#people in the unlikeliest places care for and love you

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 11

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 14.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Marcus Pike the Breeding Kink King, a dash of dirty talk, the tiniest whiff of roleplay, sexual activity in a public place, cum eating. False accusations of cheating, gossip rags being gossipy, descriptions of getting a tattoo (needle mention). Summary: The end of your trip to Texas comes with a few surprises, and a meeting with your mother goes far better than expected. But good things do not guarantee paradise forever. Notes: Hi my lovelies! I do apologize for the spotty posting timeline lately. My health has been inconsistent to say the very least and continues to be unpredictable. Thank you for bearing with me and always being so incredibly supportive. I'm certain that I missed fixing some errors in this chapter, but I blame the migraine I've have for the last 10 days. Enjoy this week's chapter!

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

The last night you and Marcus are in Texas comes after an afternoon-long barbecue that somehow manages to outdo every barbecue of every previous day. You're pretty sure that you've been nibbling constantly since sunrise but rather than being overwhelmed, you're just sorry that you're going to have to leave tomorrow and not see most of these people again for a long time.

The water in Marcus's hand is for you and he comes over to drop a kiss on your lips as he presses it into your hand. "Band is starting at seven." He tells you. "Do you want to shower beforehand?"

"Probably should." There's mischievousness in your agreement, though, and you tuck a smirk in the corner of your mouth as you take the water from him. "I saved my cutest top for tonight. To be the very best groupie I can be."

"Oh really?" He chuckles at how eager you have been to meet his old bandmates. "I like groupies." He smirks, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you close. "Really like them."

"Do you want to show me how much?" You ask, letting that smirk loose but keeping your voice very quiet even when you bat your eyelashes at him.

"I can do that while we shower." He groans wickedly, winking at you. "Unless you want to save that for after the show?"

"No need to save," you assure him easily, drinking down half of the glass of cold water he brought you and letting your grin grow wider. "There will be hours in between. We can do both."

"Insatiable." He grins back and you, wrinkling his nose slightly and proud about that fact. "I love it."

"C'mon." Grabbing his hand, you head for the house with a bitten back grin. Back inside and upstairs to his room – now appropriately defiled by the fact that you're in that Early Relationship Honeymoon Period and horny as hell – to add his childhood bathroom to the list of places you've fucked on this property.

Marcus smirks when there’s a number of suggestive whistles that ring out. Everyone here aware of how eager the two of you are and he gives a halfhearted wave before disappearing. You might be embarrassed if you cared at all, but his cousins have been nothing but welcoming and accepting. They all seem to share the opinion that Marcus has waited too long to meet his match and you are more than happy to be the one that they have welcomed as their cousin – or nephew or son's – perfect match.

“I love them all, but I need to get you alone.” Marcus huffs as he practically races over to the stairs.

"Alone, naked, and wet, I hope." You're on the stairs just ahead of him, the advantage of one or two steps meaning your ass is right in his face as you hustle up to the second floor.

"How wet you are depends on how good of a job I do turning you on." He can't help himself, reaching out and slapping your ass, something you love if your delighted giggle is anything to go by. "How wet are you?"

“Wet enough that if you even touch me over my clothes, I’m going to moan,” you admit, glancing back at him when you reach the top of the stairs.

"Promises, promises." Marcus reaches out and cups your pussy from behind, jumping up the last two steps to press close to you. "Fuck, I love you." He growls into your ear as he rubs your clit.

“Oh fuck—” Maybe it’s more of a whine than a groan but the arousal in your voice is unmistakable. Pressed between Marcus and the wall, your hips rock to get as much pressure and friction from his hand as absolutely possible. “I—I love you too, baby. Fuck.”

"Shower." He orders softly, pulling away from you reluctantly. He knows he can't fuck you in the hallway and his cock is already pressing against his shorts.

Since the discovery of your interest in a more submissive role sexually, you and Marcus have been enjoying playing with the dynamic. Soft orders for things that he knows will bring you both pleasure. Seeing how well you follow his instructions while he’s inside of you in any way. Right now you move with long strides to get to the shower as quickly as possible, already shedding your clothes along the way.

Smirking as he watches the rushed strip show, Marcus pulls his own shirt over his head. He's never had someone so enthusiastic for his touch and it's honestly its own kind of high. Plenty of women wanted him, but not with the hunger that you constantly display. He can only hope that it never changes. "So sexy." He huffs, unbuttoning his shorts to step out of them as he follows you.

“Oh yeah?” As soon as the water is on, you glance back over your shoulder and throw him the most tantalizing glance you can possibly summon. “Come and show me how much.”

“Fuck.” He hisses and immediately rushes forward to crowd into the shower with you, pressing kisses to your back as he folds in closer to you.

Marcus might be testing the waters with how dominant he’s comfortable being, but he still likes it when you show him how much you want him. When you hum at the feeling of his hands on your skin or moan deep in your throat at the perfect kiss. He even loves moments like these, when you whimper at the way his large hands spread over your body to hold you as close to him as you can possibly be without him being inside you.

“Love you.” He whispers into your skin, not wanting you to forget it in the two seconds since he has said it last.

“I love you, too.” Pressed into that little space together, you twist your head around to kiss him and then lean forward against the wall. There aren’t too many comfortable ways to fuck standing up under falling water, but having him press into you from behind is good no matter where you are.

His hands slide over your body and one sinks between your thighs. Immediately parting enough for his hands with a quickness than has him smiling. “You like when I finger you?” He teases. “Rub your sensitive little clit for you?”

“I like every way you touch me.” Your hips roll as if to prove it, searching for the right angle to get his thick fingers to sink inside of you.

“Greedy.” He chuckles softly. “That’s what you are.” He doesn’t pull his hand away, giving you what you want as two fingers slip inside you. “My greedy girl.”

“Can’t blame me for getting addicted.” You moan, forehead pressed against the tile, when his fingers scissor open inside you. “You feel so fucking good baby.”

“You feel better.” He groans quickly, working you open as the hot water rushes over you.

“Made just for you, baby.” If there was ever anyone you could truly feel that about, it’s Marcus. The way he seems to make you feel complete in ways you didn’t know you needed or even wanted is uncanny and beautiful. And the way he fills you to bursting is just as fantastic.

Marcus worships you with small kisses as his fingers move inside you, groaning in your ear about how good you feel. The thick length of him pressed against your ass. “Marcus—” His name is a whine and a prayer with every long stroke of his fingers. “Please, baby. Please fuck me.”

“I’m going to.” He promises, grinding against your ass as he continues to finger you. “Too bad you still have your birth control.” He moans in your ear. “Dreamed about you pregnant last night. Nice and round with my baby.”

“Fuck.” If anyone had suggested pregnancy or breeding or any of those fertility-related kinks to you before Marcus, you might have laughed them out of your bedroom. But in a few short weeks, you’ve got from wanting children but not looking forward to being pregnant — all the way to getting wet at the thought of starting to swell with Marcus’s baby. The impulse to promise you’ll stop taking it tomorrow is right on the tip of your tongue but you know it’s just a touch too soon. “Yeah?” You breathe instead. “You woke up hard to the thought of fucking me full of your baby?”

“Why do you think I was ravenous this morning?” He asks, chuckling at how he had woken you up. He had been a little embarrassed by the dream, so he hadn’t mentioned it at the time, but realized later that it was dumb to keep it from you. “When you’re ready, I’m going to be feral.”

“We need to start building that house now.” You insist, suddenly possessed of a whole new set of reasons to be eager for more privacy.

He chuckles as he nibbles on your shoulder, moving to the hollow of your neck. “Yeah? You want to paint a nursery right away baby?”

“We’re gonna have to if you keep growling about getting me pregnant.” Something which you apparently find far sexier than you anticipated, if the way your cunt throbs and pulses around his fingers is any indication.

"You love the idea." He challenges softly, humming against your pulse. "It's not my fault you're so perfect I can see the future we have in store."

“I love the idea so much I’m ready to say let’s just buy a house.” The throaty laugh you let out burns into a long moan when he curls his fingers inside you. “Need you, baby.”

"Never want you to say that I don't give you what you want." He pushes your feet apart, careful not to let you slip on the slick tile and pulls his fingers out of you to immediately replace them with his cock. A smooth transition planned to keep you from missing the fullness.

There is more freedom here, at least where volume is concerned, and when your moan bounces off the tile it is music to Marcus's ears. The utterly satisfying fullness of having him inside you is indescribable, even if you have tried to find the words several times talking to Syd. Sharp, powerful strokes will work you both up to your peak quickly, letting you enjoy the water that burns as hot as your skin as he pounds into you.

Marcus has learned that going harder is needed sometimes. It’s something that both of you enjoy and lose yourselves in, always making sure that you are still with him with filthy sweet praises in your ear. “My perfect princess.” He groans. “Taking me so well.”

It’s so much filthier coming from such a sweet, unassuming man like Marcus, and he presses you into the wall with a firmness that leaves absolutely no room for questioning. You are his. He is yours. And anything you moan to each other in the throes of passion is fair game. Filth, praise, and everything in between is welcome as your hips slap against your ass and your throat strangled around the endless cries of pleasure.

It’s never been this good. It’s cliched to even think it, but it’s true. He can barely even breathe when you are surrounding him. Drowning in you happily. “Fuck, I love you.” He promises. His hands squeeze and caress before sinking back between your thighs to rub your clit while he continues to fuck you at a frantic pace.

“Love you so — fuck! — so fucking much.” You practically claw at the wall of the shower when the calloused pads of his fingers find your swollen clit and press in on tight circles. Perfect little circles. “So close baby, so fucking close.”

“That’s it.” He groans. “Want you to cum. Want you to soak me. Need it.” He dips his hips lower and changes the angle that he shreds up inside you.

“Fuck—fuck—can’t wait until you’re fucking me full of your babies, oh god—” He’s already an expert at tearing you apart and putting you back together, and this time will be no exception. Your legs shake with it and your belly tightens, coiling at the base of your spine tightening as pleasure rips through you.

“That’s it, fuck, so good, Princess.” He hisses in pleasure. “Cum for me. Fuck, you feel so good squeezing my cock. I love it.” It only takes two or three more sharp snaps of his hips before you’re calling his name, sure that if anyone else is in the house right now they can definitely hear you but too overcome with pleasure and too full of him to care.

When you cum, it’s like your entire soul melt with his. Your heartbeats align and for a split second, Marcus can’t tell where you end and he begins. Perfectly fused together in ecstasy. As soon as you tighten around him, his thrusts ease, still moving but helping you float down from the precipice. “Good girl, fuck baby, you are so good to me.” He pants in your ear. “So good. Giving me everything, aren’t you? Yeah, you are, I can feel it.”

“Fill me up, baby.” Your legs may be rubber at this point but that sensation of his cum painting your inner walls is worth holding out for. It has you rocking your hips back even more than you need to ride the aftershocks of your own orgasm, hoping to bring him to his.

He loves when you say that. Groaning your name as his pace picks back up. The slap of his hips not quite as sharp, but insistent. “Gonna, fuck baby, gonna fill you up.” He moans in your ear. “Drip me all night.”

From the way his hips start to stutter you know he’s close, and you grind back against him with a low moan. “Gonna be dripping your cum while I meet all your friends.”

“Just the way I want you.” He groans, kissing your shoulder and moaning as he pushes deep, throbbing inside you as he fills you up.

There’s nothing but the sound of running water and panting breath for a minute or two as you both collect yourselves, arms wrapped around each other in the best way you can manage while he’s still inside you and you’re leaning on the shower wall. “I love you so fucking much.” You murmur, giggling softly at the giddy feeling still coursing through your veins.

“I love you too.” He whispers, smiling against your shoulder as the soft aftershocks continue to squeeze him as he softens inside you. “Addicted to everything about you.”

“Glad we agree about that.” It isn’t elegant but you twist around and manage to place a kiss on his jaw. “So…breeding kink, huh?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles sheepishly as he slowly pulls out of you. “Sorry. I know that took you by surprise.”

“Not in a bad way.” You promise him, fully turning around now, to put your arms around him before you both have to clean up. “Surprising but…potentially shared?”

“When it actually happens is still one hundred percent up to you.” He assures you, wanting you to know he would never pressure you, no matter how much he dreams about the future. “But shared, huh?”

“Surprise,” you tease, reaching for a washcloth.

“Every day is an adventure with you.” He chuckles and steals another kiss before he turns his attention to getting ready for tonight.

You’re right on time despite taking an overlong shower, arriving at the club in downtown Dallas in time to see a group of his old friends gathered at the bar.

“Hey.” A carefree grin lights up his face, reunited with old friends and their spouses. The band is about to leave to get on stage so it’s quick backslaps and promises to catch up later after he introduces you proudly. They disappear and it seems like all the other crowd around you to all talk about Marcus.

It’s much the same as it was with his cousins. Quick questions about you — or the occasional “That’s why I recognize you!” — but mostly wanting to tell stories about young Marcus in the olden days, teasing their old friend and gauging your reaction to their stories to decide if you’re good enough for him. You don’t mind of course. Your friends would have done the same if they hadn’t already met Marcus before you got together.

“Hey now.” Marcus pouts and protests but it’s all in good fun. He’s enjoying the stories; taking him back down memory lane. He hugs you tighter to him as he laughs at a college age story, where he had imbibed a little too much and made a fool of himself.

“Everyone got drunk and dumb in college at least once, didn’t they?” You hug his side and grin at him while his friends tease and chatter. “And I’m sure you weren’t the only college student in the world to skateboard across campus in boxers and a cowboy hat. I’m just impressed you didn’t fall off the board more if you were drunk.”

“Hammered.” He confirms with a laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know if I would have felt anything that night.”

“All the better that you didn’t get hurt then,” you laugh with him, enjoying these glimpses into the Marcus of the past. “Though I think we should recreate the look. For posterity.”

“Bachelor party.” He grins, leaning in and kissing you on the nose. “One of those boring co-ed ones where the couple is disgusting and can’t be apart for even one night of debauchery.”

“Cause we’re gross in love.” The smile on your face is blinding, lighting you up from the inside out as you beam at him.

“Yes we are.” He agrees, unable to stop himself from kissing you again, as his friends groan playfully around you both.

“Yeah, yeah.” Marcus’s old college roommate huffs good naturedly and rolls his eyes. This is the guy Marcus had lived with before he moved off campus to live with Lara and he’s always known Marcus Pike to be exceptionally lucky in love. “Lucky bastard.”

“I am.” He agrees with a small nod. “I’m honestly surprised that you aren’t already engaged.” One of his closest college study partners snickers as she shoots you a grin. “He always was rushing into things headfirst.”

“Don’t think he didn’t give me a ring right away,” you joke, holding up the shimmering promise ring on your hand. “But we want to keep our heads on straight, so it’s a promise for now and an engagement a little bit into the future.”

“There’s the Marcus we know and love.” She giggles, taking your hand and admiring the ring. “Honey, it’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it?” The little heart-shaped diamonds wink and shine in the dim lighting of the club and you can’t help but smile proudly. “I told him he set a dangerous precedent with this one. If the promise ring is this beautiful then the engagement ring has to be, too.”

“Knowing Marcus, it’s perfectly designed to set with your promise ring.” She guesses, grinning wildly when he shuffles guiltily. “I knew it!” She throws her arm around his shoulder and smacks a playful kiss on his cheek. “Atta boy!”

“You did not buy it already!” You gasp in shock, giggling with unrestrained joy at the embarrassment and glee on his face.

“It’s safe.” He promises, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t want to risk them not having the perfect mate when I came back.”

“You’re incorrigibly sweet.” The idea that he’d gone so out of his way makes you melt on the spot, with warmth in your cheeks and a fluttering extra beat of your heart. “And I love you.”

His group of friends cheers when you kiss this time. For all the shit they give him, they are all thrill Marcus has found his sweet soulmate. Right then, the lights dim and everyone turns towards the stage. “Marcus Pike.” His eyes widen when the lead singer says his name. “Report to the stage. There is a bass waiting to be played.”

“Oh fuck yes!” When you squeal with absolute pure excitement you grab his side and practically cackle with glee. Even Agent Bailey is smirking in her plain clothes. “Go, baby! Go!”

“Oh my Gooooood.” Marcus groans as he’s practically shoved towards the stage and he shakes his head, pointing his finger at the band. “I hate you guys.” He moans, even as he shuffles closer, but they just grin.

“Best night ever!” You call back, grinning from ear to ear as you make your way to the front with his friends.

“This is going to be amazing.” Hooking her arm through yours, Stephanie grins at you. “Have you ever heard Marcus sing?”

“No.” And you pout about it for about two seconds before the glint returns to your eyes. “He always demurs and says he’s not that great but I know he’s being humble.”

Marcus shrugs out of his leather jacket and winds the strap of the bass around his neck and back to quickly strum a chord before adjusting the tension to his liking. “I’m going to hurt all of you.” He huffs, even if he’s grinning out at you.

“You fucking love us.” The lead singer, his old friend Leo, reminds him with a shit-eating grin.

Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs, not even able to deny it. “Which songs are we doing?” He asks instead.

“Set list is next to your pedal,” Leo tells him, grin only growing bolder when Marcus doesn’t deny anything. He knows his old friend misses playing. They’ve talked about it. Hence this silly little stunt. “Just like riding a bike, right Pike?”

He snorts and looks out at the crowd, his eyes automatically finding you and he smiles. “Yeah.” He scoffs. “If riding a bike means embarrassing the shit out of yourself in front of your soulmate.”

“It absolutely fucking does, dude.” Leo laughs, slapping Marcus on the back before he steps up to the mic to hype up the already excited crowd.

Marcus winks at you from the stage and looks at the lineup. Most of them are songs that they performed when he was in the band and quite a few that he knows Leo knows he knows. Apparently this wasn’t just a last minute deal. As Leo introduces the band, Marcus starts the bass chords for the first song.

It’s not the night you were planning — swaying to the music with Marcus with a cold beer in your hand while his friends played. This is infinitely better. Marcus is in his element up on that stage, showing off and playing to the crowd and making sure he finds your eyes every so often. Surrounded by friends and an enthusiastic audience, you could see Marcus enjoying many more nights like this. It makes you all the more glad that his friends decided to surprise him.

The crowd is a mix of older and younger people, the songs favorites and he enjoys the energy of the people singing along. Finally finished and sweating, in desperate need of a beer, he grins when you clap and yell.

"You are absolutely incredible." The second he hops down off the stage; you're practically jumping into his arms to give him a kiss. "And I never, ever want to hear anything about your singing voice again. That might be the sexiest singing ever."

He laughs, catching you easily and spinning you around. “Think you might be a little biased, Princess.” He teases, feeling euphoric and like he could do anything tonight.

"So?" The giggle that bubbles out of you is nothing short of adrenaline-infused joy. "I'm still right."

“Shit.” The laughter is infectious and he joins you. “I need a beer.” He admits, squeezing you close.

"Allow me." You insist, and when he makes a face you hold up a hand, still grinning. "Groupie's privilege."

“Groupie, huh?” He chuckles again and slides his hand down to your ass. “You have someone in mind?”

"Yeah," you poke his side and laugh, wiggling the fingers of your other hand in his face. "The one wearing the ring."

“Ring?” He glances at your hand and smirks. “That’s a pretty ring baby, but I could do better.” He flirts. “Dump that guy and run away with me. I’ve gotta sweet van and I know how to treat a lady.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"You think you can do better for me than my soulmate?" Batting your eyelashes back at him and half playing along, you tug Marcus toward the bar to get him his drink. "He's pretty amazing."

“I know I can.” He snorts, grinning at your playful banter. “You’ve never been with a musician baby.”

"Hmmm." An amused hum barely smothers your grin and laughter. "I have heard that bassists are experts with their fingering."

“Then you know.” He nods as you both slide up to the bar and Marcus orders a draft. He turns back to you. “My fingers are magic, baby.” He promises. “I can take you to the stars.”

It's too hard for you not to giggle at that, leaning into his side there at the bar. "I did know that already, though."

He breaks the character he was putting on and winks at you. “I was merely playing my favorite instrument.” He leans in and whispers in your ear. “Your pussy.”

"Marcus." Your tone is very false in its admonishment, and you're still grinning when you swat at his arm. "You can play her any time you like."

“Now?” He arches a brow in challenge.

You should have known he would jump on it, and you tilt your head at him with a wide-eyed expression. "I mean...not here but..." Glancing around the room proves that there is little cover to be found, and you bite your lip. "Bathroom?"

Marcus smirks and nods to the bartender when he sets his drink down. “Come on.” He takes your hand and drags you away, unable to even drink his beer in his haste to make you cum.

Practically able to feel the heaviness of Agent Bailey's eyes tracking you across the club, you can't bring yourself to care. Not when the promise of his hands on you is so close you can already feel it.

Normally, Marcus would never do this. Not now. But somehow, being with his own friends and playing, seems to have tapped into the wilder side he had exposed when he was younger. Not thinking like an FBI agent at this moment.

The club has two single-occupant bathrooms in a back hallway, and Marcus shoves open the door to the nearest one to tug you inside. "Holy shit." You're giggling again, bubbling over with it. "We're so lucky Agent Bailey trusts you."

“Amazing what a background check and a security clearance will get you.” He jokes as he pulls you to him, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. He knows he can’t be in here too long with you, it would be rude, but he has to touch you right now. You are just adoring him too much.

It's almost too bad you wore jeans tonight, but you had wanted to keep that feeling of fullness after the shower and truth be told the denim inseam still managed to give you a little stimulation on the way out here tonight. Now Marcus pops the top button open with eager fingers and you whimper softly, biting back the sound so no one in the hall outside hears you.

“Gotta be quiet, Princess.” He coos, smirking at your already lust blown eyes. “Can’t let anyone know you’re fucking a musician in a bathroom, can you?”

You’ve never done anything like this before and he knows that, but with wide eyes and the shivering desire to obey, you nod your head and bite back a needy whine. His hand slides down your panties, finding you slick with new desire and the remnants of his cum covering your lips. He groans your name in your ear and immediately pushes two fingers deep inside you.

It takes effort not to cry out. Not to whimper or moan or keen his name at the sharp, sweet intrusion of two thick fingers deep in your pussy. The vaguely taboo tint of doing something sexual in a public place only makes it better — a surprising feeling that you’ll have to bite for later — and you bury your face in the crook of Marcus’s neck, knowing that it will muffle the little bit of sound that you simply can’t swallow in your own throat. He doesn’t draw it out, doesn’t tease you. Just pumping his fingers deep and twisting his wrist to rub your clit as he tries to see how fast he can make you cum for him.

It’s like being sent up in a rocket, where all you can do is lean back against the sink in the little bathroom and hold on tight. He knows your body, knows how to make you see stars without breaking much of a sweat, and the adrenaline from playing on stage that’s still coursing through him keeps the pace of his fingers thrusting inside you at an almost punishing speed that feels amazing.

It’s like his playing a song with your body. The soft whimper echoing the timing of the beat of his fingers. Kissing along your neck as he pants against your skin. Already throbbing in his pants, but this is for you. “Good girl, baby. You’re so sweet for me.” He groans quietly.

There's not really much you're doing for him right now except keeping quiet and spreading your legs so he can dive inside you, but you'll fix that later. You'll lay him out on his bed and worship him for as long as he will let you. Right now your back arches and you have to let go of your white knuckle hold on the counter in order to tug him closer, pouring the moan that you want to let loose into a kiss instead.

He feels when you let go. Your moan muffled by your tongue as your walls soak his fingers in their pulsing grip. Feeling your heartbeat through the sensitive walls of your pussy. It’s so good and he loves that you are enjoying yourself as the bar music plays loudly.

"Fucking hell..." When you can finally breathe again you look up him with a hazy smile. "I'm gonna give you the best blow job of your life later on," you promise him with a grin.

He smirks as he pulls his wet fingers out of your fluttering cunt and holds them up to the dim light of the bathroom. They are shiny with your slick and he reaches out to your lips. “Open.” He orders.

That was not at all the response you were expecting, but somehow it far sexier because of that, and even though you've just cum you can feel your pussy fluttering at what he wants you to do. It only takes a second before you open your mouth, letting him put his fingers heavily on your tongue before you obediently clean them of any trace of your slick.

Marcus groans quietly, cock twitching in his pants and all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink to fuck you this time, but he can’t. You pop his fingers out of his mouth and he hisses at your innocent look. “Good girl.” His voice is raspy and dripping with lust.

"I feel like I should start calling you something." Leaning up, you steal a kiss and then rebutton your jeans so the two of you can wash up and go back out to his friends. "But I don't know if you wanted to be that kind of dom."

Marcus chuckles as he watches you in the mirror. “So you’re telling me you want a red room in our new house, hm?”

"I'm not gonna be mad about it if you want one," you answer innocently. "I just had the very intense urge to call you...'daddy' a second ago, but I didn't know if you'd like it. That's all."

Marcus has never been in a situation where someone would call him daddy so he has to think about it. “Only one way to find out.” He decides, patting you on the ass as you move out from the sink so he can wash his hands.

"I guess we'll give it a try later then." The air dryer in the bathroom is loud enough to drown out any other conversation, so you finish cleaning up and steal yet another kiss before dragging him back out into the club feeling like you're living on Cloud Nine.

Everyone in the group knows what happened when the two of you disappeared. At least to some degree. They might not believe that it was only an orgasm for you, but the grins are wide and Marcus snorts at the whistling and clapping from the guys. You brush it off with burning hot cheeks and a grin and go to get fresh drinks from the bar. Tonight has been pretty fucking perfect in every way you can think of. The best possible way to say goodbye for now to Texas, although you know you'll be back as often as you can be.

Marcus accepts this beer quickly, feeling parched and he winks at you before he takes a sip. “I think she might want me to find a band in D.C.” he teases.

"Oh, ya think?" Stephanie snorts, leaning into Leo's side when he comes over to join you at a high-top table.

"Actually..." Leo smirks, looking down at his soulmate before he glances up and around the group. "The guys know this already but...there was a big reason we were glad Pike showed up tonight." He tips his beer toward Marcus in salute. "Tonight was the last Dallas show we might ever play."

“Really?” Marcus frowns instantly, looking around to the group. “You guys are gonna stop playing?”

"We're moving in about a month." Leo announces. His arm winds around Stephanie proudly and he squeezes her tight to his side. "Steph got an amazing job at George Washington Hospital. So we're actually moving to DC."

“What?” Marcus sputters and starts beaming. “That’s great!”

"I'm really excited," she admits, smiling even bigger and brighter than Marcus is. "So maybe you won't have to find a new band after all."

“Well, we’d still have to find other members.” He look at the guys. “Until you come out to visit.”

"Maybe we'll all move East." Their drummer, Clark, jokes. He takes a sip of his whiskey and leans on the table. "Y'all know anyone that needs an electrician or a carpenter? I could be persuaded."

“We’re gonna be building a house.” Marcus snorts. “You’re hired.” He’s joking, because he would never make that decision without you, but it’s interesting to think about. Clark is the best damn carpenter he knows.

"Actually..." Tilting your head to look at Marcus beside you, you shrug your shoulders a little and have a sip of your drink. "There's some work that needs to get done at the inn, too. I've been putting it off because my electrician retired last year and finding a new guy is a pain."

His brows lift in surprise and Clark smirks. “Really, tell me about it.” He encourages.

"It's a historical property," you clarify right away, knowing that that scares some people off. Which is fine with you, really. If they aren't comfortable working on historical structures, you're not going to work with them anyway. "Of course things have been updated, but the structure is colonial so it does require a little bit of tender loving care."

“That’s awesome.” Clark snorts. “I love historic structures. Have you rewired the entire building or are you having to replace as you uncover issues?” He asks. “Code has changed so much since knob and tube. And that’s recent in a historic home, depending on how historic.”

"I've only owned the property for a few years, so we're having to play catch up from the previous owner." His enthusiasm is met with plenty of your own, and you look back at Marcus with a wide grin. "You just watch how fast I adopt all your friends. I was not exaggerating about that being what my family does."

Marcus laughs and leans back. “Adopt away, babe.” He encourages you. “You’ll get sick of them quickly.” He teases, laughing again when they all shoot him a finger.

Two days after touching back down in DC, the early morning meeting that you have with your mother and the communications staffer whose job it is to wrangle all things concerning the First Kids means that you’re up and moving before Marcus. You’re essentially having breakfast at the White House, which is less cozy than having coffee and muffins with your soulmate, but this meeting is important. You really do have things to talk to your mother about.

The staffers show you to the less formal dining rooms in the apartment, a rare time the president allows business to be conducted here, but it’s important that you feel comfortable.

The family dining room in the White House residence is still beautiful, and honestly you prefer it to the larger state dining room. The smaller and more casual room makes it easier to convince yourself that it’s just a normal breakfast with your mother today. Agent Bailey blends into the background here, noticeably more relaxed when she is around other agents and not working solo. It’s a good morning for both of you, and you move to the sideboard in the room to make yourself a cup of coffee while you wait for your mother to come in.

The communications staffer comes in and greets you warmly, laying out folders by the plates. “Your mother should be here in a few minutes. She was just in a briefing.”

“How are you, Annette?” The senior staffer that’s joining you is a woman that you’ve known for years. She was also on your mother’s staff in Pennsylvania and she is a good friend of the family after so many years working side by side.

“I’m doing well, how about you?” She asks politely and gives you a warm smile. “Your mother told me about your soulmate, I’m so thrilled for you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you.” There’s going to be a lot more talk about Marcus as this goes on if your mother and Annette accept your proposal, but for now you sip your coffee and smile. “The adjustment to DC hasn’t been too bad for you? Everything’s been okay?” A little small talk before your mother comes in and breakfast gets served is actually nice. With everyone being so busy you feel like there are people you haven’t gotten to talk to in ages.

“It’s always crazy, but we are adjusting well.” She smiles. “Brad isn’t too fond of the traffic, but who is?” She snorts. “I keep threatening to steal a diplomatic plate.” She jokes.

"I'll nab them for you," you promise her, sitting back with your coffee and smiling at the way your promise ring glints in the room's lighting. "They can't fire me from being First Daughter."

She laughs, knowing that you are completely joking but it would be funny to see the headlines. “I’ll expect one then.” She teases, picking up her own coffee to sip.

It takes a few more minutes before your mother comes in, but you and Annette sit and chat and pour second (or third, in your case) cups of coffee.

“I’m sorry, Birdie, Annette.” Your mother rushes over to drop a kiss on your head and throw her arms around her friend’s shoulders briefly. “That took longer than I expected.”

“Everything okay?” You’re wildly aware that there is plenty that your mother deals with that you do not have the security clearance to know about, but that isn’t what you’re asking. You’re asking if your mother herself is okay.

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “But I wish that people would stop trying to impress me with long winded reports going over every minute detail.” She huffs with a laugh. “My favorite briefing is from DIA Agent York. He gives me the bare bones information and it’s over in less than five minutes.”

“Would he consider it a blessing or a curse to be out on the State dinner guest lists in appreciation for his speedy briefings?” You ask, practically snorting a laugh at breakfast is served.

“Knowing the kind of man he is, a curse.” She snorts, appreciating your joke but also because she would never willingly let a man like Dave York around her family unless he was protecting them.

“Well, it’s nice to know that the chaos around here is just normal chaos.” The smile you offer your mother is fully understanding. The inn is your own beautiful area of normalized chaos.

“Of course. Thank you for coming.” She acknowledges that her life, her career isn’t the center of her children’s lives and she doesn’t take for granted when they make time for it outside the normal Friday night dinners. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Mom.” An early morning meeting is a small sacrifice to make, especially when Marcus exhausted you last night trying out a sexy little card game you’d had stashed away since Syd’s bachelorette party a couple of years ago. It’s safe to say he liked the suggestions the game came up with. “There’s coffee, amazing food, and my favourite Mom, why wouldn’t I come? Although Marcus’s mother is pretty great. Solid second place in the Best Mom Ever competition.”

“I wanted to ask you how your week in Texas went.” She admits, pouring her own cup of coffee. It’s her third cup of the day so far, but she’s also been up since four.

“Honestly?” You pause when a staff member sets a plate of hot food in front of each of the three of you and a large platter of pastries and fruit in the center of the table. The chorus of Thank you’s is in unison. “It was fantastic. His parents are great, I got along pretty well with most of his cousins, and even met a bunch of his friends from college. It was…” you grin at The admission forming on your lips. “It was really wonderful. His parents are planning on coming up to visit us here this summer.”

“That’s wonderful.” Your mother lights up and she nods. “We will have to have a family dinner.” She suggests. “Here? Personal tour of the White House? Do you think that would be something they would enjoy? I know his father would probably enjoy a game while he’s here as well.”

“Marcus has season tickets to the Nationals so we’re definitely planning on seeing a game.” The omelets that have been set out in front of you are steaming and you dig in to your plate without hesitation. “I was going to ask you about a tour for them so thank you for jumping on that. And I know they would love to meet you guys. A family dinner would be really great.”

“Marcus is wonderful and I can guarantee that it’s a reflection of his parents.” Your mother hums. “And as your soulmate, I think it’s important that everyone meets and gets along.”

“I know his parents already said they wouldn’t be offended if you were too busy, but I do want you guys to meet.” Donna and Matthew Pike had sworn that they would completely understand if they didn’t see hide or hair of your parents during the trip, but that hadn’t sat well with you. Your parents have always made time for the important things in their kids’ lives no matter how busy they were.

“Absolutely not.” Your mother sounds offended by the idea. “There is no reason, barring a world catastrophe, where we should meet his parents at your engagement party or some other event. “No, if they want to have something low key, we don’t have to meet here. But I am eager to meet them.” She shoots you a grin. “Diplomacy can wait for one evening.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t pass up the chance to have dinner at the White House.” The grin you send your mother is beaming and appreciative. “That’s a bragging right not everyone gets. There will be plenty of informal meals in the future.”

“Then I will try to make sure that the chef makes something that will measure up to the amazing food Sydney will be plying them with.” If it wouldn’t hurt your business, your mother would have hired her to be the White House chef in a heartbeat.

“I will carry that compliment back to her on a silver platter.” Now that all three of you are eating — devouring — your breakfasts, you don’t mind getting into things. Of course your mother doesn’t have all day for this meeting, but you expect to be sitting here with Annette for at least a little while. “So, before I put my two cents in, what kind of social media and press presence were you thinking you might wrangle me into?” You’re curious, after all. Since Junie has a clear passion and Alex is handsome and personable, whatever route they chose for you was bound to be a little different.

“Well, I was hoping that we could show how small businesses are vital for our economy.” Your mother looks over at Annette who is nodding. “You are a small business owner and you work with others as well.”

“Okay.” You nod, mumbling the word as you finish a bite of food. “So highlighting the small businesses we work with? Making visible visits to other small businesses? That kind of thing?”

“I know that you utilize some of the local merchants for your supplies.” Your mother nods. “Maybe some clips of you with them? We can do a voice over with the message we want to sent.”

“I’ll compile a list of who we have good relationships with and you let me know who you want to have footage of?” It’s a big plug for the businesses that you do actual work with, so you can’t imagine any of them objecting. “Patronizing your local small businesses is a message I’m happy to get behind.”

“Corporations have garnered too much power in the country.” Your mother agrees. “We need to find a balance between them and a simpler time where everyone shopped local.”

“Alright, that’s easy enough.” Although you’re sure that other complications will arise in time, agreeing to this plan is at least something you’re glad to do. “Anything else?”

A look is exchanged between Annette and your mother. A pause that should be concerning. “It’s about…your soulmate.” She begins.

“What about him?” You frown instantly, not liking the tone that has been chosen for this thought.

“I was hoping that you might sit for an interview.” Annette is the one who voices it. “For the Love is Love legislation that your mother is trying to get passed.

“Oh!” The hesitation in their voices is nothing to do with Marcus, really, and you relax measurably. “Yes. We can definitely do that. And actually?” Looking between your mother and Annette, wondering what they’ll think of this idea coming from you of all people. “I think I can do you one bigger than that.”

“What do you have in mind, young lady?” Your mother almost smirks at the idea that you are suggesting something.

“I know I’m not the kid you expect this from.” The look on her face says that loud and clear and you completely understand why. “But Marcus and I talked it over, and we thought we would see what you thought about a First Family love story. From engagement to wedding to building a house.”

As a career politician, it’s been a rare time where your mother has been speechless, but she just gapes at you, her mouth slightly ajar in shock. “I— are you sure?”

"I mean we're not offering to have a White House photographer follow us around every second of every day, but we know that things are going to get said about us no matter what. Our family are public figures, and Marcus grew up with a father in the spotlight. We figured that getting ahead of the narrative and giving people honest glances into who we are was a hell of a lot better than people just speculating wildly."

“That is an amazingly gracious idea.” She can understand that you are going out on a huge limb and that is so appreciated. “Are you sure you would be comfortable with that scope?”

"We've talked through it," you tell her, knowing that it's probably unbelievable for her to hear this coming from you. "And I'm more confident when I have Marcus with me. I feel better able to handle the extra sets of eyes on my life. So...I thought it made sense not to waste that."

“I think that would be incredible.” She reaches out for your hand. “Only what you will give us though. No more.” Your father had reminded her right before leaving for her briefing that you are her daughter and probably the most private out of the three children. You don’t crave the spotlight at all.

"Marcus thought we could start with the engagement," you tell her, knowing that this is a big leap for you and trying not to be nervous about it. "But I think I should put something on my social media about him being my soulmate first. Maybe some photos from a date with a small announcement?"

“It will mitigate any issues that might spring up.” She doesn’t mention how there has been chatter about the congressman being unhappy about the demise of your relationship. That’s not your concern.

"Our favorite restaurant is family-owned, and we can pick something to do afterward that is still small business or community oriented." That shouldn't be too awfully hard, considering the DC area is always crawling with choices for things to do. You're spoiled for it, really.

“Whatever you think would be best.” She smiles at you. “While I would normally have one million ideas, I think it’s better if this is organically from you.”

“I know Marcus already has my engagement ring hidden away somewhere.” A fact which makes your cheeks burn and your smile turn a little dopey. “But I don’t know anything else as far as that goes. Is it okay if I give him your email so he can touch base with you, Annette?”

“Absolutely!” Annette agrees immediately, while your mother looks impressed that your soulmate has already bought your engagement ring. More importantly is your reaction to that information, you look dreamy eyed and she couldn’t be more happy for you. “I must applaud Marcus for thinking ahead.” Your mother hums, taking a small sip of her coffee to hide her smile.

“We’re both thinking ahead.” A fact which gives you no end of pleasure. The flight back from Dallas had been spent in dreams and future plans, cuddled together looking out the window and making up a list of big and small things you wanted for your future together. “We’re starting to plot out what we want for our house, too. That’s the timeline that’s going to take the longest.”

“Your house?” You had mentioned it before, but your mother ticks her head to the side curiously.

“We’re going to build,” you explain, reaching for a scone from the plate of pastries on the table. “Since the land that the inn is on is more than enough and I own all of it, we’re going to use a portion at the back of the acreage to build a house.”

“That sounds like an adventure.” She’s always known you enjoy doing things your way and it’s refreshing to see that apparently your soulmate understands how much of your being is invested in the inn.

“It’s going to feel like a mansion after sharing my apartment in the inn.” After a little discussion, Marcus had decided that he would rather share the smaller space with you while the house is being built and sublet his current place to Clark — ensuring that his friend can have the new start in DC that he wants. “But we’re excited. It’s a whole lot of planning and big steps forward all at once, and for once I really have a partner who’s on the same page as me.”

“That’s the most important thing.” She knows this from experience. There is absolutely no way she would be the current president if your father hadn’t been on the same page as her as far was what their lives might look like. It’s something she’s always wanted for all of you.

“So…I know it’s more than you were going to ask of me.” Which you appreciate. Your mother recognizing and honoring your boundaries is something she had to work on a lot when you were in your teens and twenties. You look at up her and crack a small, bashful grin. “But it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity for something as uplifting and positive as a White House wedding.”

“A White House wedding?” Your mother’s gasp is surprised, honestly believing you would never even entertain an idea like that. “Are you- you’re joking right? It’s not April Fools Day. That was days ago.”

“I am not joking.” Although you can definitely see why she would be shocked. This is not a decision that you made quickly or easily — or alone. “But I do have an ulterior motive,” you admit, wanting there to be full transparency. “I am hoping that a super-secure and publicly documented White House wedding is a trade off for letting us go on our honeymoon alone.”

She doesn’t even glance at Annette. “Absolutely.” Your mother immediately insists. “There is no way I would want any kind of publicity for your honeymoon. You don’t even have to negotiate for that.” It’s honestly alarming that you think she might want you to do something for her political career on your honeymoon.

“Oh, that isn’t what I meant,” you clarify immediately, seeing naked distress in your mother’s face when she’s normally so good at staying neutral. “I meant…without my Secret Service detail. Give Agent Bailey and Agent Sisson a few weeks off while we go overseas. Marcus is very well trained and definitely enough to keep just two of us safe.”

Her expression eases slightly, relieved that’s not what you are talking about and she nods. “I think that will be entirely appropriate.”

“I’m optimistic that we can make sure this works for everyone.” Sitting in your seat in the family dining room, you lean back with a little extra confidence — bolstered by the fact that you know Marcus is with you every step of the way, just like your family. “Make this happy, and exciting, and something to look forward to.”

“Whatever you want.” Your mother agrees. “Whenever you want.” She adds. “I don’t want you pushing up plans for us, sweetheart.”

“We said we wanted to get started on the house before we get engaged,” you tell your mother, though you have to appreciate her insistence here. Plenty of other parents would hack the timeline if they were in her shoes. “So it will depend on how quickly we start in on those plans.”

“And Marcus wants to stay at the inn while you build?” She asks, lifting a brow in surprise. While she has seen your little apartment and thinks that it’s darling, Sam had always insisted it was too small to share space for even more than a day.

“We talked it through and he feels like it’s more important for me to be close to the inn than for his commute to be shorter. He’s going to sublet his current place to a friend that wants to move up from Texas and then the friend can take over the lease when it comes up. We’ll have a little less space than we would if we stayed in his apartment, but we don’t mind close quarters.” A fact which you will not look bashful about right now…no not at all…

“That’s a very solid plan that you have laid out.” Annette compliments. “It seems like you and your soulmate have made a lot of plans.”

“Right now I’d call it our favorite hobby.” Second favorite, but you’re not talking about your sex life in front of your mother…

The president snorts and rolls her eyes as she reaches for another scoop of fruit. “Sure.”

“Anyway.” Forcibly getting the conversation back on track seems like a smart idea. “Annette is my point person, then?”

“Yes.” Your mother takes the hint with a small smile. “I reasoned you would be more comfortable with her than any of the new staff.”

“And I appreciate that.” You offer both your mother and Annette a grateful smile. “Especially since this is going to involve my soulmate, I’m very glad to have someone that I know and trust working with us.”

“I am eager to meet him.” She hadn’t been present at the state dinner, she had been sick, but from what she can tell she will like him.

“Why don’t you come by the inn and have dinner with us sometime in the next week or two?” You suggest, figuring that would be nicer than a formal sit up in an imposing setting. “Something casual for the first time you meet? So we can all relax a little.”

“That sounds perfect.” Annette knows the value of an informal meeting. It often creates a better mood for the entire interaction.

"Awesome." Having everything moving in a comfortable direction is as much as you could ask from this meeting, and it's nice to see your mother semi-relaxed at the start of a workday. "Well, I'm sure you have eighty-seven things to do today Mom, so I won't keep you."

She winces apologetically and looks at her watch. “I’m actually about three minutes late for a cabinet meeting.” She admits, standing up to move over and kiss your forehead again. “Are you and Marcus coming to dinner on Friday?”

"We'll be there with bells on," you promise her. "Go get to your meeting. I love you, and tell Dad I love him too."

“I will, sweetheart.” She promises. “Annette, I will see you later. Take your time finishing breakfast.”

The unfortunate truth is that the dinner with Annette might be necessary sooner rather than later. Within a bare twenty-four hours of the White House Easter Egg Roll and the official photos that refer to Marcus Pike as your soulmate, the commentary on social media and in online tabloids begins.

Marcus frowns as he opens the new story. It’s not uncommon for articles to be inflammatory, he knows that from the state dinner, but this is all but calling you a cheating liar. “Fuck.” He growls, eyes narrowing on the wording from the ‘anonymous source’.

"What's wrong?" Your nose is stuck in the schedule for next week while dinner is in the oven and you sit with Marcus in the living room, but you glance up when he sounds unhappy.

Marcus sighs and turns his phone towards you so you can read the headline. “I hate to accuse anyone, but this fucking sounds like your favorite congressman ex.”

"Sounds more like your ex, if you ask me." Vanessa might look sweet and innocent, but she can be cutthroat and single-minded in her goals when she sets herself to it. Something she learned from her justice father. "Think they're getting their jollies going after us together?"

“Shit- you think?” He ended things on a good note with Vanessa. Actually, she broke up with him, why would she smear his name?

"I don't know what her motive would be besides trying to get under Sam, but I wouldn't be surprised by it." Leaning forward to read the beginning of the article on his phone, you still frown. "I knew somebody was going to try saying we cheated, but damn."

“We know the truth.” Marcus frowns as he rereads the article. “This seems to imply that we are lying about being soulmates.” He looks over to you with a small grin. “That’s proven easily enough.”

"Hmm." That does make you smile, and you look up at him from behind your laptop. "Are you thinking we should stage a little photo on my social media as a response?"

“Absolutely.” He’s not thrilled about the tattoo you both share, but it’s solid evidence of your connection. “Your reputation won’t even tarnish a little.”

"I'm sure I'll get some snide comments about the kind of tattoo we share, but that's on me." You shrug at the truth of it. "I definitely should have gotten it somewhere else."

He laughs and shrugs. “Doesn’t make a difference now.” He reminds you. “It’s on both of our skin, so it’s proof. You’ve had it for years and so have I. Should we post new pictures and old ones with the tattoos?”

"We can do a little album on my Instagram." The suggestion is a welcome one, but it does mean you push your laptop away and set it on the coffee table to snuggle a little closer to him. "You have old photos with the tattoo in them?"

“I do.” Marcus chuckles. “But….” He shrugs. “They were taken by my ex-wife. She’s not in them.” He assures you.

“That’s fine.” Frankly, if Lara gets involved in the conversation it will just reinforce the fact that Marcus has had your marks for a very long time. “I can bribe Agent Sisson to be our photographer for a photo that has both of us in it.”

“And how do we want to casually set up pictures of our lower backs?” He asks with a grin.

“There’s nothing casual about what we’re doing.” You tuck yourself into his side and grin. “This is answering a call out.”

“To address any unfounded and untrue rumors….” He captions with a snort. “Straightforward. I like it.”

"If we wanted to do this casually, I would just say we should go take some pool pictures." You glance up at him, seeing what he thinks of that. "Violating my mom's no bikini rule for a good cause."

“I like bikini’s.” He agrees immediately, his eyes darkening slightly with lust.

"Oh yeah?" The smirk on your face is nearly instant. "Like we should take a tropical vacation level of like?"

“Like you need to book one immediately.” He huffs. “Texas didn’t count as a vacation.”

"Of course it did!" The fact that he's getting all bent out of shape imagining you in a bikini when he sees you naked on a daily basis is adorably, quite frankly. "And you can't even claim it wasn't sexy. We nearly broke that bed."

“Of course we did.” He laughs. “It’s old and we are horny.” He teases, biting his lip as he pulls you close. “But in a bikini, it’s so much less clothing to take off you.”

"You wouldn't even have to take it off." He's getting ideas and you turn your face up to smirk at him, fully encouraging those ideas to take form. "Just shove it aside. Nothing else needed."

“Fuck.” He hisses, clenching his jaw and imagining fucking you on a beach somewhere.

"Gonna keep that imagine in the spank bank, babe?" You can't help but tease him a little, knowing that you would be reacting exactly the same way if it was Marcus teasing you. But you started it this time so you get to tease.

“Fuck yes, I am.” He snorts. “We would get arrested. But it would be worth it.”

"There's a private beach where we could get away with it somewhere." Leaning up to press a kiss to Marcus's cheek, you're still grinning. "Good to know it's on the fantasy list, though."

“Very high up there.” Marcus admits with no shame. Just the freedom to explore these ideas with you is amazing, even if they are never acted on.

"I think..." The only thing that keeps you from shifting into his lap is the kitchen timer going off from the oven. Instead of climbing on to him you just climb off the couch to get to the baked pasta you put together right before Marcus got home from work. "That maybe we should do half the honeymoon in Paris and the other half on the Riviera? Get some swimsuit time in?"

“I like the way you think.” Marcus chuckles quietly, nodding. “How long are we talking? A few days in each place? A week?”

"A week each?" You pull him up from the couch to come to the kitchen with you. There's still a table to set and wine to pour, and all that good stuff. "Two weeks in France sounds like magic."

“I agree.” He grins and grabs the bottle of wine you had set out. It’s become a routine to have a glass with dinner and he enjoys the selection the inn has, although it annoys you that he insists on paying you for the wine.

"A big, beautiful wedding. Two weeks in Paris. A lovely house for us to move into." Every time you think through the plans you're starting to make for the future, they sound better and better.

“That sounds perfect to me.” Marcus admits, smiling softly at the idea. “Have you thought about the style ideas I sent you?”

"I was showing your Pinterest board to Syd on our lunch today." The collection of Dutch Colonial, Queen Anne, Georgian, and Federal style houses that Marcus had put together to share with you is full of so many ideas that you had lost track of time in the kitchen and was almost late to interview a new member of the housekeeping staff. "She likes the Queen Anne style Victorians, of course."

“Of course she does.” Marcus grins as he lifts a brow. “Which one of those were you most interested in?” He doesn’t really mind what architectural style your home is in, as long as you are happy with the result.

Having decided that the edge of the property where you planned to build was far enough from the inn and her out buildings that you didn’t need to be loyal to the colonial structures, you have a little more freedom to choose what you build. “I think I like the Georgian houses you sent me best,” you tell him, setting down two plates of baked pasta in the table at your customary seats. “It complements the colonial style without being obsessive about matching, and it’s not overly complicated.”

“That’s a good choice, and it still fits with the overall theme of the property.” Marcus agrees. “However…one thing I think is a must in our new house.”

“What’s that?” The two of you settle down and pick up your forks, comfortable in the relative quiet of the apartment while Agent Bailey takes one of her occasional walks around the grounds.

“We have to have an elevator in our house.” He’s gotten used to the elevator at the inn and can’t imagine living without one now.

“Non-negotiable?” You tease, knowing that on the nights he goes to the gym after work he groans his way into the apartment on principle. “Noted. You will have your elevator.”

“Thank God.” He dramatically moans and tosses his head back. “Getting older sucks. You’ll see.” He teases about the age gap, but it’s only seven years. “Heartburn is about to start.”

“I was more thinking of our kids,” you admit quietly, poking your fork into a big bite of sausage and zucchini and pasta together. “What if one of them needs the house to be accessible?”

“That thought had crossed my mind.” Marcus agrees. “But we will pray that all our children will be healthy, prepare in case they are not.”

“No matter what, they’ll be cared for and loved.” That, at least, you can both guarantee.

“Plus it will be easier when someone undoubtably breaks a leg.” Marcus snorts, laughing slightly. “It seemed like it was a contest in my family who would break a bone first every year.”

“Kids are gonna be clumsy,” you joke, pointing your fork at him in teasing accusation. “Got it.”

“But they will make up for it with good looks and charm.” He grins back at you and winks.

First Princess Cheating Scandal is the headline splashed across the tabloid on the magazine rack, and your hand twitches before reaching for it. This is the bullshit you absolutely hate about being in the public eye, and now that they’ve started coming for Marcus you hate it even more. The article inside claims that you faked your matching marks — including your scars, which is possible but extremely far fetched — and that you’ve been sleeping together since at least the night of the State dinner.

With another one of those dinners on the horizon and the weariness in your bones over now spending multiple weeks of time on this stupid non-issue, you pay for the magazine and continue on to the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building with it shoved in your purse. Agent Bailey’s advice had been to let it roll off your shoulders because people are always going to gossip, but as much as you’d like to do that it’s possible this might affect your mother’s image. Or your business. Your previously fully booked inn has had multiple cancelled reservations since this whole thing started.

So you walk on, with the little treats you made in a container in your purse and Marcus’s favorite midafternoon coffee order from the shop around the corner to surprise him at the office.

Marcus is pouring over a case when you knock on his office door. He doesn’t keep it closed, preferring to let his team come to him whenever. To feel like they can. Looking up, he sees you and immediately smiles. “Birdie.” He almost said Princess, but since the beginning of this entire ‘scandal’ non-scandal thing, it’s kind of soured the nickname. Immediately abandoning the file, he stands up and rushes around to give you a kiss. “This is a welcomed surprise.”

“I did a little baking with Syd this afternoon and the results were so good that I couldn’t wait to share.” The kiss is a comforting balm, even if it’s short, and you hold up the cup in your left hand. “And I brought your coffee.”

He groans in appreciation, of both the baked goods and the caffeine. “I was just about to get another cup from the break room, but this is better. His hand slides around your back and he rubs it soothingly, seeing the pinch of upset around your eyes but he wants you to talk to him naturally. “Want to come inside? Share it with me?”

You nod and step inside, your own cup from the coffeeshop clutched in your other hand. It’s herbal tea, though. Caffeine didn’t seem like a good idea when you’re already anxious. “Agent Bailey is in the bullpen, I hope you don’t mind.” Now that you’re in a relationship with a well-trained and fully competent federal agent, your Secret Service detail tends to be a bit more relaxed about giving you space.

“Not at all.” Marcus insists, guiding you over to the little couch in his office. “Rodriguez will show her where the donuts are.” He snickers.

“So…” he sits down beside you and you pull a small container of Madeleines out of your oversized purse to offer to him, but the magazine is sitting just underneath and it makes your eyebrows pinch together all over again. “We walked past a news stand on the way here and…saw a new headline.”

“Oh no.” Marcus sighs, he takes the container but sets them aside to give you his full attention. “Bad?”

“Not great.” With a resigned sigh, you pull the magazine out of your bag and hand it over for Marcus to inspect. Under the headline is the now-famous shot of the two of you dancing together and the article inside includes a paparazzi shot of the two of you grocery shopping alongside one torn from your social media of a date night.

He winces at the headline and huffs, opens it, flipping to the article and skimming it. “I want to really get this ‘anonymous source’ into a fucking interrogation room.” He growls, growing more and more upset at the outright lies that are being insinuated. “But it’s fucking hard to be sleeping with you when security from Vanessa’s building has me showing up on a timestamped tape.”

“Agent Bailey was less than thrilled with the accusation that she would lie about anything out of loyalty. You might have to fight her for that interrogation.” Shaking your head as he puts down the magazine, you’re craving his warmth and security enough that you lean in on the couch beside him. “I had an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it,” you admit quietly.

“What is it?” He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, wanting to protect you from all this. He feels guilty, like you would be better off if your connection hadn’t been acted on.

“It’s….a little dramatic.” You can admit that, too. Although at this point you feel like a dramatic response isn’t uncalled for.

It might be necessary, in Marcus’s opinion. He nods and hums while waiting for you to continue.

“How would you feel about having another tattoo?” The question is posed carefully, quietly, but you had been considering it all the way over and bandied it back and forth with Agent Bailey during your walk. While extreme, it would certainly put all doubts to rest to share a video of you getting a new tattoo and having it appear just seconds after being finished, fully formed on Marcus’s skin.

“No gang or face tattoos.” Marcus jokes, shrugging slightly. “I’ve got no problem if you want to get a tattoo, sweetheart.” He decides. “But I don’t want you to do that simply to prove that we are soulmates. We don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I know it’s not owed.” That thought had never even crossed your mind, actually. “But I want this put to rest and something small that we decide on together would be a nice mark to share under almost any circumstance.” Shrugging a little, you take a sip of your tea and sit back. “It’s just a thought. Obviously I’m not going to just go off and do this on my own. That’s the opposite of the point of it.”

“No, I’m not opposed to it.” Marcus protests softly. “I just want to make sure it’s not from a place of insecurity.”

“Even if we weren’t soulmates, I would think it was sweet to have matching tattoos,” you tell him honestly, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment when your mind was chaotic just a half hour ago.

“What kind are you thinking of?” He asks softly, smiling as you lean against him. He enjoys the warmth of moment. The quiet comfort of you with him.

“I haven’t come up with anything brilliant.” Or even anything original. You had mostly been waiting to talk to him about it. “But something small, that’s reasonably discreet? Behind the ear or on the ankle or something like that? Even the wrist, so you could cover it with your watch when you want. I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“What about a little flower?” Marcus offers. “Behind the ear. I can cover that with my hair if I need to, and it can be your favorite bloom.”

“That sounds completely adorable.” The smile you have for him is beaming, feeling the way your heart bursts at his absolute acceptance and support. The love that radiates off him even in something as simple as knowing how much you love flowers.

“I thought you would like that.” He admits, tapping just behind your ear. “And you are so sensitive when I kiss right here. Especially when I’m inside you.”

“That’s mostly because you’re inside me.” Even though your cheeks burn with it and you slide down a little against his side, you’re still beaming at him. “If we’re going for things that enhance sensitivity then maybe I’ll have to look into piercings,” you tease.

“Don’t tease.” He pouts, twitching under the proper suit. “I can’t think about those kinds of things and be expected to work.”

“Oh, would you like if I had secret piercings?” You raise one eyebrow in interest, surprised to hear such an enthusiastic response to the passing idea.

“Piercings are hot.” Marcus would never deny that. “If you wanted to get some, I would support you completely. Enthusiastically.” He teases with a grin.

You hum at him, intrigued enough by the thought to actually heavily consider it, just imagining his face seeing them and how eager he would be to play with them. “That would be a very personal gift for my soulmate.”

Yes it would be. Marcus hums, trying and failing to hide a small smirk. “Personal is good.” He agrees, “but don’t feel like that’s something I have to have. If you want it, that’s one thing.”

"It's something to think about." It's no secret to him that you like things that mark you as his – your soulmate marks, of course, but your promise ring and occasionally wearing a piece of his clothing as well. Piercings might be something only he would see, but that just makes it all the more meaningful.

“Hmmmmmm.” He chuckles and nods his head. “It is. But I don’t think you came all the way down here to just fill my head with dirty thoughts.”

"I came down to surprise you with coffee and tell you that I love you." When he cocks his head slightly, you end up grinning. "I might have a little date night planned for you tonight. The caffeine has ulterior motives."

"Oh really?" He perks up, smiling slightly as he looks over at you in utter surprise. "So I need to make sure I'm home on time tonight?"

"Actually?" His delight is gratifying, and you squeeze his arm gently at your waist. "I'm taking you right from here. Our night is in the city."

"Kidnapping me, hmmm?" He grins widens and he bites his lip. "What does Agent Bailey think of such activities?"

"Oh, she helped me plan it." And she seemed to have fun with it, too, which made the little diversion even better. "Even made our dinner reservation for us."

"Wow." Marcus makes an impressed face. "That was a plot twist I didn't expect." he laughs. "Am I allowed to know any details or just show up and look pretty?"

"Just be your handsome self when I come back at five to pick you up." You stretch up to kiss his cheek, glad that he seems to be looking forward to tonight and hadn't been looking forward to just going home. "I'm going to scoot home, finish some paperwork, and get all dolled up for you."

"Bring me back an outfit?" Marcus asks, turning pleading eyes on you. "It can be another suit, I just want to freshen up too. Look my best."

"I'll bring something devastating but understated." That isn't hard considering Marcus's wardrobe is extremely well curated, but you still like to pay him the compliment as you pull yourself back to standing. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, babe."

He can’t help but grin a little more, your compliment making his shoulders lift confidently. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises, pressing his lips to yours in the office where there’s privacy, although he will walk you to the elevator.

"I love you." That is for the privacy of his office too, but only because it comes with such a doe-eyed look from you that it's nearly obscene.

“I love you too, Hummingbird.” He promises, the same sappy look in his eyes as he turns to guide you out of the office. His hand rests on your lower back, over the tattoo.

Unfortunately, no date night photos or other positive presence on your social media is enough to combat the now growing accusation and rumors surrounding your soulmate status. It's only two weeks after first presenting the idea to Marcus that you're both sitting in a tattoo studio with the artist that did a beautiful flower tattoo for Sydney's sister AnnaLeigh.

Marcus had asked Juan to come and film the entire thing, so it couldn’t be said that it was spliced together. Although he was sure that comment was coming. Some people couldn’t be pleased no matter what, they didn’t want to believe there was an innocent reason for them being together.

The simple design would not take long to ink into your skin, and the artist helped Juan set up two chairs so that both you and Marcus could be in the shot to capture the instant the finished tattoo appears on Marcus’s skin. The entire video would be shared on your social media, audio included, so you had had to work up the nerve to even just chat with Marcus on camera. Sharing another mark with him isn’t stressful at all, it’s letting the public so deeply into your personal life that is.

“I like the design.” Marcus sits down on the other side of you and takes your hand. “You should have let me do the tattoo this time.” He jokes. “I don’t know what it feels like.”

“We can switch if you want to?” You’re nervous, and he knows it. Not for getting the tattoo, but from everything that has been going on.

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. Whatever you want to do.” Marcus wouldn’t take this experience from you if you want it.

“It’s small,” the artist assures you, seeing anxiety in her clients. “And behind the ear doesn’t hurt very much for most people. I had one woman nearly fall asleep on the table because she liked the humming and the soft vibrations.”

Marcus can handle a little bit of pain. You know that. A tattoo is nothing compared to broken limbs or the incident when he was undercover and was shot — which had sent you in a flurry of cooing and coddling for about three days when he first told you about it. Tattooing is the kind of pain that some people find pleasurable, so you squeeze his hand and nod. “Why don’t you give it a shot? You might decide you like it and we’ll end up here all over again.”

“Is that alright with you?” Marcus asks the tattoo artist, knowing they might not appreciate a change of clientele.

“Fine with me.” She nods as she sets up her tray. “I have both of your information on file and believe it or not this happens a lot. Soulmates come in with a design they’ve chosen but they’ll change their mind at the last minute about which one of them will actually being sitting for it.”

Marcus chuckles and turns you both so he can sit down in the chair. “We’ll both be wearing it anyway.” He agrees. “So I don’t mind experiencing it.”

“I’ve never been shot but I guarantee it hurts less.” You move to let him sit in the artist’s chair and situate yourself by his side.

Marcus chuckles as the tattoo artists eyes widen. “I’m a federal agent.” He explains quietly. “It was just a flesh wound, but she thinks it’s impressive.”

“It is impressive!” And you’re just going to keep telling him so over and over until he caves, but right now you just throw a pout at him to make him laugh.

Marcus gives you the laugh and turns his head to the side, staring at you. “Still not as impressive as you are beautiful.” He murmurs softly, although the video picks it up.

“I love you, too.” The bashfulness in it is only because you weren’t expecting that kind of compliment right now — as the artist about to permanently ink Marcus’s skin is making sure she has everything she needs on her tray. You lean into his side and tip back your head, nothing but pure love in your eyes right before they slip shut at the brief press of your lips to his.

Marcus hums, an automatic sound that comes out of him when you kiss him. Excited that you are as free with your kisses as he is, it’s liberating to indulge whenever the urge strikes you. When you pull back, he grins. “Now I’m ready.”

"Go ahead and lean forward." Sitting down on her stool, the artist beckons Juan over with the camera for the best angle to watch the action and still have you in the shot. "And here goes nothing."

The first touch of the needle nearly makes Marcus jump. He barely resists the urge and then laughs quietly, trying not to move too much. “This is kind of ticklish.” He admits.

"Then it already hurts less than the one I got," you tease, glad that the experience isn't painful for him. Watching him giggle about it and knowing it's being filmed is downright endearing.

“I’m sorry.” Marcus apologizes, even though he has nothing to be sorry for. “I wish your experience was better.” He snorts after he says it. “Maybe not, or I might be covered in ink.”

"It wasn't bad, but it was definitely more than a tickle." The grin you shoot him, though, is knowing. "If you end up liking this so much tonight, we might be covered in ink because of you instead."

“Only areas that can be respectfully covered.” He teases you, sending you a wink as the artist continues to carefully work behind his ear.

"Sounds like a plan," you toss him a smirk in return and the set of you grow quiet after another round of low laughter, so the only sound in the room becomes the resilient buzz of the artist's needle.

Marcus could probably fall asleep if the noise didn’t vibrate in his head. He smiles at you, squeezing your hand gently. “After this, we will have to go get that cream to keep it clean.”

"We can get a Tattoo Goo kit before we leave the shop." His hand is in yours and you squeeze it reassuringly. "It's going to be tender for a bit, but it won't take too long to heal."

“I’m sure you will be completely cuddly as I heal.” He snickers quietly.

"I think having a cuddly girlfriend is mandatory for the healing process," you tell him seriously. At this point you've completely forgotten Juan is here for any other reason besides moral support. Forgotten about the phone in his hands being a camera and the fact that this video will become public for the world to see. This is just a moment between you and your soulmate. And a sweet one, at that.

“You should have seen me when the scar from your appendix showed up.” He snorts. “I was upset that my soulmate was hurt.”

“We were kids.” Sure he’s older than you, but you were so young when you had appendicitis. “Did it really worry you that much?”

“Yeah.” Marcus admits, not ashamed of that in the least. “Not knowing what happened, I kept imagining horrible things. Waited for other scars to possibly show up for at least a week.”

“If you had scarred from your broken leg or when you hurt your shoulder, I probably would have felt the same way.” It’s less of an admission from you and more of a confirmation, telling him in no uncertain terms how much you have always cared about his well-being. “Which is still your gunshot wound is such a big deal.” One of your fingers digs into his arm playfully. “That scared the crap out of me.”

“Well, now if I get shot, you can baby me right away.” He teases. “And tell the plastic surgeon to make the scar invisible.”

"I don't mind wearing your scars." The thought comes out quieter than you mean for it to, holding Marcus's hand tightly in yours. "I'm proud of you. And proud to wear your marks, no matter how many of them there are."

“Hopefully not too many more.” He hopes, smiling at you. “But I’m proud to wear your marks too, Hummingbird.”

The session doesn’t last too much longer. Marcus has a high pain tolerance but the tattoo mainly just tickles him, making him grin and laugh as he chats with you and with the artist for the last few minutes. When she pronounces him done and stands back, there is a moment of silence before the permanence of the piece takes hold on him and transfers instantly to your skin.

A sharp intake of breath at the momentary pain is how you know it has happened, and you glance over at Marcus — and Juan with your phone — just absolutely beaming with happiness. “Does it look as good on me as it does on him?”

Marcus inspects the area, forgetting the camera is even on and recording. He leans in and presses a kiss to the tattoo. “It looks even better, Princess.” He promises with a smile.

______

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

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

My Masterlist!

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

[mmmairon]

Idk if this is weird or not but could you draw Diluc telling me— someone they did a good job?

Not having the best time and I love your Diluc so much 😅

oh anon :( i hope this brings you some form of comfort <3

#of course i don’t know what you look like #so i tried to keep the self insert semi vague but i did base it off a dear friend of mine #i hope that is okay #and i hope you are okay #please take care #i am always available if someone needs to talk #people in the unlikeliest places care for and love you #asks #anon #diluc #my art #genshin impact #diluc x yn #diluc x reader

[wisteria-blooms]

long hair & tattoos (bill weasley & reader) (15/15) *complete*

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

CHAPTER 15: The day before Bill is set to depart for Egypt, you are torn between two thoughts: to convince him to stay or to let him go. Luckily, help and love come from the unlikeliest of places. (8.5k words) TAG LIST MOVED TO THE BOTTOM!

A/N: Thank you guys for following along on this ride! It's certainly been a fun one. I'm grateful for all your comments and feedback; it really inspires me to write more. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ending! Of course, feel free to leave any thoughts. (:

 

CHAPTER 15: THAT'S ALRIGHT WITH ME

Being back at Malfoy Manor wasn’t favourable either. You’d have rather hopped on a train somewhere and disappeared into the forest to be left alone with your thoughts. However, this was better than being confined with Fred and George and being teased relentlessly about Bill. Every question they had pushed you to the precipice of admitting the truth and you didn’t want them to hear it. If anything, you wanted Bill to hear first.

“(Y/N)!” Narcissa exclaimed when you walked in the doors just before lunch. She was dressed like she was going out to town later this afternoon. “What are you doing here?”

“I can tell you’re absolutely delighted by my presence.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I am,” Narcissa corrected, her left hand gliding on the stair railing as she descended the steps. “I just wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“I’d like to spend a night or two here before,” you stammered, “the big move.”

“Well, it is your home.” Narcissa pursed her lips. “And speaking of the move, your father wants to see if you need an extension on that lease on the penthouse. We can’t imagine Shell Cottage is very comfortable in the winter.”

“Yeah,” you responded non-committedly. 

“Are you joining us for lunch?” she inquired on the last step down.

“I already ate,” you lied. That was enough to satisfy your mother’s question.

“Then we’ll see you at dinner,” she said, passing you and turning the corner. “I’ll have Dobby prepare another seat.”

You nodded. “Sure.”

When your mother was out of sight, you ran up the stairs and turned the corner to your room. You flung the door open to your room and the weight of the past week hit you like an avalanche. You scrunched your face, trying to alleviate the tingle in your nose that you knew all too well—there were tears behind your eyes.

Your mind reeled back to the pleasant memories you shared with Bill, trying to look for little hints and clues. There had to be a flicker of love in those eyes, even if they were just for a split second. Maybe you were a fool for convincing yourself of it because it was clear that Bill didn’t care; he was moving back to Egypt and didn’t consult you or offer the courtesy of letting you know. You. Didn’t. Matter. The weight of that thought was cruel and punishing on your heart.

What was holding him back? Why shouldn’t he fall in love with you?

Then you realized.

Most people started off a new relationship revealing just bits of themselves—little fragments—and kept their skeletons tucked in the closet. You, however, sped full force ahead, running all the lights because the thought of falling in love with Bill never crossed your mind. You dove headfirst and put the bad and ugly on full display like it was a theatre show. You picked apart your family at every given chance, only to realize too late, when you’d irreversibly fallen for him, that he was searching for someone kind and familial. While he was cherishing time with his siblings, you were picking fights with Draco and your cousins. You felt sick.

Bill was probably ready to settle down, probably ready to have children of his own. You were still a child, directionless and going about your days with no goal in end. How could he like someone who bar-hopped with his younger brothers every summer? You were also barely four years in the working world, Bill was teetering on thirteen. Age, especially the gap between you and Bill, was never an issue for you and you’d never even thought about it. Now combing through all the reasons Bill wouldn’t like you back, it was blaring red.

You laughed blithely. It was your fault. You had fucked it up. You felt the first tears pooling in your eyes. Just a little, you promised. Then you’d stop crying.

You scooted over to look for the tissues in the drawer, but instead, your fingers found Bill’s letter he’d sent the morning after the first dinner. That fated dinner felt like yesterday and ages ago all at once. You were never going to get that back, the first meeting, the comfortable friendship you’d built with Bill. If he mentioned he was trotting off to Egypt back then, you wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. Now, things were complicated beyond repair.

Against better judgement, you began to read.

‘My love….’

Instantaneously, you came to a devastating realization that you’d never hear those words out of his mouth. And the thought of that burst the damn. There were hot tears running down your face now. You tried to keep quiet, but your heart amplified what you felt: sheer pain.

The one thing abating the pain was you letting yourself go and dissolving into a cathartic mess. Bill Weasley had reduced you to a lovesick fool and you’d sworn you’d let no man do it.

Feeling uncomfortable after sitting on the ground for so long, you moved up from the carpeted floor to the bed. You reached from the tissues on the nightstand and just laid there, twitching as sporadic sobs racked your body. You remained immobile otherwise, the net result of two opposing forces acting on you: one, telling you to go to Bill, and the other advising you to let it go.

Let him go.

It was probably hours that you’d cycled through napping and crying. You fancied daydreams where you pretended your bed was the same bed you slept in Nice, and that you’d never left the comfort of being by Bill’s side, of being close to him and the water. When you woke up to a different room than you envisioned, you grimaced and cried. In between, you had dreams of someone calling your name repeatedly.

The sun was low when you’d woken up for the umpteenth time. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you knew they were probably red and swollen. You still heard calls for your name, and you quickly realized you weren’t dreaming.

“What are you doing in there?” a sharp voice called from outside the door. “Didn’t you hear the call for dinner?”

You sat paralyzed. It was Draco.

“I’ll come later!” you yelled. The last person you wanted to reveal your weakened state to was your menace of a brother.

“We’ve been calling you for the last half hour!” he stated impatiently. “What’s wrong with you? Come down for supper.”

You panicked. You really didn’t want to be questioned or seen by anyone right now. “I’m fine! Go on, eat without me!”

Draco knocked again. “I don’t believe you one bit. Let me in!”

“I’m fine!” you repeated. “Mind your own business!”

“I gave you a fair enough warning. I’m opening the door.”

“I swear I will kill you if you do,” you threatened.

He jangled the doorknob with more force. “Then open it yourself! You’re acting like a petulant child, (Y/N)!”

The will to fight with him was leaving your body. You were tired, beaten down, and parched for water and even someone to confide in. You didn’t imagine it’d be Draco, but at some point, you needed to let someone in and offer you guidance. You pushed yourself off the bed, your head feeling heavier than the rest of your body. You trundled the steps to the door and opened it slowly.

As if it were a joke, you looked at Draco with your tear-stained face, bloodshot eyes, mussed hair, and forced a wide smile. “Happy?” You knew he’d mock you endlessly, and this front was the best way to shield yourself against it.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but you didn’t expect Draco to take a step back. The snarl on his face quickly dissolved into a soft expression of surprise.

He had swallowed whatever he had wanted to say and instead asked, “What’s wrong?”

Your tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine, obviously.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I haven’t seen you cry for ages. Not since you broke your leg at Hogwarts after that stunt you tried pulling with your friends.”

“I was fine,” you murmured. “Same difference.”

He asked, without missing a beat, “Does it have to do with Weasley?”

You feebly shook your head.

Draco peered at you in disbelief.

A sob in your throat threatened to rise and manifest into a cry. You urged Draco into the room. “Shut the door,” you demanded.

Draco closed the door behind him and walked in. “You’re lying. I always know when you’re lying,” he immediately fired. “Much like I always know when you’re upset about something, or who it’s about—”

He stopped when your nose scrunched up again. Flustered, and probably not used to dealing with a crying sister or crying women in general, he grabbed a tissue from your nightstand and handed it over to you.

“So, it is Weasley,” he concluded.

You said nothing. You found it hard to honest with him; there was little trust with how often you went behind each other’s backs. But at some point, both of you needed to let your walls down and get to root of it all—you were siblings, after all.

“I take that as a yes,” he finished for you. “What happened? Has he not been treating you well?”

“No,” you blew into the tissue, “he’s moving.”

“Where? The cottage?”

“Egypt.”

“Egypt?” Draco repeated incredulously, then whispered under his breath, “What the fuck?” He looked back at you. “Is this a joke? I’m trying to be serious here with you, (Y/N). So, quit joking around.”

You looked at him with bleary eyes and shook your head. “I’m serious. I wish I wasn’t.”

“Have you discussed this together?” Draco continued. “That’s a rather large decision to make without your input.”

“He doesn’t need my input,” you said as you squeezed your eyes shut, wringing out more tears. “I officially do not matter to him.”

Draco looked at you, puzzled. “What do you mean? Have you broken up?”

You shook your head and paused for a while. You were fighting with yourself to tell Draco the truth, but there was still a chance that he’d be a righteous ass about it. Your resolve to rekindle your relationship could easily backfire on you. But the genuine look on his face swayed your decision.

“It means you were right. It was all a farce because I didn’t want to date Crabbe and I wanted to get mother and father off my back at the same,” you admitted with a grimace, cracking one eye open to gauge his expression. When he remained quiet, you continued.

 “So, yeah,” you finished with a hiccup. “We’re not actually together.”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes and pushed his arm. “Don’t tell them please,” you pleaded weakly. “Mother and father.”

Draco shook his head and stared at you. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know.” You fell back on the bed. “I think we did too good of a job, didn’t we? I’ve even persuaded myself to be in love with him.”

“No,” Draco corrected. “Truthfully, I thought I was mistaken near the end, in France. The beginning was a different story. I saw you kicking him under the table and his arm fly up.” He smiled when he saw you laugh through your clogged nose—at least his commentary was taking your mind off things. “You’re also an awful liar.”

“That’s because we’re family,” you explained. You motioned from your eyes to his with two fingers. “I’ve been your sister forever. I also know when you lie. I’ve been observing you for twenty-one years. I know you wet your bed when you were six, when we shared a bed in Switzerland, so don’t try blaming it on me again.”

A rare smile snaked its way on his face, then fell again. “I,” he looked away, embarrassed. “I know we haven’t had the best relationship the past couple of years.”

“And whose fault was that?”

Draco paused, not used to taking the blame for anything. So, you took the chance to speak to him, sibling to sibling. “I’ve never stopped caring for you, you know. You’re my little brother.” Your voice caught. “I could never imagine being cruel to you, but at times, it was the only way to talk to you.”

“I… somewhere along the lines, I was….” He paused, a glitch in this new sentimental and human Draco. “Too uptight and thought you were smearing the family name with who you associated with.” He shuffled a little. “But you’re my sister, you’ve always been there for me, whether it was sticking up for me in front of our parents or getting Pansy off my back. So, I’m….”

“You’re?” you egged, the corner of your lips lifting.

“I’m sorry.”

He obviously wasn’t used to these foreign words rolling off his tongue, but you accepted his apology regardless. You knew he meant it.

You peered up at him. “Truce?”

He nodded. “Truce.”

Then he added, “And I wasn’t serious about Crabbe. Even I find him revolting. Truthfully, I haven’t talked to him in years. I was mortified to have that goof as a friend.”

“You don’t want Crabbe as your brother-in-law?” you pressed.

Draco made a face. “I would actually hope you’d get disowned if that ever happened. You’re miles above him in any sort of league.”

“I don’t know,” you said, fiddling with your hair. “Father seems to approve of him.”

Draco’s face contorted in disgust at the thought of Crabbe as family. “Whatever happens with Weasley, just know you’re too good for him, too. If he fucks up, then it’s his loss.”

“You’re serious?”

“Have I ever said anything so nice to you?”

“Never!”

You propelled yourself off the bed. “Can I have a—?” you asked, reaching your arms out.

Before you could finish, Draco rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug. He was a little stiff and robotic, but it felt just like the old days.

“Don’t expect this all the time,” he scoffed, one of his hands giving you a pat on the back of your head. He looked up at the ceiling in embarrassment. “It’s only because you’re upset.”

“I will expect one every day from now on,” you mumbled, heart bursting with love for your baby brother. It felt good to have him back just like things were. “Three every day if Bill moves to Egypt.”

“He’s not moving,” Draco reiterated, his voice holding firm. “Not if you have anything to do with it.”

You reached up to ruffle his perfect blonde hair. You were so glad you’d come home first. At home, you’d realized, there was always someone’s arms to cry into. Most of the times, it was your mother’s, but you welcomed change.

You sprinted in record time to the penthouse entrance after arriving at the gardens outside of it. Draco’s words renewed your confidence and pointed you in the right direction. There was no way you’d let Bill leave without him knowing how you felt. And Draco had affirmed that it was his loss if you he let you go. Bill’s loss. He was losing you, not vice versa.

You were hoping to catch Bill at home before he departed to the Burrow. You might’ve still gone there, but to have to confess your feelings to him within earshot of his family would be something you’d never live down.

You rushed past the concierge in hot pursuit for the speaker. You pressed one palm flush against the cool metal, the other finger shaking as you hammered down the numbers to connect to his suite. A voice responded after you hit the call button: “Hello?”

“Hello, Bill?” you called out frantically.

“(Y/N)?” he responded, voice fuzzy through the speaker. “What are you doing here?”

“I think,” you lied through deep pants, “I might’ve left something in your suitcase.”

“Okay,” he responded without question. “Come on up.”

Your heart was beating a thousand miles a minute on the lift. You did a final one-over of your appearance and it looked like the enchantment did a swell job at fixing your puffy and red eyes. You repeated everything you were going to say in your mind, a jumble of words sewn together into a somewhat coherent speech on your way here.

You mulled over the conversation like it was a looping film reel in your head, black-and-white and chock full of static. You were going to sit on the couch with Bill, your tone calm like you were an actual adult. If he craved maturity, then that’s what you were going to give him. You were going to listen to him. You were going to be rational. You were going to say, “Bill, I have to admit, I’m disappointed that you hadn’t talked to me about moving to Egypt first. Because, over the months, I’ve developed feelings for you,” and let the conversation carry on.

When the lift doors opened, a bubble of anxiety swelled in your chest. The penthouse was almost bare. Was it like this the first time you arrived? No, there was a French press on the counter and pans and tasteful Percy-picked paintings adorning the walls. There definitely weren’t full cardboard boxes tucked to the side.

“Hey.” Bill ran down the steps with a roll of tape in one hand and a flat box in the other. “What can I help you look for?”

Bill’s weight—rhythmic thuds—on the stairs reassured you he was real, still here beside you and not three thousand miles away. This time tomorrow though, he might not be. The thought triggered a stinging behind your eyes. The sorrow quickly turned into frustration as you realized in the past week, he hadn’t even bother to initiate conversation. He was acting like France was nothing more than a dream, that he didn’t spend most of his time beside you, sharing tender laughs and honest conversations. Why was it you who had to do all the legwork?

‘Compose yourself, (Y/N),’ you scolded. ‘Be mature, be rational.’ You were going— no, there was no chance of that as soon as the thought of Bill never being by your side again infiltrated your head again. Despite thinking you were wrung dry from the morning, you felt tears streaming down your cheeks.

It was Bill’s turn to panic. “Hey,” he said, setting up the folded-up cardboard box against the wall and running over, “what’s wrong?”

“Why?” was all you could choke out. The rest of your rehearsed speech washed out of your mind immediately when you saw his face.

“Why what?” Bill repeated.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?!” you exclaimed, voice pitching up as more tears leaked out of your eyes. There was a patch of hoarseness quilted in your voice but you continued, strained, “Why would you move and not tell me?”

“What?” Bill said. His face contorted in confusion. “I thought you knew, (Y/N).”

“The thing is, I didn’t know!” You gasped for breath. “You don’t need my permission to do anything, but you could’ve at least told me!”

“I think,” Bill’s hands cupped your cheeks, his thumb stroking a tear away, “we need to sit down and talk because I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

You just nodded, Bill’s calm tone abating your anger and your desire to ask whose fault it was that you weren’t eye-to-eye. You sat down on the couch facing the window on his left. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, its red hues seeping into the room, and you knew dinner at the Burrow was about to start soon.

“Firstly,” Bill said, reaching for a box of tissues on the coffee table and offering you to draw one. You reached for one but kept your face turned the other way towards the kitchen, unwilling to let Bill see you like this. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You bit your lip, mind flittering between whether or not to tell him the truth.

Eventually, after a few seconds of silence, you relented. “If I tell you, will you promise not to say anything until I’m finished?”

From the corner of your eye, Bill nodded.

“Okay.”

“You,” you mumbled quietly at first. You had decided: fuck it. If Bill was moving to Egypt, then you should just say everything that was on your mind. It wouldn’t matter if he rejected you since he was going to be miles away.

His face was pensive, eyebrows knitting and eyes squinted, like he was combing over everything that’s ever left his mouth. He laid his right arm motionless on the armrest.

“Was it… something I—?” He quickly stopped himself when you gave him an irksome glance, and he realized he’d broken your first rule of the conversation: don’t speak.

Your voice gained traction and you took advantage of the momentum to admit, “It wasn’t what you said, it was everything you didn’t say.”

“Bill,” you continued, turning your head to look at him. Everything you wanted to say, every feeling and secret you kept locked up in gold chains for the past few weeks, snapped and was spilling out like a torrent. “I know I can’t change the year I was born. And trust me, I’ve been in a right state because I can’t be older or more mature like you. I can’t change who my parents are or who I am or how we get along. I can’t be what you want. And I’ve never even considered any of this to be important or ever thought about it, but in the past week, it’s all I ever thought about, and—”

You squeezed your eyes shut and blotted your tears onto the tissue in your hand.

“When I think about why, it always loops back around to you. Because you’re all I can think about now. It pains me to be something you don’t want, like I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t belong. And it pains me that I matter so little to you that you can’t even share what goes on in your life with me. And it’s alright if you don’t feel the same way, but it’s taken such a toll on me, knowing you don’t care about me the way I care about you.”

Bill remained silent, his lips pressed tightly together. His hands were unmoving.

“Okay, I’m done,” you added quietly after taking a deep breath. You still couldn’t muster the courage to face him.

At the same time, Bill exhaled. “I don’t know what to respond to first,” he admitted. “But let’s go one by one, okay?”

Your body tensed. You liked talking a mile a minute, hoping that Bill would forget the barrage of words you hurled at him; Bill wanted to break everything down gently. Now, everything was in his hands and he could steer the conversation either way. You were dying for some semblance of your feelings being returned, but you were mainly preparing to be let down. At best, you would get closure before he left.

You sniffed, lips curving downwards, and nodded. 

“Firstly, there’s no need to change yourself,” Bill reminded. “You are lovely the way you are.”

“That’s not true,” you said with a shake of your head. “I’ve only shown you the worst parts of me, well, the real parts which are also the worst parts. For example, you’ve always talked so lovingly about your family. I’ve only talked mine down.”

“On the contrary,” Bill stated. “I think you have an excellent relationship with your family.” Bill shuffled slightly closer to you, trying to get you to look at him. “But tell me, (Y/N), what is this sudden fixation on our families?”

“I—you,” you stuttered, both at Bill’s inching closer towards you and the unabashed words that you were going to say, “you think it’s important, so it’s important to me.”

Bill chuckled. “People can be close to their family in different ways.”

“Can they?”

He nodded. “Have Fred and George told you? Mum was more upset than I’d ever seen her when they dropped out of school just months shy of finishing. She scolded them that entire week, then turned around to tell the neighbours how brilliant her boys were, the unconventional route they took and their success and all.”

He added, “She tells me women are turned off by my hair and earrings, then the same afternoon, tells her friends at her sewing club that I’m England’s most eligible bachelor. Doesn’t make any sense, really.”

You let out a nasally laugh that was more akin to a snort. “Really?”

“Really!” Bill affirmed with a smile. “You never know what your parents are saying behind your back.” He tilted his head, trying to see more of your face. “In France, your dad wouldn’t stop talking about you during the golf course. I thought he was boasting to your uncle Theodore as a game strategy, but he’d say the same to me in between holes.”

Bill continued on. “Draco told me you always stood up for him in front of your parents, and to his estranged lover.”

“Estranged—?”

“Pansy, I think her name was?” Bill filled in. “He was really mumbling the words out. Reckon he didn’t want to admit it.”

“Oh, right,” you said with a laugh. “She was a lot. Still a lot. Still in love with him.”

“You’ve had it harder than me, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love your family,” Bill stated. Then his tone bordered on teasing. “And (Y/N), there are other qualities I like in a woman, not just their relationship with family. I hope I’m not that one-dimensional.”

“I can imagine!” you sputtered, spinning around. “It was the only thing you told me and the only thing I had to go off of. I tried extrapolating the rest, but…”

You stopped talking when you realized Bill had your gaze in a headlock. That look in his eyes had you weak, some form of genuine curiosity and tenderness sparking in them. It was dangerous. It beckoned you to answer any question he asked.

“And what did you come up with?” he asked.

You grinded your teeth behind your sealed mouth. It was best to just say it, having already gone far past the point of no return. Still, you couldn’t help but feel mortified.

“I’d imagined you with a more mature woman. Someone who holds their liquor and doesn’t need assistance down the steps after a wedding. I’m the same age as Fred and George. They’re your younger brothers. Surely, you think of me the same.”

“I mean, yes, you are the same age, but I don’t think of you as a younger sister,” Bill explained. He scoffed before saying, “I mean, that would be unsettling if I did because—”

“Because?”

Bill’s lips suddenly quirked up into a sheepish grin. It was now his turn to be reluctant and quiet. His blue eyes shifted to a random corner of the room.

“Because what?” you fished, your palm flat on the couch in anticipation. Inside, your heart was erratic, pounding against your chest. You just needed to hear the right words to push you over the edge.

“I do fancy you.”

You jaw lowered slightly. Did you hear that right? He did fancy you. Suddenly, you were floating. Your ears were ringing, blood was rushing through your brain, euphoria cycling through your veins, and you felt almost delightfully faint. He didn’t just say that, did he? You were definitely imagining it. But you couldn’t have been, given how Bill’s face, and the flush of red by his ears, slowly dappling his cheeks over his freckles, was so clear.

“Can you say that again?”

Bill burst into laughter at your reaction. “It was hard enough the first time.” He remarked the pleading expression on your face before obliging. “(Y/N), I do fancy you quite a bit. I hope it was more obvious than not.”

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” you whispered. “Because it would kill me if you didn’t feel the same.”

“Do you remember what we said when we were at the shop, planning out,” he used air quotes, “our future?”

“What part of it?”

“When I said familiarity was uneasy.”

“Yes.” You could recall that perfectly. It was when he asked you why you didn’t choose his brothers to play out your schemes with.

“I’m glad we met under the pretenses we did,” Bill recalled. “We were able to show each other everything, no secrets or lies. And like I thought, there was nothing bad about you to uncover anyway.”

“I’m glad,” you sighed, feeling the last bit of stress dissipating from your body. “Because I thought I’d lost you for the same reason.”

Bill cleared his throat. “So, your age matters little to me. What matters to me is that you are intelligent, kind, and delightfully mischievous with your schemes,” the corner of his lip crooked up into a smile, “not to mention, you are really quite beautiful.”

Your eyes softened and your heart was beating erratically against your chest; you were just elated that Bill loved parts of you that you didn’t think he did.

Well, that was before he added, “And how could I forget? I do love your tendency to enjoy debauchery in the form of books.”

“Will you,” you grabbed a pillow beside you, “stop bringing,” and chucked it at Bill, “that up?!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that! It just means you are well-read,” Bill reasoned, evading the cushion flung his way. “If anything, learning to iron robes and how to best polish oxfords can be very useful.”

You gave him a pointed look.

“Not that I expect you to know,” he clarified quickly, horrified at how you could’ve interpreted it. He pointed to his chest. “I was keeping it in mind for myself.”

“You better not!” you chided, though a wide grin was breaking out across your face. You didn’t look intimidating in the slightest.

With Bill’s joke dispelling the tension, the air cleared enough to ask him another question, another itch only his words could scratch. “If it wasn’t my age, or my family, or even me, then what was, or is, stopping you from...?”

“I…” Bill trailed off. “You know, it’s never a good idea to get into one relationship too quickly after another. You could be using someone to satisfy a void.”

“Right,” you agreed without thinking. But what did you know? Bill had been previously committed, and you’d never been attached to anyone past three dates.

“I’m human, I’ve made mistakes, I try to learn from them.” His fingers ghosted over your temple before brushing a renegade hair from your face. “It would be unfair to drag you into something because I was selfish and unsure.”

“But it’s been almost a year now, surely?” you said. “I thought most people did this rebounding thing right after. I’m not saying it means you should be ready, I’ve just heard—”

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “But you’re just,” he stopped, looking down at you with a gentle and lopsided smile that made your legs wobbly, “something I wanted to take my time with. I don't know if I could live with myself if I hurt you in the slightest.”

You pressed, “Has your opinion changed at all? Since then?”

Bill grinned. “Of course it has.”

You felt more at ease now. “What’s changed it?”

“I missed you in the days we were apart. I really did, (Y/N).” His face showed calm but there was something frantic in his pulse, his words, his entire being. “All summer, Gringrotts wrote to me and wanted me to stay in Egypt as I was doing a fairly good job over there. The European branches sent Fleur to convince me to move to Belgium instead. But when I came home, I realized I missed being with my family.”

You listened wordlessly, wonderstruck at the fact that someone like Bill Weasley existed.

“With mum and dad getting older, I knew I needed to stay home and take care of them if anything happened. They’ve already lost Charlie to Romania and Percy to the Ministry.” He ended the statement with a chuckle.

“Bill, that is so very considerate of you,” you spoke through shallow breaths, “but after all this, you’re still moving?”

“Yes, but it’s not very far away.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Egypt is over three-thousand miles from here.”

“Egypt?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Where did you hear I was moving to Egypt?”

“From George, I—”

“I mean, I was considering it, but I’ve ultimately decided to stay here.” He pointed down with his index finger. “Shell Cottage is a very easy floo away from home.” Then, with an impish smile, he added, “But you know, my family wasn’t the only thing anchoring me.”

“It wasn't?”

A serious expression eclipsed Bill’s face. “I thought of you.”

He thought of you.

“You seem to have an influence over my decisions.” Bill leaned over and in a near whisper, continued. “I thought that if there was any chance that if we,” he looked right at you, “worked out in any sense, me being in Egypt would not make anything easier.”

“Why would we not work out?” you said, apprehension creeping in your voice. If Bill expressed any doubt this far in the conversation, you weren’t sure how you’d take it. He couldn’t take back a confession, he just couldn’t.

“(Y/N), you have to admit,” Bill began, catching your gaze again. You felt your heart stutter at his intense look and those mesmerizing baby blues. “It’s been confusing for me, too. You chose me as your fake lover based on things you were opposed to: my hair, tattoos, my age. Especially my age, I’ve heard. How was I supposed to ask you about it?”

“What?” you blurted out. “Bill, I adore the first two things and I’ve stopped thinking about how old you were. It never even crosses my mind anymore unless someone is bringing it up.”

You took one of his larger hands, heart swelling at how natural it felt, and urged him to look at you. You were trying to convey your thoughts earnestly through touch, like your hands were intertwined with his heart.

“The goal was to make my parents upset, and I thought it worked but it turns out they really like you, especially the golf abilities you’ve kept hidden for thirty years,” you admitted. You reached out to gingerly stroke Bill’s hair, the short locks softly sliding past your fingers. “I truthfully adore all these things: your long hair, tattoos, piercings. And if it were up to me, you’d never cut your hair again.”

“Shame,” he said. “I was starting to like the length. It’s rather airy in the summer.”

“Just the summer, then. I’m willing to negotiate.” You pointed to the fang earring. “But this,” you gently touched it with your free hand, “is non-negotiable. In fact, you could use another piercing or two.”

“Noted,” Bill responded.

“And please, keep these rings,” you mumbled, your fingers falling to admire the bands of silver taut on his fingers. Your voice was now barely audible as you whispered to yourself, “This is quite literally the most attractive thing I’ve seen on a man.”

“What was that?” Bill asked, leaning in unbearably close now. You felt a spark on your lips where was looking.

“Nothing, I, er,” you fumbled, trying to redirect his attention. When you looked up, you saw it: the last object of your adoration. It was his eyes – those blue lifelines to his heart. You leaned in, just inches away from him and the closest you’d ever been, and placed a hand softly on his face, unknowingly flittering over a scar. “Your eyes are beautiful, I… there are no words to describe them.”

He brushed a loose strand of your back and tucked it behind your ear. “Then don’t.”

That was all he said before he closed the short distance between you. Your heart soared when you felt the rougher texture of his lips on your soft ones. You knew at the very least, you had to close your eyes like he had, but you wanted to see him for just another second. You wanted to soak in Bill like he was the sea, let him wash over every sense—sight, touch, taste—you had.

Bill was gentle, gradually easing you into the kiss, giving you air when he felt you needed it. The thing was that you didn’t need air, you just needed more of him. He chuckled when he felt you nudging him closer.

Half of you knew he was physically here, while the half was wondering if you were in some daydream. So, you treaded along precariously, trying not to disturb this lucid dream you found yourself in. Merlin knew how much you would’ve given to kiss Bill Weasley just a month ago.

You drifted from the kiss slowly to confirm something. “So, does this mean…?”

“I’d like to have you as my girlfriend, if you’d have it.” He stated it like there was any chance of hesitation on your end, which there wasn’t.

“Bill,” you exhaled with elation, letting out a relieved breath. “That’s not even a question.”

He moved both his hands to caress the back of your head, fingers tangling with your soft locks. His grip was firmer when he pulled you back towards him.  Your lips met again, but this time, he deepened the kiss, was a touch more dominant than he was just seconds ago. You obliged immediately, waltzing with him in the intimate dance. Surely, you weren’t as experienced as Bill was, but he guided you perfectly, urging you to part your lips with a gentle prod of his tongue. He tilted his head to gain better access just as his hands slithered down your body. He gripped your waist firmly, and then did something that sent a shiver down your spine.

He let out a low, guttural groan.

“You are worth the wait,” he breathed huskily. “You’ve been driving me insane for months, (Y/N).”

Before you could flush even deeper at his words, he quickly pulled you over his lap so your legs were splayed out on each side of him. Your pulse grew frantic as both you and Bill shed any sense of slow and steady and replaced it with fast and vigorous. If you weren’t already overheated, you sure were now, feeling the harder parts of him against parts of you that were aching, hearing his desire for you aloud. You unknowingly grinded into him, trying to dissipate the want building. You were a mess of heat and occasionally, the clashing of teeth, which even if imperfect, spoke to the feverish pitch things were reaching.

His hands travelled past the hem of your skirt, doting the back of your thighs until they were positioned on your rear. He kneaded the soft skin and it was your turn to groan.  

Bill’s eyes darkened slightly as you straddled his lap. His fingers tightened on your skin until you were sure they’d leave red marks. “I’m a man, (Y/N). I have my own urges to act upon, but.”

“But?” you asked, feeling whiplashed at Bill’s sudden stop.

“But, I do think I should take you somewhere nice first.” He slicked his hair back and tilted his head up to look at you. “That’s only proper, isn’t it?”

“I suppose?” you responded with an inflection, your heart fluttering in hummingbird beats, much too fast to speak coherently. You still felt like you’d ascended to the heavens, your mind in a state so blissful and delirious that you were half-responding to Bill. “I don’t mind either way, really, I…”

“Alright,” Bill agreed. “Then we’ll sort out how you’d like to proceed after the dinner I promised mum to go to.”

“The dinner,” you repeated. You’d forgotten all about it in the heat of things. You were just overjoyed it wasn’t a farewell dinner for Bill. “I can wait until you’re back.”

“What are you talking about?” he questioned with a laugh. He pushed himself off the couch with you in tow and your legs wrapped around his waist. “We’re going to the dinner.” Then he leaned in again, his breath fanning your face. “Together.”

“Are you sure?” you asked shyly, nervous at the prospect of facing the entire Weasley family and more. “I mean, a family dinner. It seems like a big thing, doesn’t it?”

With Bill hoisting you up, you were finally taller than him. You were privy to things you didn’t normally get to see, like how his long lashes framed his eyes, how sturdy the bridge of his nose was, and how tempting his lips looked pulled into a smirk. If you had a say, you’d forego the dinner and kiss him all night instead.

 “You took me to one,” he countered.

“Under false pretenses,” you said, scrunching your face up.

“Okay, consider this a family dinner that is actually entirely truthful. This is a second chance to do things right and not lie about anything.”

“Who said I was lying about anything?” you snickered. “Maybe I do want seven children and to never retire and to fly around in the Ford Anglia everywhere.”

Bill shook his head. “I don’t think anyone would be happy with oil leaking from the sky. Kingsley would tax you for environmental damages under the new green law.” He tossed a wink your way, knowing exactly how to counteract your sarcasm, and said, “But I would be happy to oblige your other requests.”

“No!” you yelped, clasping your hands over your mouth. The thought of the rest of your life inundated by seven kids and little Freds and Georges clinging to your sides was a nightmare. How did Molly do it? Bill was forcing himself not to laugh. You knew he was only joking, but you couldn’t help but give him a little slap on the arm.

You looked directly at him. “In all seriousness, should we tell them one-by-one?” you asked.

“What about?”

“About us,” you responded. “We shouldn’t give your mother a heart attack.”

“(Y/N),” Bill assured with a breath-taking smile, spinning you around in his arms. The look on his face was luminous. He really was the sun that broke the storm. “We’re going to tell the whole world tonight.”

Epilogue

Standing on the hilly and grassy entrance of the Burrow, Bill was appraising you with concern. He could sense the rigidity in your body as he held your hand.

“How are you feeling, love?”

“Relieved and nervous,” you explained. “Relieved because this isn’t your farewell party. Nervous because it’s your family.”

“You know my family,” Bill reminded. “There is nothing to worry about.”

“Are you completely certain this is a good idea?” you asked. “I don’t want to overwhelm them.”

“I’ve never had a bad idea,” he boasted with a toothy smile.

Bill pushed the creaky wooden door open for you, his hand still clasped on yours, unwilling to let go of your fingers in case you wanted to escape. He ducked under the doorframe as he entered. You followed him into the Burrow—Bill’s childhood home. You’ve been here before but this just felt different, like you were now a part of the family and not just an extension of it. You shied away, thinking Molly would be right there. She wasn’t. You saw Percy in the living room, turned away and nose in a book. Charlie, who you were surprised to see had returned from Romania, was pouring himself beer from the pitcher. Molly was snipping herbs from her potted plant by the windowsill, oblivious to your arrival.  

Charlie was the first to look up, being the closest to you, at you and your hands intertwined. A slow, devious, and somewhat knowing smile creeped up on his face. Bill shushed him and Charlie covered his mouth with his free hand. Of course, Charlie remained silent, tempted to see how his mother would react.

“Hi, mum,” Bill called from across the room.

“Bill, darling,” she responded offhandedly, preoccupied by the finishing touches she was putting on her vegetable roast. She was slow to turn around, more focused on carrying a heavy dish with her oven mitts. And when she did, her eyes landed on your faces first.

“(Y/N)!” she called. “How nice of you to bring her, Bill.”

Her eyes were still locked on your face and hadn’t made the connection. Your breath caught when Molly’s eyes began trailing downwards in what felt like an eternity.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you didn’t expect to cause such a scene. Molly literally dropped her dish on the floor at the sight of your hand in Bill’s. The ceramic dish shattered and the vegetable roast flew in all directions. Percy jolted from his position on the couch, his cry overshadowed by the stew boiling over and the kettle wailing beside it.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed. She seemed so flustered she didn’t know which way to go—to embrace you or to clean up the mess on the floor or to turn off the stove with the overflowing stew. “I had my suspicions, oh, I—”

In desperation, she called out for her husband to help with one of those tasks. “Arthur!”

He quickly ran in, cheeks rosy, and out of breath.

“What’s the danger?” he panted, looking left and right.

“Oh, Arthur!” Molly exclaimed with a roll of her eyes, her hand on her hip. “There’s no danger.” She pointed to where you stood. Arthur, still unaware, looked over. Bill raised your hand and gave it a little shake. Molly couldn’t control her excitement, so she ran over. You imagined she was tumbling towards Bill, but she chose you instead. You let go of Bill’s hands to hug her.

“My future daughter-in-law!” she exclaimed, patting your cheeks. “Oh, I knew it! I just knew it. You are just so perfect for my Bill.”

“I think that’s an approval from mum,” Bill said to Charlie who was standing offside.

“She’s already making Christmas sweaters for your children,” Charlie teased with a snicker.

“Bill! Come and help me with the vegetables,” Molly commanded, sending over an apron from the closet that was likely too small for him.

Bill looked at the flimsy piece of fabric in his hands. He only had a couple inches of string to work with. “Mum, I think this is Ginny’s—”

Then, Molly pointed to her spilt dish. “Arthur, sweetie, clean this up. And (Y/N),” she guided you by the shoulders and towards the couch where Percy was, “you just sit here and Percy will bring you a beverage.”

“I told you, mum’s a modern feminist,” Bill said to you with a wink. He managed to get a tiny knot from the apron. “How do I look?”

“You look fit,” you complimented. The tiny apron was accentuating all the right muscles. “And in regards to your mother, rightfully so. Millicent be damned.”

“I’m not opposed to her tips in the later chapters,” Bill added with a smirk, causing your face to flush.

“I’ve read it so many times, I have it memorized,” you assured. “You’ll have to find out later.” Bill’s mouth rounded in surprise first, not used to this side of you, before morphing into a more smouldering expression.

“Hey!” Charlie interjected from across the room. “Just because you’re together doesn't mean we all have to be subject to this.”

“You’ve read this book, Charlie?” Bill asked, steering his brother away. “Let me tell you all about (Y/N)’s favourite author…”

“Watch it,” you whispered in the most intimidating tone you could muster.

Bill quickly spring into action with his mother who was appraising his domestic skills. You admired his tall figure, his fingers lithely paring a potato with a peeler.

Bill’s tall figure was quickly replaced by Percy, who looked abashed as he brought a beer over to you.

“I….”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I know. I’m a selfish person, I’m working on it.”

“You’re not selfish. I shouldn’t have jumped to assumptions,” he conceded. “It’s a bad habit of mine.”

“It’s not,” you reassured.

Percy nodded and let a moment of silence linger over you before asking, “Say, how did you arrange that meeting with Rookwood?”

“Would you like to know?” you said with a smile. “I can set you up.”

At dinner, Bill sat beside you. You didn’t need much integrating or any introductions; you’d been here already and there was already a seat for you. Occasionally and to your pleasure, he’d take your hand under the dinner table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“So,” Molly started as she sat down. She looked directly at you two. “I’d like to know this happened.”

Neither you or Bill could contain your laughter, given the wild story you were about to tell. You were the first to recover, and slowly, you began, “It started, around a table just like this…”

After dinner and dessert was had, you and Bill departed for the backyard. You were swinging with him on a hammock, away from the commotion inside, and watching the stars. They were exceptionally clear tonight, or maybe it was that being with Bill made the world slightly brighter.

“Bill?” you asked, snuggling in closer to him to shield yourself from the cold.

He turned to you. “Hm?”

“You’re coming to Nice next year, too?”

“Of course,” he responded, like there wasn’t even a flicker of doubt.

“And the next?”

“And the next,” he affirmed. “I wouldn’t even question it.”

“Good,” you said with a blissful sigh.

Under the starry night, you counted your blessings and thanked the heavens as you soaked Bill in. After days and weeks of fluxing emotions, he’d made it clear tonight: he was yours, yours for the rest of your life if you made sure of it.

Unbeknownst to you, the twins sat on the couch inside murmuring amongst themselves.

“You cheated,” Fred accused. “He wasn’t going to Egypt anyway.”

“That wasn’t one of the rules, Freddie. It’s not like I made them kiss or anything,” George said with a shrug. “I only accelerated what was going to eventually happen.”

Fred cursed under his breath as he gave George galleons he lost. That was a good whole month of pay, all gone! 

“I thought she’d be a little more resilient than that.”

“Hm, shows you don’t know her that well,” George said with a smirk, depositing the money in his pockets.

“I hate to say that it was well-played, but poor (Y/N). You did a number to her heart there.” Fred said with a pout. “I think she really thought he was moving to Egypt.”

“Now our poor sweet (Y/N), stolen by the treacherous grasp of our eldest brother,” George lamented.

“Not like she would’ve chosen you anyway.”

Fred placed his hand over his heart, offended. “Nor would she you.” Then he leaned back on the couch, watching you from outside the window, swaying on the hammock with Bill. You’d been out there for almost an hour.

George spun the gleaming gallon on the table.  

“Now, next on the list of affairs to bet on: when’s the wedding?”

<<CHAPTER DIRECTORY (READ IT AGAIN!)

TAGLIST: @inpraizeof @milkiane @lovesanimals0000 @alisslahey @milfodyssey @itscheybaby @lookingthroughmirrors @stiles-argent24@aki-ham @my-current-fandom-is @salvatoremuse @nimue-lady-of-the-lake @agathne @benbarnesismybaby@bangbaang @venus-d-vinyl @lexxxtacyyy @pink-hufflepuff @unicornicopia1@itsrhyann@awesomeowlbook @bamboozledflamplant @howpeculier​ @jaix-8102 @vilentia​ @sophneedsfandoms ​@dontbesuspiciousss @sugarrush-blush@actuallyade @thatgoodolswitcharoo @kakorrhaphiphobia @cigaretttes-aftersex @pandoraneverland @theluvcafe@eternally-ineffable@winterishfallinknowledge @tygecjjd @southernraven @roroswitherose

#bill weasley x you #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x y/n

[midnight-rain-fics]

Lover

{Fandom: Grishaverse}

{Pairing: Mal Oretsev x reader}

Summary: Mornings are usually your favorite time of the day, especially if they are spent in bed with Mal. Just a short Drabble. There’s no plot, only vibes and fluff.

“I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you”

Waking up next to the man you loved was quite possibly the best feeling in the world.

Mal's warm body curved around yours and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. A soft sigh escaped his lips, head nuzzling closer to your neck.

You had met him under the unlikeliest of circumstances. You were both fighting in a war you didn't particularly care about, for the people you loved.

You and Mal were twin souls; soldiers always marching on, always a weapon to be used. Until now.

Until you had both decided to lay down your weapons and live a life together on the sea.

Both of you had reasons to fight in the war. For you, it had been Nikolai. Your best friend and the man who had given you a place among his crew, back when he had been a privateer.

You had first met Mal aboard the Volkvolony. You remember feeling disdain at the way he and Alina had first acted. Arrogant fools. Thinking they could command an entire crew just because Alina was the sun summoner.

It had left you feeling uneasy.

You turned your head to look at the man you had once called a 'blithering fool' to his face, leaving him sputtering in offence. It had been quite an adorable sight, but you would never admit that to anyone.

But now, you couldn't help but feel warmth blossom in your chest as you caressed his face, his long eyelashes fluttering slightly to reveal sea-blue eyes blinking sleepily at you.

"Good morning, sunshine" You chuckled, stroking the side of his face, hand cupping his jaw. Mal was handsome, but his beauty wasn't obvious like the rays of the sun, it was more subtle, like the pattering of rainfall and the calmness it left behind.

You could admire him for days and it would still not be enough.

A breathless laugh escaped Mal's lips as he leaned forward on his elbows to look at you, pressing a chaste kiss to the palm that was still stroking his cheek, "what's got you in such a good mood, doll?"

"Can't I just be happy waking up next to you?"

Mal raised an amused eyebrow, his bare chest on display as the thin sheet covering you both slipped down a little, "Not really, you usually complain about how cold my feet are and then make up for being mean by kissing my tattoo"

"It's a beautiful tattoo," you sighed in exaggeration and placed your hand on his back, your chest nearly touching his as you ran your fingers down his spine, "even if it doesn't make much sense"

"It makes sense in Old Ravkan"

"It really doesn't"

"You just like picking fights, don't you?" Mal shook his head fondly, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"You know it" You whispered and leaned forward to nudge your nose against his, earning a sweet chuckle in return.

A wicked smirk overtook Mal's face, his arms encasing you to his chest, the bedsheet long forgotten at your feet, as he shifted his weight and loomed over you, "Maybe I should teach you some manners, doll"

He leaned down and nipped at your neck, earning a squeak from you.

Your cheeks were positively flushed as you grinned at him, eyes sparking up mischievously, "I've been told I can be quite insolent, I don't think your lessons would work, Mal"

Mal hummed, a sound that rumbled low in his chest, "We'll just have to see, won't we?"

It was safe to say you both spent the last rays of the morning sun bathing in each other’s company until Tolya knocked on the door to the Kapitan’s quarters, urging you both to join the crew for lunch.

#mal oretsev x reader #mal oretsev #mal oretsev x you #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #mal oretsev imagine

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Part 66- Vampfire Tales

Summary: Josie's world has just been rocked in more ways than one as a shocking truth comes to light after 20 years. The Marchwarden of Lorien and King of Mirkwood have a lot of explaining to do but it only appears to worsen the situation. Josie needs her space in the aftermath of the tornado that just uprooted her life. She finds comfort, support and truth in the unlikeliest of people. What a tale she learns but it is cut short at a critical moment. An act of betrayal leaves yandere Thranduil reeling. Was it justified for his own betrayals? The Elvenking does not seem to think so. Is love enough for the King and his Queen? Josie needs her mother now more than ever.

All went silent after Haldir revealed the name of the human Craven was in love with. Caroline. Your mother. The wind was just knocked out of you without even being touched. You couldn't move as shock set in. Your mother died when you were 5 in a horrific car accident. That was the story anyways and you never had any reason to question it. Your father certainly couldn't have known any of this. He was one person that had never nor would have ever lied to you, especially about something like that. But then again, you never thought your best friend Haldir or Thranduil, your own husband would have either.

Legolas was also blown away by this unforeseen development as he stared at you. He brought his hand to your shoulder. "Josie....I...I had no knowledge of this. Please believe me."

Your disbelieving tear stained eyes slowly moved to his, then they darted right back to Haldir's who stood defeated in your glare. "My...mother...is alive? All these years? and.....you knew??" you whispered in a rage filled tone as your body shook.

"I...I have only known a short time Jo. As I said, I found out who she was when I was dying from Garrett's blood poisoning. Before that, I did not know her identity. Jo I just did not know how to tell..."

"SHUT UP!" you scowled and slapped him across the face. Haldir shamefully took the hit and kept his face to the side and lowered to the ground.

Legolas came up behind you with widened eyes. "My Lady, let me take you out of here to calm dow..."

"Don't you fucking touch me Legolas." you snarled as your eyes moved in his direction while your face stayed locked on the marchwarden. "I would expect something like this from my honest and forthcoming husband Thranduil, but never you Haldir, my faithful trustworthy best friend in the entire world who would never lie to me...." you said with emphasized sarcasm. "Not...you." you then whimpered. It hurt like hell that he of all people kept something like this from you..."I do not care for your reasoning as to why you chose to keep something so dire from me. I TRUSTED you! More than anyone! Do you have any idea how much you have hurt me?"

Haldir slowly brought his teary eyes to yours. "I...I am so sorry." he quietly whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you. It kills me that I have done so. The guilt has been unbearable..."

"As it should be. Your words of sorrow mean nothing. I believe nothing you now say. This...is unforgivable. I do not wish to look at you...now...or ever...."

Your words did their job. Haldir was speared right through the heart by them.

"My Lady. You are hurt, angry and distraught right now. You should please go try to calm down before saying things you do not mean. Haldir did not do this intentionally." Legolas said trying to help his broken down guardian.

You snapped your head to the Prince. "You defend him??!! You justify his actions because it was not intentional??? I meant every single word! I should have known better than to trust you either!" you cried and stormed off only to stop dead in your tracks with a gasp as Thranduil was standing in the doorway with the same shameful eyes as Haldir.

"Josephine...." he softly spoke. You continued to try and leave but he stepped in front of you placing his hands gently on your forearms. "Please wait...."

Your eyes slowly rolled up to his as your tears kept falling. "I...I only want to know one thing from you...How long have you known?" Your voice trembled right along with your body.

"Josephine...can we please go speak in..."

"HOW LONG THRANDUIL!" you barked.

"Since the night of the party when we first danced and kissed."

Your eyes bulged and your heart pounded. "That was...in May...my god...5 months ago!" You brought your hand to your chest and walked around him to leave.

"I have seen her..." Thranduil quickly said.

You halted in the doorway and slowly turned back. 'What?" you whispered.

Thranduil turned to you. "20 years ago. She was with Orodreth inside the Lorein realm's borders. Haldir and I came across them on our journeys. They were arguing and she was clearly with child. I had no inclination of who she was then nor did Haldir. Only that she was merely a human involved with Craven as Haldir had informed me of long before and that is when it came to light that she had relations with Orodreth. He and the woman knew Haldir would conceal what he knew but not I. She offered me information in exchange for my silence of what I had witnessed as she clearly did not want Craven or Orodreth's wife to know of their misdeeds. She claimed she had the gift of foresight and knew of my true love that would come to me in 19 years to be exact, but she never revealed it to be you. Haldir then asked me to wait as he did not want his mother to be hurt. I was very fond of Olivia and did not approve of Orodreth's infidelity. That amount of time would come very quickly in our world and if the human was wrong, then I could reveal what I knew to his mother. To keep things in good standing with Haldir, I agreed as I am patient and could wait. All of that though did not matter as shortly after, Orodreth and Olivia were killed as well as Craven. We knew of the vampire child's birth and that Craven had saved the human by turning her just before he died days later. She had then fled with the child because of Victor as I had told you. We had never seen her again.....

Except once I had....the night of the party back in May. Legolas had just shown up and I had been called away to handle a matter. That matter was her. She came to gloat of her foresight that she had told me of all those years ago and...to check on you. That is when she revealed to me who she was and swore me to secrecy to keep you safe from Seline who was still hunting her and knew nothing of you. If she had, Seline would have used you to get to her. I could not allow that. She believed I should know the truth in order to keep you safe. I will not apologize for protecting you. But I will for ever hurting you. For that I am heartfully and genuinely sorry my love. I never should have involved Haldir. I hope you can at least forgive him in due time." Thranduil said as he gave a sincere look to his former great friend as a form of an apology to him as well.

Your head was spinning at everything Thranduil just threw at you. "My god...that means when she told me of a King in the forest when I was a child...she really knew of you. She saw you in her visions. She...she was always very clairvoyant. There were crystals, spices, tarot cards and so much more all over the house..." you whispered as you stared off into your memories. You then gasped. "And...moonstones....there were a multitude of them....and lilacs that she always put in my room...I had told you about that at our wedding because you always smelled of them." You stared up at Thranduil in awe. "How in the world did she ever meet Craven? or Orodreth? Is that why my parents got divorced? Because she loved him...or both of them?" That statement made you think of Haldir as you slightly glanced in his direction, in which he noticed.

"My love. That I do not know. I wish I had more answers for you."

Your anger that slightly subsided came rushing back. "Like hell you do. You had plenty of answers and lied to me. I do not give a damn for your reasons in keeping all this a secret. I deserved to know my mother was alive! I...I opened myself up to you that night after the entire Morwen and Malsin ordeal. I told you every single thing about my life and that included my mother's death and you sat there comforting me knowing damn well she was alive!! and my god...you raked Haldir over the coals after Garrett had taken me for not telling me the entire story of his parents and the pendant and you scolded me for always defending him, and yet YOU were so innocent right? You were harboring the biggest secret at that point and much much more."

"Josephine...how...how was I supposed to tell you that your mother never died and that she was a vampire? I wish you could understand this from my perspective. What if it were one of my parents? Would you be able to tell me?"

"Yes!! I would because I respect you and you would deserve to know something like that."

"Even if it put me in danger?"

"I...I....I cannot do this....I can't breathe...this is too much....my god....I...I have...had a...sister. And she is dead...I never got to know her." An anxiety attack was trying to sneak up on you.

"And sadly...you never would have Josephine. I did not know she was your mother then. The child died when you were merely a young teenager. I believe the girl was approximately 8 to 10 years of age."

You let out a gasp. "Oh my god...my dream...I..I just remembered it. In the cabin...I..I saw the vision the fountain gave me of Leeanduil playing in the forest...but this time...there was another little girl with her...about that age! Leean ran to her and they were dancing and laughing as if they knew each other....my god, could it have been my sister? Her hair had a light tint of red... If it was...then why? Why was none of that in the fountain's vision??"

"Possibly for the same reason you did not see Garrett. As a vampire cannot be seen in a mirror, neither can their reflection in the water. Their image simply does not exist but only to one's eye. If it was her you saw in your dream...I do not know why or what it could mean." Thranduil explained.

"Do you...do you know her name?" you squeaked.

"I do..." Haldir interrupted. "My father had told me after she was born....Clover."

You began to lightly giggle. "My mother....beings we are irish...she loved 4 leaf clovers. She collected them. I found them in many books of hers that she pressed them in. She said they would protect us. Keep the monsters away. I would always have bad dreams of monsters being after me, go figure, and she would place one under my pillow every time I had a nightmare and say "Seosaimhín, (Irish pronunciation of Josephine) the leaves of the 4 leaf clover stand for luck, love, hope and faith. They are magical charms of protection and ward off bad luck".... It always worked too. She also told me she loved them because they were the color of my eyes and that she would have named me that but my father hated the name." You then began to sob.

"Josephine. My love. I am so sorry." Thranduil sweetly spoke as he tried to take your hand.

"No...don't. I cannot even look at you right now. 5 whole months you knew my mother was alive and you said nothing. I have forgiven you for so many horrible things...god so many Thranduil but...as I told Haldir....this...this is unforgivable. I need to be alone right now. Do not come after me. None of you." you snapped and ran out in tears. Thranduil slowly walked to the bed and sat down, then did something completely out of character for an elf lord of his stature. He placed his face in his hands and wept.....

You headed straight for the beach in search of one thing. Garrett. You needed to know if he knew about this as well because if he did, there could be so much more he could tell you...that is if he was willing after what you did to him. In your eyes it was well justified as what he had done to you, Thranduil and Haldir was far worse. "Garrett Lee!" you shouted while you gazed all around in the growing darkness as dusk settled in. "I know you can hear me. I am actually asking you to come. Please Garrett. I swear to you, it is not a trap."

All you could hear was the waves crashing softly on the shoreline. It was foggy so you could not see very far out into the water. Devil's Island was completely invisible at this moment. You were all alone summoning a vampire. Out of all the stupid things you've done, this one made it to the top of the list.

About 10 minutes passed and and there was no sign of him. You couldn't hear anything of him in your mind either. Even if he was pissed off at you, he would not pass up the opportunity to come take you so he must have felt threatened being out in the wide open. You began to walk towards the forest in hopes he would follow you. You found a small clearing and sat down on one of the large rocks that surrounded what appeared to be a firepit that hadn't been used in some time. It was quite dark and so very cold you could see your breath. The silence was so eerie. You walked around and found some kindling and a few small logs, then placed them on the pit. It was time to use a little magic. You held your hands out and spoke. "Elemental fire wild and free, hear me now as I call to thee. Send your light as I speak your name. Cleanse my spirit with heat of flame. Reside here now deep within me. Forever burning, forever with me." You began to feel your veins burning from your forearm up to your fingers as a ball of fire engulfed in your cupped hands.

You walked to the firepit and laid the small blaze upon the kindling. It burst into flames causing you to jump back with a soft scream. Your pleased smile gleamed in the dancing light as you sat down and waited, for what you did not know. More time went by as you listened to the crackling of the wood burning which reminded you of your camp out with Haldir. God you missed those times even if they were not the best of ones....even after what he had done...you began to feel like shit for the things you said to him. Not Thranduil though and you felt quite validated for those feelings. Out of all the terrible things he had done to you, this one was by far the most hurtful and you didn't know if you could ever get passed it, even as much as you still loved him. God you loved him....You laid your head in your hands and began sobbing.

An arctic breeze engulfed your face that smelled of sweet molasses. No one but Garrett smelled of it. You gasped and raised your head to see him appear out of nowhere on the rock beside you.

"My my Josephine. Such talent you have." he said as he pointed at you and gazed into the growing fire. He had been watching you from up in the trees.

You were scared to move because you couldn't tell if he was fucking with you in his sarcasm or if he was being sincere. "G..Garrett...you..c...came." you said as you shivered from the crisp night breeze.

He peered over at you for a moment then spoke. "Well of course I did. You called to me did you not? I apologize for the delay. I had to deem it safe to do so with all those little tiny tricks you have up your sleeve."

Yep. He was pissed...but surprisingly not as much as you figured he would be as he got up and sat beside you, then removed his scarf and gently placed it around your neck. "I know why you have called for me. There's still enough of my blood in you for me to swim through your mind. Are you that desperate for my assistance after what I have done to your precious boy toys, and of course...to you? Are you willing to sell your soul to the devil again, considering that is all you think of me?" His tone with that last sentence had a hint of pain in it. You were slowly getting better at reading him. He once told you he had feelings and how could he not? He was once human just like you and you felt he still was underneath that ice cold armor.

"Do I not have good reason to think that way?" you snarked. "You and your coven attacked Thranduil and you tried to kill him more than once and even tried to make me do it and you left Haldir for dead and you forced me to drink your blood...among other things." you ranted. The other things you were pertaining to was his seductive mind control that made you sleep with him...that made you want him.

"Haldir killed my father and kept my pendant. Thranduil tried to kill me and he killed Kate. You hurt me more than once with your light and those damn moonstones."

You stood up. "And you made me do disgusting things to Legolas and made me burn myself! Not to mention you promised you would never turn me with out my consent and you lied! You bit me. God Garrett, you used to be nice to me!... And since when do you give a shit about what happened to Craven?"

Just like that, he was in your face. The cold rush of air took your breath away. "Is this why you have brought me here? To list my past discretions. I know what I have done. I do not need you to throw it in my face like he always did! and thanks to him, this is what I am...I am not supposed to be nice Josephine!" He snarled as his cold breath swept over your mouth. He then turned from you and stared at the fire.

"But you are capable of it. I have seen it. You protected me from Kate and took her voltage upon yourself." Garrett turned his head slightly to the side to look your way. "You are still human Garrett even if your heart does not beat. You don't have to be something just because you're supposed to be."

He turned to you with a scowl. "Is that some kind of joke? I am a vampire. Yes...I have to be one. It cannot be reversed. What I would give if that were possible. Craven took that from me. I would have rather truly died than to live in this eternal hell of loneliness. The world changes. We do not. Therein lies the irony that finally kills us. Do you know why he loved a human more than his own kind? Do you know why I do? Because we crave what we once were that we can never be again. The warmth of the flesh and the sound of a beating heart. To be able to sleep and to dream. To see my own reflection in a mirror. I have not seen myself in centuries. The one mirror that exists with that power has been lost to the world. Ohhhh and to eat normal food. If I could live off of that alone, this life might be more bearable. Do you think I want to kill people??? or drink blood??? I am a cold lifeless killer that will always be feared and never loved."

This was a side to Garrett you had never witnessed. You understood it somewhat. To be all alone...."I do not fear you. If you were such a monster, you would have killed me or turned me a very long time ago. What keeps you from doing it right now?? Or why haven't you just taken off with me? It's called the good part that still exists in you. I mean...you just gave me your scarf because I was cold."

He lightly smirked. "Old habits die hard."

He became restless as he was not used to this kind of treatment from anyone. "Josephine. Enough of this. I am what I am and I know I repulse you. Now...can we get to why you asked me here?" he snapped and made sure he cleared some distance between you and him.

"You do not repulse me. Your actions do. But...if you want me to think better of you...then help me. Show me the side of you that you are so desperately trying to conceal. Tell me what you know of my mother. Please...." You went up to him and put your hand on his arm.

Garrett turned back to you in shock and his face softened.

His eyes danced about yours as if he were reading a book. "You wish to know if I have known all along? I knew Caroline had a human child but no...I had no idea it was you until the recent turn of events. Although I won't deny that I suspected it when I first saw you, or should say, smelled you. A vampire does not share the same scent of any other unless it is their kin and when I smelled you, I smelled her. Not to mention the uncanny resemblance the two of you share...... The dream you had at the cabin. I saw it. The older child...she was the child of Craven and your mother, your sister. I knew her when she lived and became quite fond of her. Quite witty and feisty like yourself. Clover was her name. She had visionary powers like that of her mother. Once, she had touched my face and showed me the future. She showed me you....but...I did not know who you were and she never told me.

I now believe she was protecting you as well.....what I did know when I first came across you was that you were definitely the girl Clover showed me. Why she did...I will never know."

You began to sob at the fact this was real. That your mother was real. That they both were real. "Garrett...I remember that dream. I heard you say "I can see her." but I didn't understand....and then another dream I had awhile back...it was the same thing you just told me! I saw you and a child's hand touched your face and you were very shocked as if she had showed you something....I thought it was my child in the future....omg! Please. Where is my mother? Can you take me to her?" you begged and cried.

Garrett may have had a motionless heart but it broke seeing you in such pain. "I...I wish I could do that for you Josephine. She will not allow it. Seline is a threat. A very dangerous one. I never liked that bitch."

"But Thranduil has her locked up in the dungeon. She is no threat. Please Garrett, can you at least tell her and see what she says?" you whimpered as more tears kept falling.

"Please do not cry. I will do what I can." Garrett said with a tiny smile as he traced one of your tears with his cold fingers.

"Thank you...so much. That means everything to me that you are willing to try. Since....since you knew her all those years ago...can you tell me about everything? The things you saw and such? Like...how did she even meet Craven? My mother was into witchy things but I was only a child and didn't realize just how much....God...Garrett my world has just been turned upside down...I am absolutely so lost right now. Anything...anything you can tell me will be helpful and so much appreciated."

"Alright. I will tell you what I know if it will help you to feel some relief." he kindly said as he sat back down and patted the spot beside him with his hand in a gesture for you to sit beside him. "Are you warm enough now? You may have my jacket as well. I honestly don't need it." he asked as his bright red eyes had now toned down into a soft burgundy.

"No thank you. I am alright." you said as you then sat down.

"Where to start...well. As you know, magic is very real. And whatever magic your mother was using is how she found Craven or..I should say..he found her. I knew something was going on with him as he wasn't around as much and was less of an asshole. One day he just showed up at the castle with her and she never left."

Your eyes fell to the ground. "That definitely makes sense. One day, she took me to my father's house and never returned. It was about 3 months later when we learned of her death. I...I am sorry for interrupting...please...go on."

"It is alright. You can speak anytime you like....and I am sorry you had to go through such a thing at a young age." he said with a soft sympathetic smile and then continued. "So...it was quite apparent that Caroline was his lover and I knew what would arise out of it. That being an all out war with Selene and her papa Victor who was King of Castle Corvinus in the Misty Mountains near the borders of Lorien."

"Lorien? So that is why Haldir and Orodreth became involved?" you asked as you remembered Haldir's great knowledge of vampires and he and his parent's dealings with Craven.

"Yes. That is exactly how it all began. Well. Mostly. See... Selene showed up at our castle shortly after Craven had brought your mother there. I warned him that it would happen, that there was no way he would be able to conceal her. He was being careless in his new found bliss and had put our entire Kingdom at risk of Victor's wrath. I never felt Craven deserved his title as King of Devil's Island by the way he ran things. He had no concern for any of us. It was all about power to him and the rest of us be damned." Garrett slightly chuckled at that statement. "Pun intended I suppose...Craven was never faithful to Selene and she knew it. He was fucking a different vampire every week it seemed. They would line up for him, literally. I never understood the fascination they had with him.

His stature I suppose because he was a complete prick. But something about your mother changed him and I figure that is why Selene snapped. Selene and Craven were having a very heated argument when she showed up and threatened to kill your mother.

He struck her for threatening his new love but Selene never took his shit and quickly put him in his place. She then went searching for Caroline.

I had witnessed all this and went to your mother. I kept her hidden to help her out as she had always been very gracious of us, myself included. She defended me when Craven went on his verbal attacks of calling me unworthy and ungrateful to be where I was. I suppose I was though as I had made it no secret to him that I despised him for not giving me a choice. He made my life a living hell so I chose to do the same for him. After all, I had nothing better to do and all the time in the world to do it. After Craven died, I helped her hide out then too because of Victor and Selene still wanting her and the child destroyed. I placed her and Clover with a civilian clan I know well that reside in the states whom also had a vampire/human child. They owed me for helping to save their asses once upon a time when the red coats came for them, but that my dear is a whole nother story. And even now...I have been helping her because of Selene once I learned the truth about you."

This really threw you. That Garrett was capable of doing something so selfless because he certainly did not have to do it considering it put him at risk as well. "You...you protected my mother for all those years and still have been? I...I do not know what to say. I mean...when she was human. That must have been really hard for you to be around her?? You could have easily...."

"Killed her? I could have...but had no desire to. I thought she might have actually been something good for Craven as I had said, I noticed a change in him for the better. But things soon went from bad to worse. Craven feared for her life after Selene got daddy Vic involved. It was then that he gifted her the emerald of Eden and told her of it's power. He made her wear it concealed under her clothing so that if something happened, she would not die. Victor made it impossible to keep her safe though. If any vampire loathed humans, it was him and scorning his daughter put the nail in Craven's coffin...Ok that time the pun was definitely intended." he snickered. "He knew he had to relocate Caroline until he could remove the threat. His plan was to eliminate both Selene and Victor which obviously never happened. What he did next is where Orodreth comes in and his downfall began."

"Craven thought it would be brilliant to place Caroline in a place where no one, not even Victor would suspect her to be. Lorien. Right in Victor's backyard. Elves and vampires kept to themselves, neither liked the other which...you already know this. Craven had run ins with Orodreth before when he would be crossing their borders to and from Castle Corvinus. So...he took your mother there in hopes to come to an arrangement with the Marchwarden. I also tagged along for extra protection. Of course it did not go well at first as we were taken over by the Lothlorien guard of Orodreth, Haldir, Orophin and Rumil."

"Craven stated his reasoning for trespassing on their lands and Orodreth became intrigued with his story. Orodreth was not a fan of Victor and he made that quite clear. Of course he was no fan of any of us and only decided to help because of your mother being an innocent human and felt he would be doing her a favor in ridding her of our existence. For that reason, Orodreth accepted the request with no payment of any sort desired. At least not at that time. Orodreth soon became aware of the pendant Caroline wore and she informed him of it's power as the two of them had become close, so I was told by Craven at a later time. Hence, that is where your mother and Orodreth had an affair and he stole the pendant from her. When Craven came to visit your mother, Orodreth informed him that it would be the payment for his services. Craven had not agreed to that and he was livid that she was so careless with his most prized possession. He soon found out Orodreth had also taken his other prized possession...her. In retaliation, Craven blew Orodreth's infidelity wide open to his wife Olivia and removed Caroline from the Lorien realm. He became physical with her as punishment and she lied to save herself. She told Craven that Orodreth took her by force and the pendant also. I know this because she told me. I guess she wanted to get back at Orodreth for using her when she thought he actually cared for her. Turns out he was just greedy so it would seem. I suppose we will never know his true intentions. Soon, Caroline realized she was with child but was not sure of it's paternity. That quickly became apparent at the progression rate of her symptoms and the growth of her stomach. Craven knew even if he obtained the pendant, it would not save her. He knew he would have to turn her upon birth. It was then that Craven declared war on the Lorien elves. I think you know the blood bath that then entailed."

"I...I do yes." You stood up and slowly paced around trying to process all that you had just been told. Garrett could hear the wheels turning in your head about how her death was obviously faked and why.

He got up and stood behind you. "Craven couldn't risk an investigation into her simply just disappearing that could lead to his coven's exposure. Other vampires would have held him responsible and killed him. So he feasted on a similar looking woman, placed her in your mother's car and set it on fire and watched until the woman had burnt to ash so she could not be identified and would be assumed to be Caroline. Then he could continue his life with her and no one would come looking for her. And it appeared to have worked."

"We have rules and that is the main one. The secrecy of our existence. It was another reason Victor wanted your mother removed. Even as a King, Craven had to abide by the rules but as I had said, he did not care for any of us. Only himself. Even I was tempting fate by aiding him. I am still tempting it now with you...."

You turned to him in bewilderment. "How? I can assure you no one is looking for me as I had no one in my life to do so. If anything, it is probably assumed Peter killed me or we ran off together. There would be nothing to make anyone suspect vampires...." you lightly giggled.

"I suppose not but such reasoning isn't taken lightly among our kind. The fact that you married the Elvenking and live solely in this world is probably the only thing that has kept me in existence. Humans to us are supposed to be one thing and one thing only. Food. And even then we have to be careful. That is why we stick mostly to the human realms of middle earth and once in awhile treat ourselves to the civilian realms. I try to hunt down the bad seeds in either place. Continue my duties in serving justice as I did in life. The attack on Laketown years ago that killed Bard's family and many others....that was not me nor my coven but the bowman will never believe that. He only assumes it was mine because of how close my Kingdom is. I know who is responsible Josephine....."

It happened so fast. An arrow pierced through Garrett's upper leg and he began to fall backwards into the fire. "No!" you screamed and threw yourself at him, knocking him to the ground just to the side of the blaze that would have killed him. You laid upon Garrett's chest gasping as you both stared at each other in shock. As you turned your head, you saw Thranduil with his sword drawn, and Haldir, Legolas and company surrounding the both of you with their bows raised. Thranduil lifted his hand and they all lowered their weapons. Suddenly Thranduil's arms were wrapped around you and lifting you off of the wounded vampire. Legolas held Garrett down while Haldir ripped the emerald pendant from his neck. "No! Stop it! Leave him alone!" you shouted and squirmed but Thranduil refused to let go of you.

"Do my eyes and ears deceive me? You are protecting this filth??" Thranduil loudly questioned.

"Let...me...GO!" you squealed and jerked free as Thranduil reluctantly released you. He would never hold you against your will. You rushed back to Garrett. "Get away from him!" you ordered to a surprised Haldir and Legolas. They glanced at Thranduil who unwillingly gave them a nod with snake like eyes and they took a step back. He knew the vampire was not going anywhere after the iron tip and dead man's blood soaked wooden bow sliced through him.

"Josephine. What is the meaning of this!" Thranduil snapped. "He has finally come to his deserving end and would be a pile of ash by now if not for your ignorant actions." Thranduil peered down into your frightened tear glazed eyes. "I have heard his tale from the distance. It may all seem honorable to you but it does not condone what he has done or has your mind fell blind to his attempts on my life among all the other atrocities he has committed? Tell me, does your mother know all he has done to you?"

"I...it...it has not and...I..I do not...know." You stuttered as Thranduil circled the two of you like a mountain lion ready to pounce. Garrett took ahold of the arrow and snapped it in two, then pulled it out of his leg as he fell back on the ground in pain. Thranduil reveled with a grin at Garrett's misery as he had every right to.

"Then explain to me why you sit at his side and shield him." the King said with a blank stare.

"Because...he knows where my mother is." This wounded Garrett far more than the poisoned arrow did, that you were only helping him for information and not because you might actually care for him.

"And has he told you her whereabouts?"

"No...he...he cannot. She ordered him not to. Because of Selene."

"And yet Selene poses no threat now that she is locked away to rot, leaving no reason for him to not reveal Caroline's location. He uses his knowledge to his advantage to reel you in and keep you close."

"No...he was going to go and ask her permission per my request to see her."

"So he says. After all, vampires do not lie to get what they desire. Did you not think I had the capabilities to complete this task for you?"

"Of course not Thranduil, but...it could take longer and.... He knows right where she is and is willing to help...but you...you knew all these months about her and did or said nothing!!....I want to see my mother..." you sobbed.

Thranduil melted inside at the pain you were in. He never meant for any of this. But he was not going to let that persuade him from what needed to be done. "I hope that someday you can understand my actions and possibly forgive me. It was only to protect you. With that said...Garrett can share a cell next to the other filth and rot as he no longer can hide behind the pendant. I will retrieve the answers from him you desire as my torture antics are far from too kind. I have heard enough..." He motioned for Haldir and Legolas to take Garrett away.

You quickly turned to Garrett and placed your hand on his leg. A bright red glow arose, removing the poison and healing his wound. His eyes grew wide as he stared at you. You then quietly whispered in desperation to him. "Go." He took in a gasp of disbelief and bolted into the air.

You could feel Thranduil's eyes slicing through your very soul at that moment as you slowly turned your face up to his. "I...I had to..."

"You had to do nothing!" Thranduil barked making your skin crawl as you shook at his expected and justified outburst.

"You speak of unforgiveable things to me. Now I speak them to you. How was it that you put it? Oh yes... I recall now. It was something of this matter. I cannot even look at you right now...." The Elvenking then turned and walked away as he swung his sword in a fit of rage.

Haldir even looked at you in disappointment and left which caused you to lower your head and silently bawl. You suddenly felt a tender touch on your shoulder. You looked up and saw Legolas' kind eyes looking at you as he knelt beside you. "Come my Lady. It is too cold for you out here. You may stay with me tonight if you wish. You can talk and I will listen...or you can say nothing and I will just sit with you."

"You..you mean you're not disappointed in me as well?" you sniffled.

"I would not go that far...but I do understand." he replied with a compassionate smile. He stood up and extended his hand down to you. You took his soft hand and went with him...all the while thinking of Garrett in hopes he was alright and would go to your mother as he promised. Your more prominent thoughts though were of Thranduil. Your heart was aching for him. No matter what he had done, you loved him more than life itself and you prayed he still felt the same way about you. You knew that your words to him earlier that day were of anger and that you would indeed forgive him. In fact, you already had... You always did no matter what........but would he you....

"Don't you give up on me my King...." you whispered in your mind........

@redeemer46 @mirkwoodwarrior

Masterlist

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"

#lee pace #thranduil #king thranduil #thranduil and josie #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #love stories #fantasies #fairytales #fairy tales #mirkwood #vampires #tolkien elves #middle earth #haldir #haldir of lorien #legolas #mirkwood elves #campfire stories #love triangle #magic #woodland realm #greenwood the great #craig parker #orlando bloom #king of mirkwood #king of the woodland realm #lotr elves #twilight #thransie

[feydrautha]

I live 24/7 in the larycent tag… How do you think an ongoing secret relationship (wether romantic or sexual) between the two of them would go? Or how it would work? What about public courting or a non-secret relationship? I know that one’s tougher but… Gimme your thoughts 👀

Larys totally puts the tools given to him as spy master, Lord Confessor, and also as a warg — yeah, this has been implied so much now and it would make sense since 1. In F&B we know very little of him to the point where it's likely he had a hand in that 2. It's not unbelievable that the Maesters would erase any mention of magic beyond to revile people and Larys is such an enigma that he was probably never on their radar — to good use to make sure no one finds out they are banging on the side, and if it weren’t for the fact that the entire staff has been whispering about the Queen having over the Lord Confessor on quite many days, it might really have been the world's best kept secret.

Alicent has gotten her whole public image of being the virtuous and pious Queen so that is her alibi. And, of course, given Larys's public persona as the quiet effeminate second son who wears pretty clothes, is certainly seen in a negative light because of his disability, and has never been able to do any traditionally masculine things, hell, part of the rumours might even be that he's not even into women and a "pervert".

But a public courting, in a world where she's not Queen and just Lady Alicent Hightower? Hoo boy.

They connect in a similar way they do in canon: both of them outsiders, ignored by the world - and Alicent in different ways, since she might not be Queen anymore, but she's still a popular bachelorette and the most beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms!

Them actually being an item because they are on the same wavelength and feel good with the other would certainly seen as odd and no doubt they'd get a lot of pushback. Lyonel I see as very surprised that his "lesser" son and not Harwin has struck up a friendship with the Lady Alicent and that they fancy each other's company and not be against it but also fully aware that this shouldn't be — while Otto would feel it's an insult to him, his daughter, and his house, forbidding her to see him and maybe even purposefully arranging Alicent to get married to someone else.

But of course, Larys is far from powerless and could find ways for them to meet in secret, the fucking castle has a maze of secret passages, so its not like anyone can stop him at least?

They'd certainly be seen as Westeros's most unlikeliest couple so far, because of the perceived oddity of "Hottest Woman In The Known World" and "Lord Clubfoot The Hideous" and also because, what a shocking revelation, they hang out because they get along, not because there's an arranged betrothal!!! Relationships among high profile nobles in Westeros born from affection/love are comparatively rare and even those tend to end in tragedy (just think of Rhaegar and Lyanna), and god knows whether it could work out!

Larys has a hereto unknown plan that he sticks to, so it might very well be that we see Alicent pulling a Jaime/Criston and tells Larys they ought to elope so they could be happy in a place where no one cares about who they are and also gets rejected. Or maybe it works out just fine — whatever happens, we will always have fanfiction to play in our sandbox 🥲💖

#larycent #alicent x larys #larys strong #alicent hightower #asks #anonymous

[magicshopaholic]

Hi! I just recently discovered your blog and I love the concept of a universe with interweaving storylines. It's so clever and unique. I wanted to ask, since you have such a huge number of fics, which one is your favorite? I also love the idea of original characters because that's quite uncommon in this fandom but reminds me of fanfiction I used to read when I was younger. What's your inspiration for the characters? Are any of them based on you? Can't wait to read more of your work :) - 🍓

Oh, anon. This is every author's dream question, istg.

First of all, welcome! I hope you enjoy my masterlist and future fics to come. My favourite fic: tough, but I'll probably say About You. It was a deeply personal one and needed to be handled just right, but I was really happy with the end product because it established a dynamic between Namjoon and Kaya that I can't quite put into words. It's not one of my more popular works and I can understand why, but it's definitely the one I'm proudest of.

This would probably be followed by The Fifth: Part 2 and You Make Me Live (honourable mentions to Double Take and In Time).

You've nailed my reasoning for going the OC route; my favourite thing about fanfiction in the days of yore (ie the 2000s and early 2010s) was the range of OCs and the excitement of making up your own. It limits my reader base but I can't imagine writing any other way.

Inspiration - this could be a long one. The first OC I came up with was Dilara, and she was supposed to be a protagonist for an F1 fanfic series I'd started writing (yes, shocker, I used to write F1 fanfic). A lot about her was inspired by another F1 OC I'd written, Tracy McNeil (a sports journalist), including the messed up family background and the lowkey insecurity coupled with the need to prove herself. Dilara is definitely far more of a romantic than Tracy, though, and I'd largely chalk that up to the support network she has that takes care of her and allows her to lead with her heart more.

Kaya was next - she's not inspired by anyone in particular, but I was thinking of what Namjoon would be like as a partner; after long gruelling days of arguing with the company, keeping the younger members in line, dealing with pushy journos, he would come home to the most comforting person in the world with whom he would be completely different, free to be himself, vent if he needed to, and show a softer side he'd keep secret from the rest of the world.

Lia was the third and she honestly came to life when I was working with the marketing team in my company and had a shit ton of work, and she was initially my outlet. She quickly moulded to Jungkook's character, though, and the dynamic we all know and love just fell into place. She arrives at the right time to pull Jungkook out of a bit of a low phase and is the right amount of opposite of someone else.

Nari and Sooah, an unlikely pair, came together for me because of another fic I'd written for a different fandom. It was the protagonist and her best friend, the former who was a bit of a party girl and was in a very messy FWB with the male protagonist, and the latter who was her taller friend who worked all the time and fell for the unlikeliest person she could think of without even realising it.

Miso and Chae were the last two. Miso was a bit tough, and is somewhat inspired by Marianne Sheridan from Normal People, just a bit, in terms of her being a bit of a loner and rubbing people the wrong way. Don't want to give too much away, but she could've only been written opposite Yoongi.

Chae, despite being my baby, was one of the hardest to create - although, once I did, I just connected with her instantly. I wanted to write Hoseok being the opposite of his sunshine self, and the person to bring that out would have to be a hell of a character. Their initial childhood meeting is inspired by one of my all time favourite movies, Flipped.

(While I don't think I'm anything like any of my characters, Kaya, Lia and I probably share some similar habits, primarily working a lot and being too tired for drama. Parts of Chaeyoung are also inspired by my teen years - I cringe so hard when I think of those days.)

#what a questionnn #took half my life but it was cathartic #thank you so much #notes🍷 #🍓 anon #behind the idolverse

[silversoulstardust]

Tag Game To Better Know You! Send this to people you'd like to know better!

tagged by @abitofboth (thank you for the tag mills🥺)

what book are you currently reading?

under the whispering door by by TJ Klune. the book is fine, I like reading TJ Klune’s work but it’s taking me forever to finish because of its heavy subjects. (death and afterlife, and it’s hard for me because of recent losses)

what do you usually wear?

depends on what I’m doing, I guess. currently staying up in bed past midnight so i’m in my comfy jammy and a yellow sweater <3 

how tall are you?

5 ft 2. AND OLY @olyollyoxenfree BEFORE YOU COME FOR ME I AM TALL FOR AN ASIAN LMAO 

what’s your star sign? do you share a birthday with a celebrity or historical event? 

sagittarius. I share birthday with Scarlet Johanson, Mark Ruffalo and Jamie-Lee Curtis!

do you go by your name or a nickname?

I go by Chromie online. it’s a nickname given by someone I talked to on tumblr in the past, and I like it so much it stuck with me even though we part ways not on so good terms. wherever she is I hope she’s doing fine <3 

did you grow up to become what you wanted to be as a child?  

yeah but I kinda wish I didn’t, honestly. working in healthcare is taxing both mentally and physically, and I have assholes for colleagues. (tho I think that’s applicable everywhere.)

what’s something you’re good at vs something you’re bad at?

good at: showing up and being there for people I care about

bad at: asking for help

if you draw/write, or create in any way, what's your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year? 

This is from my Steddie time travel fix it AU, and I don’t know why but I really loved it.

Steve never really had anyone to split chores with before. His parents are almost never home. Robin does stay over from time to time, but she prefers ordering pizza, it’s her comfort food that’s almost always denied when she’s home, so she takes the chance to order it whenever she’s sleeping over at Steve’s place. Steve never thought having someone do the dishes for him as romantic, but here he is, staring at this metalhead in his kitchen, with glorious long hair and tattoos all over his skin wearing all black ensemble, wiping a spatula using dry cloth over the sink, occasionally smiling at Steve, a domestic bliss in the unlikeliest of time. Eddie caught him staring and when he asks why, there’s just a jumbled up emotions inside Steve that he can’t possibly put into words. So instead he turns the stove off and makes out with Eddie against the counter, thinking that this, this is what he’s been missing his entire life.

dogs or cats?

a cat person through and through. cant live with them, cant live without them, y’know? 

what's something you would like to create content for?

thinking of writing some ronance fics in the future! maybe loid/yor tooth rotting fluff and some nanami kento/haibara yu content because those two deserve better than their fate in the manga 

what’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

if you’ve been on my tumblr for the last six months, you’d notice I have been entirely consumed by steddie brainrot and stranger things lol

what's something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

Dr Strange: multiverse of madness. wandavision series was so spectacular and I was giddy for it until months later they revealed that the writer was mike waldron. the bar of my expectation was so low it was basically on the floor and yet I was still disappointed 

what’s a hidden talent of yours? 

I can write with both hands. does that count??

what's something you wish to have at this moment? 

a long hug and a shoulder to cry on would be nice. cant exactly cry on cue but I think if someone hold me long enough I might start crying lol 

tagging @mygeekcorner @olyollyoxenfree @harrringtons @steviesmunson @froof-of-the-loof @princessstevemunson @cursedfoxteeth @iprefertheterminsane @gundamthey17 <3

#ask game #chrmz.txt #get to know chromie

[frosticenow]

Adoption AU Bagginshield

I have really enjoyed reading these Adoption AUs and all there angst.  But unfortunately, like the  Tolkien Boy in the Modern World fics there are few that I have found.  Send me any other ones Please!!

A Road from the Garden by Chrononautical

Bilbo Baggins has a brother. Worried about gossiping neighbors, his parents are very careful to hide Kili's nature. Long used to hiding his own nature, Bilbo accepts the same responsibility for his brother as he grows up. But hiding anything becomes impossible when dwarves come to the Shire.

Chrononautical makes another appearance.  I love this author!  The relationship between Kíli and Bilbo is so sweet the way Bilbo cares for Kíli.  The story and world building are also on point!

I Heard That Clan's All Trouble by Tawabids

The curse of Thror took everything from Thorin; his home, his people's love, and finally his family and his sword arm. Then an old wizard in a pub brings him a key and the first good news he has heard in a long time - his nephews are alive and well in the Shire, the most unlikeliest of places.

Bilba Baggins had been quite happy living quietly on her own, but Bag End has not been quiet ever since two orphaned dwarves snuck into her life and made themselves at home. However, she will be damned if she lets a one-armed dwarf prince storm in and take them away after all these years.

She'll follow her boys to the ends of Middle Earth if she has to. And maybe, if he proves himself, she might even stand beside their king.

It’s Fem!Bilbo with an adoption AU, what more could I ask?  It’s also very angsty so if you want a light read maybe not this one.  But it is so well written. 

Bone White and Brittle by pibroch (littleblackdog)

“Bolg is my son.” He prodded again, even though the scales of dwarven armour were rather unforgiving against bare hobbit fingers. “He has been my son nearly all his life, as good as born to me. You dwarves respect adoptions as good as blood kin, and you will respect my family in my home, just the same. Or you'll leave, now, through the door you came in.”

This one is a little different, instead of either Fíli or Kíli its Bolg who gets adopted.  Yes Azog’s son. 

Fic Rec Note:  If I have linked a story you wrote and you want me to:

a) remove it/links to your ao3 or tumblr,

b) add your ao3 or tumblr if I have not included it

PM me on tumbler.

#tolkien#the hobbit#tolkien fanfiction#tolkienfanfic#hobbit fanfic#bagginshield#bilbo baggins#thorin oakenshield#thorin x bilbo#thorin/bilbo#bilbo baggins/thorin oakenshield#fem!bilbo#thorin/fem!bilbo#fic rec#ficrec#ficrecfriday

#tolkien #the hobbit #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fanfic #hobbit fanfic #adoption au #bilbo baggins #fic rec #ficrec #ficrecfridays

[dropintomanga]

Sensei’s Pious Lie - Volume 2 Omnibus

I haven’t seen too much reviews about this volume, but to be fair, Sensei’s Pious Lie is a very hard read and the 2nd volume continues the heavy nuance of the 1st volume.

Talks about sexual violence incoming after the jump.

Misuzu Hara and her male student, Niizuma, do get closer, thanks to some manipulation by one of Niizuma’s classmates, a girl named Kanamisa Misato. Hayafuji, the man who has raped Hara-sensei, finds out that his wife, Minako, is pregnant and news of him screwing around with other women (one of which the reader gets to learn about in this volume) has spread to his workplace. The reader slowly starts to see signs of empowerment on both Hara and Niizuma.

The whole volume seems to be a call for being able to open up to someone in the unlikeliest of situations. There’s a scene where Hara visits her therapist and they suggested that opening up to someone could bring a big change. Hara thinks about it and next thing you know, Niizuma shows up at her home doorstep. However, Hara struggles with opening up to Niizuma because she partly blames herself for allowing herself to get raped by Hayafuji. Niizuma tries his best to comfort Hara because he feels they’re both similar to a degree.

There’s still lots of awkwardness as both go through a tense moment where it looked like something sexual was about to happen, but didn’t. Niizuma does profess his love to Hara over the phone while saying her enemies are his. Hara then says the following while bursting in tears.

“I’m my own worst enemy. That’s why I can’t forgive myself.”

There’s some beauty in Hara expressing this. It opens up a path towards self-compassion. Even though it’s still a rough journey to full self-acceptance, there’s definitely people who can show you an alternative to better tomorrow. It’s a marathon, never a sprint.

What happens next is nice to see. The following pages highlight this.

Hara runs into Hayafuji in the street and somewhat tries to stand up to him. Hayafuji makes an advance, but notices something’s different about Hara and walks away. Hara and Niizuma get closer and closer, but there’s some uncertainty as Hara still feels that she deserves punishment. Hara and Niizuma talk about the status of their relationship in a private moment at school. Hara tells Niizuma that she’s not worth it. Niizuma doesn’t care and then says that if they got closer, they would be happy together. Hara just replies.

“Happy. Me, happy? How could I ever be happy? How could it be okay for me to be happy, after I’ve been in the grasp of that (re: Hayafuji)?”

And Niizuma just responds “What happened?”

This made me think about an ongoing discussion on how to get someone to open up about their trauma and mental health. More often than not, people ask “What’s wrong?” and then there’s unfair labels being placed on the person going through stuff. It’s like talking about the topics we need to talk about aren’t allowed. Instead, why can’t we just ask “What happened?” Asking “What happened?” lacks judgment. It opens up a chance at a better conversation. It allows for a full range of emotions to be expressed in ways that can transform lives.

And that kind of questioning can lead someone (like Hara) to feel okay to be happy. I still recommend this volume highly despite how raw it is because in the face of so much trauma, you can still find hints of genuine connection.

I’m about to get to Volume 3, so see you next time for more of this psychological journey.

#Sensei's Pious Lie #Akane Torikai #manga #psychology #love #relationships #trauma

[knsm-idk123456-blog]

A Martial Master Wakes Up as a Concubine

My name is Ava, and I have been the martial master of my village for as long as I can remember. I have trained in various forms of combat since I was a little girl, and I have always been the strongest and bravest fighter in our village.

One morning, I woke up in a strange room, with rose petals strewn across the floor. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and tried to remember how I got there. That's when I noticed that I was dressed in a beautiful silk gown, and my hair was adorned with jewels.

Confused, I got out of bed and looked around the opulent room. It was then that I noticed a man sitting on a couch, looking at me with a mix of concern and curiosity.

'Excuse me, do I know you?' I asked, trying to sound as polite as possible.

The man smiled and replied, 'Not really, but I know you. You're Ava, the martial master from the village of Lira.'

I was taken aback by this revelation. How could this man, who seemed to be a noble, know who I was?

'I am Asher, the King's nephew. And you, my dear, are now my concubine.' Asher said with a smirk.

My eyes widened in shock. This was a cruel joke, right? My whole life, I had fought to be equal to men, and now I was reduced to being a concubine? This couldn't be happening.

I looked at Asher and tried to hide my anger. 'I demand to know why I am here and why you think I would accept such a demeaning position.'

Asher's smirk turned into a sad smile. 'Your village was attacked by a rival clan, and you were gravely injured. The King took you in and ordered for you to be treated by his best doctors. But when you woke up, you couldn't remember anything. Not even your own name. The doctors said it was probably due to the head injury you suffered.'

I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. My village and my people were in danger, and I was here, living a life of luxury.

Asher continued, 'The King saw potential in you and asked me to train you in the art of seduction and etiquette. He believes you could become a valuable asset to our court.'

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was being trained to be a concubine, a mistress to the King.

But as the days passed, I started to get used to my new life. Asher was a patient teacher, and I found myself enjoying our time together. I also learned that he was not just a noble, but a kind-hearted man who genuinely cared about me.

Slowly but surely, I found myself falling for him. And it seemed that Asher reciprocated my feelings. We would sneak away from the palace to spend time together, and during those moments, I forgot about my duties as a concubine and just enjoyed being with him.

But our happiness was short-lived. The King found out about our secret rendezvous and was furious. He had plans for Asher to marry another noblewoman from a powerful family for political reasons.

Feeling betrayed by the man I loved, I decided to leave the palace and return to my village. But before I could leave, Asher stopped me. He revealed that he had been trying to find a way to get out of the arranged marriage and be with me.

With a newfound determination, we came up with a plan to escape from the palace and start a new life together. And with my martial skills and Asher's wit and intelligence, we were able to succeed.

We returned to my village, and I resumed my duties as the martial master. But this time, I had something else to fight for - the love of my life, Asher.

From a mere concubine, I had become the wife of a nobleman, and together, we were unstoppable. And as we stood hand in hand, looking at the sunset over the village, I knew that I was the luckiest person in the world to have woken up as a concubine and found true love in the unlikeliest of places.

[enchantedquill-40]

The revelation of Sokka's banishment reached unexpected ears, echoing through the chambers of Zuko's home. Zuko's uncle, Iroh, and his cousin, Lu Ten, listened with a mix of surprise and concern as Sokka shared the painful details of his past – the strained relationship with his father, the rejection from his village, and the isolation and abuse he had endured.

As the weight of Sokka's story settled in the room, Iroh, with his wise and compassionate gaze, spoke first. "Sokka, it takes great courage to share such personal struggles. You are welcome here, and know that acceptance and understanding are found within these walls."

Lu Ten, a Fire Nation soldier who had grown up amidst the rigid structures of their society, expressed a sentiment that resonated with empathy. "Sokka, I may not fully understand your experience, but I respect your bravery in facing it. You're not alone."

Sokka, accustomed to judgment and rejection, felt a stirring of unfamiliar emotions – acceptance, compassion, and the sense of being seen beyond the labels that had defined him. In the quiet moments that followed, Zuko observed the shifting dynamics with a mixture of pride and gratitude. His family, once distant from the struggles of the Water Tribe, had become unexpected allies in Sokka's journey of acceptance.

Days turned into weeks, and the camaraderie between Sokka and Zuko's family deepened. The Northern Water Tribe warrior, once a stranger in the Fire Nation, found himself embraced by an unexpected circle of support. The warmth extended not only by Zuko but also by Iroh, Lu Ten, and even the Firebending crew, spoke volumes about the transformative power of understanding and empathy.

One evening, as they gathered in the Fire Nation garden, Sokka felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Iroh, a seasoned man with a wealth of experiences and wisdom. "Sokka, my boy, I want you to know that your journey is yours alone, but you need not bear its weight in solitude. We are here for you, offering not just acceptance but genuine care."

The sincerity in Iroh's words opened a door to healing for Sokka. The scars of rejection began to fade as he found himself surrounded by people who saw him for who he truly was – a person deserving of love and understanding.

As the days unfolded, Zuko's father, Fire Lord Ozai, returned from his duties. The prospect of meeting the Fire Lord, a figure of authority and power, stirred a mix of apprehension in Sokka. The encounter, however, unfolded in an unexpected manner.

Fire Lord Ozai, initially reserved and stoic, listened attentively as Sokka shared his story. The revelation of the banishment for liking boys hung in the air, creating an unspoken tension. However, when Sokka finished speaking, the Fire Lord surprised everyone with a response that defied expectations.

"Banishing a person for their feelings is not a path I would endorse," Fire Lord Ozai remarked, his tone measured yet firm. "We are defined by our actions, not our emotions. Sokka, you are a guest in our home, and I expect you to be treated with respect."

The room, once fraught with anticipation, now held a sense of incredulity. The Fire Lord's acceptance, though conditional in its manner, marked a significant departure from the judgment Sokka had come to expect from authority figures.

In the aftermath of this encounter, Sokka found himself wrestling with conflicting emotions. The Fire Nation, once seen as an antagonist in his narrative, had become a source of unexpected support. The acceptance from Zuko's family, and even the acknowledgment from the Fire Lord, became a testament to the complexities of individuals beyond the confines of nation and bending ability.

As Sokka continued his journey, the unexpected allies in the Fire Nation became a beacon of hope. The scars of banishment, though etched into his past, no longer defined his present. The bonds forged in the unlikeliest of places, coupled with the acceptance he found from Zuko's family, illuminated a path towards a future where understanding triumphed over judgment, and compassion transcended borders.

[ghostlyplacetobe]

I made one abt my wife too

Certainly! Here's a non-NSFW story featuring Tweek Tweak from South Park and a reader character.

Title: Brewing Up Happiness

Once upon a time in the quiet mountain town of South Park, a new student arrived at the local school. (Y/N), a charming and outgoing individual, instantly made friends with the town's quirky residents, including the anxious and highly-caffeinated Tweek Tweak.

Tweek had always been known for his hyperactive nature and constant worries, but there was something about (Y/N) that brought him a sense of calm. Their warm smile and friendly demeanor seemed to soothe his anxieties like nothing else. The two quickly became inseparable.

One sunny afternoon, (Y/N) found Tweek nervously pacing in front of Tweek Bros. Coffee, the coffee shop owned by his family. Sensing his distress, (Y/N) approached him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"What's got you all worked up, Tweek?" (Y/N) asked, concern etched in their voice.

"Oh, (Y/N)!" Tweek exclaimed, his voice shaking. "The coffee orders are piling up, and I can't keep up! What if I mess them all up? What if people don't like the coffee? What if—"

"Hey, hey, Tweek," (Y/N) interrupted gently, their voice calm. "Take a deep breath. You're doing an amazing job here. Your coffee is loved by everyone in town, including me. You've got this."

Tweek paused, his wide eyes locking with (Y/N)'s reassuring gaze. Taking a deep breath, he nodded slowly, finding solace in their words. Together, they stepped inside the coffee shop, determined to conquer the bustling day.

As the hours passed, Tweek and (Y/N) worked side by side, brewing coffee, taking orders, and engaging in lighthearted banter. Tweek's worries began to fade away, replaced by a newfound confidence inspired by (Y/N)'s unwavering support.

By the end of the day, the coffee shop was filled with satisfied customers, and Tweek couldn't help but beam with pride. He turned to (Y/N), a grateful smile gracing his face.

"(Y/N), I couldn't have done it without you," Tweek confessed, his voice laced with gratitude. "You believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself."

(Y/N) smiled warmly, their eyes sparkling with affection. "Tweek, you're an incredible person, and your dedication to your craft is admirable. Remember, I'll always be here to support you, no matter what."

Tweek blushed, feeling a rush of emotions overwhelm him. Without thinking, he leaned in and hugged (Y/N) tightly, embracing the comfort and love they had brought into his life.

In that moment, the anxious boy and the caring reader found solace in each other's arms, their bond growing stronger with every heartbeat.

From that day forward, Tweek knew that no matter how jittery life got, with (Y/N) by his side, everything would be just fine. Together, they continued to brew up happiness in South Park, one cup of coffee and one adventure at a time.

And so, the tale of Tweek Tweak and (Y/N) served as a reminder that sometimes, all it takes is a little understanding and support to overcome one's fears and find solace in the unlikeliest of places.

Aww that was cute

#ask #carnival-of-carnage

[stmaryslibraryios]

Billy Summers by Stephen King

I put off reading this novel as didn't think it was my kind of read as I always think of SK’s books as along the genre of supernatural/scifi/horror (and a western).  But it seems he has now added crime to his list and as this is in the crime fiction category I decided to give it a go as friends had read & enjoyed it.    Even after I started it I was only half invested in it and kept looking around for another book to read instead but didn’t find one I fancied so kept on reading.   I am glad I kept with it.  It is a novel with lots of threads but a character you really care for.

Billy Summers is an assassin, a gun for hire but one with a moral code.  He only kills bad men. 

He was going to retire but agrees to take on this last job. He isn't married doesn't have children nor siblings or parents. He prefers it that way, in his line of work it is for the best. 

Usually he is in and out as fast as he can when doing a hit job however this job is different.  This one requires him to live under cover for 6 months under a false ID & ingratiate himself/get to know the neighbours.  This is so different & he has a bad feeling about it. 

His fake ID is that he is a writer. His office is facing the courthouse where his next 'hit' will be.  The people who have hired him don’t know exactly when the court hearing will be for the person they want assassinated but they want Billy to be ready at a couple of hours notice.  So he goes to work in his office during the day & goes back to his pretend life in his temporary home at night and weekends.   He is accepted as one of the neighbours & invited to parties & barbeques and mixes with his work colleagues at lunchtimes.  It is all out of his normal way of working.

While he is in his office he really does start to write a book.  The book is based on his life, with names changed to protect himself & those involved.   Through the writing of the book he releases his hidden memories & we learn of his traumatic childhood & of his time in the army, in Afghanistan.  He also begins to realise that he loves writing. 

He sets up a secret third identity and place to stay as he begins to suspect a potential double cross after he completes the job.  He believes the people hiring him may want him killed after he completes his mission.  He hopes he is wrong but his instincts are telling him otherwise.  He finds himself befriending a woman in need in the unlikeliest of circumstances and forms an unexpected relationship. 

You really do find yourself rooting for Billy and hoping he survives and finds happiness.  Clever complex, wordy and entertaining novel but slow to engage me.

Review by Lindy

[bakugohoex]

Idk if you have heard of aot 2 final battle, and it's great if you do. It will help with my request if you know the ending. Can I request a Jean x reader where he meets her at Marley when he thought reader died? (You can ignore it if you want)

“you’r…you’re alive”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: language, flashbacks italicised, kissing, fluff

word count: 3100+

a/n: this was going to have some nsfw but i just couldnt find a place for it, it felt weird to just have it randomly through the oneshot lmao, also a thank you to @admin-in-residence for having explained the games ending to me

summary:  in which after risking your life to fight the titans, four years later having assumed you died, jean finds you in the most unlikeliest of places

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist 

Eren’s body laid limp in the cart, the dozens of titans ran closer and closer towards the horses. You saw Jean sitting breathless to the side, his soft eyes looking at the success of having Eren but the failure of bringing about Ymir. You watched the titans bombard through the trees, you would never make it out, you knew it, the people between you and titans getting smaller and smaller each time they killed someone.

You watched; eyes fixated at how close they were. There was little chance of success, you turned to Jean seeing him look with fear at the approaching titans. “I’m sorry, Jean.” At the sound of those two simple words he watched as you leapt out of the cart, using your gear to have a hold onto the trees, the titans that were just about to grab the cart were cut down by you. 

“Y/n, no, Y/n, get back here right now.” He shouted back at you, ready to join you but had seen how you had picked and fiddled with his gear. “For fucks sake Y/n, get back here now.” He watched at how the distance between you both grew. 

“I love you.” It was inaudible, he probably never even heard it, but he saw your mouth move, saw the words flow out of your mouth, tears welling in his eyes.

He sobbed, “Y/n...please.”

They had watched how you jumped out, how you had risked your life for it all, for them. Tears welled up through their eyes but all you could see was titans, their figures getting smaller at how the titans had congregated to you. You would die saving your friends and that was all you truly wanted to do.

“Y/n, wake up.” The sound of Reiner’s hand moved to your shoulder shaking you awake. You sat upright in bed, tears having pricked down your face, you watched the grown man sitting beside your bed, looking down at your smaller frame. 

“Nightmare.” He mutters seeing you wipe the tears away; you give a nod not meeting his gaze. “What was it?”

“About our past.” If all you murmured out, how could you tell him, 4 years later that you were still hung up on Jean. How you missed the boy and the future you two could’ve had, how you hated being in Liberio, how you wish he had left you for dead outside the walls. 

How dare he make the decision to bring you along, his stupid crush of you had gotten in the way? Even Zeke knew that and here you were in his house, where him and his family lived, acting like his lover, acting like you were another Eldian like them. You hated it, Reiner’s emotions got the better of him, you and him both knew that, and seeing the hatred the people outside the walls had for you, made you resent this hell hole. 

“Y/…” Before Reiner could even say anything, his mother’s voice had interrupted.

“Reiner, Y/n, are you both awake?” You hated her, hated her voice, her face, the way she called you all devils, you hated her. You would never grow to love her, you had hoped to have had a fake breakup with the boy, but the realisation you had nobody had dawned on you a couple years back and here you were. Still in his bedroom, sleeping beside him, you hated him even more than you hated his mother.

The disgust that you had at having to be near him, to have to pretend to be in love when all you wanted to do was slit his throat. Slit his family's throat, even his cousin who’s whole purpose stemmed from killing your people. She may have been a child, you knew she was a kid, but sometimes you just wished you could strangle that piece of shit. 

“I’ll wait for you outside.” Reiner muttered, seeing how you barely even looked at him. He remembered the first time meeting you, he, himself knew that he shouldn't have gotten infatuated with you. But at the sight of seeing you lay limply he had to take you home, care for you but all you had for him was aggression. 

You both barely talked now, the years hurting you both, he had gone off straight to the war with the Mid-East, forcing you to come and stay in the military base. He knew you'd hate it, but still you were made to stay. You wished he had just taken you back into the walls, but he was a selfish prick. 

You wore the trousers and shirt, having refused to wear the dresses that had been forced onto you. You didn’t care, the stupid armband around your shoulder that Zeke had gotten for you, it was an ugly thing. 

Reiner had told you about the festival in a couple days, you didn't want to attend, it seemed a bore. I'd much rather go out on your own, but the glare he had given in front of his mother had made you reluctantly agree. 

Stepping outside, Reiner glazed his eyes across your frame, even though he knew he didn't love you. He knew you had no feelings for him, and his teenager crush had made him bring you along when he should've left you to die. He couldn't confess it though, the risk of being found out would make his mother be turned into a titan and left to wander the land of Paradis. He watched you comb your fingers through your hair, a tired sad look on your face. 

“I’ve got to go meet Zeke today…”

“I’m going on a walk.” You mutter not caring about what he did in his day, he would never be the boy you had trained with, the boy you had fought alongside with. He just never would, and he had the exact same feelings towards you.

He nodded looking down, even with the boy of you growing in the years, you both retained some part of you from Paradis. A necklace clinging around your neck that you had refused to take off in these years. The one thing you had from Jean, you remember his face when he saw it and how he bought it with so much ease. How he moved your hair, kissing your shoulder with his tender lips and put it across your neck. 

The feeling of his lips and fingers would never return to you, you'd never see his face again. The face you had been through hell and back with, he would never see you, never know if you survived. Maybe you did regret fighting those titans, but the look and fear Jean had had sent an urge to protect him through you. 

Reiner’s mother gave a smile which you faked back at her, she spoke about her plans for the day and how Gabi had offered to come and help her in her free time from training. You hoped they’d both have an accident falling into the river, giving a nod, you spoke about needing to buy some stuff yourself but on the other side of town. It was easy to get away from the family, easy to walk away with your coat and shoes and leave with a tamed step.

There was always the fear of being caught, fear that you weren't an Eldian or even human. You had had those recurring dreams for the past four years, every day reliving a moment from your past. You wondered about your family, how they were, how your friends were and captain Levi. You wondered about Jean, what he looked like now, if he had become the leader you had praised him for being. 

You kicked a stone walking down the alleyway into the main street, gaining a breath of air. You scoured through the stalls and shop windows, it may be a disgusting place to be in with the humid air and ugly people. But it was a home for these people, a home that you wished to destroy. The sound of Eldians shopping in the district filled the air, you stopped beside a newspaper stand, looking at the new news of the day. Another piece of indoctrination, you smiled at the stall owner, putting on an act as you wanted to light the newspapers on fire.

A cold wash of air hit the back of your neck, you ignored the sensation, moving to the side for the person to get past. “Sorry.” If all the man muttered, you didn't look at his face, instead putting your hair up to stop the heat from attacking you even further. You couldn't see his face even if you had looked, the fedora covering half his face.

He looked down at you, watching as your fingers moved through your hair. He barely caught a glimpse of your face before catching the glint of the silver around your neck. The silver necklace with the rose pendant around it, the flower that he had bought the girl he had lost all those years ago. Trying to meet your eye, he knew it couldn't be you, you died, your body eaten up by the titans, but even then, he followed you as you left. Watching each turn you took, thinking that he was being coy about it all until he heard you stop in front of a boy. 

“Y/n, what are you doing so far out?” The boy spoke to you, Falco was a nice kid, better than Gabi any day but he had the same ideals in him. The same hatred for your people, how could you ever feel bad for him when he never considered your people’s feelings. 

That name, the name of his first love, the name of the woman he lost. But it couldn't be, the man kept at it, watching you converse with Falco before the boy ran off. “Are you going to keep following me then?” You finally spoke directed to the man, you still could barely see his face, but he could see yours now. As clear as day, you were his girl, his first love, his everything.

“You’r...you’re alive.” He stuttered still with caution, still vary of how you were even alive. He removed the fedora, meeting your gaze, you stared up at the man and you just knew you had been saved.

“Jean.” You whispered, he nodded before you ran up to him, his arms out as your body hit his own. Tears welling up in your eyes, as you sobbed to him, the way he soothed you, his hand in your hair. 

“Y/n, it’s really you, right?” He whispered softly, you nodded feeling his own tears prick down his face. “You’re really here?”

“I’m really here, Jean, wh...what are you doing here?” You whisper letting go of him, he had grown, the hairs across his chin were a lot clearer and his hair had grown. 

He met your own gaze, even if you were older, there was no showing it, you looked like the girl who had risked her life to save the scouts. “I...wait.” He met your gaze, “what are you doing here? Ar...are you one of them?”

“God no, Jean, I promise you know who I am, I’m one of you, you’ve met my parents and they weren’t from him, please believe me, I'll explain what happened, we just need to go somewhere safe.” You rambled out; Jean nodded putting his hand out. 

You took it with so much ease, it was unlike the times Reiner had put his hand for you and you reluctantly agreed. This time you were with the man you loved, the man who had finally found you. He led you past the allies and through the streets before arriving at a building, it looked more or less abandoned, but the lights were on and people were inside.

“This is gonna be a shock.” He whispers, you give a smile up to him, he had missed that smile of yours. The cheery grin you always had with your plump lips and soft touch you had with him.

He opened the door, leading to silence. “Jean did you bring the f…” Sasha stopped mid-sentence, all eyes fell onto you, even Hanje and Levi were in shock at you. “Y/n.”

“Sasha.” You whispered.

“You’re alive.” She ran up to you, tears brimming her eyes on her best friend being alive, hugging your frame as you hugged back happily. “But how, what are you doing here?”

She had let you go, allowing for you to breathe, “captain before you say anything, I’m not one of them.” 

You knew the glare Levi had given you, having seen it often all those years ago. But you had to prove your story, Jean led you inside letting you sit in front of both Hanje and Levi. Both having been silent after the interaction, “explain then.” Levi spoke coldly even if Jean was wary, he trusted your word.

“Let me save her, please Zeke.” Reiner’s voice boomed from the outskirts of the wall, you were listening into the conversation, after nearly being eaten by a titan, Reiner having swooped in. Your body leant against him as he tried to persuade Zeke.

Zeke looked cynical, the stupid boy having gotten a crush so easily and now using it against him, “leave her to die.”

“Zeke, for fucks sake, I won't carry out this mission until we keep her safe.” Zeke knew the risk of this, he took a sharp breath before nodding, Bertholdt could barely even look at you. Memories flashing through his head of your past together. All you could remember after that was being placed inside a cart, a blanket placed on top as you fell into a deep slumber.

These gaps in your memory had been a torment for you, the fact even Reiner refused to tell you what happened made you think the failure would fuel your hatred even more.

The sound of waves crashing was the first thing you heard, the sight of the sea. The sea that Armin had rambled out to both you and Jean months ago. “Finally awake.” You squealed your head hurting at the sight of Reiner meeting you, you had been lying against the ship, the salty air engulfing your lungs.

“Reiner, stay away from me.” You shouted ready to fight him, your hands up, but you had nothing to fight with. A one-to-one combat with him would be a sure win for him and he looked tired even. 

“Y/n, sit down, I’ll explain it all.” And that's what he did. He explained his past, Marley’s and the story of the walls. It felt like lies but having seen the sea now you knew it was the truth and after he had finished speaking you felt even more on edge.

“You haven't told her the best part yet?”

You looked up to meet a blonde hair man, his thick blonde beard and glasses encased his eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Zeke Yeager.” That surname, you recognised it, you gave a hostile look as he continued speaking, “Eren’s older brother and the beast titan. Go on tell her then.”

“We...were taking you to Marley.” Your eyes widened.

You pushed him away from you, his arms having moved to comfort you, “You...you could've just let me go, let me stay within the walls, why Reiner? Why?”

“I had to protect you.” He whispered.

“Protect me, bullshit Reiner, i...I’m never going to see Jean again thanks to you.” Reiner’s grip moved to your face; he held your jaw tightly as you squealed at the pain.

“Jean never loved you, I do.” It was an inaccurate statement, but tears had welled up in your eyes before he let go, leaving you on the ground. 

You looked between the disgusted faces of your comrades; the way Jean’s jaw clenched at hearing what Reiner had said to you. How you had had to live with him and his mother, be around these people who hated you. He hated how you had had to share a bed with Reiner, act like you were in love with him. He hated how Reiner had stripped away four years of love for both you and Jean.

“We should’ve looked harder for you.” Hanje muttered lowly, you gave a small smile shaking your head.

“No, I knew what I was getting into when I went to go fight those titans, you guys thought I died. Hell even I thought I had died.” Mikasa puts a hand to your shoulder as you smile up at the girl, they all had changed, and they had realised you had as well. 

“We should explain why we’re here.” She spoke as you nodded all turning to Levi.

Levi looked down at you, he shook his head before speaking, “Eren…” By the end of his explanation you had been caught up to date on everything, knowing about Eren’s will and the letters he had been making Falco send for weeks now. “...this leads me to ask Y/n, are you still a part of the survey corps?”

You stared at your captain, taking a sharp breath, “I better have one of these cool black uniforms.” Sasha and Connie both smiled brightly at your comment, even Levi shook his head, you could almost see his upper lip twitch, but he had stopped himself. 

“One of the spares should fit you Y/n.” Hanje spoke aloud, in a matter of half an hour the plan had been explained and your job to remain normal before leaving just before the speech that would occur at the festival. “Welcome back Y/n.” 

You had gained everything that had been taken away from you, gained happiness and your love back. Jean had been quiet since you're welcome back, walking up to him and grabbing his hand softly as you gestured for him to follow you into an empty room. 

“I missed you Y/n.” You smiled at the boy, moving your body closer to his taller frame.

“I still love you Jean, I never stopped, every night I’d imagine it was you beside me.” You confessed, he looked down at your face. The same pretty eyes that filled with so much love, his hand moving to cup your cheek. On instinct, your face nuzzling into it, he softly brought his face down to meet yours, only a mere inch away from his own.

“I love you.” He whispered before capturing your lips on his own, his soft palm holding your face as his lips moved with yours, his tongue gliding inside with so much love and care. It was a happiness that you hadn't felt in years now, a happiness that could only be brought about by the love of your life. You had forgotten what it felt to be loved and now here you were, kissing the man you thought you’d never see again.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[reachfolk]

❥ title: “on alchemy in the reach”

✿ tags: alchemy, pre-relationship lexien, no real plot tbh, reachfolk

❥ word count: 720

✿ synopsis: an excerpt from lucien flavius’s expedition journal on alchemy, as taught to him by alexandria silver-blood

❥ author’s note: this is somewhere between an academic paper and romance novel. that’s where he tends to operate when it comes to her. been wanting to write this forever and i also wanted to practice a few things here

✿ taglist: @lookathooves @vilkas @faolan-red-eagle (ask to be added!)

Like all things, alchemy in the Reach runs deeper than I had ever anticipated. It is not simply practicality, something to heal a wound or kill a foe—though they certainly aren't lacking in either of those departments. It is a spiritual and cultural practice that ties them to the old gods, to the land, and to each other. And none embody this principle quite like Alexandria.

I had known her to be a skilled alchemist since the day I’d met her. At the first town we’d arrived, her first thought was to find an alchemy lab, where she’d spent the next several hours mixing potions and poisons of all sorts. I realized soon enough that to her, it was more than a matter of survival; working with her hands allowed her to slow down and process the events of that fateful day. Any time she were struggling with anything, be it as small as a rude comment from a stranger or as heavy as the weight of her destiny as the last dragonborn, her response was always the same: to create.

When I asked her about the use of alchemy in the Reach, she did not speak of meticulous methods or careful calculations; she spoke of the gods. Namira, most of all. She spoke of alchemy not as a science, but as a gift to be cherished. She spoke of life blooming in the unlikeliest of places, of death and rot that sustains the living, of the earth tenderly nurturing its people. Alchemy was more than herbs and flowers; it was decay and flesh and filth. And most of all, it was love. It was Namira granting her children with the tools they need to defend, heal, and sustain themselves.

As I learned more about what it meant to the Reachfolk, Alexandria allowed me to watch her as she worked her wonders. It was an honor, that much was certain. The process of creation was one that took attentiveness and care, and to take on an observer, even a silent one, was an intrusion she would not freely allow.

She wore her love for the craft on her body—most of all, on her hands. Once, as she put aside a jar of sabre cat eyes, her hands brushed against mine, and the calloused skin told a story of years hunched over a workstation, crushing herbs and bugs together. The skin at the tip of her fingers was scabbed over and irritated from dethorning dragon’s tongue, and her nails were carefully trimmed to keep the ingredients from getting underneath them.

Observing her felt strangely intimate. Her eyes filled with total concentration as she watched a crucible filled with troll fat over a controlled flame. I asked if the smell bothered her, and she answered, “That’s how you know it’s working.” Once the fat began to boil over and smell nidorous, she moved the crucible with a pair of tongs into a pile of cool frost salts. There was a hiss as the silver made contact against the freezing granules. She told me of all her years repeating this recipe, and how nothing worked quite like a frost salt bath; that was her own little trick to a classic Reach poison.

We went through a number of other potions and poisons, recipes she’s learned from the hagravens of the Reach, whose wisdom is thought too unnatural, too vile, too evil for the civilized peoples of the Empire. But Alexandria, as all her people, rather resents that notion. The hags only bring to light the secrets of the natural world and put it in the hands of their people to let them thrive. This knowledge has sustained the reach for millennia, healing their dying and defending their lands from the constant barrage of invaders. Where, I ask, is the evil in that?

I list these recipes—those that she and the Matriarch allowed me to share, that is—on the next few pages. But I urge you, reader, to take into consideration the incredible culture that graces you and I with this knowledge. If you find yourself hurt and rescued by a potion of juniper and taproot essence, or if a great bear attacks you only to be put down with a poison of singed tapinella and troll fat, remember the Reachfolk as your saviors.

#reachfolk #cozy writes #oc: alexandria silver blood #ship: alexandria x lucien #series: the madmen of the reach