were on your mouth as you ground onto his thigh. He tossed aside the washcloth, his hands gripped your hips, harshly moving you against his thigh.

“My beautiful, beautiful mate.”

His voice was husky, echoing through the shower, further cementing that feeling he was everywhere.

“Gonna fall apart on my thigh?”

His lips move down your neck, teeth sinking into skin.

“We have all weekend for me to put every part of me to good use.”

You threw your head back, hitting the wall softly. One of Eris’s hands moves behind your head, cushioning the blow. His grip is unforgiving as he continues moving you, his thigh rubbing your clit so perfectly. Eris looked so beautiful before you, his pale skin a soft shade of pink from the heat radiating off of him.

His irises have shrunk enough for you to see a slither of the amber you love so much. You could feel him thrumming in your chest and you swore if you looked down, the room would be alight with the gold tie between you two. You gripped his shoulders as he pressed his thigh into harder, sending you over the edge.

You’re reeling from the orgasm, but Eris’s grip doesn’t let up. He uses his other leg to spread your legs again, and his hands move down to your ass, picking you up before sliding his cock into you. It feels right when he’s inside of you, the pounding in your head subsiding, the heat dissipating for just a moment before it was replaced with the need for more, more, more.

Your head moves across the tiled wall as Eris thrusts into you. You grip his hair, pulling his face to you again before kissing his mouth, needing to feel him everywhere. You’re all teeth as you nip and bite across his neck, up his jaw, on his earlobes. The shower does little to hide the whimper he lets out.

His fingers grab your face, pulling you from his ear to his mouth. He kisses you hard and passionately before pulling out of you and turning you around. Your hands press into the wall as his hands roam down the sides of your body, sending chills throughout you.

One of his hands ran through your hair, wrapping it around his hand, the other wrapping around your waist, holding your back to his chest. The water streamed down the two of you, but you hardly noticed as he kissed your neck, pushing you against the wall.

You moan, pushing your ass against his cock. He growls as one of his hands traces from your hip down to your upper inner thigh, gripping tightly.

He bit your shoulder blade, pushing deeper inside of you. The pressure inside of you kept building, the water streaming across your skin growing hotter. Your blood was boiling, you weren’t sure where you stopped and Eris began. His thrusts became harder and more erratic, his fingers gripping so tightly you were sure they’d bruise.

Eirs held you in an iron grip as he came inside of you, his release causing you to finish again. Arms braced against the wall as you panted heavily, Eris softly pulled himself out of you. His hands rubbed down your arms, and you stood up straighter, albeit on shaky legs. His eyes were roaming your body, looking over all the marks leftover from your tryst. The two of you were no strangers to rougher sex - most of the time you two were only able to satiate each other against a tree for mother’s sake. The tiles were no concern to you, but you knew Eris felt something deeper within him, guilt perhaps at how little control he had and the marks a reminder of that. Having a bond was new, but accepting the bond was utter chaos. A thousand emotions rattled through you, unsure of who they truly belonged to the most dominant ones were to protect and to fuck.

Eris slipped his arm out of the shower, his head going with it. You took the moment to gaze down at his ass, the little freckles scattered across it gave you the urge to bite the plump flesh. He came back in fully with a washcloth, and your gaze softened. You reach out, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

“Er, I don’t care, we’ll probably be going at it again in twenty minutes.”

Despite your protests, he broke free of the loose grip you had on him. He brought the cloth up under the water, letting it get properly drenched.

“I know.”

He moved the washcloth down between your legs, his touch impossibly gentle compared with the male who was gripping your hips hard enough to bruise moments ago.

“We’ve just never gotten to have this part before.”

You think back to all the times you two have met - in the woods, in secure cabins, in closets to find that he was right. Every moment alone the two of you had counted, and neither of you were ever able to linger for long after sex.

Another thing the secrecy cost the both of you.

He looked to you, asking silent permission, and you nod. He moved the washcloth, cleaning the remnants of himself off of you. He rinsed the washcloth again before moving it across your skin - your stomach, your shoulders, your arms. He lingered, taking the time to clean every inch of you. He laughed, pointing out you still had some chocolate behind your ear. Once he finished, he reached to turn off the shower, but your hand stopped his.

His eyes are assessing as you slowly grab the washcloth from him, your own eyes reflecting his previous question. He nods, and you start your own work of cleaning him. Your eyes trail his body, taking in how vulnerable he is in this moment. You hummed softly, the tune of some song you can’t recall the name of. The sound makes some of the emotions inside of you die down a bit, replaced by a calmer feeling. Eris tips his head down as you wipe at his back, the scars there almost mirrors of your own.

The cloth moves down him, but you stop to kiss a few of the scars on his upper back. Once you’re done, you drop the washcloth on the floor, wrapping your arms around his torso. Eris’s hand reaches out, shutting off the shower, but not making any indication he wants to move.

Eris’s love sitting inside of you felt different to the love you felt for him - synonyms, perhaps. But not quite the same.

After several minutes, you grabbed some towels from the cabinets, offering one to Eris. He slings it around his hips lazily, lifting you into his arms. You had barely wrapped yourself in the towel before he scooped you up.

The two of you land on the bed, decadent in shades of blue across the massive sea of blankets and pillows. The only reminder that neither of you were in your home courts. Eris taps your chest, the reminder you felt about having to leave him leaking over to his side of the bond.

You two settle on the pillows, discarding your towels to lay beneath the large duvet. You climbed on top of him, settling on his chest. His cock grew hard again, and you moved so you could settle with him inside of you.

You traced your fingers over his freckles, connecting them with your finger. “I can make constellations out of them,” you tell him.

The roar has subsided enough for you to feel like a person again rather than a beast. You know it’ll come back, in minutes or seconds you weren’t sure, but you wanted to spend whatever time with him like this that you could.

Eris thrusts softly inside of you, watching your eyes look for patterns in the freckles across his cheeks.

“Perhaps you can make me a constellation that will always lead me to you.”

You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss him softly. Your mate. You feel the pit inside of you start to roar, but you swallow it down, opting instead to search inside of yourself, finding that golden thread tethering you to him, and pulling.

“It appears I already have.”

He flips the two of you, laying you on your back as he slowly puts himself inside of you again. He fills you up completely, reaching the base of his cock before stopping and just staying there.

“Mm, Eris.”

He smiles, his arms landing on each side of your face, caging you in. He moves a few strands of hair out of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.

He smiles down at you, his freckles dancing across his face, the sunlight illuminating his hair to look as if it were made of flame.

His fingers tangle in your hair, lightly holding on.

“You are everything to me.”

His voice comes out soft and slightly shaky, as if the admission were almost painful. He began thrusting slowly, but this felt different. Anyone who had ever thought Eris Vanserra incapable of being soft should see him now.

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

His thrusts became faster with each word, but not harsher.

“I will always take care of you.”

Your fingers grip his shoulders, your thumb softly rubbing the skin.

“And I you.”

You were reaching that peak again, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t feral, the need to satiate the physicality of the bond, but rather to remind yourself that you two were bound together, forever.

“I love you, mate.”

His words have you seeing stars, and you practically feel yourself leave your body, but you hear yourself say, “and I love you,” as Eris finishes inside of you.

He collapses on you, his cock still inside of you. You both are breathing heavily, unable to get enough air into your lungs. He collapses on top of you, his arms digging beneath you to wrap you in an embrace.

No touch was enough, even as you wrapped your own arms around him, peppering kisses into the side of his head. The two of you lay there, eventually Eris peaks his head out from your neck to watch the snow fall outside the window. You think about the many lives you could lead with Eris Vanserra - how much simpler your lives could be if you were born of different circumstances.

But those Erises wouldn’t be the one laying on top of you now. They wouldn’t have as sharp of a tongue as he does, or perhaps their noses wouldn’t slant the same way his does. You could lead a thousand lifetimes with a thousand Erises, each one different from the next. Your thumb grazes his cheek, deciding that easy was never meant for you. It was never meant for Eris, either.

In those thousand lifetimes, the only edge they have on this one is the ability for you two to be more free about your love.

You wouldn’t have to return to your respective homes, glamouring the scent of your mating bond from those around you in a bid to mitigate the unwanted comments from those around either of you. Beron would be excited, an intercourt mating would come with tremendous benefits for him. Rhysand would be pissed, your entire family shocked at the secret, unable to bite their tongues from disrespecting your mate with the twisted truths.

Secrets can only last for so long. They all get spoken at some point, and one day everyone will know how you have been carrying Eris’s love for years, how it has carried you for much longer than you thought, and how it will still carry you wherever you need to go.

Even when it’s in the opposite direction of him.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Eris taglist: @secret-third-thing

Thanks for reading 💕

#gingerfucker #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x you

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natalchartnurtures · 2 days

Text

PAC: Energy Check~ for wherever you are right now

This was completely unplanned but frankly spirit doesn't give a fuck about my plans. So if this found you, here are some messages you probably need right now-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pile 1: Ooh.. as I was preparing to start your reading, I saw 11:11 as the Chariot card showed up for you. This. Tells me that you are pretty strongly connected to your divine path right now, which simply means that you're doing something that's keeping you in alignment, sweet pile one! Good job! Keep going down this road because you WILL stumble upon amazing experiences and people! This message is coming through quite strongly. Now, isn't that lovely? Hehe.

Here's the thing, though.. Although you're actually IN alignment with your greatest timeline and life, you seem to be completely UNAWARE of the fact! You might be going through the necessary purging emotionally and/or mentally as a result of this alignment since the "old stuff" has no more room in your new vibration anymore. So, you've probably had to go through some intense endings and/or tower moments in life lately and THIS has left you feeling really, really sad. Maybe even depressed. For some of you, if that's the case, please seek help, sweet soul. It doesn't have to be therapy but even as simple as talking to a trusted loved one, you know? Or even journaling about it could help if you're into it. It seems like you could use a new perspective on the things you're going through right now. I'm sensing that you might be feeling emotionally numb right now too, but that's because you've been doing a lot of emotional processing lately AND IT'S ALL PAYING OFF. I just need you to know that. You just can't see it right now because you're slap dead in the middle of the storm, and I'm looking at it from a bird's eye view, you know?

While you're purging old stuff, I also see you making your way through an old core belief - "I gotta work hard to be deserving of anything because I inherently don't" Or something along those lines. You may have started purging this belief as a result of life showing you that it's simply not something worth keeping alive inside you. Maybe recently, you caught yourself overworking yourself to death only to receive very little in return (in any area of your life - relationships included) and this experience helped you wake up to this unhelpful belief of yours. You're unlearning this belief as we speak. It's not easy though, but I CAN assure you, you're acing it.

If you find yourself worrying too much about anything and everything or simply feeling a general fear, just know that it's a normal reaction to having things uprooted in your life. Life, right now, is asking you to do your best to focus on what's right in front of you because if you do this, the future is guaranteed to sort itself out. I promise.

I love you so much, pile 1. I see all your hard work and am rooting for you SO hard, bro. Love and light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 2: Seems like to me that y'all have been STUCK in a particular pattern for a while now, maybe years? For some of you folks reading? Let me spell it out for you what this pattern looks like to me - an imbalance of the mind and heart. Too much mind and too little heart. Maybe none at all.

I can't seem to tap into the root of this imbalance, maybe because it's different for each of you reading, OR maybe it's not relevant to us right now because you can simply begin to address this imbalance as you see it in your day-to-day. But I sense that you're really good at addressing things, so once you're conscious of this pattern going on subtly in the background, running your life, you can really do something about this. This pattern may show up as you struggling with feeling fear, and this is blocking you off to one very important thing fear is here to show us, and that is how to support ourselves. If we are afraid of something we desire and have a healthy relationship with fear, we go for the desire while caretaking our fear. I read a quote the other day, it said "Do that thing you love but if you find that you're scared, then go do it scared." The point I'm trying to make is, fear isn't going to go away on its own, it's you who will simply expand your ability to hold space for it AND your desires equally. When you figure out how to do this, magic will happen in your life. You'll find that your unwillingness to caretake your fear only gave you more things to be afraid of (because, hello, Law Of Attraction *lol*), BUT you'll also find that when you radically start taking responsibility for your fear(s), you'll be able to act from a wiser space and be your full badass self. You'll find that there are so many things you CAN do and so much life you CAN live. Everything you've wanted to start doing in life will start to happen almost seamlessly. It WILL surprise you big time. You're currently making your way through an important part of your healing, and that is to hold yourself in all your glory. To hold all parts of yourself, even the ones that are scared shitless. Once you've integrated this segment of your healing, SO many doors will unlock for you. Sweet soul, you have no clue of JUST HOW MANY. And this… is probably because you manifest with your heart primarily (meaning you feel things deeply and so you unknowingly tap into the frequency of what you want easily) and your fear is keeping you stuck in your head, which means you're only 40% of the full You right now, PRIOR the healing of c. You might even feel it sometimes. You might feel like you're only a shell of a person (been there myself, you're not alone in this!). Listen to that feeling. Your truth lies in there. You're meant to be the 100% you, and I see that you're already halfway there!

I love you so much, pile 2, sending you so much light and love. Hope you find the resources you need to make it through to your new life where you live in more love than fear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 3: Man… y'all been fighting for your lives, huh? I see that you may be in the midst of a lot of divinely evoked darkness? Lol, I literally heard that - divinely evoked darkness. Maybe you're going through a dark night of the soul, perhaps? Whatever your're going through though, it seems like you've been hanging on for dear life.

Some good news for you- no matter the circumstances you're in right now (be it good, bad, or terrible), you've been doing all the work necessary to keep your head above water and have been diligently nurturing your own light, positivity, and essence. THAT'S incredible resilience, sweet pile 3, and I'm really proud of you! It's not easy to keep an open heart through bad times, and that's such a grand achievement in my eyes. UGH, BEAUTIFUL.

Your energy SCREAMS transition period vibes. You seem to be neither in your "old" timeline nor in the new one yet. You're sorta hanging in the middle right now. I see the Hanged Man in the third eye as I tell you this. Feels like you're in the void right now, and things just seem… bleh. Boring. Color

less. This is probably because you're already done with the ugly part of the process, "the divine shakeups", the loss, and the purge. Think… the bland but peaceful feeling you feel after having an intense ugly crying session, you know? Yeah, you're energetically there right now. You'll probably be here for a while longer because you've let go of MAJOR stuff, pile 3. Did you let go of people recently, maybe? Or that old bad habit, perhaps? That was the purge, so to speak. And now you're in the aftermath of it all, the uncomfortable but necessary calm.

-Side note: You might've struggled to embody your divine feminine earlier, but the timeline you're entering right now is the exact opposite of that. You might be attracted towards things that will help you nurture your own divine feminine right now. Give into it. Nurture patience, stillness, and compassion for self. It will HOPEFULLY speed up the void period if you consciously take part in it, you know?-

You're quite emotionally intelligent, and it has guided you throughout the whole process, and it also seems like it ain't your first rodeo in the process of proverbial death and rebirth. Good on you because you're doing a real good job keeping your calm through venturing into the unknown. You know what? You remind me of Elsa from Frozen, taking on the unknown like it belongs to her. You are such a queen, omg.

Yep, all that's left to do now is celebrate yourself, pile 3! Try your best to embrace this period, the void, and you'll be on your way to your next happy adventure! Love and light, sweet soul. Thanks for sharing your energy with me today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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vantaeries · 15 hours

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YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE : PICK A PILE

FIRST IMPRESSION VS AFTER THEY KNOW YOU

PILE 1 PILE 2

PILE 3 PILE 4

Hello everyone ! I'm Rin! I'm an intuitive tarot reader. It's been almost one and a half since I've been learning about tarot, divination and astrology so I decided to channel general reading for everyone! It's my first public reading ever, so hopefully you like it

Disclaimer : This is a general reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Remember, the energies can change from time to time. So pick wisely.

How to pick : Close your eyes, take a deep breath and clear your mind. Trust your intuition and choose a pile that you are most drawn to.

PILE 1

At first, they see you as a person they are willing to risk it all for. Anyone who doubts you, your FS is willing to go up against anyone for you. They see someone who is strong for learning from your past mistakes. Due to this, they see you as someone they somewhat fear. 'I want to know them, but what if they reject me? What if they misinterpret my intentions toward them?' They feel stuck. One moment they want to approach you, but then they are afraid to because you are intimidating to them.

After they get to know you better, they start to see you as someone who brings a lot of excitement into their life. They are obsessed and passionate about you! Don't be surprised if they start to become more flirtatious and clingy. Your presence brings a lot of transformative experiences and forces them to step out of their comfort zone or remain stuck in the past.

PILE 2

They think you're driven and hardworking, focused on your future. But because you're so into your work, they feel a bit distant from you and wonder if you're really right for them. Still, they're hopeful they can break down your walls and get to know you better.

As they learn more about you, they realize you're the one they've been searching for. You make their life feel magical, and they're falling for you even more. They start to see they misjudged you at first and want to take their time to be sure. They like you a lot, but they need a bit more time before committing fully. Until then, they see this relationship moving towards something serious, like getting engaged or married.

PILE 3

This person is clearly infatuated with you and sees you as their perfect match. However, they may place unrealistic expectations on you, causing you stress with their demands. They come across as somewhat obsessed with you, finding you incredibly attractive and wanting to exert control. Yet, you stand firm in your strength and maturity, refusing to be manipulated.

When they realize they can't easily sway you, they may begin to distance themselves and keep secrets. You don't need to rescue or change them; instead, show them your strength and worth. As they reflect on their mistakes and change for the better, they'll come to understand and appreciate you more deeply

PILE 4

They view you as an option among several others, still undecided on whether to approach you. Oh! They are a player. You are unapproachable to them because you are playing hard to get but it's just you want to enjoy your single phase. They don't have any strong feelings towards you until they learn more about you. It was your personality that made them attracted to you.

Your strong personality intrigues them, prompting a sense of urgency to pursue you before someone else does, possibly leading to impulsive decisions. It's possible this attraction is one-sided, as some of you may be content with your single status and not anticipate their advances, potentially resulting in rejection. Nonetheless, they're determined not to give up and will strive to impress you, especially in terms of financial achievements, hoping to change your perception of them. They feel insecure and jealous seeing you with others, fearing they may fall short of your standards, prompting them to work hard to improve themselves.

Take care y'all

#tarot reading #tarot #tarot community #free tarot #pick a pile #pick a card #pac reading #tarotblr #divination #future spouse

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virginsexgod69 · 2 days

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Idk why, but I've really been loving the idea of Daryl proposing to reader recently. Like, he was just gonna pop the question in the confines of their own home, but maybe while on a hunt, the reader successfully tracks down and kills a deer on her own without Daryl's help, and while she's excitedly rambling about the fact that she finally did it on her own, Daryl just looks at her and thinks, "yeah, this is the girl I wanna marry," and then unexpectedly just says "marry me". He pulls a ring out and everything. Fluff all the way!

Thank you so much if you write this, but don't feel pressured to! You don't have to write something you don't want to. I completely understand either way. I appreciate you nonetheless 💜

❝ Marry Me ❞

pairing Daryl Dixon x F! Reader

cw killing a deer and some walkers

1.7k words

note this was such a cute idea and i loved writing it so much! i hope you like it and it fits the vision you had! =]

“What’s on your mind, baby?” You asked sleepily, running your fingers through his soft hair as his head rested comfortably on your chest.

“Nothin’,” he lied. He hated lying to you, but he didn’t know how to go about popping the question. Now would have been a nice time, with two of you cuddled comfortably on the couch in the privacy of your own home. Moments like these were some of his favorites with you and adding the memory of a marriage proposal to them would only make these moments better. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t scared you’d say no, in fact he would have bet his life on you saying yes. Yet, each time, the words kept dying on his tongue and the ring weighed heavily in his pocket.

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” You insisted. He looked up at you sweetly and muttered an ‘I know.’ You gave him a sad smile, wishing he’d tell you what he was thinking, but respecting his decision not to.

“I love you, Daryl,” you said dreamily. This was it, the perfect segue into a proposal. He sat up properly and felt around in his pockets for the ring. The words were just about to leave his mouth, but the tired yawn that escaped you interrupted him.

“G’nite,” you muttered as you dozed off. Daryl would never not be amazed at how fast you could go from being wide awake one minute to falling asleep in the next. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and fiddled with the shiny piece of jewelry. It was a small, elegant ring with a fairly thin band and diamond right in the center. Whoever had originally bought it had to have paid a fair amount of money for it, but stuff like that didn’t matter now. Even though you would say yes without a ring, he still wanted to do something nice for you because you deserved it. The weeks of examining the hands of every walker he killed and searching through abandoned cars and buildings all became worth it once he found the perfect ring for you. But somehow, that was the easy part. Finding the right words at the right moment was proving difficult as every minute he wasn’t married to you passed by. He sighed to himself and tucked the ring back into his pocket, disappointed that yet another opportunity slipped by.

He gently lifted you from the couch, taking extra care not to wake you from your peaceful sleep. He carried you up the stairs and into your shared bedroom before pulling back the comforter and sheets and tucking you in. He slid into the bed beside you and you gravitated toward his warmth like you usually did. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Love you, too.”

The sun blooming over the horizon created an orangey hue across the clear sky, illuminating the once dark forest. It became easier to see the tracks of the deer you’ve been tracking since dark morning. Hunting wasn’t something you did before the dead started rising, but it quickly became a necessary skill to have and thankfully, you had Daryl to show you the ropes. He even showed you how to use his crossbow once when you joined him on a hunt way back at the prison. That same day you learned that you preferred a hunting rifle. In return, you shared with him the medical knowledge you had from being a paramedic. The quid pro quo relationship you had with the hunter slowly grew into something more deep and meaningful over time.

Finally, after hours of following the tracks imprinted in the damp earth, you came across a clearing where the doe stood. You aimed the rifle at her, careful not to make any noise and scare her off. Through the scope, you pointed the weapon at the place Daryl taught you to in order to ethically kill it. Just as you were about to press your finger to the trigger, you noticed walkers approaching the doe. Their loud groans and clumsy footsteps spooked her, sending her running into the forest just at the same time you fired your shot.

“Goddamn walkers!” You cursed. You put the safety on your rifle and hung it on your shoulder by the strap. Unsheathing your knife, you entered the clearing and approached the undead beings. You put them both down once they approached you and cleaned your knife on your jeans before putting it back into its sheath. Red blood contrasting on the green grass caught your eye. It belonged to the doe, meaning your shot actually landed and she could be somewhere wounded, or even dead. Excitement increased your heart rate as you followed her blood trail. This was the closest you’ve come to killing a deer on your own. You’ve managed smaller kills, like squirrels, before, but never a deer! You couldn’t tell if you were more excited about actually killing the deer or seeing Daryl’s reaction, but either way you were giddy.

After trekking about a half mile in the direction the doe fled, you finally found her lying in the greenery having succumbed to your shot. You were beaming with happiness as you effortlessly picked her up and carried her across your shoulders. You’ve carried people heavier than her out in the field during your paramedic days.

Daryl nervously fiddled with the ring as leaned over the railing of the front porch, smoking a cigarette. He hated how hopeless he felt when it came to actually proposing to you. With how long the two of you have been together romantically, the ability to propose should have come to him naturally. He knew there was nothing to be nervous about and that he was just psyching himself out and he should just ask you to marry him already. But every time it felt like the right moment to, that feeling was gone once he started digging around in his pocket for the ring.

The sight of you walking toward the house with a big smile on your face and a deer draped over your shoulders snapped him from his thoughts. Maybe it was just the sun shining from behind you, but you were absolutely glowing.

“Daryl!” You shouted excitedly as you increased your walk into a small jog. You set the deer down before hurrying up the porch stairs. He put out his cigarette before you excitedly jumped into his arms, embracing him like you haven’t seen him in months.

“Guess what!” You said as you reluctantly pulled away from the hug.

“Wha?” Based on the deer laying at the base of the stairs he was sure he could tell what happened, but you looked so happy and he wanted to share your excitement and hear you tell him yourself.

“I finally killed a deer! All on my own!” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as pride swelled in his chest. He remembered when he took you hunting with him the first time. You were the one who wanted to go with him and "see what he does when he's off to who knows where for who knows how long." When he finally did, you complained about how boring it was and how all you were doing was looking at dirt and not seeing any animals. But now, here you were with a deer you had hunted all on your own.

"I had been tracking it since way earlier this morning and I almost thought I wasn't gonna catch it but then I saw it in a clearing and so I was gonna shoot it but then walkers got in my way like they usually do, those annoying sons of bitches, and then the deer ran but I had shot at it so then I followed the blood..."

Daryl stared at you in awe as you rambled on about your adventure. The sense of pride and adoration he felt whenever he looked at you, but now especially was overwhelming. You were perfect in every way and he'd be damned if he went another second without being your husband.

"...and then I found it further in the woods and I was just so excited that I finally caught a whole entire deer all on my own for the v—"

"Marry me!" he blurted out suddenly.

"Huh?" You blinked at him in confusion, not sure if you heard him right. As if he suddenly remembered something, he patted all his pockets until he felt the one with the ring in it and pulled it out. The sparkle of the diamond in the sunlight caught your eye.

"Will ya marry me?" he repeated, this time holding out the ring to you. He lowered himself to one knee, still holding out the ring. Your eyes filled with tears, happy tears, and you held out your left hand to him.

"Of course!" you said as he slid the ring onto your fourth finger. It fit almost perfectly. As soon as he stood up from his position on the floor, you jumped into his arms. He caught you and held you tight as you peppered kisses all over his face. He set you back down onto your feet and held your face in his big warms hands, wiping away your tears away with his thumbs.

"I'm so proud of ya fer catchin' that deer all by yerself." The smile that graced his face was contagious.

"Learned from the best," you said, smiling up at him. He leaned down and you met him halfway in a kiss.

"Can't wait to skin this deer with my wife," he said once he pulled away from the kiss.

"Ooh," you exclaimed, giddy at the new title, "Can't wait to eat some venison with my husband!"

thanks for reading!

note i've been a pescatarian for 3-ish years now, but I've been wanting wing-stop, so i got some wing-stop and it was great. thanks for listening

Taglist @banquetwriter @eternalrose81 @the-dixon-effect @dilfsandmartinis @millybaby @daryldixmedown @theoraekenslover @aeriean @lesbian-horror-fan @in-this-minute @paintlavillered @zhannamustdie @thegeorgiahuntsman @bigbaldheadname @Lumi362 @lettersfromyourlover-blog @princesssparkel2024 @hayweee @d0p3ys-delusions @xxlaynaxx

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celaenaeiln · 3 days

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On note of the Blockbuster thing and Dick’s over working himself, I can recall a time when after the first time Blockbuster got taken out, Dick was so lost emotionally and mentally, he went for months on end getting the absolute hardest cases and capers imaginable, getting more illnesses and injuries so much and frequently. It got so bad Bruce and Alfred had to drag him to the Batcave and Bruce had to get some tough love across.

He let Dick know that he was upset at him for failing to take care of himself and self forgive for what happened to Blockbuster. He forgives Dick for the latter case but will not tolerate Dick losing the value of his own life in self pity and guilt

Thoughts on this?

YES!!!

Dick overworks himself so hard that he kinda passes out and dreams so vivid that they're almost hallucinogenic but when he wakes up-

Nightwing (2016) Issue #117

Bruce is PISSED. Ofcourse it's gotta be because Dick let Blockbuster die right? He just stepped aside and let Catalina take the shot despite the no kill. He broke the OATH the two of them had forged. That's why Bruce is mad right?!

Nightwing (2016) Issue #117

WRONG WRONG WRONG!!

Nightwing (2016) Issue #117

"You have no right to expect me to excuse you - for losing sight of the value of yours."

CMON BRUCE!!

He basically said "I don't care if you killed someone. If you want me to forgive you fine. But don't you dare fucking think for one second that I'll forgive you for almost dying."

Bruce is crazy about Dick. I've already talked before how he has control issues regarding Dick life but I want to reiterate that Bruce wants control of Dick's everything. His life, his relationships, his death.

You can see the visible rage in Bruce's body. You can see how hard he grips Dick's chin. He's furious that Dick would put his life below anyone's.

This isn't the only time Bruce gets furious at Dick almost dying either. Remember Forever Evil?

Nightwing (2011) Issue #30

His sole reason for beating Dick is LITERALLY beat his frustrations and fear that Dick almost died!! He's the one that died Bruce!! Why are YOU mad?!

The thing about Dick and Bruce's relationship or rather Bruce's relationship with Dick is that Dick could literally be standing in a room of blood and corpses and the first thing Bruce would do is rush over to him and check if he's okay. And then scold him because "what if they're blood accidentally got into you, Dick? Haven't I told you the dangers of bloodborne pathogens and other transmittable viruses? How dare you let them hurt you!"

Bruce has a no kill rule but sometimes when Dick's life is in danger he definitely looks the other way. No punishment if Dick does something to someone else but he travels at the speed of light when Dick lets something bad happen to him.

Not only that, he doesn't mind other people dying if it means saving Dick's life. Between the world surviving and Dick, he will always choose Dick. And how do I know that? Because he's done it before.

Forever Evil Issue #5

"No, this is a search and rescue mission first--"

"Richard Grayson?"

"Yes, Luthor. Once Nightwing's safe, we can take down the syndicate."

The world is in SHAMBLES.

Central City

Forever Evil Issue #3

Metropolis

Forever Evil Issue #3

The justice league is gone.

The villains who actually wanted the end of the world are so shocked by the state it's in now that they've decided to become heroes. But none of that matters. It doesn't matter to Bruce that half the population is gone, people are killing, stealing, and dying. As long as Dick is alive - it's okay.

In fact an entire world could be corrupted beyond saying but as long as Dick isn't then it's a world worth saving.

Forever Evil Issue #3

Do you realize what this means? It means that Bruce's scale of measurement for evaluating the quality of a whole fucking planet IS Dick Grayson.

Even an hyper-intelligent construction questions what happens if his favorite, Dick, dies.

Infinite Crisis Issue #3

What happened after Blockbuster, where Bruce completely ignored the death of him. Ah-I said ignored but the reality is created an excuse for - is completely in line with his relationship with Dick and more importantly highlights two things.

Breaking the no-kill rule is acceptable if it's Dick Grayson or relates to Dick Grayson.

Bruce is crazy about Dick and he will go crazy for him.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #blockbuster #clark kent #superman #lex luthor #rogue gallery #alfred pennyworth #cl paladin of nerdfandom65 asks #thanks for the ask!

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the-lost-eighth · 3 days

Text

Sanji x Reader oneshot

word count: 657

warnings: none ^_^

genre: fluff

A/N: I haven't written in forever, but I had to get this out of my head so i apologize if it's written poorly !! i tried my best. also he might be a tad OOC. song is what made me wanna write ⬇️

"I love you."

You were in the kitchen of the ship drinking with Sanji before he dropped this on you randomly. You stared at him with your mouth agape before letting out a soft chuckle, "Alright mate, that's enough drinks for you." as you reach for the bottle in front of him, you feel him firmly grip your wrist. "Y/N, I'm seri-serious." he said, hiccuping in between the word seeious. "I'm in love with you. you're special. You stand out, make me feel different. you're everything to me." Sanji brought his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek, "I want you all to myself. I want to wake up next to you every morning my dear. finding you was worth more than finding the all blue. you radiate the beauty of it already, it's like having the all blue by my side every day. You're–"

"Drunk. you're drunk and you're talking to talk Sanji. you've probably said this exact same shit to Nami or Robin. I'm not falling for your tricks, now let's get you some rest," you snap as you stand up, this time with his wrist in your hand as you head for his room. "Y/N, I'm not–"

"Sober is what you're not. Now c'mon, sleep." didn't seem like you'd hear him out any time soon. See, truth be told, you wanted his words to be true. you wanted the butterflies, and lingering touches, and sneaky glances to be worth it in the end, but you knew that Sanji was like this with every woman he met. nothing about you was special enough to change that. at least, that's how you saw things. he saw it differently though. you were-

"My secret ingredient." "I'm sorry?" you stopped on your path to his bedroom as you whipped your head around to make eye contact with the cook.

"You're my secret ingredient, the one piece of my life that I was missing. You're what completes my dish. I'd do anything to prove my love for you Y/N." You stared at him as he said this, feeling your face heat up. His eyes widened when he saw a tear make it way down your cheek, a small sniffle escaping your nose. "Why? Why me? Why not Robin, or Nami, why me of all people??" you choked out as more tears fell down your face. He quickly brought his hands up, wiping them away before cupping your cheeks, "You're perfect. You're sweet, gorgeous, smart, hilarious, you can cook really well, and I appreciate it deeply when you help me out in the kitchen, you're caring and generous, and insanely selfless. You risked your life to save someone you had just met, even when we all told you not to, you put their safety before your own and i admire that. your voice is soothing, your touch is calming, your laugh is like a drug, you always find some way to cheer me up but most importantly of all, you make me feel seen. you don't see me as a flirt, or just a cook, you see me as Sanji, and I love that about you. I love you, all of you, and I–" you cut him off by crashing your lips into his, bringing your hands to his shoulders as you hastily kiss him. he's caught off guard before transferring his hands from your face to your neck, kissing you back a lot more passionately than your rushed advances. you pull back for air and look at him softly, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "I love you too Sanji. so, so much." all he could do in response was give you a big stupid smile as he laughed and brought you into a tight embrace. the moment was so unreal he could've swore he was dreaming. but he wasn't, this was happening, you loved him back.

He had finally won in life.

The end :3

he's so 😩

#this is god awful #sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #oneshot #fanfic #:3 #thelosteighth #Spotify

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wardenparker · 1 day

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 13

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Shitty exes being shitty, anxiety, stress of confusion, attempted sabotage. A bit of dirty flirting in there for good measure. Summary: When you and Marcus stumble upon the perfect place for your engagement party, things get complicated by Sam's plans to rent the very same venue. Notes: I'm sure I missed some errors in the proofreading, but such is life. Please enjoy, my dears! Chapter photo from Monticello's website.

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12

The idea happened a bit by accident, but a few days after your goddaughter was born, once Sydney and Juan and Constance were comfortably and safely at home, Marcus had convinced you to take the last of your days off and go out to Monticello with him for some fresh air and historical tourism. The numerous tours and lunch at the café on the vast grounds are exactly the break that you need, and you're bent over the map together on the sunny grounds when you tilt your head and look up at him beside you.

"Ya know..." The idea is just a hum in the back of your throat. "I bet they're booked ages in advance to do events here...but it might be worth asking if they have an opening or a cancellation sometime soon."

"What are you thinking of having here?" He's not even arguing against the idea, just trying to get a feel for what you are starting to plan. "I don't think we can build our house here." He teases, having nearly gone cross eyed from going through house plans with you over the last two days.

"No, we're definitely not doing that." You roll your eyes playfully and nudge him. The work on the house is finally underway and now you've moved on to talking about decorating so it feels like square one of an entirely new project instead of just a new phase on a continuing one. "I was thinking it would be a hell of a place for an engagement party if they have an opening before Thanksgiving. But I doubt it."

Marcus contemplates it, looking around with his hands on his hips and hums. "I think it would be good." He agrees before glancing back at you with a smirk. "There's only one way to find out if they have any dates available." He teases. "We've got to ask."

"Gee, what a shocking idea." When you poke him in the side it comes with a giggle and you motion back at the visitor's center behind you. "Let's go see if anyone is in to chat with us about it."

Marcus snickers, wrapping his hand around your waist and tugging you closer while he snatches up the map with his free hand. "Let's go. Touring can wait."

Inside the Visitor's Center, the middle–aged woman sitting at the desk is pleasantly chatting with the last guests of a long line before turning her smile on you and Marcus. "Well hello there dears," she greets, just as pleasantly as a sunshiney summer day. "How can I help you?"

“My fiancée and I were hoping to talk to an events coordinator?” He glances back at you for confirmation at the title and when you nod, he turns and beams at her. “Is there one available, or do we need to make an appointment, Miss….” He glances at her name badge. “Amber?”

“Well certainly there is, but she is just finishing up a meeting at the moment.” Amber glances at her computer screen and back again without the smile ever leaving her face. “They should be done in just a few minutes if you’d like to wait and speak to her afterward?”

Marcus turns back to you, “do you want to wait, sweetheart?” He asks, rubbing your waist gently. Still proud as a peacock at being your fiancé.

“Why not?” There’s still a chance that there are no openings anytime soon, but waiting around for a few minutes to ask won’t hurt anything.

“Wonderful.” Amber picks up the telephone on her desk and pushes a few buttons with that everlasting smile on her face. “I’ll let her know she has someone waiting. May I have your name, sir?”

Marcus smiles as he gives your name and tries not to smirk when it’s obvious she recognizes the surname. “And Marcus Pike.”

“One moment, please.” The conversation that Amber heads into the receiver is hurried and she tries not to be terribly animated but you catch her glancing up at you once during the frazzled conversation and you smile kindly in response.

Marcus leans over and nuzzles your neck. “Hopefully she’s a political support of your mom and not firmly against her.” He teases quietly.

“Fingers crossed,” you laugh back quietly.

Marcus chuckles in your ear, holding you close as you both politely wait for the phone call to be finished.

When Amber sets down the receiver, she offers you and Marcus a warm smile and motions to a set of chairs to your side in the lobby of the Visitor's Center. "Melanie will be right with you. She will only be a few minutes more."

“Thank you.” Marcus thanks her sincerely and guides you to the chairs.

It's about ten minutes later than a tall, pretty blonde in a floral dress appears from around a corner, leading two people back toward the lobby of the building. If you hadn't watched them come into view you would have said it was too ridiculous. Too much of a coincidence. But there they are – Sam and Vanessa side–by–side with a notebook and pen in Vanessa's hands and Sam gesturing authoritatively all the way.

Marcus stiffens slightly, his hand squeezing yours gently and he wonders if he should stand and greet them or pretend that they aren’t known to you or him.

It only takes a split second, but the decision is taken from you almost instantly. Sam spots you from across the lobby and pauses only momentarily before aiming the group of them directly for you instead of toward the exit. “Looks like we’re doing this,” you murmur to Marcus, and stand with his hand still in yours as your exes approach.

“Congressman Chase, Vanessa.” Marcus greets both of them politely, if a little stiffly. Formal. Something that couldn’t be misinterpreted by anyone as rude. “What a surprise to see you both.”

“Well this is a surprise.” Sam doesn’t offer to shake Marcus Pike’s hand or yours, barely looking at you while the well–dresses blonde that had been walking with them senses the tension right away.

“Congressman. Miss D’Amario.” She looks nervous too, by association. Unlike Miss Amber at the desk, she knows exactly who is in front of her. “Let me just get you that last brochure, shall I?”

Marcus doesn’t say anything else, just rubbing the back of your hand gently and watching as the blonde guides them back towards the desk. “Well, I’m not sure why they are here.” He murmurs quietly.

“Who knows?” You huff quietly, holding onto him for stability. “Maybe the same reason we are.”

“No, no.” Sam’s voice is distinct in the echoing building. “We want to have the event at the house.” He is insisting loudly. “Not on an overlooking lawn.”

“I’m very sorry, sir, but as I explained to you, we have four locations across the grounds for private events.” With the patience of a saint, Melanie explains yet again. “Each location has multiple rooms available for hosting. However, the historical house is not one of them.”

“That’s is not good enough.” Sam tried charming her, but now it’s time to be serious. “Don’t you know what this is for?”

“Yes Congressman, you’ve been very clear about that.” Her painted on smile is placid and professional, even if her nerves are fraying slightly. “But with respect, even if the president wanted to have a campaign event here, the house would still not be an option.”

“There has to be a way to make this happen.” He glances over at you and Marcus, frowning slightly at why you are here. Another symbol of why he is having to fight so hard to make things happen. You’ve screwed him over.

“It is not an option we have available.” The woman’s eyes track his, glancing over at you in the lobby. She knows the ticking time bomb she has in her hands. She had been following the new first family in the news since the election. “And I assure you that our answer for anyone else will be the same.”

The shift of her eyes irritates him. Signifying that he’s not the most important person in the room. Clenching his jaw, he shakes his head. “I would hate for this to descend into a legal battle.” He speaks as if it’s not a threat but then he shifts topics. “What days are available?”

“If you are looking to hold an event next month, our lawn here is entirely booked aside from the night of Saturday the fourteenth. We had a cancellation that night. Otherwise we have smaller spaces available on several days but your maximum capacity for the event would be sixty people.”

"That will not be enough for our needs." Sam insists. "We would need the entire venue."

"We will be happy to accommodate the number of guests you quoted on the lawn on Saturday the fourteenth." The otherwise very pleasant looking blonde smothers a sigh of frustration and hands a brochure over to Vanessa, who accepts it with a snap of her hand and clips to the folder she is carrying. "Beyond that, our next available date to accommodate that many guests would be in January."

"Fine." He's not happy and he will be having a word with the proper people to get the answers he wants. "We will let you know, but pencil us in."

"The date will be held for twenty–four hours. At which time I will be happy to accept your deposit or establish an alternative plan with you for another space on the property, otherwise the availability will be released to other clients." When she smiles this time there is a measure of relief in it. "If there is anything else I can do for you, or anything other questions I can answer for you, please feel free to contact me. My office hours and direct line are listed on the card that I gave to your assistant."

Vanessa straightens slightly, tall and proud beside Sam. Her eyes flicker over to the pair of you to see if you are watching. Curious to know why you are here and desperate to not appear that way.

“Fine.” Sam bristles, disliking being told ‘no’ and placing the blame squarely on one single set of shoulders. No one had told him no while he was publicly dating the First Daughter. His effort to organize re–election events shouldn’t be nearly this hard, but here he is. Having to take meetings himself instead of making a simple phone call or just sending Vanessa on his behalf. But without knowing for certain why you and that FBI lackey of yours are here, he wants to see if he can at least eavesdrop on the beginning of your meeting before he leaves.

When Melanie shakes hands with Sam and Vanessa again, turning to walk towards you and Marcus, the two of you stand. “Thank you for taking the time to see us.” He starts, offering the slightly frazzled woman a sincere smile. “Hopefully our questions won’t be too arduous.”

“I’m sure they won’t be.” She wants to say that nothing would be as arduous as the meeting she just took, but that would be less than professional. She shakes your hand in turn and motions toward the direction she had come from with the congressman. “Why don’t we go to my office?”

Marcus does the polite thing and nods to Sam and Vanessa, a little surprised when the woman who had ended things with him amicably turns her head to snub him. He doesn’t say anything, just guides you to office, following behind Melanie at a few paces.

“Here we are.” Down a hall and up a few stairs, she stops and opens the door of an office to let you and Marcus inside. “My name is Melanie O’Neil and I’m the special event coordinator here at Monticello. I understand you’re interesting in planning an event with us?”

“Sweetheart?” Marcus looks towards you to take the lead, smiling softly.

"We were hoping you might have availability in the beginning of October, though I know that is short notice," you explain, but you did hear her rattle off some dates to Sam in the lobby. "We're interested in having our engagement party here."

“Engagement?” Her eyes widen happily as she takes in the sight of a happy couple in love. “Delightful.” She shuffles through the book and nods. “We have Saturday the fourteenth, I’m afraid that it is the only date available.” She tilts her head. “Someone else has expressed interest, but they have not paid to reserve it.” She would not feel bad about direct Sam Chase somewhere else.

"That would be fine with us, but I insist on waiting the appropriate twenty–four hours to give the other interested party their fair chance." You won't have Sam whining to some blogger about how you stole his venue space. That just won't fly. "Can you tell us a little about how you organize the space or if you have caterers on site?"

“It is the lawn area.” Motioning to the large detailed map of the event areas, she indicates a gorgeous area close to the water. “We can set up the space to accommodate practically any needs. A dance floor, a bar, string lighting.” She explains. “Tents are approved but they have to be provided by Monticello, to make sure that we don’t have someone coming in and destroying the grounds. Catering can be provided or you can invite someone in to cater for you.”

“That all sounds very reasonable.” The pricing is also reasonable for the location and what is being offered, and Melanie shows you and Marcus a brochure of price packages. “So we could select to have you provide the bar, tents, tables, chairs, lighting, and a dance floor…and we can bring in our own catering?”

“Absolutely.” She agrees with a nod and smile. “We pride ourselves on making sure that our clients have the best possible time.”

“And…” Glancing over at Marcus and then at the door where Agent Bailey is currently standing as nonchalantly as possible while keeping her eyes open. “You won’t have a problem with having the Secret Service on property?”

“Oh no.” If she’s shocked by the question, she doesn’t show it. “We will follow the lead of your security at all times. I do have to warn you that there are other events that day, but we keep the spaces separate.”

“That’s wonderful.” It’s hard to believe that anyone would have a problem doing business with this woman, but then…some people are quite picky. And you know Sam is one of them. “Honey, did you have any questions or ideas?” You ask, wanting to make sure Marcus is in on this planning.

Marcus considers the space and looks towards you. “Live band?” He asks. “Can there be speakers placed?”

“Certainly.” Melanie smiles at that and scribbles an additional note in the pad in front of her. “We have a bandstand ready to be put up when needed. As long as we’re not talking about a full scale orchestra, that can be accommodated.”

“No, nothing like that.” Marcus laughs. “I don’t think we would want to be that pretentious for an engagement party. We just want to have fun, right Birdie?”

“I don’t even want a big orchestra for the wedding, let alone the engagement party.” You agree, laughing a little at the very idea of it. It’s utterly ridiculous. You’re not orchestra people even if you do both like classical music sometimes. “No, I think we’re talking about something very reasonable. Nothing too big or too nit–picky.”

“I think that’s the best option, a live band and then we have a playlist for when they are taking breaks.” Marcus agrees looking towards Melanie. “Do you have a lot of bands that you work with? I’m not too familiar with the scene here.”

“We have a few.” She nods, turning to her computer, presumably to print out a list. “Mostly the kind you would hire for a wedding. Cover bands like that get a lot of work out here.”

“I would imagine they would.” Marcus agrees, looking towards you. “What do you think, sweetheart? Unless you have someone specific?”

“No, I think that sounds perfect.” Live music is definitely something you both feel strongly about, and it continues to incorporate local artists into the fold of every one of your events. It’s an excellent plan. “Can I leave you my number, and ask you to give me a call tomorrow to tell me whether or not Congressman Chase decides to take the date?” You ask Melanie as politely as possible. “If he doesn’t, I think we’ll be very glad to have it.”

“I will most assuredly call you.” She promises with a smile, hoping that she deals with you instead of the congressman.

“Then how about a tour?” You suggest, offering the woman a smile.

“That would be wonderful.” Marcus agrees. “If you have time, of course.”

“Of course.” Melanie stands from her desk again. “Come along with me.”

******

“What if we just stayed here?” You groan for the second time this morning, burrowing deeper into Marcus’s side in bed as the sun rises higher in the morning sky. It’s early but you have a lot to do. His parents and a few other friends and family are arriving this morning for the engagement party tonight. The planning had gone well for being such short notice, but that still doesn’t mean you want to leave the warmth of your fiancé’s side just yet. There are a thousand things to do today before the party tonight, but you’ll manage. You just want a few more minutes of quiet with Marcus before facing it all.

“Then we will have a party that will be will be talked about for ages.” Marcus hums in amusement. “An engagement party where the couple doesn’t arrive.” He rubs your back gently. “We could start a new fad.”

“It would be very mysterious of us,” you snicker, knowing you and Marcus are some of the least mysterious people on the planet.

“Yes it would. I think everyone would start a manhunt for us.” He laughs.

“Probably not the best idea,” you admit, even if it makes you laugh. “Since the Secret Service would be involved in the manhunt.”

“Millions of taxpayer dollars, wasted.” He snorts, smirking at you slightly. “All the helicopters they would bring out.”

You snort, looking up at him in the morning light and sigh dramatically to get one more laugh from him. "I guess we should get up then, huh?"

“If we have to.” This time, he’s the one pouting. “Our honeymoon needs to be someplace quiet. A cabin in the mountains. Where we just stay in bed all day.”

"You know you can go stay at the hotel where they filmed Dirty Dancing, right?" As you drag yourself out of bed on the morning of your engagement party, talking about your honeymoon sounds like the perfect conversation.

“Really?” Marcus hums, intrigued by the idea. “It’s really up in the Catskills, isn’t it?”

"It is." Unconcerned with wearing anything night for the first part of the day, you go straight to your closet for jeans and a t–shirt. You'll change into the silver cocktail dress you have picked out later tonight. "And they supposedly really lean into the Dirty Dancing thing, which is fun."

“I’m sure Agent Bailey would love an isolated cabin to have us locked away.” He teases. “If you want to look into that, I’m completely game.”

“It’s a far cry from our original idea.” Which is neither good nor bad, just worth pointing out. “Paris is very different from a cabin in the Catskills.”

“That’s true.” Marcus stops and turns to you. “I love the idea of both, each for very different reasons.” He admits with a grin. “Whatever you want, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”

“We could always make up a little list?” You offer, ultimately pulling an old college t–shirt out of your closet with a clean bra. “And then narrow it down after we settle on a wedding date?”

“That works for me.” Marcus agrees, watching you as you start to get dressed. It’s probably his favorite part of the day, unless you count undressing.

"Where else might you want to go?" He's watching carefully and you wiggle your hips a little in his direction.

Marcus grunts, feeling his body respond to the little tease and he’s honestly wondering if he can take you back to bed for another hour. “Um…you pick.” He tells you. “A beach?”

"The beach is good." If you reach for a pair of nearly non–existent panties just to keep teasing him? Well, who can blame you for that? "Sand and swimming and sunny skies. Are you thinking Mexico or Mediterranean?"

Marcus blows out a breath when you pull out the see through lace that is literally just scraps of cloth posing as panties. “Mexico would be nice. Somewhere off the beaten path?”

"Someplace with a little bungalow and a private beach?" Since Marcus likes to tease you just as much as you like to tease him, you don't feel bad for even a second about bending over dramatically in front of him so he can have the best view of your ass when you put your panties on. "Hawaii could be fun, too."

“Too many people.” He immediately grunts. “Too many cameras.”

That makes you smirk, and you throw it over your shoulder at him. “So you’re looking to have me all to yourself?”

“Absolutely.” He nods immediately, finding your eyes for a moment before he goes back to ogling you. “All mine.”

“Well that’s true even if we go someplace not isolated.” Deciding to continue messing with him just a tiny bit, you grab your tightest jeans to slip into while you’re still talking. “I’ve been yours since the day we met.”

“But I’m thinking more of being able to strip you down whenever I want.” He admits with a grin. Completely unrepentant at the idea. “Maybe not even pack clothes.”

“If that’s what we’re going to do, we can lock ourselves in the house and Door Dash every meal.” You remind him, finally going to put on your bra and shirt. “Our honeymoon is a chance to have an adventure together. A sexy adventure, but still an adventure.”

“Get your head out of the gutter, got it.” He winks and shoots finger guns at you playfully. “Like it said, just ideas.”

“Listen,” you grin in response to his silliness. “If we decide on a winter wedding, we’re absolutely going someplace tropical to get away. I’m not looking to put snowshoeing on our itinerary.”

“So an Alaskan dog sledding race is off the table?” He jokes, snickering to himself.

“You don’t like snow either, Texas.” But both of you laugh, and as you shimmy into your t–shirt you’re already feeling better about the day. “Also…I don’t think a winter wedding sounds ideal. Even DC gets snow, and we lose any chance of having part of the night outside.”

“Yeah, I’ve never understood the ‘Winter Wonderland’ theme some people go for.” He admits with a huff. “Freezing my nut— uh, toes off doesn’t sound fun.”

“No,” you snort and tug him up out of bed to get dressed with you. “Freezing your nuts off does not sound fun.”

“Caught that, huh?” He huffs, even if he’s well aware that you don’t mind that kind of humor. “I don’t think you would like it either. You seem to like that part of my body.”

“I like that part of your body very much.” Your smirk is puckish. “Just as much as you like my tits.”

“Don’t forget your ass.” He reminds you, smirking as he pulls off his sleep shirt to get dressed. “I like that too. Oh and your thighs.”

“I like all parts of you and you like all parts of me.” You bite your lip unconsciously when he starts to change, always admiring of your fiancé in as many ways as he’ll let you at any given time. Marcus isn’t vain. He doesn’t dedicate himself to cut abs and weight lifting. But he does go to the gym to be in shape for his job and that combined with his love of food has made him broad and strong with a layer of cushioning softness that you adore.

“Then it sounds like we are a perfect match.” He winks at you as you eye him. Turning around and wiggling his own hips playfully, even though he has a flat ass.

It gets a snort and a giggle from you, and you swat at him playfully. “Do you want to go downstairs for breakfast or have something up here?”

“Completely up to you, love.” He promises. “I’ve heard rumors that Syd has been haunting the kitchens with a snuggly little Constance strapped to her chest.

“I keep telling her that maternity leave exists for a reason, but she can’t stay away.” Not that you blame her. You know for damn certain that you won’t be able to stay away from the inn after you’ve had your kids, either. “Let’s go down and say hello.”

He snorts to himself, well aware that he will be fighting the same battle Juan is when you are recovering from giving birth. “I think we need to just build her a house on the property too.” He tells you. “Make sure she’s close enough to rest.”

“The house is almost done.” Just one more month, according to the contractors. “Maybe we should keep the apartment up here as a resting space for the staff for a while? Before we turn it into a guest suite.”

“Orrrrrr…” Marcus tilts his head as he looks around the apartment. It’s not large, but it’s large enough. “What if we turned it into a small area for a nanny?” He asks. “Someone to come and watch Constance and the future Pike brood for us?” He had been thinking about it and it seemed like a good idea and it would allow everyone peace of mind in knowing the kids are close.

“That…” Your eyes flick up to his, wistful smile tugging at your lips and warmth blooming in your heart. “Sounds like a wonderful idea.” Marcus has an uncanny ability to see the future so clearly that it might make you envious if you weren’t so grateful to have him as your partner. “I genuinely love that, baby.”

“You do?” He asks, wondering if you are just agreeing to it because you are so in love with him right now. “I figured it would be a good way for you to see the babies, ours and Syd’s, anytime you get a chance.”

“It’s a lot more practical than driving them to daycare in town only to come back here for work.” Instinct and affection make you want to snuggle into his side again, but you know you have things to do around the possibility that your baby goddaughter is downstairs make you reach for a cardigan instead of your fiancé. “I think it’s smart. And will probably save us some anxiety in the long run.”

“I think so.” Marcus agrees quickly. “There’s someone dedicated to watching them, so work can be uninterrupted, but you can see and snuggle them when needed.”

“Don’t pretend you won’t be working through your lunches sometimes just to get home to them sooner.” It’s an image you can see so vividly that it almost makes you glow, knowing how much Marcus is looking forward to being a father to as many kids as you can manage together.

“Have to make it home before the sun goes down.” He scoffs. “How else will we play ball? It can’t be in the house.”

“The only balls anybody’s playing with in the house are yours when I give you head,” you tell him unequivocally, nudging him toward the bedroom door once you’re both dressed to go brush your teeth together so you can go downstairs and eat.

He snorts in amusement, although he can’t deny that you do play with his balls while you are blowing him. Smacking his lips to your cheek before he loads up your toothbrush and then his, he winks in the mirror – thoroughly enjoying the everyday chores with you.

You’re on your way downstairs within about fifteen minutes. Agent Bailey is downstairs by your office when the elevator opens, having opened up to giving you more space now that you have an armed federal officer in the apartment with you every night. Around the corner and into the kitchen, you have to smother a squeal of delight when you see Syd hovering by the line with little Constance in her baby carrier strapped safely to mama’s chest.

“Told you.” Marcus bumps your arms and immediately grins when he sees the little girl. Shes not too old to stay awake for long and she’s snoozing peacefully while the chaos of the kitchen goes on around her. “This has to be her lullaby.” He jokes. “She grew in the womb to it.”

“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness.” You scurry to Sydney’s side without hesitation to hug her gently and peer into little Constance’s face. “Hello angel! Oh my goodness she’s so sweet when she sleeps!”

“She’s actually one of those babies that sleeps better amidst the noise!” Sydney laughs and rubs her daughter’s back through the sling, leaning against you instantly. “You caught me, huh?”

“I’m not even cross that you’re poking around work while you’re supposed to be resting because you brought the baby,” you admit, although you restrain yourself from doing anything besides admiring Constance. Waking her up by accident would be awful. “Are you guys feeling okay about coming out tonight?” Juan’s mother had assured her son and daughter–in–law that the baby would be in expert hands if they wanted to make the engagement party their first outing since her birth. And you had also assured them that you wouldn’t be offended if they only came to the party for dinner and headed home before the dancing to be with their little girl.

“I’m looking forward to it.” She admits with a lopsided smile. “Just forgive me if I text my mother–in–law six hundred times to check on her?” She asks, knowing you would never be upset about that. “I don’t know how we are ever going to drop her into a daycare. That’s if we find one that will open up in the next six months.” They have been on a wait list for the daycare of their choice since she found out she was pregnant. There are still twelve other couples on the wait list ahead of them.

“Marcus actually had an idea about that.” A proud grin to your fiancé on the other side of the kitchen where he is getting your breakfast from Syd’s sous chef lights up your whole face. “Why don’t we bring dinner over to your place after the weekend is over and the chaos subsides, and we’ll tell you about it?”

“Of course.” She grins at the way the two of you had made deep and lasting plans. Knowing you deserve all that and so much more. “Indian?” She suggests. “I’m craving curry.”

“We’ll get take out from Rasika. Whatever you want.” While it might be one of your and Marcus’s favourite take out spots, it’s also a favorite of your friend group so that is an easy answer. “And you text home as much as you need to tonight, love.” Casting your eye from mother to daughter, your smile softens and your heart aches from wanting one of your own. “This little angel is worth it.”

“Isn’t she?” Like any new mother, her daughter is the most perfect thing to ever exist. “She’s feeding for longer. She ate four whole ounces yesterday when Juan fed her a bottle.” She’s pumping and they are bottle feeding to make sure Juan gets his own bonding time with Constance when Sydney isn’t breastfeeding. Plus there are times the still recovering mother is too tired to do it. So it helps them tag team their newborn.

You and Syd can and have cooed together over her growing girl for hours at a time, so you don’t even realize you’ve been standing there for ten solid minutes being an absolutely doting pair of sentimental idiots until Marcus comes up behind you and gently slides one hand around your waist.

“You need to eat, sweetheart.” He reminds you, whispering in your ear as he watches the baby sleep against her mother’s chest. He’s gotten to hold her for a bit, but he lets you hold her more when the opportunity presents itself. “We have a lot to do before the party.”

There are two plates with pesto–prosciutto breakfast panini on them sitting on the counter nearby along with two oversized ice coffees and you relent, leaning back against Marcus after giving Syd one more gentle squeeze. “You’re right,” you sigh. “I just want to stare at this little nugget of a baby forever.”

“I know.” Marcus chuckles. “How many times have you thought about having our first since she’s been born?” He teases, knowing he’s also been hit by baby fever as well.

“Like fifteen times a day every single day.” You can’t help but laugh, knowing he feels the same, and you let him peel you away from the baby reluctantly when Syd’s sous chef has a question for her. “Fifteen is a minimum estimate, by the way.”

“I was honestly thinking it was more like thirty.” He laughs. “I’m about that too.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t wait a whole year to get married?” The idea hums through you with excitement. Being able to have a wedding date by tonight would be a fun little plus.

“When’s the last time the roses bloom in the Rose Garden?” Marcus asks, knowing you want to have your wedding there.

“September, really.” The first week of September would be a full year from when Marcus proposed, which seems tidy to you in a way you weren’t expecting but makes you smile. “What if we did early September? Would that step on Constance’s first birthday?”

“I think we should talk about it with the parents, but I don’t see that being a problem honestly.” Marcus hums happily.

"I heard parents!" Syd calls across the kitchen, fearless in the face of a miracle baby who truly can sleep through the chaos of a kitchen. She bounces subtly as she walks across the room, making sure her daughter is comfortable against her chest, and leans against the counter where you and Marcus are having your breakfast. "What's up?"

“We were talking about wedding dates.” Marcus admits, glancing at you with a small smirk. “We don’t want to schedule something to step on the birthday girl’s toes.” He reaches out and caresses the sleeping baby with the back of index finger.

"Were you guys thinking of doing it in September?" She asks, eyes sliding over to you and when you nod through a bite of food she smiles. "What if we pick a different weekend?" Sydney suggests. "I don't want to suggest doing the baby's birthday in place of a day–after brunch or anything. So we can just do two weekends in a row?"

“Or we could.” Marcus offers with a grin. “I know my family is up for celebrating a baby’s first birthday. Especially since they are going to fall in love with her tonight.” He warns. “Constance will be gaining a lot of aunts and uncles.”

"We weren't really planning on having a day–after event anyway," you assure her. There are already so many wedding events on your plate that adding one more sounds overwhelming to you. "What if we added more of Juan's family to the wedding guest list so they'll already be in town, and the next day we can all relax with something much more casual? It sounds...kind of perfect, actually."

“I think that Juan would like that. I thinks it’s perfect.” Their friendship had grown even closer and Juan had confided he wanted more time with his family. It’s the perfect opportunity. “We can book out the inn, right?” He asks you. “And get more hotel rooms, of course.” He chuckles. “My mom has already said she wants to stay here but the Watergate Hotel is calling her name.”

"We could have Connie's birthday here?" You raise an eyebrow to Syd in question. "We'll be surrounded by family and friends and you'll barely have to roll out of bed to get here." The Badillo house is close by and you and Marcus will be more or less in the inn's backyard.

"Comfort food, family event, and very casual." Sydney laughs, but she is nodding her head. "Sean has been a great sous chef. I know he can handle that even with my nitpicky ass hovering over everything."

“It sounds like we have a plan.” Marcus agrees. “So I think our wedding day needs to be the day before little Connie’s birthday.”

"September ninth." Of course you and Sydney say it at the same time, grinning at each other. Constance was born in the wee hours of the tenth.

"That means it will be a long weekend for people. It will be good to give them the date well in advance." It will be beautiful, is what it will be. Beautiful, and fun, and an occasion well worth celebrating.

His suit and your dress in the trunk of the car, Marcus steers towards the venue happily. “So we start getting set up, the band should be there first, right?” He asks. “Get the sound check done before the other vendors?”

"Yeah, that's what we planned on." A White House photographer will also be on hand, documenting the event for any press that Annette deems appropriate. You've left it entirely to her. "Melanie will be there to direct traffic, and she has a room for us to change and keep personal affects in."

“My parents are landing in about an hour.” He reminds you. “They will be out here to help and generally support us as soon as they drop bags in the hotel.”

"Selena, Leo, and Clark are all meeting us out here around the same time. They're riding together." The contingent from Dallas that has moved to DC in the last few months have banded together well and are all excited to join the next board game night. Bringing your friends and his together has been exceptionally easy.

“Perfect.” Marcus chuckles. “It’s a good thing the bartender will be showing up next.” He jokes. “Seriously, if we need to get any last minute items, mom said she’ll send dad.”

"I'm just glad we decided not to do flowers." It had been Junie's idea. During the Friday night dinner after you had booked Monticello, the discussion at the table had turned to decor and when your mother's ideas for florals got overcomplicated it had been your sister who suggested having a few large, live plants amongst the tents and lights and candles on the tables instead. "Melanie pulled those potted plants and light plans out of nowhere and I love her for it."

“I think it will make the wedding even more special.” Marcus admits. “Flowers don’t need to be at every event.”

"The rose garden is going to be spectacular." Your genuine excitement for that is infectious enough that it makes Marcus beam brightly at you as he pulls his car into the large lot around the Monticello visitor center.

“Wow.” Marcus frowns slightly as he sees all the vendor vans. “Are they early?”

"They must be." You check the time on your phone and frown to see that it is a full forty–five minutes before the caterer is set to arrive, and two of the vans nearby are marked with a florist's logo. "Maybe it's for one of the other locations on the property? Melanie did say they had multiple events tonight."

“That has to be it.” He agrees, although he knows the other venues have their own designated parking on the other side. He sends you a smile as he parks. “Let’s go get started.”

Melanie is waiting for you inside, smiling and ready in the lobby. “It’s so good to see you!” The nice thing about her is that she seems to actually mean it. “Your caterers just got here, and the florists are starting to unload. We’re doing great for time.”

“Uh...” Marcus shakes his head and looks towards you. “We don’t have a florist.” He reminds her. “The potted plants were what we decide, right?” He asks, wanting to make sure that the plan hadn’t changed.

"And I confirmed the arrival time with the caterers this morning. They aren't supposed to be here for another hour." Your worried eyes meet Marcus's and then Melanie's. "I think there has been some kind of mix–up."

Her brow furrows for a moment and she nods. “I will go make sure they aren’t supposed to be on the other side of the mansion.” She decides, sure that it’s a simple mistake.

"I'm sure it's nothing." The words come out of your mouth but you aren't convinced. Instead, you squeeze Marcus's hand in yours and head to the small room beside Melanie's office to store your party clothes and purse until you're ready to change.

“I’m sure it will all be worked out.” Marcus promises, reassuring you even if he has his own worry. “Come on, let’s go see the space.”

Once your things are stowed away, the pair of you step outside to the lawn to check out the tents, lights, and plants as they should be finished being put up. But instead of seeing potted plants and fairy lights there are sunflower arrangements and autumn harvest centerpieces stacked out on the banquet tables. Even the tables have the wrong color tablecloths – deep navy instead of the seasonal shade of red that you had picked out.

“Well, shit.” Marcus huffs, clearly seeing the problem and he quickly steps over to the young lady that is directing the flowers. “Excuse me.” He interrupts politely. “I’m afraid there is a problem.”

"There is?" She looks spooked, almost like a deer in the headlights with the large arrangement of flowers in her hands. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure–who are you, exactly?"

“Sorry.” He’s always going to fall back to manners, so he offers her an apologetic smile. “I’m Marcus Pike and this is my fiancée.” He introduces you. “We are setting up for our engagement party tonight and we don’t have floral arrangements.” He explains kindly. “Are you sure you have the right spot here? I know there’s several events happening tonight.”

“Oh!” She laughs in obvious relief and digs in her pocket to pull out some folded paperwork to show you both. “I think you’re in the wrong place, Mr. Pike. We’re setting up for Mr. Chase.”

Fuck. Marcus feels you tense beside him, but he shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the wrong place.” He tells her kindly aware that she is a vendor caught in the middle of something. It’s not her fault. “My fiancée and I rented out this space for tonight. Mr. Chase must have gotten his dates mixed up.” Marcus is well aware that isn’t the case, but he won’t air dirty laundry in front of her. “Here.” He pulls out his own contract for the venue that he had slipped into his pocket, always one to cover his bases and he’s glad that paid off.

“That’s weird…” Looking at both contracts, the florist frowns heavily and offers you both an apologetic expression. “Let me get my boss. Hang on one second,” she says before scurrying away.

“Shit.” Marcus hisses, turning towards you. “What are the odds it’s a mix up on Melanie’s part?” He knows the answer, and so do you.

“Zero. That woman is so meticulous it makes Juan look scatterbrained.” Closing your eyes against the frustrated outburst that is pushing on your chest right now, you lean into Marcus and exhale slowly. “I honestly can’t believe he’d go this far.”

“Just plaster on that amazing customer service charm and I will dazzle them with kindness.” He murmurs, leaning in and kissing your temple. “We have the contract for the venue.”

“I love you.” Murmured words aren’t enough to keep your heart from pounding with anxiety, but his arms around you are. Marcus hugs you tight and you just find yourself wondering what the hell happened to turn Sam into this vindictive monster…or if he was always this way and you never knew him at all.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He promises. “It’s just a small bump in the road.”

“I hope you’re right.” It’s terrifying to think that things might go so entirely wrong so early. It isn’t something that sits well with you, especially not when you have almost a hundred people coming tonight.

“It will.” He promises again, kissing your forehead again. “We have a legal contract.”

A serious looking woman with short gray hair and a clipboard comes back with the girl who had scurried away, and she introduces herself only to Marcus with forceful authority. "I understand we have some confusion on our hands?"

“Yes madam.” Marcus shows her the contract that Melanie had given him, clearly stating the space and date were his and gives her an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid your client is mistaken.”

"I'm sure that's not right." The prim woman doesn't even look at the paperwork that is being presented to her. "The Congressman was very specific in his planning and we are right on time in setting up for tonight."

“The Congressman was mistaken.” Marcus insists, a little more firmly. “The First Daughter signed this contract to rent this space tonight for her engagement party. Which the President will be in attendance for.” Titles seem to impress this woman, so he throws out a few that are sure to get her attention.

"Let's see if we can't get all of this sorted out." Melanie has appeared, looking frazzled but quickly recomposing herself with a young man in tow behind her. "It seems that our event staff did not verify paperwork for the caterer or florist when you arrived." She offers the gray–haired woman a professional smile, but you get the impression that the kid behind her with his tail tucked between his legs is going to get his ass kicked for this mistake. "May I see both sets of reservations, please? I'm sure we can get this cleared up quickly."

Marcus steps back and lets Melanie take over, sure that she will be able to clear things up quickly. He turns to you and gives you a reassuring smile.

"Well, I'm not sure what went wrong." After looking over both contracts, Melanie holds tight to both and looks between her actual clients and the florist who apparently should not be here. "But unfortunately, Congressman Chase never reserved this date or location with my office, did not make any payment on the space, and certainly is not hosting an event here tonight. So I'm going to have to ask you to leave, I'm afraid. We do have a contracted event here tonight and our security will be very tight."

“I’m sorry?” Blinking owlishly, the prim woman shakes her head, obviously not used to being told no. “Congressman Chase has a campaign event here tonight. Many important people will be here.”

"More important than the President of the United States?" Melanie challenges, not backing down. What she does, though, is turn to you and Marcus and apologize. "I will take care of this. If you would like to have a seat inside, I will absolutely come and let you know when everything is resolved."

“Thank you.” Marcus takes your arm and leads you towards the building so Melanie can deal with things. “You might want to call that White House press person.” He murmurs quietly. “I have a feeling Chase did this on purpose.”

"I don't know what the hell we did to deserve this," you huff, pulling out your phone to call Annette. She's probably on her way to the venue already but you know she was coming with her husband so hopefully he's driving and she can talk.

“I think he’s got a fucking screw loose.” Marcus mutters, shaking his head at the increasing antics the congressman is pulling.

When the call connects you have to swallow a sound of relief mixed with frustration. Getting to talk to Annette is a relief but you're so frustrated you could scream. "Annette? It's Birdie. We, uh...we have a situation. It appears that Sam Chase has attempted to double book the same venue as us for tonight."

“Oh dear.” The soft sigh is one of practiced patience, having put out many a fire in her day. “It’s not a mistake on the venue?” She clarifies.

"No." You shake your head as though she can see you, but it's just an emotional reaction. "Miss O'Neil is certain there was no mix up in the booking, but there are vendors here to set up for a campaign event that is definitely not supposed to be happening." Glancing up at Marcus beside you, you sigh softly. "Marcus and I suspect that Sam is trying some kind of indecipherable stunt. To make us look heartless or something equally outlandish. Like we stole his venue, I guess."

“Gotcha.” Her voice is slightly terse but it’s not towards you. “I will start making calls to his office right now. You just hang tight and I’ll be there in a few minutes. Don’t worry.”

"Thank you, Annette." Your eyes close against the sinking feeling in your stomach that the night is starting to unravel at an alarming rate. "We'll see you soon."

You end the call and Marcus reaches for you, pulling you into his arms. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” He soothes you, quietly.

“She’s almost here.” The urge to cry out of sheer frustration is strong, and you bury yourself in Marcus’s chest for strength. “What in the hell did we do to deserve this?”

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly, unable to fathom the malice behind the way Sam Chase is operating. “But we will show him that we are not to be messed with.”

“How?” The question is incredulous, but it’s honestly because you’re feeling so at sea with confusion in this whole situation. “By running to my mommy about it? The President can’t kick a Congressman out of power for being a dick to her daughter.”

“By showing him that he holds no power over us.” It’s a bit unsatisfying, being the bigger person and not using his own status to make like difficult for Congressman Chase, but he wants to be above reproach when shit hits the fan. And he has no doubt it will.

“Ugh, that’s so unsatisfying,” you groan, unknowingly echoing his thought exactly. It’s a small mercy to have the same thought, though, and you both laugh. “I want to nail him to the wall but there’s no crime against being an asshole.”

“I know, but he wants to get under your skin.” He reminds you softly. “That’s the entire point of this, I think.”

“Well he’s succeeded.” As much as you hate to admit it, he really has. He’s made you feel guilty and selfish for wanting to celebrate your love with your soulmate, which isn’t fair in the least.

“I know.” Marcus kisses your forehead again. “I’ve never wanted to hit someone more in my entire life.” He huffs. “Not even Patrick Jane when he convinced Teresa to choose him.”

"And that guy was an asshole," you huff, having heard the entire story from Marcus early on in your relationship.

“Yeah…he really is.” He chuckles and pulls away slightly to look into your eyes. “He did me a favor.”

"I don't know what I did to deserve you." His kindness and his support mean the world to you, and the ugly realization that if Marcus had not appeared in your life like a whirlwind that you might still be with Sam? It stings your heart in a way that isn't quite aching or envy but that smacks of bitter regret.

“Just being the most wonderful woman in the world.” He teases, nudging his nose against yours.

"Hardly." Or, at least, it doesn't feel like it right now. But you sigh, letting yourself settle against him and accepting the kiss he offers you before you stand straight again. "We should change a little early," you decide after a moment. "Present a united front of joy instead of looking like we're not quite prepared."

“Whatever you want to do, sweetheart.” He will follow your lead of course, wanting you to feel in charge. Especially with the turn of events.

"I think it might be better." Or, at least, it well help you feel less at sea. Because right now you just feel like you're floundering in uncertainty. "Especially if we have to deal with Sam directly."

“Do you think that he will actually show up?” His brows lift and he doesn’t like that prospect at all. Sam has been exhibiting dangerous behavior, even if he can’t prove it has been him behind the vicious rumors.

"At this point I'm not really sure what to expect at all." But confidence comes from all places, and if right now it comes from putting on the beautiful dress that Alex and David helped you pick out and going out there holding Marcus's hand? Then so be in. Sam does not get to ruin to night, and he does not get to ruin your joy. "But I guess I would rather be mentally prepared for the worst."

“Whatever happens…” Marcus smiles at you proudly. “I’m going to be right there beside you.”

It takes nearly a half an hour to calm down, change clothes, and do your make up, but once you’re ready you head back outside with Marcus to find Agent Bailey waiting for you in the lobby and a commotion outside. “What’s going on?” You ask, though you’re afraid for the answer and not even sure if she will know.

“Miss D’Amario is trying to get the Congressman on the phone,” Agent Bailey explains. “Your vendors are starting to arrive and Melanie had them prepping so they can set up the second the others are cleared away.”

“Vanessa is here?” Marcus looks around warily and spots her standing off to the side looking slightly frazzled as she furiously types on her phone.

“Awesome.” The obvious sarcasm in your voice comes out in a huff. Your exes always being together is more like a Nightmare Team than a Dream Team.

“I’m going to talk to her.” Marcus decides, done with them upsetting you.

“I’m going to stay nearby so that I can intercept anyone who arrives,” you decide. Going up on your toes to give him a kiss, you brush the sharp lapel off his blue suit and offer him your most encouraging smile. “Go get ‘em, Slugger.”

Marcus smiles at your reassurance, but it drops into a frown when he turns and walks towards Vanessa. He’s tired of the games and now, he’s going to face the problem head on. “What is going on, Vanessa?” He demands when he reaches her side. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“What’s going on is crossed wires.” She doesn’t look up from her phone. She doesn’t need to. She still knows Marcus Pike’s voice. “I don’t know how this woman could possibly have booked us both tonight and now she’s playing dumb and getting defensive about it.”

“She’s not playing dumb, but I’m disappointed you are.” Marcus states flatly, sighing softly. “This little game you and Chase are playing needs to stop.”

“I’m not playing dumb.” Vanessa defends, brow furrowed in frustration as she looks up at Marcus after hitting the send button on her text. “The Congressman booked the location himself. All the other vendors were booked by me personally. We’re supposed to be here.”

“Did he forward you the contract and emails?” Her reaction is more honest than he expected and the fact that Sam booked the venue makes him wonder if she was kept in the dark. He pulls out the contract he had tried to show the vendor earlier. “Where is this if Chase actually was double booked?”

“He has the contract. I’m trying to get ahold of him to get a copy right now.” She huffs, frustration and uncertainty lining the worries creases in her brow. “Why couldn’t you two have just had your little party at her hotel anyway? Isn’t that what the place is for? You don’t need the clout of a place like Monticello.”

“Why should she always have parties where she’s doing most of the work? This is our engagement party.” Marcus fires back, unable to believe the condescension in her tone. “What do you have against her, Vanessa? You ended things with me not the other way around. And I thought we ended on good terms.”

“She’s a snob. And dishonest, too boot.” Vanessa doesn’t hold back, obviously pushed to the edge of whatever manners she usually has by the situation at hand. “Almost an entire year in the campaign trail as her mother’s Golden Child preaching freedom of affection and holding Sam up to be the next Jack Kennedy and then she flips her entire platform on a dime when she claims to find her soulmate. It’s pandering, Marcus. And I honestly thought you were better than that.”

“I am her soulmate, Vanessa.” He murmurs quietly. “We didn’t know when we met. I figured it out, that night you broke up with me. Hell, she knew before I did and didn’t say anything because she was with Chase.” He sighs. “So freedom of affection means you can’t choose your soulmate?” He asks. “What about you? You chose your soulmate when you broke up with me. Should I have been spiteful?”

“I always wanted my soulmate.” Vanessa defends, standing up a little straighter and squaring her shoulders. As it that stance somehow gives her a moral high ground. “I support him, and take care of him, and do whatever he needs. That is what love is.”

It clicks, like a bolt of lightning. “It’s Sam, isn’t it?” He asks. “Your soulmate is Sam Chase. That’s why you are doing this.”

The frown on her face flattens into a thin line, unwilling to say a single thing against the man she’s been loyal to for years now. “If I can’t give him the position he wants, I can at least help him make up for what he’s lost,” she reasons, not thinking for a moment that Marcus would understand. He isn’t ambitious the way Sam is. He doesn’t want to lead. To mold an entire nation. Dating the First Daughter was supposed to get him there in leaps and bounds.

He shakes his head sadly, hating to see that Vanessa is blind to what is happening. Willingly looking the other way. “Are you happy?” He asks. “Not being enough?” He folds the contract up and puts it back in his pocket. “If losing access to the White House on a personal level is a detriment, then he’s not a very good politician.” Marcus turns around and starts to walk back towards you.

“No one gets into the White House without knowing someone.” She tells his back, tone laced with bitterness because, No of course she isn’t happy, but why does her ex boyfriend have to be the one to point that out to her? “Just like you don’t get to Hollywood or a record deal or a place in an Ivy League without it.”

He doesn’t answer her, knowing that nothing he says will get through to her. She’s blinded by her loyalty to Sam and her utter devotion to the idea that she should support her soulmate no matter what. It’s a twisted logic and he feels bad for her. When they were together, she was a sweet and earnest woman, looking forward to having a family and building a life with her soulmate.

When Marcus comes back to your side he looks sad rather than angry, and you frown all the more deeply for it. “What’s going on?” You ask gently, letting him lean into your side for comfort. “What did she say?”

“Well….I figured out why Vanessa is so blindly helping Chase with his revenge.” He sighs and glances back at the other woman. “She’s his soulmate.”

“Ah shit.” It was somehow in the back of your mind the whole time, you realize, and now that he’s said it there are puzzle pieces that click into place all too easily. “So this…all of this really is just about the fact that I dumped him?” It makes your skin crawl to think about, a grotesque and unsettling feeling that you know is going to haunt you far longer than you want to admit.

“He wants the White House one day.” He reminds you. “I’m almost positive that he either made promises to people because of having access to the President, or was using that relationship to bolster his career.”

“Well that doesn’t make me feel used and disgusting at all.” You cringe, eyes set down on the sturdy flooring beneath your feet. It’s worse than disgusting, actually. It’s downright humiliating. You’d fallen in love with his act. Bought it hook, line, and sinker. Meeting Marcus may have snapped you out of it, but you had still be entirely fooled for a year.

“Hey.” Marcus reaches for you, rubbing your arms and pulling you closer. “Don’t blame yourself, sweetheart.” He hums. “Chase is a man who put on an act to get what he wants. He has fooled plenty of people.”

“Please know that none of this is because I missed him or still had feelings for him.” Careful not to get makeup on his shirt, you tuck into Marcus’s embrace and breathe in the strength of him. “I’m embarrassed at being taken in so completely. And love you impossibly more for being such a good, honest man.”

“I don’t think you feel anything but heartbroken that he could feign affection for his own personal career gain.” He promises. He would have thought it was because of his feelings for you that he was reacting so badly to this, except for what Vanessa had told him. “Even if you still had feelings for him, I would never expect you to turn off a year of emotions like a switch.” He’s secure enough in your love that there is not any reason to doubt you or be jealous.

“Whatever I felt for him started dimming the second I met you,” you assure him. Even though you and Marcus are strong in the love you have for each other, a bit of reassurance never goes amiss. “More than anything I’m upset with myself for being so blind to his true intentions.”

“Honey, you can’t always see the darkness in someone’s heart.” He reminds you, not wanting you to feel guilty. You have nothing to be upset about. Your intentions have always been good.

“So what do we do now?” He seems to have the answers tonight and there is comfort in that — on top of which, he is the one who talked to Vanessa. “Is she backing down? I don’t want to have to have an altercation.”

“I don’t think she knows what is going on, to be honest.” He admits, looking back at the very flustered woman. “I told her that if it was a venue mix up, the congressman would have a contract.”

“Vanessa does all his bookings.” You look up at him in confusion. “Shouldn’t she have the contract?”

“She said he booked the venue and she booked everything else.” He explains, shaking his head. “It’s pure fucking malice.”

“He never booked it.” The realization kicks you in the gut with the force of a wild stallion. “He’s going to go to the press with a story about us stealing his event venue to make us look bad.”

“What better way to do that, with all the press already here for his ‘event’?” His smile is brittle and humorless.

“I heard the press.” Annette comes swinging around the corner and into view like she’s late for a cue on stage. “Tell me what’s going on, kids. I’ll handle it from here.”

Marcus looks at you for the go–ahead and when you nod slightly, he turns to the White House press agent. “We think Sam Chase did this deliberately.” He explains quietly, not wanting the conversation to go beyond the three of you. “Vanessa D’Amario is his personal assistant and apparently his soulmate.” The older woman’s eyes widen in surprise. “She says that Chase personally booked this venue and she booked the vendors. I think he set this up, knowing we were considering this place to force some kind of public ‘they are pushing their weight around’ accusation.” When it’s voice out loud, it sounds like some kind of conspiracy theory, but he knows it’s true.

“Interesting…” Annette looks between the two of you and offers you both what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “If all of that is true, which sounds alarmingly plausible, by the way…well, it means doing a little politicking of our own. Are you two going to be okay if a little press leak happens ahead of your party?”

“Whatever we need to do.” Marcus agrees easily and then looks at you. “What do you think, sweetheart? I think we’ve been on the defensive long enough. Time to play a little offense.”

“There was going to be press coverage for this party anyway, so why not?” You shrug slightly “Do whatever you think will help, Annette.”

“I’m on it,” she promises, disappearing again in a flash with a wink and a thumbs up.

“Well, if anything, we can prove when we sent out the party invites.” He reminds you with a shrug.

“Annette seems to have it in hand.” The best you can do right now is shrug and check your watch. “Your parents, my siblings, and the first carload of our friends should be here soon.”

“We are a little bit behind, but nothing we can’t deal with.” He promises.

“At least I can hear the band doing sound check.” That in and of itself is a huge relief. It means things won’t be too behind schedule. “Let’s go see who’s here.”

“Of course.” Marcus grins at you. “Maybe we stop by the bar and grab a drink to calm our nerves.”

“Slow sipping,” you agree with a nod of your head. “It makes me extra relieved that we have those charcuterie tables as part of our appetizers. Even if the caterers get held up with the other things, people can graze.”

“You loved that idea and I have to admit that it’s a good one.” He steers you towards the lovely little alcove that the beer, wine and cocktails will be handed out from. The bartender is already set, since the venue provides ice and he is handing you drinks in no time.

The first to arrive are Marcus’s parents. Matthew and Donna practically smother the two of you in hugs immediately, so glad to be here to celebrate that they’re buzzing. How handsome Marcus looks in his suit, how lovely your dress is, the perfect warm autumn night for the party, they’re just delighted to be there and a balm of positivity over your soul.

Marcus points his father to the bar while his mother coos over you with a proud smile. Donna Pike absolutely adored you, it was evident from the way she always asked about you and reached out to you without him as an intermediate, wanting to forge a relationship with you separate from her son.

“We’re so glad you were able to come up on short notice.” It’s a relief (one of many tonight) to have such a good relationship with your fiancé’s mother, and you walk with Donna toward the bar with Marcus walks ahead with his father. “We both would rather have waited on the party than do it without you here.”

“The good thing about what I do is that I can teleconference when needed.” It’s not something she employs all the time, but her only child’s engagement party warranted the change of pace.

“We’re grateful.” Especially now that their presence is a calming balm over both you and Marcus. “And I thought…while you’re here…I was hoping to ask a small favor of you?”

“Anything.” The answer is immediate and doesn’t need any consideration. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

“I was hoping you would be willing to come to lunch with me tomorrow,” you glance up at her with a small smile. “At the White House. For a little wedding planning.” It’s both to include your future mother–in–law in planning that she will not be close by enough to really take part in, but also to have your family around you for an afternoon. “My grandmother’s wedding dress has been passed down and I’d like for you to be able to see it. You know, before any decisions or shopping or anything happens.”

“Oh…” she exhales softly, tears immediately making her eyes water and she nods. “Absolutely. It would be— of course.” She insists. “I would be delighted to come to such an important event.”

“I know it will be hard to have you included in most aspects of the planning,” you explain, wanting to make sure she understands how much you’ve thought about this. “So I wanted to have to you included in the most important ones.”

“And I would have understood if you hadn’t included me at all.” She folds you into another warm hug. “Thank you. And I have something for you.”

“Oh?” In all the commotion you can’t think what it would be — after all, you and Marcus had specified that gifts were not necessary in your invitations for tonight.

She pulls back and reaches into her purse for a card. "I know that we aren't supposed to bring gifts, but..." She looks fondly to where her husband and son are at the bar talking and smiling. "It's the groom's family's responsibility to take care of the rehearsal day and I want you to plan exactly what you want."

“Donna.” She knows very well that you and Marcus are doing well in your careers. Well enough to be able to build a house and plan for a family and all sorts of other things. “You really didn’t have to.”

"Yes we did." She tells you with a small smirk. "You have made Marcus completely happy and that is worth more to me than the national debt your mother inherited."

There is the barest moment of pause before you snort, and you and Donna both bust out giggling. “Well, thank you.” You’ll open the envelope later with Marcus, but for now you give her a very tight hug. “I’m sure everything will go smoothly. It’s just the nerves of everything.”

“Anything else we can help you with?” There’s the briefest flash of unhappiness on your face before you hug her and she knows it’s nothing between you and Marcus that caused it.

"Not at all." Their being here is wonderful, and they're helping financially when they're not obligated to. That is more than enough. "Why don't we grab you a drink and we can take a look around. The view from here is beautiful."

“You have chosen a gorgeous venue.” She marvels, even as the people working continue to bustle around to put the event together.

After procuring a glass of the same spiked hot apple cider that you're drinking for Donna, you turn to look around the lawn with her and actually let yourself smile. "We were here for a day out after our goddaughter was born and we fell in love with it," you tell her. "It was perfect, so we dove in and talked to their event coordinator that day."

“It’s a mixture of homey and sophisticated.” She admires. “I think it’s very fitting for the two of you.”

"I think that's sort of the vibe we're going for with everything," you admit, sipping your drink beside her. "Comforting and fun Americana, but a little sophisticated."

“I think that you’ve nailed it, love.” She agrees, taking a sip of her drink and humming in approval.

"I'm really glad you're here." And while you know that isn't something a lot of people say to their in–laws, you count yourself as lucky. "And I'm just as excited for tomorrow as I have been for tonight."

“I am too.” She admits with a grin. “I am just happy to be included.”

On the edge of the lawn, nearest the parking lot, Annette has intercepted the first batch of friends and family to arrive with a plan and a spark in her eyes. "Alex! June!" She knows the First Children well, and Sydney Badillo as well, flagging down the new mother and her husband when they get out of their car. "I'm very glad to see you all."

“I wonder what this is about.” Juan murmurs to his wife, taking her hand after he rounds the front of the car. “I don’t know.” Sydney frowns slightly, knowing that you hadn’t said much about Annette doing the publicity for the party, but it’s unusual to have her meet them out in the parking lot. “But we will find out.” She murmurs before sending the older woman a warm smile. “Annette! Lovely to see you.”

Alex’s soulmate David, his brother Noah, and Junie’s soulmate all pile out of the cars as well, followed closely by the arrival of Marcus’s cousin Selena and his friends that had moved to DC. This is Annette’s army assembled, and she smiles at the large group. “I wonder if I could ask a favor of all of you?” She poses, knowing there will be a few skeptics in any group. “We’ve had a little mix up here tonight but everything will go smoothly will your help.”

“What happened?” Alex demands, aware more than Junie about all the negative press surrounding you and Marcus lately. He and David both agree it’s a smear campaign.

“It’s not necessary to go into deep detail,” Annette insists. She doesn’t want anyone being pointed or cruel tonight. “But there is someone trying to claim that Birdie and Marcus stole this venue from them for an event tonight. They don’t have any proof that they booked it, of course, but I suspect they’ll try to go to the media with a story for the morning. So I was hoping I could get all of you onto your social media accounts tonight with positive posts from the party and a few mentions about how excited you’ve been for this?”

“Done.” Junie immediately agrees. “I’ve got photos of the invitations to the party when I opened them. I’ll post those with the ‘it’s finally the day!’ theme.”

“We’re on it. A hundred percent.” Alex agrees, glancing up at David and getting a nod from his partner. They don’t have to be told to know who is behind this, and they’re going to do their part to stop the stupidity.

“Do we have an official Insta for Birdie’s wedding?” Junnie asks. “Or should we tag mom’s White House account?”

“Definitely tag the White House.” Annette nods, but she chewed over the question. “But we should do a tag for the event, and maybe a tag for the First Kids? What do you think?”

“It is our sister.” Alex muses. “We should also do a tag for the engagement. Something like fairytale2017 or something as equally disgustingly cute.”

“Maybe we could think of something unique and a little catchy?” Sydney suggests, pulling out her phone. “Something we can use through all the events?”

“Birdie&Marcus’TilEternity?” Junie offers, a slightly dreamy smile as she thinks about soulmates. Since discovering her own, she’s become more of a romantic.

“It’s a little long…” Alex chews on the thought. “FirstWife2018? Like a reference to being the First Daughter?”

Sydney laughs softly, shaking her head. “It would work,” she admits with another laugh. “Except he’s been married before. So technically she’s the second wife.”

“We will come up with something.” Annette agrees. “May I text you all when it’s decided.”

“Of course.” Selena nods her head along with several of the others. “We already have a group chat for planning their combined bachelor/bachelorette party. We can do a version of that group that has you in it, too? In case you need us again.”

“That would be perfect.” Annette agrees. “I will not text without a good reason, I promise.”

There is a little bit of back and forth conversation, but Alex adds Annette’s number to a new group chat with everyone involved and renames the new group Mythbusters with a giggle.

“Oh that’s good.” Sydney snorts when the welcome text pings through and quickly responds with who she is so Annette can associate numbers with names.

“It’s the Congressman, isn’t it?” Selena asks, saving Annette’s number to her phone like the others.

Her brow wings up, nothing getting by the friends and family you have, but she doesn’t answer in the affirmative. “We would just like to get ahead of any potential issues a quickly as possible.”

“That’s yes, in White House Staffer,” June translates for anyone who isn’t familiar. “And I can finally say with glee that something about that guy always felt off to me.”

“I tolerated him.” Sydney admits. “I know Birdie would huff, but he just always was so smug. I wanted to slap him.”

Alex offers here a high five for that and Juan nods in agreement while Annette bites her lip from saying anything unprofessional. “How about something cheeky?” She suggests after a moment, when the murmurs about disliking Congressman Chase have subsided. “The press called her the First Princess after she and Agent Pike were photographed dancing together. Maybe we can do something with that?”

“#PrincessPike2018.” Sydney supplies immediately and Juan chuckles. “They will love it and she will be a tiny bit embarrassed when it trends.”

“Which is perfect.” Selena agrees. She’s taken to this new group of friends like a duck to water, sense of humor included. “We can also do a plain and simple #PikeWedding2018 for all the event photos we’ll end up posting.”

Juan nods. “Well, the official day should have the hashtag #WhiteHouseWedding2018.” He offers.

“Perfect.” Annette agrees with that right away. It’s good social media coverage in every way. Let’s use #PrincessPike for anything relating to Birdie as a bride, #PikeWedding for planning and events, and then #WhiteHouseWedding for the day.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Everyone nods as Sydney answers. “We will start posting things now. Tagging them and Monticello for the engagement party.”

“I appreciate all your help.” Annette steps away, as if she is releasing the group into the wild. “We’ll nip this in the bud and have fun doing it.”

“Is there anything else we can do?” Junie asks seriously, her hand in her soulmates and looking determined.

“Help your sister have a great time.” Annette tells her seriously. “Right now she’s a bit stressed, and nervous. Just go celebrate with your family and she’ll feel better being surrounded by it all.”

“That’s easy to do.” Alex grins. “Come on, Junie.” He chuckles. “Let’s go lovingly bully our older sister.”

"Baby, come here. You have to try one of these." The catering company had agreed to tweak their stuffed mushroom recipe to meet the one created by the Kennedy family's personal chef as written down in his cookbook, and the result is absolutely stellar. "Tell me this isn't the best stuffed mushroom you've ever had in your life."

He hasn't strayed from your side for more than a few steps, so it's easy to come closer. Grinning as he opens up for you to feed him one of the stuffed mushrooms, closing his eyes in utter delight as the flavors burst on his tongue. "Oh god, we are keeping the leftovers, right?" He moans.

"Absolutely." You grin and giggle a little that his face matches yours perfectly. They're little bites of heaven. "I have half a mind to have these at the wedding, too."

"We should." He agrees quickly, picking up another bite off the table and offering it to you since you sacraficed one of your mushrooms for him.

Without looking, he has grabbed one of the little cornbread cups filled with pulled pork with has been your other favorite bite at the beginning of the party. You hum around the delicious choice and sigh happily. "Everyone seems to be having fun. And the band is great, thankfully."

"They are good." Marcus has been impressed with the range of songs they can play, but it's to be expected for a good wedding band. "I'm so glad that tonight has gone off with little more than a slight hitch." He leans in and kisses your cheek. "Everything worked out."

"Fingers crossed that the rest of the night runs as smoothly." It's almost time to start dinner, which will surely come with a couple of speeches but should be a beautiful meal. This catering company is fantastic and the two sisters that run it deserves as much recognition as you can possibly heap on them. They, along with the band, will hopefully get lots of coverage from the White House.

"It will." Marcus doesn't mention that there is the best security that could possibly be provided by the Secret Service at this event. He pecks your lips. "Tonight is amazing and it will continue to be so."

"Are you sure about that?" Having not seen her in a while, it is a surprise when you glance past his shoulder and see Vanessa approaching from the corner of the lawn.

Marcus hisses a quiet sigh and squeezes your hand. "I'll ask her to leave and then I'll have someone escort her out." He tells you quietly, waiting for you to agree with a quick nod before he moves to intercept her.

"I come in peace." Vanessa insists, holding up a hand briefly as though it were a white flag.

"I'm not sure that I believe that." He admits, not calling security over simply to avoid a scene. If he can get her to leaving willingly, it would look better.

"I just came to tell you that my vendors are packed up and we're leaving the premises." She's feeling deflated and frankly embarrassed by being stuck in the middle without any kind of life preserver. The shouting match she had with Sam over the phone inside the Visitor Center did not help. At this point she just wants to go home and open a bottle of wine.

His brow lifts in surprise, sure that she would once again insist that this was their venue. "I have to say....I'm surprised that no guests of the Congressman have shown up." He comments quietly. "It's…almost as if they weren't invited."

"Please don't prod at me." Vanessa huffs, shaking her head slightly. At this point being kicked while she's down would be deserved but humiliating. "I just spent forty minutes making phone calls and having arguments. I have no idea what happened, but it's–it is what it is."

"I'm sorry." Marcus apologizes and bites his lip for a moment. "Why don't you join us for a drink?" He offers, motioning towards the bar. "I'm sure you could use one?" He wants to know what has transpired but he also wants to prove that, despite everything, you and Marcus are not her enemy.

"That...doesn't feel appropriate." It's kind of him, but Marcus is kind. That is part of him. "You guys enjoy your party. It...it looks nice. And the hashtags are a cute touch. Very media friendly." Vanessa sighs again and her deflation happens all over again. "I should...I should go. There are campaign events to plan. Even if this one sort of...imploded."

"Listen...." Marcus frowns slightly and looks over at where you are watching him with avid interest. "I know that we are kind of on opposite sides of the sand, but Birdie and I— we aren't— we don't wish you and the congressman anything more than happiness." He offers softly.

"It's all a little complicated," she admits, though she doesn't relish it. "Sam feels so strongly about this whole situation having two sides but I have to admit that I feel like that attitude is starting to do more harm than good."

"I think it is too." He agrees, nodding and offering her a small smile. "If you need anything..." The offer dies, unspoken, but it's there in case she needs it. Vanessa bites her lip and looks conflicted so Marcus takes that as his cue. "Have a good night, Vanessa." He offers before he turns back to return to your side.

"Is everything okay?" There wasn't any shouting or any real fighting that you could see, but Marcus looks upset when he comes back to you.

“Yeah, it’s good.” Marcus reassures you, rubbing your shoulder and bringing you closer for a kiss. “I think – I hope – that she’s starting to see the light in this entire situation.”

“Some cracks in the shiny veneer of it all?” You feel bad honestly. Vanessa might be blindly loyal but she never seemed outright cruel to you.

“I think so.” He hums. “She desperately wanted her soulmate, so I think she justified a lot in her mind.”

“I feel so bad.” There are a lot of people in the world who suffer in different ways for want of their soulmate, and Vanessa might not be your favorite person but she still doesn’t deserve to have that kind of pain.

“I do too.” Marcus admits, but he shrugs. “No one ever said every soulmate match was good.”

“I’m just glad I have you.” Your arm around his waist and your head momentarily on his chest are so grounding and so incredible calming. Just because you could weather the storm of the old without him by your side doesn’t mean you ever, ever want to. Not anymore. Not now that you know how much better it can be. “I love you, Marcus. More than words.”

“You are part of me.” He promises. “My soul, my heart, my thoughts.” He smiles softly, unaware that the moment is being photographed and posted online with the captions declaring true love was real.

“I’m stealing that for my wedding vows,” you chuckle softly, admittedly because you’re so choked up in the moment.

“Steal away, sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead and sighs, letting the problems of the day fade and just reminding himself that everything is perfect now. He has you.

______

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

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

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #PrincessPike2018 #PikeWedding2018 #WhiteHouseWedding2018

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leciraofthewilderness · 23 hours

Text

So, despite some faults, I really enjoyed totk, and on its anniversary I want to say something about it. Other people have said similar things before but it’s really important to me and actually a big part of why the story of totk was meaningful to me, so I want to also say it:

Zelda needed to come back from draconification. The story needed that. It wasn’t lazy and just ignoring “consequences” because (imo) that was the *point*

The point is to feel like there are going to be terrible consequences and then say actually, no. You can come back from this, with the help of other people.

To me at least, that was the theme of the whole story.

If botw was about how the world goes on past loss and grief and starts to heal (how flowers grow in the ruins and the world can be beautiful again, be worth saving, even if it has changed)…then totk was about a more personal kind of healing.

The weight of the world should not be on your shoulders alone…you, alone, should not have to fix everything…you should not have to sacrifice yourself, but when you do, someone will be there to save you from it.

This turned into a really long ramble so:

You (Link) gained so much and now it’s gone. It feels like you’re back to where you started and yet you know you have to do it all again…you were weak and you failed and you’re weaker now…but

You go down to the surface. Monsters swarm across it once again. Other people are fighting them too though. You help, but it’s not just you…

You go to the Rito, the Gorons, the Zora, the Gerudo…just like with the divine beasts, there are friends who help you save each region. But this time, part of them comes along with you when you leave. It’s nice, you realize, the first time one of them protects you from a monster you weren’t prepared for. You’re still weaker than you were before, but someone has your back…

When you go up to the sky you see a strange new dragon there. There’s something about them that feels familiar. You try not to think about it.

You go down to the depths too. It’s terrifying at first. You hate it. You only want to get what you came for and get out of the dark….but slowly, the light grows. You get stronger. The dark feels like a challenge you can face (and someone has your back).

There are spirits down there. You don’t know when they’re from, but some part of you wonders…are these all the people you let die in the Calamity? (You help them find rest from their wandering. The weight on your shoulders feels a little less heavy).

There’s so much gloom. The first few times the sky turns red and hands chase you (a reminder of what you’ve lost, how you failed) you just run. Eventually though, you have to fight. It feels like the (second) worst day of your life again. But you manage to get free of the grasping gloom and stand and fight, as wild and desperate as it is. Beneath the manifestation of your worst fears, there’s another thing to fight, but this time it has a face (a voice in the back of your head says…you know this isn’t all on you and your failure…it’s really Ganon’s fault right?). You get through it.

At every turn in your travels, it seems like something reminds you of Zelda. Her passion, her curiosity, her kindness. You miss her.

At first, the tears you find reassure you. She may be in the past, but she’s safe. She’ll come back somehow…but then you hear the word draconification for the first time. You want to believe she wouldn’t do it but you know her and the fear sits cold inside you. (Zelda is a lot of things. She’s been allowed to be more of them, since she was freed from her hundred year battle, without her father holding her back. But deep down inside her, there’s a vein of self-sacrifice that still runs strong. It’s what saved the world before, after all).

She did it. She really did it. She’s gone from you (from Hyrule) forever, and it’s all your fault. If only you hadn’t failed so utterly in the battle (you can hardly even call it that) under the castle. If only you’d caught her. If only you hadn’t let the sword break. You should have protected her you should have been better it’s all your fault and now she has to live with the consequences, forever. Everything really is on you, you should have been better.

(Zelda POV: you couldn’t call upon Hylia’s power in time, you were too content to let it wither and fade away from you, ready to be free of it. You shouldn’t have. He got hurt, the sword got hurt, it’s your fault…Sonia and Rauru help you channel it again, Sonia helps you learn how to turn back time…but you don’t save her. She dies because you couldn’t save her. Rauru dies not long after. There is no one left to guide you, once again. You could spend years trying to figure it out on your own. But you did that last time. It didn’t work. Self-sacrifice, stepping in front of someone you love, that worked. (You do what you can, to call upon the sages, to help Link in the future, first). And then you swallow the stone. You’ve come a long way, in the past five years, allowing yourself to exist. But in the end, self-sacrifice worked last time. It’ll work this time too.)

You (Link) go down beneath the castle. You were supposed to bring the sages but you didn’t. It’s nice, for someone to have your back. But no one else should get hurt to fix your mistakes.

They follow you anyway. They fight with you, against the hordes, against the greatest enemies you defeated together, along the way. They’ll have your back, even if you don’t think you deserve it.

You fight Ganondorf, and then the demon king, in the hardest battle of your life. You think it’s over and then the demon king decides it’s better to lose himself completely than let you win. You’re exhausted and afraid of yet another battle, but up there in the sky, when you’re falling, the Light Dragon catches you (you wonder why she changed her path to catch you, you wonder if there’s still something of Zelda left in there to save). With her help, you win.

And then you’re in some other realm. The spirits of Sonia and Rauru are there. You remember how the two of them and Zelda channeled such incredible power together. You think about Recall. Turning something back to the memory of what it was before, like Sonia said. You stand with them and you allow yourself to hope. Maybe the Light Dragon can remember the form she took so long ago, the person that she was.

And then you’re falling, and Zelda is falling, but this time you catch her. You catch her. She’s back home with you, finally, finally.

And maybe, one mistake doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to be perfect. Sometimes, someone else can stand with you, and it’ll all turn out alright. (You can put the weight of the world on your shoulders, you can sacrifice yourself, but someone will be there to catch you, someone will be there to pull you back to yourself, when all is said and done).

#loz #tears of the kingdom #Link #Zelda #I will say also that I think part of the reason totk is special to me is very personal #like when it came out I was still struggling with the worst burnout of my life #I had had a few months of exhaustion between January and March and in May that exhaustion was still sticking to me #it was hard to get out of bed hard to do anything I felt so tired that I almost felt sick but I wasn’t sick #and the thing is Zelda games are my biggest special interest #and having a new one to play like genuinely I’m not joking it gave me bsck so much energy #I was doing really badly but when totk came out I played it for an entire weekend straight basically #and like my mom came to visit me and help me out with basic life stuff #and like sit with me while I played just like enjoying being together #and that was really nice #over that summer and the fall after I started getting to know someone I work with better #largely over conversations about totk at first #and they’ve become a good friend #(and become someone that I feel safe to be fully myself around)#and so I just have this really strong personal connection to totk #like I will not claim to be impartial about it #there are definitely criticisms that I can acknowledge #in particular I don’t like that they un-amputeed Link let Link be disabled #and also ganondorf’s characterization was shallow and one dimensional #and I’m sure there’s other things I could think of #but the overall narrative #including Zelda becoming the light dragon and then turning back in the end #I really like that #it felt like a narrative of healing to me #and playing it at the time that I did felt really healing to me too

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 day

Text

The Distance

Note: well... this was unplanned and came out of nowhere. I wrote this in less than two hours so don't expect a masterpiece, but just a fun little story.

Warnings: 18+! smut and a faint hint of angst.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You were desperate to meet your online boyfriend.

wordcount: 2,3k

Masterlist

You had been waiting for this day to come for years. For too many years actually, if you were honest. So many years that sometimes you even wondered if Sihtric was real.

But you knew he was real, because you facetimed each other daily. It was hard, being in a long distance relationship and living in different countries while struggling to make a decent living. You and Sihtric both just never had found the time or the money to make the big step to visit each other. Until one night you broke down and told Sihtric you didn't know how much longer you could continue this relationship without finally meeting him.

'I can't take it anymore,' you cried on the phone with your camera switched off while his was on.

You didn't want Sihtric to see you like that, all tired and empty because you had survived yet another rough day at work and came home to an empty apartment once again. All you wanted was to step into your home and be able to be wrapped into his arms, but it was only something you could dream and fantasise about. And you saw how Sihtric just sat with his head in his hands, his fingers compulsive raking through his curls while he listened to your sobs, his heart pounding out of his chest while his stomach turned.

'So… so you want to… break up?' he asked, the tremble in his voice betraying his heartbreak and shock.

'No,' you sniffled, 'not at all. I just need to see you. I need to know if this is all worth it. It's been seven years, Sihtric. Seven years and we never met. Are we wasting our lives?'

Sihtric sighed and sadly agreed. It had been absolutely ridiculous that you still hadn't been able to meet up. But Sihtric told you he couldn't take a week off at short notice just to make something of an emergency trip to finally see you, no matter how much he wanted to.

'I can come to you,' you eased his mind, 'you don't need to take any time off. You can just go to work during the day, I don't mind that at all. I have two weeks off after today, I can make it. I just really need to see you.'

'But what about the money?' he worried, 'we both know it's expensive-'

'I can make it,' you said again, 'I just have to see you.'

Sihtric offered to pay for your plane ticket, even if it would make him go nearly bankrupt, but you refused his gesture and made the rash decision to spend all your savings within a span of ten minutes. Your trip to Dunholme, the small village your internet boyfriend lived in, was booked not much later and you were to leave on Saturday morning, the day after tomorrow. You would land at Birmingham airport, and since Sihtric had the weekend off, he agreed to pick you up there.

And it all seemed so surreal, when you stepped into the plane with barely any money left in your account. You hoped this would be all worth it, you just had to know if he was worth it.

You had met Sihtric online through an online community seven years ago. You both shared the same interest in medieval history and quickly began to exchange knowledge in private messages. You only knew each other's usernames for the first half year of your online friendship, and Sihtric was baffled when you told him you were a young lady, and not some random old guy. And when Sihtric told you his age was close to yours, you were also pleasantly surprised, as you had expected to be talking to someone who was most likely in his sixties. But even before you gained all that knowledge about each other, there was already a connection established and soon conversations weren't just about history anymore, but about private matters and the regular daily life too. But once you knew each other's name, age and gender, conversations became even easier and more fun.

One afternoon Sihtric was bored and joked around that he wanted to facetime you, thinking you wouldn't be up for it, but when you answered the call and you both finally saw the face behind the username, you were immediately smitten with each other. Sihtric was so good looking that you were almost angry he never called you before. His hair was dark and short, shaved on the sides and his facial hair was minimal but well kept nonetheless. You loved his tattoos and his voice made you lightheaded and your knees weak. And his smile was absolutely to die for.

Luckily Sihtric felt the same about you, and he insisted on facetiming you almost every day ever since, which you didn't refuse. Naturally, it didn't take long before you were head over heels for each other and spent every free waking second of the day talking to each other. This went on for years and years, growing a bit older with each other online and helping each other through various stages in life; from grief to finding new jobs and to surprise each other by getting different haircuts unannounced. You had seen Sihtric with several haircuts over the years. After a few years of talking he decided to grow out his hair and one day suddenly appeared on your screen with half of his head shaved. You were mortified at first, but you quickly grew to love it. And a few years after that he once again grew out his hair and started to braid the top while leaving his dark curls hanging loose in the back, and you loved it.

And now, when you were one day from finally seeing him in real life, his hair was still at shoulder length but the sides were shaved again. He usually had his hair loose, looking a little feral with his wild hair at times, but when the weather became warmer he'd either braid it or just tie it back into a bun. And you loved it all, just like you had loved every haircut he had before. The only thing that was always consistent was his facial hair, and you told him if he'd ever shave that off you would never talk to him again, which he knew was a joke but still took that to heart.

But beside the good looks you both had, your connection was first and foremost based on a deeper level. Despite having never met in real life, you trusted each other wholly and loved each other so deeply it could not be explained. The physical attraction was just a huge bonus, one neither of you complained about. And after about a year since you first started talking, your phone calls, snaps and facetime calls started to become more risky and sexually charged.

And you'll never forget the first time you had phonesex. It hadn't been planned at all and it wasn't even a video call, it had just been a random phone call late at night while you were both in bed after a long day of work. Sihtric's voice had been so deep and smooth, it aroused you in a way you had never felt before and that's also what you suddenly blurted out on the phone.

'You don't know how aroused your voice is making me right now.'

'You're aroused?' Sihtric laughed softly, 'hm,' he then hummed, as if he knew the effect that would have on you.

'Stop it!' you giggled while your cheeks were warm.

'It's okay, darling,' he almost purred, making everything so much worse as you could just hear his sly smile through the phone, 'it's not like you've never aroused me before.'

'Well, what did you do to fix it?'

'I think you know,' Sihtric replied, his voice somehow lower and smoother than ever before, 'you think I've never moaned your name in my bed or in the shower?'

You became quiet for a moment. You stopped breathing for a second while the sound of your beating heart roared in your ears and you felt your cheeks heat up even more. Your mouth went dry and it was hard to swallow. You knew you were attracted to each other, but this had been something rather undiscussed before that very moment. You weren't sure how to proceed the conversation, as this was something so intimate yet so strange too as you were far away from each other, but it just all happened as if it was natural.

'You do that often?' you suddenly asked.

'More than you know,' Sihtric confessed, then paused for a moment. 'And if I was with you right now, darling,' he husked, 'I'd take care of that for you.'

'What would you do?' you knew the cheesy question would only make the call more risky.

You both had your eyes closed when Sihtric laughed almost darkly and quietly, and you heard he exhaled softly and licked his lips before he spoke again.

'You really wanna go there?' he half whispered, making you feel lightheaded.

'Mhm.'

'Well,' Sihtric smiled and kept his voice quiet and low, 'first I'd kiss your lips, but only faintly, because I like to tease, and then I'd slowly undress you until you're left in only your lingerie.'

Your breath hitched in your throat already, and he had only just started describing what he would do if he was with you at that moment. And you both mindlessly moved your free hand under the sheets and down your bodies, not telling each other while Sihtric continued talking.

'And after I have admired you for a moment, I'd kiss your jaw and neck,' he murmured as he slowly rubbed his palm over his hardening length, 'and I'll make sure to leave some markings, showing everyone that you belong to me and are mine only. Because you are mine only, aren't you, baby?'

'Yes,' you breathed while you sought friction with your own hand between your thighs, 'I'm yours only.'

'That's right,' Sihtric hummed, 'good girl. And then I'd slowly kiss down your neck to your shoulders. And I'd use my teeth to lower your bra strap while I'd gently massage your tits with my hands before I'd suck and kiss your nipples.'

'Fuck,' you accidentally sighed, which Sihtric heard loud and clear.

'You'd like that?' he asked and bit down on his lip while he shoved his hand down his boxers.

'Yeah,' you whispered, 'don't stop… please.'

Sihtric smiled and hummed, and you both didn't need to say anything for you both already knew you were already half pleasing yourselves in the dark.

'And then I'd kiss my way further down your body, slowly, darling,' he husked, 'because I like to take my time. Then I'd lower your panties and take them off, and I'd kiss your legs on my way back up, all the way to your inner thighs. And when you just can't take it anymore and beg me to touch you, then I'd throw your legs over my shoulders and finally kiss your sweet and soaked pussy before taking my time to eat you out until your legs are shaking and you're squirming in my arms.'

'God, please,' you moaned as you slid your own fingers inside you, 'please, Sihtric, I need you so bad, honey.'

'I know, baby,' he cooed as he touched himself, 'I need you too, darling, you have no idea how badly I need to feel you and taste you. How desperately I want to make sweet love to you but also completely ravage you. Fuck,' he exhaled sharply and chuckled, 'hm, fuck, darling. I'd fuck you so good you won't be able to think anymore, I promise. I'll make you forget about everything else so that the only thing you can think of is how good I make you feel.'

'I want to suck your cock so badly,' you whined, 'please…'

'I'll fuck your mouth, sweetheart, don't worry,' he said and started to moan, 'I'll give you everything you need, I promise. You'll never want or need anyone else anymore.'

'I want you,' you moaned as your climax approached, 'I need you.'

'I need you too,' Sihtric said hoarsely, 'I want to fuck you and fill you up entirely, making you all mine forever. And I'll have you over and over again the first time I'm with you, trust me,' he moaned, 'I'll make you cum on my cock while you scream my name until you can't fucking take it anymore.'

And with those words you both finished, your ragged breaths and heavy moans filling the dark and lonely room you were both in while you listened to each other on the phone as you gradually came down from your highs. At first you both just laughed, a little flustered at what had just happened but also feeling relieved that it had happened, and you felt closer than ever despite the distance. And that's also when you both first said it.

'I love you, sweetheart,' Sihtric whispered sleepily, 'forever.'

'I love you too, honey, forever,' you whispered, and not much later you both fell asleep while neither of you had ended the call.

You smiled and blushed at the pleasant memory as you stared out of the plane window, and you were only brought back to the present time when you heard the announcement that you would soon be landing at Birmingham airport. And that's when you also suddenly realised you were about to meet Sihtric for the first time ever.

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owlespresso · 2 days

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the coring, the goring

alpha!blade/beta!reader/omega!luocha you are a beta courier. kafka asks of you a favor. tags: filth and spice below like you wouldn't believe, extremely dubious consent, luocha and blade are freaks but that's nothing new, prone bone pt 3 of my part in @lorelune's a/b/o collab. they've been extremely generous enough to beta read all three parts and give feedback. i could not have done this without them! part 1, part 2, collab masterlist

Kafka shows up at your apartment, one afternoon. After Blade stayed over, flayed you open, left your tender underbelly exposed to the pale moonlight. You still don’t know how you feel about him. You do, however, know how you feel about her.

You’ve never told her where you live, but it doesn’t surprise you that she knows. She lingers in the doorway, leaned up against the left side. Her coy smile is more subdued than usual.

“I need your help with something,” she says. At least she isn’t wasting time on the pleasantries, today. That’ll get her to leave quicker, and that’s pretty much all you’re concerned with. You still blanch, because she wants something from you. That’s always a dire sign. Something in your life is about to go awry.

“You can’t find someone else? I’m a bit busy today.” you narrow your eyes at her. Her smile tightens. Whatever she’s come here for, it must be urgent.

“Whatever your clients pay you, I’ll double it for the days you miss. Every single one. I’ll even throw in some of those honey candies you like to sweeten the deal.”

“Days?” you blink, already beginning to calculate the potential gains and losses in your head. Missing several shifts could lose you a few clients—could you wheedle her into paying you that difference until you find new ones?

“Yes, days,” Kafka twirls a lock of her hair absentmindedly. “You see, Bladie has a little problem that needs delicate taking care of—” she begins, voice pitching up, preparing to wind around the crux of the whole thing until you lose your mind.

You cut her off there. “Just give it to me straight.”

“Always so forward,” she pouts. Her voice winds up like she’s about to give you a scolding, but she flattens out, lips curling into a lazy smile. “I like that about you.”

“Bladie is in rut,” she continues. Slowly, like she’s explaining the concept to a child. “He has someone to take care of him—that merchant, the blonde one. The only problem is, well… their paths don’t make them entirely compatible.”

Your lips twitch into a frown. Destruction and Abundance, on opposite ends of the spectrum. If they were both normal people, it wouldn’t pose a problem… but you have no idea if Blade’s unique condition could cause complications. Regardless, you’re not sure why she’s telling you. This isn’t your problem.

“They’ll need a mediator—” she begins.

You’ve heard enough. “Absolutely not.”

“Aw, c’mon. These two have been barking up your tree for more than a month and you’re not curious?” she teases,

“No.”

She says your name. Your spine goes rigid. Something sweet and cloying pricks its claws into the soft flesh of your consciousness. This is suddenly no longer a negotiation.

“You don’t have to do anything. You just have to be… present, in case Blade’s mara rears its ugly head.”

“You could do that,” you point out.

Kafka shrugs. “I could, but that isn’t the only benefit of having an emanator of Harmony around. I can’t mediate like you can,” You hold your tongue only because you know she’s right. “I know it’s a hassle, but I’ll make it worth your while. And I’ll pay you triple of what you would have made this week.”

You narrow your eyes. “And if his rut doesn’t last a week?” Unease churns at the bottom of your gut. This isn’t your wheelhouse. To delve to the depths of intimacy when you haven’t even waded the shallows is unwise at the very best, life-endangering at the worst. You’re not attached to Luocha and Blade in the way they are attached to each other. And the moment you lower the drawbridge and weaken your walls, you anchor yourself even further to the Luofu.

“You’ll be paid the same, regardless.” Kafka says, as though it’s in any way comforting.

You loosen the tensed muscles of your jaw. It’s not as though you… dislike Blade. You think about him, early in the morning, when you’re too sleepy to get your thoughts straight. You remember keenly the press of his lips, the smell of him as he breached your personal space, permitted himself to your skin—

You shut your eyes. You feel too hot, all of the sudden, “Can I get that in writing?”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can wire you the money right now—” Kafka slides her phone out of her pocket, nimble fingers clicking all over the screen. You still aren’t comforted.

“No, it’s fine,” you squeeze the bridge of your nose, already feeling the oncoming headache. You can’t believe you’re doing this. “When do I have to be there?”

—

The house looks the same as it always does. There’s nothing new on the breeze. Nothing beside the rustling of the leaves and the chirping of the birds. You knock on the door. Luocha stands in the doorway, red robe hanging off his shoulder. Bruises bloom on his skin like blood in water, spots of bluish-purple that run up the left side of his neck. You blink, speechless. He’s greeted you dressed like this, before, but he’s never looked so ragged. So run-down. His lips are kiss-swollen, lit up an angry pink. Flaxen blond flows down his shoulders like a river stream, strands sent awry in several places—they look like they’ve been tugged at, manhandled in a way you never imagined he would allow.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” he chimes, and steps aside. He motions for you to come in. It’s a threshold you’ve crossed many times, but something about this feels permanent. There’s a heavy feeling in the air. The faint scent of something spiced and smoked lingers throughout the entryway and living room. Unease prickles up the back of your neck. The door clicks shut behind you. A hand lands on your shoulder. “No need to be so tense, my dear Courier. Nothing bad will happen to you here.”

“What exactly will happen here? Kafka gave me the rundown, but…”

“Well, that depends on you,” Luocha hums. The warm hand on your shoulder slides down to your bicep. He stands behind you, a solid stroke of heat along your back. “I know I speak for us both when I say we would very much like you to participate, but all you really have to do is… watch.” He breathes the word, breath soft and hot against your ear.

He slips away from your side. The space he occupied at your back feels cool and empty. You shiver.

“—And you’ll have to intervene should anything go awry. While I can sate his carnal urges, the same cannot be said for his mara,” Luocha continues, cracking open the bedroom door.

“You came,” Blade’s voice rumbles, raspy with sleep and something else. He’s laid across the bed like a lounging panther, appraising you with eyes half-open. The long stretch of his body is completely bare, all broad muscle and softness in certain places. He’s taken the bandages off his chest, you realize after a few moments of looking (staring) at him from the doorway. Free of clothes and free of scars, a perfect statue of a man.

Luocha, behind you, mistakes your shock for apprehension. He laughs by your ear.

“It’s only natural to be apprehensive. Come. Just watch for a bit.” His fingers squeeze your shoulders. You let him steer you over to an armchair with green cushions sat by the nightstand, up against the wall. Blade stares at you from the other side of the bed.

He doesn’t stop looking at you. Even when Luocha rests a knee on the bed, robe slipping off his arm, inch by inch of pale skin opened to the gaping maw of his gaze. His back—it’s as broad as you would expect from a man who lugs around a coffin on the daily. Not as big as Blade. There’s a sinuous grace to his figure, with narrow hips and—you don’t dare let your gaze lower. Because he’s looking at you looking at him over his shoulder with that coy little smile, just waiting for you to slip up.

And then he’s not looking at you, anymore. You’re entreated to a view of those long, luscious locks—sliding over the alabaster of his back as he approaches Blade on his knees.

“Well, Blade. I know you’re excited, but you’ll have to settle for me for just a little longer,” he says. You nearly open your mouth to remind him that you haven’t agreed to anything, but the breath is robbed from you as he mounts Blade’s thighs.

The alpha’s cock is long and thick enough to make you cringe as the tip nestles between Luocha’s cheeks. Twin groans fill the air. Blade’s voice is low and coarse, the vibrating thrum of an old engine.

Luocha luxuriates in the stretch. His back arches, head bowing back as he takes the other man inch-by-inch. The dim light which reaches in through the closed blinds casts him in perfect clarity, and you can see his thighs begin to shake as he seats himself fully on Blade’s lap. His fingers fist in the sheets on either side of him, glimmering silk bunched between long pianist’s fingers. Cock taken to the hilt.

“You’re putting on a show,” Blade accuses.

“And you’re watching.” Luocha replies, voice breathy and soft. He starts to say something else—but Blade’s hands fit over his hips, bulky fingers nestling into his v-lines. His voice devolves into a choked little sound as he’s lifted, until only the tip remains inside of him. The effortless gesture of strength makes you swallow and sink back in your seat. The air swells with unabated sweetness. And you—you react to it.

Your fingers tense briefly, gripping the hard cushion armrests as you watch Blade fuck into him with voracity bordering unhinged. Luocha’s soft moans reverberate through the room, each one goes straight to your wetting cunt. Your thighs squirm and shift, pressed tight together.

Blade grunts. His thrusts lose what little rhythm they possessed to begin with. You see every slide of his thick cock into Luocha’s loosened hole—slick-doused and swelling. You can see the muscles in Luocha’s back tense and stretch as he arches. The orgasm wracks him bone-deep. His toes curl. And Blade—Blade’s grip only tightens. Luocha’s thin waist is clutched entirely in his hands. His nails dig into the skin as he sheathes himself with a throaty snarl. The cum is so excessive that it drips and pools on the silken sheets, running down Luocha’s creamy thighs.

The room goes quiet. There’s only the steady sound of their mixed breathing, desperate huffs which level out over the next however long. You’re stuck there, still. The room smells of sex. A strange, hot feeling rolls down your spine. You feel like an exposed nerve. Like a trigger a hair away from being pulled.

Luocha, eventually, pulls himself off of Blade with another slick sound. Blade shuts his eyes and reaches out a shaky hand, wrapping it tight around Luocha’s shoulder. His nails bite into the pale skin, thick fingers right next to a ring of recent bitemarks.

“Mm,” Luocha pauses. He presses his lips to the scarred fingers which clutch him. At this distance—you can sense the sudden lurch of Destruction, spurred on by cloying mara and the natural, ingrained need to give chase. To empty the wellspring of Luocha’s Abundance like a man parched. You tense in your seat. Pushing your scrambled nerves aside, you reach for the Harmony—expel it and let it float through the chamber. “I'm not going anywhere, Blade. You know that.” Luocha says. Blade’s grip loosens. The wildfire in his eyes dims to a hearth. He settles.

Now free to be as obnoxious as he likes, Luocha turns fully to you.

“Ah,” his eyes twinkle as he licks his lips, looking at you now. “Did that do it for you?”

“N…No.” your voice feels thick in your throat. The most bold-faced lie you’ve ever told.

Luocha laughs a little. “It’s alright; you don’t have to say it. How about you come over here? Or do you want me to come over there?”

“I’m perfectly content to watch,” you insist. Your voice comes out steadier than you thought it would. But Luocha only smiles. He regards you with that same, infuriating knowingness that he always does.

He slides off the mattress, smooth as fine grain sand and assured in his nakedness. You feel the tips of your ears get hot as he approaches, crosses the breadth of the room with swaying hips.

He has you, and he knows it. Long fingers slide over your arms where they clutch the armrest. His thumbs rub over the back of your palms as he looms close.

“You can stop this,” he murmurs, voice close to a whisper. He pries your fingers off the armrest, urges your hands to go limp. “Any time you want,” he says, but you don’t feel like it. You feel pinned by the voracity in Blade’s eyes as he stares at you from his perch on the mattress.

Luocha slides to his knees like a swan takes to water. Slender fingers work the buttons of your trousers open, thumbs which slide beneath your waistband pull them down. You make a grab for the elastic, clutching it in your fist. The breath rushes in and out of your lungs, something in you suddenly awoke. The fear and an apprehension you should have felt from the start snap to life like a bolt of lightning.

But Luocha. Luocha gently pulls it again. More like an ask than a demand, and you let it go. You swallow as he slides them off. revealing the seat of your panties. Wet.

“Oh? All for us? That’s very flattering,” he says, like you’re a child who's earned the praise. You don't know what kind of face you make, but it must accurately convey your displeasure because his eyes crinkle, unmistakably fond. “Forgive me. I simply can’t resist teasing you… and I was under the impression that you hated me for the longest time.”

Your tongue feels too big for your mouth. Your throat feels full of something thick and unsweet.

Your underwear comes next. It's a simple black pair. He thankfully spares you the commentary as he delicately slides it down your thighs, your legs, so meticulously careful in his handling of you.

“Well, you still might,” he continues, once you're bare from the waist down. “But at the very least, I know you feel some base level of attraction.”

His tongue parts the wet folds of your pussy. You tilt your head back, fingers curling to clutch the armrests, unwilling to watch him make a mess of you. The air feels liquid around you, murky with their scents—which have taken on, somehow, a new intensity.

You don’t get to think about it, because Luocha brings your knee over his shoulder and puts his lips on your clit, tip of his tongue flirting with your entrance. He laps up your slick, drinks you in like a man starved. You jerk, a wheeze rattling out from between your ribs, but Luocha holds you fast.

Pleasure surges in you like a current, a clever twist of his tongue making you jerk—and moan, like the harlot you know you are not. It sinks in, then and only then, as you clench his flaxen locks in your fist, that this is happening.

But you don’t get to digest it. Something hot snaps in the core of you, toes curling as you gush wet and hot into his eager mouth.

His lips are shiny with your slick when he pulls away, lips curved into an unmistakably satisfied grin. Your chest rises and falls as you try and catch your breath. You feel—wrung out, hazy in the remnants of your climax.

“I hope I lived up to your expectations.”

You blink blearily at him. “I didn’t expect anything from you after all.”

There’s a small huff from behind him. A small smirk pulls at the corners of Blade’s lips.

“How charmingly candid,” Luocha says, unbothered. You’re still too witless to muster a witty retort. Or any sort of retort at all, because as soon as you try, he heaves you into his arms with an ease you hadn’t expected.

An undignified sound bleats from deep in your throat, words on the tip of your tongue mangled as you scramble for purchase. You dig your nails into the pale skin of his shoulders. The muscles there are broad and smooth. Exactly what you would expect from a man who carries a coffin around with him all day.

“Wait just a second—”

“You surely don’t think the chair will be a more comfortable place for this than the bed, do you?” he asks, hands big and warm on the backs of your thighs.

“Don’t just go picking someone up without warning,” you seethe, and it still feels like a concession.

“Ah,” Luocha’s smiling again. “My apologies—I forgot how easily you scare. I’ll be sure to give you due warning, next time.”

“I don’t scare easily.” you mutter. He hums. Then he gently deposits you onto the mattress. Blade lounges easily, passion only betrayed by his smoldering, half-lidded gaze. The long line of his body is caked in muscle. The kind of body you’d expect from someone who carries around a sword that heavy—whose hands have ended a number of lives and worlds beyond your reckoning.His chin rests idly on the palm of his hand. Your gaze drifts over the smooth ridges of his abdomen, the plush of his chest.

Luocha settles up against the headboard. His cock is out, you realize belatedly. It stands hard and proud against his stomach. And his thighs glisten with release—both his and Blade’s. Your cunt throbs.

A hand reaches over and fists in Luocha’s hair, dragging him downwards for an open-mouthed kiss. He tongues your release from Luocha’s mouth. Lewd, wet sounds fill the balmy air, rumbling groans and soft little whines. Even now, in this deep between them, you feel like a voyeur. Yet, you watch them with lips parted and eyes wide.

You shudder.

Eventually, they separate.Wordlessly, Blade sits up and disappears behind you. You try to crane your neck to follow where he goes, but Luocha’s nimble fingers yet again seize your jaw.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, voice delicate as it hovers in the air between you. “Blade’s not going anywhere, dear. Just focus on me for the time being, alright?”

But it’s so hard when you can feel the presence behind you, hovering like a dark cloud. You swallow, the noise impossibly loud in your own ears. Your cunt is wet and you’re sweating and your shirt is still on—but Luocha endeavors to fix that in the next moments. It’s difficult, in the haze of everything, to keep track of where his fingers go or when your button-up slides off your shoulders, to breathe when he unlatches the clasp of your bra like he’s done it a thousand times before.

How many people has he done this with, before? A bitter taste twinges at the back of your mouth. Unprovoked and without reason.

Blade’s big hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing the space above your waist.

“Handle her gently, Blade,” Luocha murmurs gently. His soft hands stroke down your bare arms. His verdant gaze drags down your torso, too slow to be anything but indecent.

Blade grunts. He squeezes, once, before he lifts you without warning. You splutter, hands snapping to perch on Luocha’s shoulders for some sense of balance as you’re moved with near pitiful ease. The show of strength sends a fresh wave of heat flush to your drooling cunt, and you try not to pant as you feel the tip of Luocha’s cock nestle against your folds.

Your fingers curl and your eyes shut.

“Just like that,” Luocha says, simple and light. Another pair of hands settles on your thighs—and he’s breached you. You choke.

The stretch hurts. You didn’t expect anything else, but your head still falls back, eyes clenching shut as your walls spasm and squeeze tight. Behind you, Blade pants like a dog, huffing into the crook of your neck, inhaling you by the lungful. There’s a tremble in his hips that you can feel.

It takes you a moment to realize that the whimpers filling the room are yours.

“Re—lax,” he breathes, sounding almost pained. Like he has the right to. Like he isn’t fucking you open, pushing deep in as your greedy cunt squeezes and struggles to take him. Your knees press hard into the mattress, instinct prompting your aching thighs to buck upwards and flee the intrusion, but Blade holds you fast, grinding his teeth into your aching skin.

“You’re doing so well for me, darling,” Luocha praises, cooing as your cunt clenches, “Oh,” he sighs, like he’s awed by it. His green eyes, unseeing, blown wide—your hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders as Blade lifts you again, up and up until only the head of his cock remains inside. “Gentle, Blade.” he bids, eyelids low—

And then Blade eases you down. It’s a slow drag. It hurts less, this time. Sparks of pleasure roll up your spine and send your cunt aflutter, your nails raking into his shoulders as they set the pace. He rolls his hips as Blade moves you—puppeteers you, his mouth tracking wet, open-mouthed kisses over your shoulders and up the sides of your neck. His teeth score into your yielding flesh.

“Stop—gnawing at me,” you snarl, reaching a hand back to swat him like an unruly animal. His lips find the meat of your palm, lips tenderly grazing the skin there as if in apology. He growls and inhales, again, and you marvel in fear and awe at just how stupid the chemicals in his brain have made him. Are all alphas like this, during their ruts?

Luocha says something else, but it’s all lost to the filth, to your moans and cries and other undignified noises as they further unravel you. Blade grips hard enough to bruise, his breath heavy against your skin, your ears. They work in tandem. Blade fucks you up and down on Luocha’s cock like a fleshlight, and Luocha rocks his hips into your fluttering, tight pussy in a quickly unraveling rhythm.

And Blade—you feel his cock press hot up against your back just as dexterous fingers glide over your clit, Luocha’s touch making you thrash. Your sweat-slicked skin grinds up against Blade’s front, and he snarls.

You come, orgasm a searing and unwieldy thing. You crash over the precipice, head tossed against Blade’s shoulder as your cunt spasms around Luocha’s cock. Milking him, shaking body trying to suck him in deep. Your entire body is one hot line of heat, pressed between them and oh fuck, Blade keeps fucking you onto Luocha’s cock. The blonde’s consistent and precise thrusts stuttering out of pace until he comes with an obscene groan. His fingers dig into your thighs as he fills you, rope after rope of his release hitting inside.

The room fades into a calm quiet. The air is dense with the smell of sex. Even through the exhaustion, the pheromones pry under your skin and keep you as hot as the bodies you’re wedged between. Blade lifts you from Luocha’s cock with pitiful ease, and the noise you let out at the separation is downright pathetic. Your mixed releases slide slick down your thighs and onto the sheets below, and your consciousness rouses just enough to feel a twinge of humiliation.

“Lovely little thing, you were even more incredible than I anticipated,” His fingers clumsily draw over your cheek, your neck, your side. Petting you, palms shaping around your breasts and stomach as you come down from the high. You all but collapse against Blade’s front, boneless.

The moment he releases you, you topple onto the bedding next to Luocha. It’s hard to breathe. The air feels thick. You fight to regain your bearings amongst the haze, covered in sweat and cum and sore spots all over your neck and shoulders.

Luocha coos. The pads of his fingers gently prod one such spot.

“You didn’t have to be so rough,” Luocha hums at Blade. His touches delicately circle every point of pain, “This is your first impression in bed. You may be in rut, but you have enough self-control to not chew on your caretakers. You aren’t an animal, are you?”

“No,”

“No,” Luocha repeats, airy and fond as he pulls away. “You’re a blade. I don’t know if that’s more or less of an excuse.” He says, but he doesn’t sound frustrated. His scolding is light-handed and more amused than anything.

“Will you two quiet down?.” you grouse, finally coherent enough to complain again.

“Our apologies. We really should be putting our mouths to better use,” Luocha says, rubbing your back again. You throw a hand back to try and swat him away, but he pushes you aside with frustrating ease. “As much as I would like to afford you the proper time to rest—”

He doesn’t get a word in before you’re being manhandled onto your back.

Big hands pin your hips to the mattress. Blade’s palms are hot and clammy, sweat rubbing into your exposed skin.

“I appreciate this,” he rumbles lowly. His candlewick irises threaten to swallow you whole as he ducks close, pressing your foreheads together. Blade’s keen gaze shifts from your eyes, rolls down your face and over your throat like a soft breeze.

You swallow, your breath stolen from you in a gasp as he turns you over yet again. He maneuvers you how he likes, front pressed right against the sheets from head to toe. His hand settles in the crook of your left knee, opening you for the hot press of his head. The slow press of him is a sweet agony. He’s too big, he’s so fucking big—your cunt struggles to accommodate him as he bullies his way inside. Short, aborted thrusts which grate against your velvet walls. Your entire body twitches, overworked nerves crying out in muted protest, but the pleasure is open and heady, your entire body made pliant by the pheromones and—oh and it’s so much easier to go prone, like this.

Blade’s eager mouth tooths a path along your shoulder, seeking the crook of your neck with single minded hunger.

It’s a slow, heavy push aided by previous climaxes, but he’s still much too big. You weren’t meant to take anything like this, you can’t help but think.

Luocha gives a sympathetic coo. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Is it? You try to answer, but all that comes out is a low, animal sound. Half pained but all pleasured. If Luocha filled you, Blade bursts you to the seams. Your fingers claw at the bedding as you struggle to take him, unable to stifle your voice. You’re not sure how long it takes for him to hilt. Minutes or hours. Time is lost to you, all of your focus centered on the tight space between your legs and how he swells in it.

A wet, warbling sound wanders out of your weary throat as you feel his thighs press to the back of yours. At last complete. The grip he has around the crook of your knee tightens, his breath sputtering onto the back of your neck as he pulls out.

The first plunge back in is no better than the initial fit. He pumps you full, over and over, pace breaking into something ravenous at the first sign of your acquiescence. You can’t think, you can hardly breathe as your velvet walls suck him in. Every thrust has his cockhead teasing your sweet spot. You try to arch your back, but you’re met by the solid wall of muscle that comprises him, flattening you to the bed, leaving you cored and flayed open for him to fuck, to fill, to stick his fingers and tongue inside. He scrapes his teeth over what feels like the marrow of you and makes your vision go hazy with tears. They roll down your cheeks, fat droplets soaking the bedding beneath you.

Your orgasm isn’t a steady trickle but a sudden burst, white hot pleasure erupting behind your clenched eyelids. He fucks you through it. His knees dig into the mattress on either side of your body, pelvis slapping your ass with each disjointed thrust. Whatever rhythm he might have had sputters into nothingness. He mindlessly pursues his own climax, lips fitting over your shoulders. He kisses your spin. His hot tongue laps at your sweat and your bruises, almost tender.

There’s an ask, there. A request for your forgiveness, or your acknowledgement. But you are too spent to speak.

He cums inside of you, his release splattering your walls and dripping onto the sheets below. It’s so vulgar it almost makes you nauseous. But your toes curl and your voice pitches into a watery whine because he’s still fucking you.

“Blade,” you find your voice, but do not recognize the ragged, ruined thing it has become. “Blade!” The pleasure has long tilted over the edge into pain. You claw at the sheets. You can’t tell if you’re trying to squirm away or arch closer, all that you know is the heat of his body and smell of sex and wetness of his cum running down your thighs.

“Blade,” a different voice says. You completely forgot Luocha was even there. You can’t see where he is, “Remember what we talked about? Don’t knot her. She’ll break.”

“The poor thing,” he says, voice soaked in sympathy. A slender hand curls beneath your cheek, wedged between it and the pillow. Your lips press against the palm as your face is forced up.

Luocha’s eyelids are low. His lips slightly parted, and his expression so impossibly benevolent as he observes you.

“Just a bit more,” he murmurs, thumb pressing against the swell of your bottom lip. You huff and squeal into his hand as Blade’s body tenses, readying itself for another orgasm. And as he spills within you a second time, Luocha steals the moan off your tongue with a deep, searching kiss.

—

Afternoon has shifted into late evening. The living room is cooler than the shaded bedroom. Somewhere after a third climax, you had been cleaned, a robe maneuvered onto your form by clinging, roughened hands. You’re not sure who did what. For the past hour, you think you’ve hovered dangerously close to unconsciousness, barely able to open your lips to sip on the glass of water someone held up for you. The rim was blissfully cold. You swallow the drink down with a voracity you’ve scarcely ever shown, let it soothe your sore throat and float some of the life back into you.

You’re endlessly grateful for this as you scarf down dinner. Some greasy takeout that fills your empty stomach, fried batter crunching nice between your teeth.

Exhausted, and sore, and something related to satisfied, you finally rest your weary eyes. Your fingers find Blade’s silken strands. His face is nestled into your lap, nose pressed into the inseam of your thigh. He all but flopped atop of you after you finished eating, content to doze half-under a red blanket.

Each breath taken is a warm puff you can feel through your robe. When did it go this far? How did it go this far? In a few hours, will he be just as voracious as he was when you walked in? You rummage through what remains of your cognizance in search of answers, but come up blank. All it amounts to is feeble frustration. Your fingers still comb through those long, luscious locks.

Footsteps pads in your direction from behind. You don’t bother to look up at Luocha until he nudges something into your hand. The stem of a wine glass is pressed into your shaking fingers.

When you look up at him, he only smiles, “For the nerves,” he says, and settles on the other sofa. “And the pain.”

You stare into the glass. The person reflected in the deep cherry looks sleepy and sated. A feeling of defeat churns in the depths of you. Your stomach sinks. You shut your eyes and let your head loll onto the back of the armchair. The plush upholstery cushions the back of your skull. The steady, building buzz of anxiety building behind your eyes amounts to a soft, yet still aching throb.

You lift the glass, and press your lips to the rim.

#luocha/reader #blade/reader #hsr/reader #hungering for hsr

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fluentmoviequoter · 14 hours

Text

Devastation

Requested Here by @newobsessionweekly!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: You leave Tim because he takes out his frustration about a long day on you. The next day, everyone in the station can tell you're both miserable. A surprise calls sends Tim into a devastated spiral as he wonders if what he said was worth it.

Warnings: ANGST, arguments, break up, death, mentions of execution, brief fluff at the end bc Tim deserves a break

Word Count: 3.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Los Angeles is seeing an intense spike in crime rates.”

“The Los Angeles Police Department has received more calls today than in the last two months combined.”

“A new, temporary emergency line has been announced. In case of emergency and busy 9-1-1 lines, please call…”

“Nearly 5,000 police officers are on the streets of Los Angeles city limits, with more dispatched throughout the county.”

As residents lock themselves into their homes in an attempt to be protected by the crime spike, you respond to call after call with no break in between. Some of the stops you’ve made were false alarms, but you’ve also been shot at, yelled at, and engaged in two fights between those pointless stops. Though overtime was approved, you’re nearing the end of your sixteenth hour in the shop and need a break. Grey called the officers from this morning to return to the station before heading home. You only get eight hours off before you have to come back, but you’ll take what you can get.

Tim’s place is closer to the station, so you plan to go there rather than your home on the other side of the city. The more time you can find to sleep, the better. You’re sure everyone is just as tired and in need of rest, so you would like to do something special for them in the morning. If you can wake up in time, that is.

“Hi,” you greet when Tim opens his door.

He is obviously surprised to see you but invites you in any way. You thank him as you walk toward the couch.

“Can I crash here tonight? It’s closer and I’m exhausted.”

Tim scoffs before he nods. He returns to the kitchen and continues cooking as you set your bag down.

“How was your day?” you ask. “I had endless calls, so I can’t imagine how hectic it was for you.”

“Of course you can’t,” Tim replies without looking up. “Considering you’re just a glorified meter maid.”

Tim is tired and stressed, you remind yourself, but the words still cut through you like the knife in his hand. You were in dangerous situations for most of the day, and though you haven’t been a cop as long as Tim, your job is still important. And you’re good at it.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask after a tense moment of silence.

“What I said. I do more than you, but if you’re so exhausted that you can’t even drive home-“

“Tim, that’s-”

Tim finally looks up as he cuts you off to say, “You barely passed your rookie exam, you haven’t made a decent-sized arrest in months, and you think they attached you to any decent calls? This city is ripping at the seams right now and trust me when I say you are chasing garden fluff because no one trusts you to do any more. You’re lucky they were desperate enough to bring you up from writing traffic tickets. We just needed help and you were there.”

Tim’s jaw clenches as he steps toward you, and you try to remember that he is just emotional from a long day. You are, too, but you’re not taking it out on him.

“I don’t want to fight with you about this,” you offer.

“Well, sure. Because it can’t be your fault, right?” Tim asks.

His voice is rising, and only the couch separates you. His eyes are dark, and though you don’t want to give him an excuse to keep going, you refuse to be treated like this.

“Why does everything have to be about who is at fault with you?” you demand. “Are you aware that things just happen sometimes?”

“Not to you, though.”

“If you think my life is so perfect, why do you insist on worrying about me so often? No one asked you to do any of this! You could have just asked me to go home if you were this upset about a bad day.”

“You don’t even know what a bad day is! What did you do today? Respond to all of the scared housewives in gated communities?”

You could tell him the truth, that you were inches away from a bullet intended to kill you, but you think he’d somehow find a way to blame you. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and though you want to stop fighting, you also need to remind Tim that you’re not a rookie he can walk all over you and blame for every little thing that goes wrong in his life.

“If that’s what you think I do, I can’t change your mind,” you reply.

“Well, those of us who actually acted like cops today went through more than you’ve seen in your career. You’re a bad cop, which makes it harder on the rest of us, to carry your weight, but no one admits it after they see your pretty smile,” Tim snaps loudly.

“I’m done, Tim!” you yell.

You’re surprised by the volume of your statement, but it gets Tim to fall silent, if only for a moment.

“With what?” he asks.

“This! I am done coming back to you every day just for you to pick fights over nothing!”

“Oh, so now it’s nothing? You can complain about your day, but I can’t?”

“That’s the difference, Tim! You’re not complaining about a long day to share something and ask for comfort. You’re tearing me apart because you can’t handle your own emotions. I love you, but these fights aren’t worth it.”

“You love me but I’m not worth it,” Tim says with a sarcastic shrug and set jaw.

“That’s not what I said, and you know it.”

“Well maybe I’m just as stupid about emotions and relationships as you are about police work.”

You pick up your bag and pull it onto your shoulder quickly. As you brush past Tim, you murmur, “I’m not doing this anymore.” The door slams behind you as you leave and severs the connection you and Tim had.

After you leave, Tim sits in his anger for a while. He blames you, picks apart everything you said, and misremembers your words to make you seem like the bad guy. Suddenly, though, Tim hears your genuine I love you, but these fights aren’t worth it. He remembers the look in your eyes as he yelled at you. You never wanted to fight; you asked to stop because you just wanted to relax before returning to work. Yet Tim treated you as an emotional punching bag, something he promised himself he would never do.

Tim drops his head into his hands and sighs. He needs to apologize but can’t take back a word he said. You said you weren’t doing it – your relationship, he presumes – anymore, so Tim gives you room. The clock ticks slowly as he thinks about you, but his next shift grows nearer quickly. He texts you an apology, knowing it’s less than the least he can do. You deserve a grand gesture, a middle-of-the-night, in-person apology from the heart. But with an early morning shift, Tim knows you and he both need the break Wade sent you home to take. So, he sends a few simple words before sitting back in his misery.

In your room, you sit alone to wallow. Your phone buzzes, and you read Tim’s apology before you toss your phone to the side. It’s not enough to forgive or forget everything he said, and you can’t return to that environment yet. So, you don’t answer.

You fall asleep at the same time as Tim, though far away from the comfort you craved, with only a few hours before you’ll be forced to see each other again. Maybe another seemingly endless shift will distract you from your sadness.

Walking into the Mid-Wilshire station the morning after your fight with Tim, your injured pride and broken heart go nearly undetected. You attribute this in part to the specialty donuts you brought in; you couldn’t sleep anyway, so you left before your alarm went off to try to make everyone else’s day better than yours. Lucy talks to you in the locker room like it’s just another morning, even though you are heartbroken. Tim, however, is the talk of the station. His visible devastation and misery draw the attention of every officer in the building. When you step out and unintentionally make eye contact with him, the people closest to you can see what you’re hiding a little better.

“I should have seen it before,” Lucy tells Angela. “She was acting a little different, but I thought she was just tired.”

“I’ve never seen Tim like this before. He is miserable,” Angela says. “And he will take it out on you.”

“That’s fine. But… will they be okay?”

Angela shrugs. “I wish I could say yes, Lucy.”

Wade notices you and Tim sitting on opposite sides of the room during roll call, and he’s the last of them to be pulled into your shared misery. Now that you have seen Tim, your misery is just as obvious, and even the people who don’t know you or Tim well can see the difference.

“Nolan,” Wade calls before he instructs John to ride with you for the day. You’re unsure if it’s because of you and Tim or something else you don’t know about. Regardless, it’s because your emotions play a role in your ability to be a good cop… but maybe you were never one of those, to begin with, like Tim said.

At least I won’t have to talk. Nolan can carry the conversation for both of us, you think.

“What’s up with Tim today?” Nolan asks.

“We’re not talking about Officer Bradford,” you reply quickly.

“Okay. Then what’s up with you? The donuts were nice, but I assume you had the time to get them for a reason.”

“Nolan, we’re not having this conversation,” you snap. “We’re cops, not friends.”

“Sounds like I’m with Bradford,” Nolan mumbles.

“You have no idea,” you reply.

Meanwhile, Tim and Lucy are stuck at the station doing paperwork. Today is slower, and there’s a lot to catch up on from the chaos yesterday. Lucy knows better than to pry after spending so much time with Tim, but she can see that something is weighing on him. More than whatever invisible burden he’s carrying, Tim is devastated. She has seen it before, briefly when one of Tim’s former partners passed away, but this is different.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lucy offers.

“No,” Tim replies immediately.

Lucy nods before her phone chimes. It only makes noise when another cop contacts her, and she rushes to read the message.

“Tim, Nolan said he needs us to meet them. He just said they’re trapped and it’s really dangerous,” she relays.

“Let’s go.”

Tim runs through the station to reach his shop, and his mind races with every step. Tim lost you last night, but he refuses to lose you forever. If – when you both get to the other side of this, Tim will give you the apology you deserve, he tells himself. And he will never be in this position again.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” Nolan asks over the nearby gunfire.

You’re a bad cop, Tim says in your mind.

“I- I don’t know what to do, Nolan,” you admit. “I can’t do this.”

Nolan’s eyes widen. He knew you were acting differently, but your sudden and complete lack of confidence shocks him. Both of you are pinned in the corner of a warehouse, in danger of being tortured, executed, or some sick combination of worse things. You know you need to act, but your pride and your abilities are shot, thanks to Tim. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get shot, too.

“You can do this,” Nolan assures you. “You have to. Whoever said-“

“Move!” you demand.

Nolan ducks, and you fire through a nearby doorway. It draws attention to you and Nolan, and your confidence takes another hit as three men aim rifles at your chest. The red dots form a perfect triangle around your heart. Things could have been so different if you had just gone home last night instead of giving into your never-ending craving for Tim’s comfort.

“Tim,” Angela calls when he and Lucy arrive. “You don’t want to go in there.”

“Yes, I do,” he replies.

She pushes a hand against his chest and shakes her head. Despite Tim’s grumbling, he trusts Angela as a friend and a fellow cop.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

Angela looks to her right, and Tim follows her line of sight. Your shop is standing wide open as CSU combs through it. The windshield is shattered, and the interior is riddled with bullet holes. Tim’s attention catches on the blood coating everything. No one could have survived that blood loss.

“Where is she?” Tim demands.

“We don’t know,” Angela admits. “She wasn’t here when we arrived. Neither was Nolan.”

“Let me help.”

Angela looks around before she whispers, “You’re too emotional.”

“She left me last night, Angela. It was all my fault, and I didn’t even get to apologize! So, I am helping, whether you want it or not.”

Angela nods as Lucy returns to Tim’s side. He looks back to your shop and knows. He knows he is too late. That realization changes everything.

“You’re right,” he tells Angela. “I’m too close; I shouldn’t help.”

“Timothy,” she begins.

“No, I- she’s gone. We both know that. And I can’t do this, not knowing that she died out here thinking that I didn’t love her. That I didn’t fight for her.”

“Let me know if that changes, Tim.”

Angela walks away to continue investigating the scene. Lucy lays her hand on Tim’s back to provide some comfort, but he shakes her hand off before he moves toward the shop. Crime doesn’t stop just because Tim’s world ends, and if throwing himself into his work will distract him, he’ll let it. But being busy and tired will never get between you and him again.

“Snipers,” Lucy whispers as she reads something on her phone.

“What about them?” Tim inquires.

“Oh, uh, just something Angela sent me.”

“About her?”

“Yeah.”

Tim nods, and his knuckles grow white as he grips the steering wheel. “There were snipers?”

“Three of them, from what they can tell. A gun left behind matched the ballistics of the bullets in her shop. It seems like… like someone was executed in her shop.”

“Let’s take another call, Chen.”

Lucy nods and requests dispatch to begin sending them calls again. The first is a bank robbery in process, and Tim only hopes that adrenaline and devastation mix well.

“Gun!” Lucy yells before ducking behind the armored personnel carrier outside the bank.

Tim doesn’t hesitate to raise his arms and shoot. The sniper falls backward, and Tim wills his mind not to wonder how different things would be if he’d been with you instead of Nolan. Snipers took you from him, but this taste of retribution doesn’t help Tim. He walks away as soon as the bank is cleared. He wants to punch something, yell, cry, and maybe do it all at once, but it won’t bring you back. Nothing short of an apology that he can’t give will.

Tim sits on his couch in the dark because it’s as close to peace as he can get. If he closes his eyes too long, he sees you standing on the other side of the room, defending yourself from his emotional outburst. The argument was pointless, and you wanted to stop it, but Tim kept pushing. The more he thinks about it, the more he starts to turn his sadness into self-hatred because he acted like his father. He drops his head into his hands and asks himself why he allowed himself to be driven so far. Despite how he treated you and the horrible, untrue things he said, you told Tim you loved him. He loves you more than anything but didn’t return the sentiment in the heat of the moment. And now he never can.

“I love you,” Tim whispers now. “I’m so sorry.”

Someone knocks on his door, fast raps with no break between them. Tim rubs his face as he stands and walks around the couch-turned-fighting ring to answer it.

“Tim,” Angela says quickly. “We found something. We know where they were an hour ago.”

Tim looks over his shoulder to the cruiser at the end of his driveway. The lights are on, and Nyla is inside, ready to go.

“I wanted to extend the invite,” Angela adds.

Tim nods as he yanks his keys from the table by his door. He doesn’t bother to check if the door locks behind him as he races toward the car, toward you. Nyla drives quickly and parks outside an abandoned house less than fifteen minutes later. While Tim looks at the house, he sees someone move in the window.

“Somebody’s inside,” he alerts.

Nyla nods and instructs Tim to wait while she and Angela approach the house. Before they exit the car, the person walks out of the front door with their hands up. Tim throws the door open and sprints across the yard before anyone says anything.

“Nolan,” he calls.

“What happened here?” Nyla asks.

Her tone makes Tim look around, and he counts at least eight bodies in the front yard. Most are covered, and the desperation, dread, misery, and heartbreak churn in his stomach as he wonders if any of them are you.

“We walked into an ambush. She got one of them down, but we were cornered, surrounded. They dragged their ‘failure’ to the shop and finished him off before they brought us here.” After he explains, Nolan turns to Tim and says, “She asked me to give you this.”

He pulls a bloody piece of paper from his pocket and passes it to Tim, who accepts it wordlessly.

“Where…” is she? Tim wants to say, but he can’t finish the question.

“Uh, she’s inside,” Nolan answers.

Tim hears confirmation that you’re here and runs through the carnage-covered yard and house to find you. He grips the letter tightly as he navigates through the dark house. Tim stops when he sees your badge lying in a corner, and squats to retrieve it. It’s scuffed and bloody, but Tim can’t leave any piece of you behind. He tucks your letter into his pocket to hold your badge.

“Officer Bradford?”

Tim turns quickly and nearly trips over a bloody hammer. He would recognize that voice anywhere. When his eyes finish adjusting in the darkness, and he sees you slumped in the opposite corner, propped up behind the door, he crosses the room in the time it takes you to blink. Tim’s hands cup your face gently as he leans closer to you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Save it,” you reply. “This isn’t over yet. He said he was coming back.”

“Where’d he go?” Tim asks, effortlessly switching back to cop mode.

You smile, and Tim swallows harshly as your injured lip splits and produces a fresh bead of blood. “To rob a bank. As if you weren’t busy enough, right?”

The sniper at the bank, Tim remembers. “He’s gone,” he says quickly. “We got him.”

“You got him?” you clarify.

Tim shakes his head, and you raise your hands to his sides as you lean toward him.

“I could never do this alone. I can’t do any of this without you.”

“Did you read my letter?”

Tim pulls the paper from his back pocket and shakes his head as he reads the two short sentences.

“I forgive you. I love you,” you say as Tim reads the same words.

“It won’t happen again,” Tim promises.

“It might. We have hard jobs, but we can get through it. Right?”

Tim’s reply is a careful kiss to your forehead before he yells for a paramedic. Nolan leads Angela and Nyla inside a moment later, and they enter the door beside you.

“You could’ve mentioned she was alive,” Tim tells Nolan.

“You ran in before I said, ‘she’d like to see your face first, considering she almost died and you were the only thing she talked about,’” Nolan answers.

“Shut up,” you and Tim say together.

“This is the thanks,” Nolan mumbles.

“Can I crash at your place?” you ask Tim. “Without the argument?”

“Wouldn’t let you go anywhere else. The best cop I know deserves some comfort.”

“I thought I was the best cop you knew,” Angela teases.

“I love you,” you tell Tim.

“I love you,” he answers. After he looks into your eyes and smiles, he yells, “Where is the ambulance?”

#hanna writes✯#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford angst #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #requests

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