#we owe our loved ones care! & they owe it to us! If dynamics need to be adjusted the have that discussion

[novadreii]

Mmm actually I think we do owe love and care to our loved ones! We do owe each other things sometimes! There is a duty of care in our relationships that we should do our very best to uphold. It's the basis for human connection? An informal agreement we have with someone dear to us that we will support and cherish them and not just when it's easy and in the ways that feel effortless to us but also in the ways that they feel most loved.

We owe each other consideration. We owe each other a chance to chime in on important things and we should not make unilateral decisions. We owe each other reassurance sometimes too! Gasp!

I know that we're unlearning our generational trauma collectively but what's the point if we draw such hard boundaries around ourselves that nobody is let in, and nobody is helped, loved or considered when they really need it?

What is the point of being connected to another human being if it's understood between the two of you that if shit hits the fan, they are loyal only to themselves and you can get fucked?

I get it. We need to be self-sufficient. We can't rely on someone to the point of falling apart when they leave the house. But entering into a relationship or close friendship (or nurturing our existing familial relationships that are healthy) is a declaration that we CAN but don't WANT to be 100% self-sufficient anymore. We'd like to outsource a portion of our bandwidth to the other person. And in exchange, we take on some of theirs. It can't be rainbows all the time: again, most of us are traumatized by our parents in some way. We have behaviours that make us unpleasant sometimes! But why does that necessarily mean that we cut each other off when we show symptoms? When we actually need to cash in on some support the most? Where pray tell lies the nuance between "cut off abusive people who have no intention of changing" and "sometimes our loved ones can act ugly on the road to healing, but as long as they commit to bettering themselves I will see them through it"???? Does the latter not exist at all?

The act of caring and being cared for is one of the only fucking things we have left that can sustain our hearts in this bleak world. If you don't want to be burdened with the expectation of reciprocation in your relationships then what is the point of seeking connection? You are missing a fundamental fucking variable.

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 17

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: 10.8k 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, mentioning of pregnancy/babies, family planning, breeding kink* Cavity inducing fluff, mentions of guns and shooting, an unwelcome guest, physical attack, attempted manipulation/revelation of secrets, fingering, hand job, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, bath sex. Summary: Your bachelor/bachelorette surprise comes with a little more than anyone bargained for. Notes: There is just one more chapter left to this story and then an epilogue. Thank you so much to everyone who took this beautiful journey with us! We have loved Marcus and Birdie so much and it is incredibly bittersweet to be wrapping up their story.

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16

It’s 9:30 in the morning when Agent Bailey steps aside to let Sydney and Juan into your house. She has been fully apprised of the plans for the day and was even in on a little of the planning, but right how her job is to step aside and let the chaos begin.

“It’s early,” you complain teasingly, coffee in hand, when your best friends stroll into your kitchen with two garment bags and puckish grins on their faces. “And you didn’t even bring our goddaughter to love on?”

“No, she is spending the day with her grandmothers.” Neither grandmother could agree on who would watch her, so they had decided to both spend the day with little Constance. “She knows we have adult plans and she completely approves.” Sydney grins as she shrugs slightly.

“She approves because you left her with Nana and Abuela.” It’s a good strategy, you have to admit that, and you cross the kitchen to hug your best friend. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Today is your bachelor and bachelorette parties.” She smirks at the shock on your face. “That’s why your calendars were blocked out.” Juan chuckles. “And your team is aware that you are unavailable today. Unless the world is ending.” He tells Marcus.

“So our Matron of Honor and Best Man have come to kidnap us?” The slack surprise on your face turns into a shrug. You and Marcus are still in your bathrobes. “You’re gonna have to let us get dressed, guys.”

“Why don’t think we brought clothes?” She shakes the garment bags at you playfully. “Come on, we need to get you both ready, we are on a schedule.”

“I…guess I’ll see you later, then?” You look at Marcus and shrug, laughing at the sideways direction your morning has gone in. So much for catching a matinee.

Juan chuckles as he watches Marcus’s face fall at the thought of not spending today with you. “Cheer up.” He slaps him on the back. “You will like your party.”

Less than an hour later, Marcus and Juan have swept out the door without you getting a single glimpse at your groom, and Sydney has helped you into a pink and white gingham swing dress that looks like it came straight off of Unique Vintage, complete with petticoats and pearl earrings and pink low top Chucks to complete the look. “Are we going dancing all day?” You ask, twirling around in the middle of your bedroom to test how the petticoats move.

“Maybe.” She smirks, changing into her own outfit of black shorts and a t-shirt that is the exact same shade of pink as your dress. ‘Pink Ladies’ is written across the breasts in beautiful white calligraphy. “Maybe not

"Oh my God." You burst out laughing the second you see it. "Am I Sandra Dee?"

“Look at me, I’m Sandra Dee.” she starts to sing, twirling around you playfully.

You hiccup, giggling, and bundle your best friend up into a tight hug after another twirl. “I’m gonna spend all day thinking about Marcus in his leather jacket being the sweetest version of Danny Zuko ever.” Dirty thoughts, that’s what those thoughts are gonna be. “Should we get going?”

Her smile is secretive and she nods. “The rest of the Scooby gang are meeting us there.”

“Girls’ dayyyyyyy.” You sing song, following her out the door and smirking when you see Sydney’s Starbucks app already open on her phone. Coffee means it will be a lengthy drive and now you have absolutely no idea what they could possibly have planned. Well…you do love surprises.

The swing through the coffee chain drive-thru doesn’t take long and soon enough, you are hitting the highway to your destination, although she refuses to connect her phone to the car so you can see how far you have to go. “So, no texting Marcus.” She holds her hand out for your phone. “Juan’s already taken his.”

You crinkle your nose at her but hand your phone over, watching her drop it into her purse and zip the top back up. “That’s fair,” you concede, since you had taken her phone the same way for her bachelorette night out.

“I know it’s fair.” She cackles slightly. “Payback is a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Hey,” you point a finger at her, the others clutching your iced latte. “I told you what we were doing.”

“It would spoil the surprise if you knew.” She defends. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be on pins and needles, now would you?”

“I hate how well you know me.” It’s disingenuous when you huff, but you both grin knowingly.

“Hehehe.” She cackles again and takes a sip of her drink. “T minus ten days to marriage.” She reminds you, as if you don’t have a countdown going on your phone. “Are you ready?”

"More than ready." waiting a year had allowed you to plan a beautiful wedding. But now you're so close you can taste it. "If you're bringing me to a time machine, I'm ready."

“I don’t think you want to miss the last few days.” She jokes. “Even if you aren’t pining for freedom.” She reaches over and squeezes your hand, having deposited your phone into her purse. “I’ve never seen you so happy. Ever.”

“Can I tell you something without you crashing the car?” You ask, glancing over at her as she cuts a clear path down the highway.

“You can tell me anything, always��. She promises. It’s been a theme between the two of you since you first became friends and she doesn’t see that changing.

Since you’re grinning when you look over at her she has no reason to believe it’s bad, but you’re grinning so hard your face might split and tripping over your words. “We…we decided…we started trying for a baby.”

“What?” Her eyes widen and her head whips to the side, and stares at you in disbelief. “Wedding night?”

“We’ve already started,” you admit, knowing your expression is fully flustered and pleased as punch. “I just finished my period, so the first few weeks were unsuccessful.”

“Oh my god.” She has to look back at the road, but the excitement and shock is nearly overwhelming. “I get to be an auntie sooner?”

“Hopefully.” Her excitement has you cackling, and you snort behind your hand. “Just keep your fingers crossed that Marcus’s swimmers work fast.”

“That man has to have fast swimmers.” She snorts and slaps your thigh. “Knocked up in no time.”

“Like I said, fingers crossed.” Once the doctor has given you a clean bill of health, you and Marcus hadn’t wasted time — practically the whole rest of that day had been spent in bed. And much of the hours of each day since.

“I’m so damn excited for you.” She squeals. “Now I’m sad we decided to wait a year to go for the sibling.”

“Syd.” You poke your best friend in the leg as she drives. “It has been a year. If you want to try to be pregnant together, let’s do it.”

“It has!” Another squeal, this one in pure delight, has your ears ringing as Sydney slaps the steering wheel. “Let me talk to Juan! We are having babies together!”

The rest of the drive is endless, joyful chatter and singing along to music until Sydney pulls off the highway and around an odd intersection somewhere in the country of Virginia that puts you on a dirt road marked only with signs for a state fair ground that look fairly defunct. “Um…babe?” You glance back at her nervously. “Is my bachelorette surprise a serial killer?”

“Yes.” She deadpans the response perfectly, looking over at you with a straight face. “We will turn you loose in the woods and if you survive the night, you get to live!”

“I think there’s an episode of Criminal Minds like that,” you toss back, making both of you smirk and bust out in snorting laughter just as the car crests a hill. In the valley ahead of you is an entire carnival ground — and a giant Congratulations! banner over the entrance gate. A simple laugh between friends turns into gasping giggles almost instantly. “Oh holy shit, is that it?” You’re bouncing in your seat as she pulls down the hill toward the parking lot. “Are we going to the state fair? That’s the best!”

“No, this isn’t a state fair.” She doesn’t have to pull up in a parking lot of cars and instead, she’s pulling right up to the roped off gate. “This is your fair.” She tells you with a grin. “Come on.”

There are cars scattered around and as she pulls you out of the car with a gob smacked expression on your face, you slowly start to realize what lengths your friends and beloved siblings and family have been going to for the last year. There is music pouring through the speaker system overhead, the smell of carnival food is in the air, and you can even hear the click and swooshes and background clamor of rides and games. “What the hell?” Is all you can gasp as she pulls you through to the center of the entryway, and you’re instantly bombarded by your bridesmaids.

A scarf is pulled out of Junie’s pocket. “Happy Bachelorette party! Now you have to be blindfolded!” She shrieks happily as she throws her arms around you.

“Oh my god,” you groan playfully, but don’t move a muscle, allowing your sister to blindfold you and your friends to presumably either bring you into the fairgrounds or to release that serial killer that was mentioned earlier.

Every single one of the women are giggling and shuffling around you. Someone taking your shoulders and guiding you forward. “Are you ready?” Selena chuckles softly.

Given that you're practically dancing in place, you nod eagerly and hold your hands behind your back so you don't reach out and try to figure out if there's anything around you. "I'm ready, I'm ready. Show me!"

The musics soundtrack from Grease starts playing. Summer Lovin’ more specifically. They shuffle you forward until you are stopped in the perfect position. “Okay. You can take it off.”

Taking off the blindfold is a little bit of a task with whatever insane knot Junie put in it, but when you eventually pull it off you're face to face with your own fiancé — head to toe in black with his leather jacket and a pompadour in his hair as he carefully removes a blindfold of his own and a pair of noise cancelling headphones.

Marcus’s eyes widen when he sees you, sees your bridesmaids around you. “Sweetheart?” He gasps and everyone starts the shout. “Surprise!”

"Baby!" His confusion is met with your elation, and you both spring forward to hug each other. One look at him and a long glance around you at the fairgrounds and your bridal party...all of that combined with the music has you giggling all over again. "Did you guys..." You keep swiveling, taking in the details as you look around you. "Did you recreate the carnival from the end of Grease?"

“I told you she would get it.” Sydney crows and high fives Selena. “We figured that you would rather have a joint party and just have fun than try to do any of the normal stag party bullshit.” She wraps her arm around Marcus’s cousin’s waist. “Plus Lena spilled the beans that Markie also went through a Grease phase when he got his first motorcycle.”

"Did you..." Your eyes track back up to Marcus with your lip between your teeth and a smirk forming. "Did you guys ride your bikes here?" If so, tonight's baby making endeavors are going to be extra enthusiastic.

Juan smirks, knowing exactly where your mind is going. You and Sydney both find riding motorcycles incredibly sexy for some reason. “Of course he did.”

"I am very not upset about it." And you will absolutely be riding home with him. But there is a whole carnival to have before then. How they pulled this off is completely beyond you, but it's the most wonderful thing you've ever seen in your life.

“Come on!” Junie giggles and starts to hand out the cute little arm bands that had been printed up. It has your initials with Marcus’s and the date printed on it with the little emoji of a Ferris wheel. “The workers know to look for these bands in case there’s someone who wanders in.”

"You guys have thought of everything." The bracelets are going to go straight into the life milestone book that Junie gave you for your bridal shower as soon as you get home, but for now you admire it as Juan and Sydney lead the way into the center of the chaos.

There are all the trappings of a fair. Selena had managed to get in contact with the group that comes from town to town around the area and book them for tonight. Promising special social media spotlight and filming a detailed experience for them to advertise with. Because of that, the promise publicity and the fact they will open to the public for the week after your combined stag party, the price of the day had actually been reasonable. The only difference between the public’s fair and yours is all the personalized banners that have been strung around and the prized at the game booths.

“This is the most insane thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” And that is probably the biggest compliment you could ever give. That and the giggling laughter that is overflowing from you fairly constantly as you explore the carnival. But you’ve spotted the first ride you want to go on and your face splits into a grin when you turn to Marcus again. “Tea cups?”

“Anything you want.” The fact that he is spending his bachelor party with you makes him feel better. Knowing that this will be a party everyone can enjoy and not have to worry about things getting out of hand.

"As long as you're with me." That's all you want. All you've ever wanted, you realize now. The love of your life by your side and ready to live with you.

“Always.” He squeezes your hand, finding it easy to promise that. The fact that only your party is here allows for the entire wedding party to clamber into the oversized teacups of the ride.

Between your wedding party and your friends and a few cousins who came out to DC early, the ride is full up with your group and it turns into a massive session of hooting, hollering, heckling, and squealing as the whole group of you spin manically in the tea cups. Bumper cars are the same way — turning into an unsurprisingly competitive ride of who can knock into each other the most times — and there is no chance that the games don't turn into an equally competitive activity this afternoon.

“What’s next?” Instead of everyone going off to do their own thing, the group collective is possibly even more fun.

“The shooting gallery!” The agent training never really goes away and Juan proves that by the smug smirk on his face “My range scores were always higher, Pike.”

“Yes they were, baby.” Syd nods with blind faith in her heart for her husband to show his nerdy stripes in front of everyone. Of course Juan’s break is scores. Scores of any kind.

Marcus scoffs, taking up he gauntlet that was thrown down easily enough. “Yeah, but that was then. When was the last time you went to the range, papa dearest?” He teases, doing the very mature figure gesture towards one of his best friends and making the entire groom’s party howl with laughter.

“I guess we’re going to the shooting range,” you laugh, one arm hooked around Marcus’s waist and grinning madly. Whatever he wants to do, you’re in.

“Agent Bailey????” Juan’s eyes cut around to the agent who is sporting a casual look as well today. Her suit exchanged for tights and a push up bra with a bouffant hairstyle. The male secret service members also dressed the part with jeans and t-shirts with the sleeves rolled. Juan smirks. “Care to make a wager and join?”

“Well…” She surveys both men and smirks playfully. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your wives.”

Marcus huffs and Juan snorts, neither one of them taking offense, but they pretend like they do. “Bring it on.” Marcus challenges.

Alex and Junie's agents get in on the bet as well, and the whole group troops over to the game stalls to get things to drink and razz the competitors as they line up. The employee who is running the game is immensely amused to have five federal agents in front of him and he introduces the game with all the pomp and circumstance it's due.

“One game to sight it in?” Marcus asks, looking around and shrugging when no one agrees. “Okay, we do this blind.”

“What are the stakes?” Selena interrupts, always ready and willing to tease Marcus and wanting to make this entertaining for everyone.

“A buck a shot?” Juan offers, willing and able to put money on what he thinks is a sure thing.

“Easy there, Badillo.” AnnaLeigh teases. As his sister-in-law it is her right. “Wouldn’t want to get crazy.”

He snorts and lifts a brow. “What do you suggest, sis?” He asks, cocking his head. “And are you getting in on the action?”

“I am purely a rabble-rousing spectator,” she assures him, batting her eyelashes. “But I’d say losers pitch in for a special something on the honeymoon, wouldn’t you?”

“Skinny dipping in Loch Ness?” Selena snorts out the suggestion and everyone giggles.

“I don’t think that costs money, Sel.” Leo points out with a smirk.

“But someone has to post bail when they get arrested.” She fires back with a grin of her own.

“That’s a fair point,” you concede, giggling through the insane idea that you would ever even go skinny dipping in the first place.

“Seriously though?” Junie pips up. “Maybe a night on the Isle of Mull?” She suggests. “You can actually stay at Glengorm Castle.”

“I’ll put money on that.” Agent Bailey has already prepared her own surprise for your honeymoon after coordinating with the innkeeper in Inverness, but she isn’t above extra spoiling. Having the First Daughter as a charge is a privilege and you’ve both become good friends to her.

“No, that’s too much.” Marcus insists, knowing that everyone must have spent a fortune on today. He would feel so guilty if something else was done. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course we don’t have to.” Leo and Clark step up together. “But since when do any of us say no to a little competition when the stakes are good?”

Sighing softly, Marcus shoots you a grin. “I guess I just have to win.” He tells you smugly with a wink.

“I have no doubt,” you assure him, making a big show of the kiss for good luck and getting a good hoot and holler out of your friends in the process.

“Now you have to kiss all of us.” Leo pouts, pointing at his cheek as Clark whips out his phone to snap a pic.

"Oh is that how this works?" It's just a bit of fun, so you don't care in the least, and Marcus just laughs, waving for everybody to line up so you can go right down the line giving cheek kisses while your sister films it on Leo's phone. "There. Now you all have luck and it's totally fair."

“Perfect.” Agent Bailey grins and motions all the participants up to the line where five rifles are lined up. “Let’s see who wins.”

Junie lines up to film this too, catching the cheers and laughter of the rest of the crowd as person after person takes their chance with the targets. Predictably, Agent Bailey is the best shot of most of the group, but Marcus and Juan are saved for last.

“Feels like old times, doesn’t it?” Marcus bumps Juan’s shoulder playfully and the other man scoffs.

“What? Me kicking your ass?” Juan jokes.

“Sure, sure.” Marcus rolls his eyes. “In your dreams, asshole.”

That part of the video when it goes up on Junie’s Instagram reels will be tagged #Besties4Life or something similarly teenage girl sounding, she thinks. But she makes sure to capture the end of the target shooting ruckus as Marcus shoots a perfect game and barely edges Juan out with one more perfect shot than his friend.

“So does this mean I pay for a night in the Isle of Mull?” Marcus crows, pumping his fist and grinning like an absolute idiot at winning a carnival game.

“If you’ll remember,” Clark snickers, amused to see his friend peacocking around like an overgrown Peter Pan. “It was losers chip in to pay.”

He snorts, swearing that they have changed the rules on him, but he doesn’t complain. Stepping towards you to claim a victory kiss.

“Bad guys beware.” You hum, grinning as his arms slide around you and you lean up to give him his kiss. “Agent Pike is as sharp as they come.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus snorts and turns towards the worker who runs the booth. “The prize?” He asks playfully, shocked when he brings out a stuffed hummingbird as a prize.

“Oh you’re kidding?” The utter delight on your face is sensational though, and you hug the oversized stuffed bird to your chest when Marcus passes it to you.

“We had to find stuffed animals that matched you two.” Sydney giggles. “Hummingbirds for Birdie and the softest, sweetest, brown eyed golden retriever stuffed animal for Marcus.”

“It is the perfect choice for him.” After affectionately telling him he was as cuddly as a puppy for your entire relationship, it’s only right. “I need to win you a stuffed puppy,” you declare with a grin. “So we can have a matching set.” A matching set that will doubtlessly end up in your baby’s crib at first opportunity.

He rolls his eyes playfully, but not one person in the group fails to see the beaming grin or the way that his chest puffs up ever so slightly. Having a woman who equally believes in making their partner feel loved and appreciate has done wonders for him. “We have to have a matching set.” He agrees. “Just like that damn hummingbird tattoo.” He teases with a wink.

“I’m not even sorry,” you hum, looking around at the game stalls for something you think you can win. “That damn tattoo brought us together. Just like I wanted it to.”

He laughs, having to agree with that theory completely. “Oh, it’s my favorite damn tattoo.” He promises, dropping a kiss on your nose.

“Ring toss!” All of a sudden the words burst out of you on a giggle and you’re tugging Marcus toward the game immediately. “I can totally win at ring toss! That was my jam when I was younger. Come on!”

Your enthusiasm is infectious and several from your bridal party join in the game. “Don’t let her win.” Marcus warns playfully.

“Or what?” Alex asks, always on board for both giving you some trouble and trouble in general.

“Now I won fair and square.” He pouts. “It makes it special.”

"*He meant don't cheat so she wins." David tells his fiancé, wrapping one arm around Alex freely. The power to do so has him glowing every time. "Don't worry, Marcus. She's a beast at ring toss. Ask her about her stuffed animal collection sometime."

“Oh?” He turns to you and arches a brow. “Are we already keeping things from each other?” He tsks playfully. “I thought we would never.”

“My savant-like ring toss abilities were not relevant until now.” But still, you’re smiling proudly as the group of you belly up to that stall. “I won every one of those stuffed animals fair and square.”

“Do you still have them? Are they packed up in a box at your parent’s house?” Marcus asks curiously.

"They're in my bedroom in the house in Philadelphia." Tilting your head at him, your grin turns a little lopsided. "Why? What are you thinking?"

“I was thinking that maybe a wall of stuffed animals would go great in our nursery.” Marcus admits shamelessly.

Absolute silence falls over the entire group, with different levels of giddiness and surprise crossing the faces of your family and friends as confusion turns to understanding one person at a time.

"What did you just say?" David and Selena ask, almost in unison, as Syd grins proudly for having just an hour's headstart in knowing your next big news.

“Sweetheart?” He turns towards you, knowing this is an announcement he wants you to be comfortable making.

Your hand fits neatly into his as you stand with your friends around you, and no one has their phone in hand so this isn't going to accidentally end up on the internet, so you nod. "Go ahead, love."

He nods and turns towards the group with the biggest grin on his face. Proud as punch about the news and he’s honestly a little teary just thinking of it. “Birdie and I have officially started trying for our first baby.”

The whole group takes a collective breath before the floodgates open and suddenly everyone is congratulating, exclaiming, and even exchanging money all at once. Selena hands Clark a folded bill and they share an amused expression. "I thought you would wait to start trying until the honeymoon," she admits, amused at Marcus's exasperated expression.

“You bet on when we would start trying for a baby?” Marcus snorts, shaking his head in faux disappointment.

"To be fair, we've made a lot of stupid bets over the course of our friendship," Clark defends, shrugging but feeling absolutely no remorse whatsoever.

Marcus laughs. “Glad I could win you some money, especially from this one.” He tells his friend, pointing at his cousin. “Are you two sure you aren’t soulmates?” He teases.

"What?" Selena sputters, stepping dramatically away from Clark's side and blowing a decidedly animated raspberry in the process. "No. That would be too much of a coincidence."

The vehemence in her denial makes Marcus’s brow tick up and he glances at his friend as he shuffles his feet nervously. “Yeah, her? Never.”

"Guys...?" You look between the two of them and back to Marcus, feeling a beaming grin form on your face the more Selena and Clark shuffle side by side.

“I think they are protesting a little too much.” Sydney snorts, leaning off your shoulder and grinning. “Want to tell the class anything? We’re among friends.”

"We..." Clark glances over at Selena, who bites her lip and slowly lets a smile overtake her face in almost the same way yours did. When she nods, Clark slides his arm around her back and pulls Selena Pike into his side fully. "We didn't want to steal your thunder," he admits sheepishly. "So we were going to wait until after the wedding to say anything."

“There’s no such thing as stealing our thunder.” Marcus manages with a broad smile as he lets the shock subside.

“It’s still your day,” Selena insists, though she is blushing with how tight Clark is holding her. “It’s just…nice to share it with my soulmate.”

“It is our day.” Marcus agrees. “But now we just have a little more to celebrate.” He reaches for both Clark and Selena to pull them in for a hug. “God, I’m so happy for you.”

“I told you he’d get sappy on us,” Selena huffs, but it’s all bark without bite. She’s been so damn happy these last few months with Clark — after both of them had apparently been pining for years but there had always been some kind of barrier in the way. Now it’s just them, and they’ve been brilliantly happy.

“Of course I am.” Marcus snorts. “You’re my favorite cousin.” He reveals shamelessly. He and Selena are the closest cousins, becoming even closer with her moving to D.C.

“Traitor!” A few of his other cousins tease, but it’s all in good fun. Marcus and Selena have always been close and no one whatsoever is surprised by this declaration.

Marcus laughs and slaps Clark on the back. “I hope you know what you’re in for. She’s amazing but a lot.” He warns playfully, ducking her swipe at him and sticking his tongue out in retaliation.

“I have never met a single Pike who was easy going with no strong opinions whatsoever,” you tease, hugging Clark in turn. “And that includes us soulmates of Pikes. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Well….” Marcus looks around at the group and laughs. “Anything else to celebrate today? Anything at all? Let’s hear it, we are an all-inclusive party.”

David and Alex exchange a glance, deciding not to add more to the pile, but Alex nudges Junie and the youngest of the three First Kids shrugs in exasperation. “Dylan and I found an apartment.” She mumbles, looking supremely embarrassed and wonderfully excited all at once.

“That’s great!” Marcus knows how big of a step this is for your younger sister and he is so proud, scooping her up for a hug. “Don’t pick up his socks.” He warns her. “It sets a bad precedent.”

“That might be the most brotherly advice you could ever give,” she laughs, hugging him back. “But I won’t. I promise.”

Marcus let’s go of your younger sister, only so you can pounce on her with your own hug. He moves over to talk to Dylan about where the apartment was.

It’s long moments of celebration before the group of you go back to playing games, and soon a golden retriever stuffed animal joins the hummingbird in becoming the very first plush toys to be earned and saved for the nursery in your house.

“Trying for a baby, huh?” Alex walks beside Marcus and shoots him a grin. “Are you hoping for a boy or a girl first.” Marcus immediately grins at the idea of a baby and shrugs. “All I care about is if they are healthy.” He admits. “But if I had to pick? I think I want a girl first.”

“It’s going to be twins.” David sidles up to Alex’s other side and wraps his arm around his soulmate’s waist. “I’m making the prediction now. The first pregnancy will be those twins the Pike clan is so famous for.”

There’s a slightly evil edge to Selena’s grin as she spears you with a stare. “And how do you feel like being a double Dutch oven?” She snorts. “Pike’s make big babies, by the way. Like huge.”

“I’ve heard.” Her attempt to tease and scare you only makes you laugh. “If big babies is what it takes to have little Marcuses, I’m all for it.”

She groans in disgust, rolling her eyes but everyone knows that it’s just for show. She will be the proudest cousin cooing at the baby or babies when they come. “I’ll remind you of that when you’re living in a pool like a hippo during the summer.”

You just grin, poking her shoulder in that playful manner you’ve adopted with each other. “Maybe by then, you’ll be in the pool with me?”

Clark’s eyes widen in what can only be described as unrealized hope, as if someone just made him think of something he didn’t know he wanted but now desperately does. Selena sees it and instead of rejecting it outright, she gives a small smile. “Maybe.” She shrugs. “Cousins should be close in age, right?”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.” You shoot her a wink and aim a broad smile for Clark. He’s such a sweet guy, it’s easy to see the pair as a wonderful couple. “Now…how about we all grab some dinner instead of planning out the next eighteen years of our lives?”

"TO THE FOOD!" Sydney cries, absolutely in love with carnival food despite some thinking that a chef of her caliber would find it abhorrent. "I want a deep-fried cheesecake." She moans, rubbing her stomach gleefully. "Maybe even the deep-fried butter if they have it."

“Are you sure you’re not already pregnant again?” You ask, arching an eyebrow at her food choices.

“Not yet.” She shrugs and grins. “Or maybe I am and don’t know it yet.”

The noise Juan makes at that suggestion can only be described as plaintive, and Alex snorts in affectionate amusement. “All the straight men have baby fever.”

David chuckles and wraps his arm around his soulmate. “I think you might want a baby too.” He teases, leaning in and kissing Alex’s cheek.

“Might be a little difficult biologically,” he reminds his fiancé. “But not out of the question.”

“I don’t think it would be too hard.” David has been thinking about it more than he’s admitted. Baby fever catching and all. “If we had a surrogate to carry one from my sperm and one from yours, we could have a perfectly blended family.”

“You’ve been thinking about this.” It warms Alex through in a way he can’t quite explain, and his arms go around his soulmate entirely so he can squeeze him close. “I love it. A perfect little family all our own.”

He hums happily, thrilled that it will be a conversation they can have down the road. “First, we need to get the bar passed.” He teases. “Kids aren’t cheap.”

"I like that. Planning ahead." Alex grins, tilting his head back to kiss David's cheek as a pose for yet another of Junie's numerous social media posts from today.

“I’m glad there’s been no horrible backlash.” Marcus murmurs to you quietly, watching the couple as they find joy in being so free with their affections.

"There's been the usual stuff. But a lot less than we expected." Of course there has been some backlash, but the White House had been braced for death threats and protests and so far it's only been rhetoric. "It's just been people talking, and we can deal with talking."

“I know, I’m just happy they get to be themselves.” Marcus pulls you close and leans in for a kiss when the sound of a commotion breaks his thoughts.

"Sir, we are closed for a private party!" One of the fair employees is calling from around the corner. It's obvious from his tone that it isn't the first time he's said so, and Agent Bailey stiffens immediately. She takes your shoulder, urging your backward to be with your siblings as Alex and June's agents close in around you and Bailey has one hand over her sidearm like she's ready to quickdraw as she rushes around the corner.

Marcus pushes in front of you, unarmed but immediately willing to be a human shield for you and your siblings. Juan pushes Sydney behind him and Clark is right there. “Sir, come back!” the shout has Marcus stiffening at the sight of someone rushing towards him from the side and without a second thought, he lowers his shoulder and tackles the intruder.

"What the FUCK?!"

The indignant cry is familiar. Too familiar. Familiar enough that you go stiff and grab your brother's hand for emotional support. Oh god. It can't be...

“Get off of me!” Sam Chase struggles to get away from Marcus and his hoodie is pulled away to reveal the frantic, disheveled hair that Marcus remember always being so fastidiously combed. He looks deranged and furious, a bad combination considering he had just crashed a private event. Somehow tracking you down. “Birdie! Call of your dog!”

"What the hell are you doing here?" You're sure as hell not going to call anyone off of anywhere, and you're even less inclined to be polite or kind when your bad penny of an ex has just insulted your soulmate.

“I deserve to be here!” Sam struggles again and manages to get an arm free. Agent Bailey tenses, but eases up slightly when she sees that he doesn’t have a weapon. “I should be here! Me! This was supposed to be my time to shine! He stole it! He stole you!”

"You've got to be kidding me..." The disappointment and heaviness in the way you shake your head is so deeply felt by not just you, but several people in the crowd. "Sam, this is...this is downright sad now. It's been like a year and a half. Just let it go, please."

“You don’t understand.” He huffs, his voice taking on a petulant whine and he continues to struggle as Marcus practically straddles him to keep him on the ground. “You could never see the big picture. You have to come back to me.”

"I don't have to do a single damn thing." Thinking that it would be polite and mature to not have to restrain Sam at every damn turn, you squeeze Marcus's shoulder gently. The silent signal to let up hopefully isn't misplaced. "And we're not rehashing every single reason why our relationship didn't work. I love Marcus. I'm marrying Marcus. And you need to leave. I don't know how the hell you figured out where we are but please just go."

“You happy bullshit Instagram page dedicated to this wedding.” Marcus eases off of him and Sam pushes to his feet with indignant huff, throwing Marcus a scathing look but he doesn’t move. The guns still pointed at him are very real and he would rather not get shot, although maybe the sympathy would bring you back to his side. “It didn’t work?” He shakes his head. “We were happy. You were happy until he showed up.” He jerks his head unhappily towards Marcus. “We said we didn’t need to know our soulmates? Remember? We charted our own course.”

Unfortunate as it is, he does have a point about that. It's something you had said early on and you had actually thought to stick by it. "I was trying to chart a course to a happy and fulfilled relationship. Love. A family." You cross your arms, feeling utterly despondent by the idea of what he did to you all over again. "You charted a course to the White House. You used me. And even if Marcus wasn't my soulmate I have had a happier, more honest, and more supportive relationship with him than you and I ever did. Please for fuck's sake, just leave? This really has gone way too far."

Sam’s brow furrows and he drops to his knees, causing another moment of tension by the way every agent - including Marcus - braces, but it’s just the last ditch plea of a desperate man. “You don’t understand.” He repeats. “They will kill me. They will kill me.” He stress, clapping his hands together and shuffling forward towards you. Literally on his knees begging. “I- I made promises. Promises to some very nasty people when they don’t get what they want.” He shakes his head. “What did it hurt? I was having dinner at the White House every Friday. I made some promises and in return they did me some favors. Except you took away my access!”

"You did what?!" Somehow this reality is even worse, although it doesn't necessarily hurt more. The idea that Sam had been using you is something you're used to now. It doesn't make your chest ache with betrayal anymore. But that he was already betraying the office he aspired to this early? And people were apparently so corrupt that Sam is begging out of fear? A part of you wants to know who these people were just to be able to expose them. "That isn't my problem," you tell him instead, steadily staring down the man who had gotten you to bare yourself to him body and soul without having cared for you for even a second. "If you were doing backdoor deals and dirty handshakes, then you're the one who has to live with the consequences. I'm a human being, Sam. Not a fucking photo op."

“I know, I know, baby.” He pleads. “I do. I love you. You have to know that. I - please? Please, just give me a chance. I can be better, I will be better.”

"No. How many times do I have to say it? Dammit, Sam!" It may be the first time you've ever really yelled at him and you should have done it long ago. It's too much. It's far too damn much for you to still be dealing with this less than two weeks before your wedding. "No. End of story. I am marrying someone else and you're just going to have to deal with that fact!"

There isn’t an ounce of self respect left in his body at this point. The horrible realization that you can’t be convinced to change your mind makes him break down. Sobbing as he drops his hands and his head down. The piper has yet to be paid and now the cost will be too much.

"Alright, Congressman." Agent Bailey steps forward, firearm still drawn but hoping this can be settled peacefully. "I think it's time to go. Don't you?"

“Yeah.” He’s still crying but he’s no longer resisting when she reaches down to take his arm to help him to his feet.

"Alright." She repeats again, stepping up behind him to help him up if he needs it. "How about we get up and walk you back to your car." Any sympathy she might have had for him evaporated a long time ago, but this is...it really is just sad. After the party is over she'll speak to you about reporting the possible abuse of his position to the President. But not now. The party has been dampened enough already.

The agents all gather around Sam after Alex’s makes sure that Marcus will stay with the three of you. Wanting to impart the wisdom of not returning to the congressman out of earshot of the party. Marcus turns towards you, his brow pinches together. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” He knows how badly Sam’s betrayals have hurt, but you just learned the final and most damning piece of the convoluted puzzle. Why Sam was trying so hard.

"Physically? I'm fine. Thanks to you." The fact that Marcus had tackled Sam without hesitation meant that this whole thing probably went a lot smoother than it might have otherwise. Now, though, you lean into Marcus's chest and try to remember all those lessons on controlling your breathing from yoga class. "But...I'm going to have to say something. He just admitted in front of two dozens people to taking bribes while in office."

“Yeah.” He murmurs quietly, rubbing your back. “It’s put me in a hell of a spot. The FBI will be the ones investigating.”

"It won't be your department," you remind him quietly. It's...utterly shaking to have the party interrupted like this and even though someone might think you would expect outbursts from Sam by now, there's really no way to prepare yourself for that in reality. "At least there's that."

“Thank god.” He huffs and pulls away to cup your cheeks gently. “I’m sorry that he had to bust in on our day, but I’m not sorry that I love you and I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.”

"I love you so much." If that wasn't abundantly clear by now, the gratitude and trust in your eyes might be enough all on its own. Marcus has been everything that Sam was not, in all the little and unconscious ways. His support is unwavering. His love an utter constant. There is never judgement or expectation with Marcus. The universe gave you an unimaginable gift when it made him your soulmate. "More than I could ever say or show, I think."

“No. You show me.” He promises with a small smile. “There’s never a moment I don’t know it, feel it and see it.”

"Show, don't tell." You laugh softly, shaking your head against his chest. "Isn't that what they tell writers? I swear I had a professor that said that. Guess I internalized it."

He kisses your hair. “Nothing wrong with that.” He promises. “Now, don’t want a pretzel first, or one of those Korean corn dogs?”

Steadfast and true, Marcus holds you tight to keep you safe physically as well as make sure your racing mind knows that he will never let anything happen to you. He's the closest thing to an angel you may ever know of in real life and once again you remember to breathe and just let yourself be utterly grateful for his presence. "Korean corn dog," you tell him, summoning a smile as you look up at him. "Definitely."

It's late that night when you make it home again. After leaving the carnival the whole group of you went by a favorite bar for a round together, but you and Marcus found yourself entirely exhausted after just one round so Marcus had plopping you on the back of his bike and brought you home. Your stuffed animal prizes are now deposited in the spare bedroom which will become the nursery, and Marcus is toeing off his boots in the bedroom.

“Babe, do you want a bath?” He smiles when you walk into the bedroom, just like he does every time you walk into a room. He can help it. “Or do you just want to go to bed?” Despite the interruption, you had tried not to let it get you down, but he can see that your mind has been spinning since Sam had appeared and he just wants to help you wind down.

"Do you want to take a bath together?" The giant tub that you had picked out together for the master bathroom in your house is intentionally big enough for two people and you turn your eyes up to him hopefully. "Relax a little?"

It will get you into it and that was his goal. “Absolutely.” He agrees. “I’ll go get it started. You want bubbles or a bomb?”

"Bubbles." Right now all the bombs you have, have glitter in them and that is definitely not the vibe you're going for tonight. Maybe yesterday if you had known about the carnival, but not now. "Thank you, baby. I'll be in, in just a minute."

“Of course.” The idea of putting a bar cart in the bedroom is still one that he thinks will work. Especially for nights like this. The little coffee nook is your favorite thing in the mornings and the bar could be the best thing after a long day.

Undressing is easy enough. Sneakers off. Socks, dress, and underthings all go in the hamper. Jewelry in the tray beside your jewelry box to be sorted through later. Your make up wipes are in the bathroom, so you meander in naked and open the cabinet to wash your face before getting in the bath. "It was a beautiful day. Other than the thing."

“Is that what we are calling him now?” Marcus snorts, admiring your ass as you lean over the counter to carefully remove the winged eyeliner.

"If I had my way," you sigh, swiping the treated makeup remover wipe over your eyelid carefully. "I would never think or speak about him ever again."

“I know. He’s been a real pain in the ass.” Marcus admits.

"Can we..." Glancing up in the mirror, you meet Marcus's eyes easily. "Can we not talk about him tonight? I just want to try to relax with the man I love. Is that...is that okay?" You'll work through it with him, and with your therapist, and you'll speak to your mother about it. But tonight you just need to pretend that Sam Chase doesn't exist and that he has no place at all in your relationship or future.

“Done.” Marcus walks over at holds onto your waist. He kisses your shoulder. “All I want to do is relax and talk about my favorite bachelor party in the entire world.”

"Did you have fun?" Pretending like the day held no strife at all seems like a very good strategy tonight, and when you're done wiping off your makeup you turn around in his arms. "I think our friends had a pretty spectacular idea, if I'm honest."

“Only disappointed that they didn’t have ‘You’re the One That I Want’ queued up to play when we were leaving.” He jokes. “But it was amazing.”

“I would have insisted on listening to it in the car.” You grin and kiss his chin. “Except we were on the bike.”

“And I don’t have a radio on my bike.” He points out and pulls away so he can get undressed. “Go get in the bath, baby.”

Happy to obey that particular command, you cross the white-tiled floor and inhale the fresh scent of jasmine and sandalwood from your bubble bath before climbing in. The depth and the sheer size of the tub mean that the two of you will never have trouble lounging in it together, which might actually be the smartest house-building decision you ever made.

“I have to admit, I love that they threw us a joint party.” Marcus admits easily, pulling his shirt over his head. Juan had wanted a gym buddy, so they’ve been going three times a week and his build has definitely improved in his opinion.

"They knew we'd hate being apart." And right now you don't want to even be a few feet apart. You're going to have to remember to send Juanito a thank you card for suggesting the guys go to the gym together. "It was perfect."

“Yes it was.” He smirks as he unbuttons his form fitting jeans, not oblivious to the way you are eyeing him like your favorite candy. “But not as perfect as you.”

"No need to butter me up," you tease, leaning on the edge of the tub like you're at the edge of the stage at your own personal strip show. "I've got the real perfection right in front of me."

He knows from personal experience that this back and forth compliment thing can go on for hours. Both of you loving the praise and giving praise. Instead of coming back with another thing he loves about you, he winks and pushes down his jeans and boxer briefs to kick off.

"In the bath." Gliding backward in the water gives him room to climb in with you and you tuck yourself against one side to give him plenty of room to get comfortable. "Please and thank you."

He snorts at your manners. “You never have to ask me twice to get into a bath with you, sweetheart.” He jokes. “If I refuse, know it’s my doppelgänger and he’s got me locked in a cage somewhere as he steals my life.”

"Noted." The smirk on your face matches his as he gets in, and you cuddle together on one end of the bathtub. Arms around each other, legs intertwined, and the world outside unable to touch you in the safety of each other.

“This bathtub was the best thing we did in this house.” He groans, loving the tankless hot water that will make soaking a pleasure. “The best.”

"This house was worth the work," you hum in agreement. "Thank you for making it a home with me, love."

“Thank you.” He kisses your shoulder and sighs as the both of you slip a little lower in the water. “You have given me everything that I’ve always wanted so easily. I don’t know how I deserve you.”

“Right back atcha, gorgeous.” You might point out that he literally tackled an intruder to protect you today, but you’re decidedly not speaking of that incident or that person right now. “I guess we’ll just go on being in awe of each other, won’t we?”

“Undoubtably.” His hands always like to roam when you are in a bath together. Reminded of those phone conversations when he was first out of town after getting to know each other. Now, he can touch you like he had imagined back then. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” This close and this tantalizing, you lean into his touch and sigh softly at each little press of his hands. “So much.”

“You looked so pretty in your dress.” He coos softly in your ear. You might not have the physical or mental energy for sex, and he will respect that if that’s the case, but his hands cup your breasts gently. “Wholesome and dirty all at the same time.”

“Mmm, I think you just have a thing for naughty girls who look nice in the surface.” You slide deftly into his lap, one knee on either side of his thighs, without any fear of overflowing the tub. Sinking it down close the floor and building a little platform around it means never having to worry about splashing your bathroom to bits if you want to fuck in the tub.

He chuckles in your ear and his cock twitches against your ass. “Figured that out, huh?” His hand slides up to caress the collar you still proudly wear and he hums in pleasure. “Good girls get pleasured.” He coos. “Bad girls get spanked and then pleasured.”

“I’m not going to lie, babe,” you hum, suppressing a giggle. “Sounds like either way, I win.”

“It does, doesn’t it.” He laughs and knows that it’s all just how it works out. He doesn’t deny you often. “So I guess the question is, do you want me to make love to you? Or fuck you?”

From your position in his lap it's easy to look down on all of him and appreciate the broad expanse of his body. Golden tan skin, smooth chest, strong arms, all of it. "Make love to me?" After the day you had today — and the interruption in the middle of it — you're craving that closeness with him.

Soft it is. Marcus can do soft. He smiles gently and nods, leaning forward to press his lips to yours. It’s slow and sensual, like the pace will be as he traces the familiar path of your favorite spots for him to touch.

These are the kinds of kisses that you get lost in, immediately glad to melt against him as his hands draw you flush to his body and your fingers start to comb through his hair.

One hand cups your breasts, the other slides down to the neatly groomed patch of hair that covers your cunt. Loving how you tilt your hips slightly, thighs spreading more in anticipation. Leaning into his touch and moaning at the first pass of his fingers.

"Baby..." Your hips rock in his lap, canting forward to urge him on just as your tongue dips into the sensitive skin below his ear as you press open mouthed kisses down the length of his neck. "Fuck I love you."

“Love you too.” Marcus groans quietly when your teeth scrape over his pulse, shuddering slightly as he strokes your folds and slides back to press two fingers inside you.

Fullness. Fullness is always the feeling that comes with any part of Marcus. From the way your heart swells with love to the way his finger and cock spread you open to push every extraneous thought clear out of your head. The only thing you have room for is him.

His own kisses run across your shoulders, taking special care to lave your clavicle with his tongue just like he knows you love while his fingers curl inside you. He wants to take his time, be thorough tonight and it starts with building you up until you cannot take anymore before he even slips inside you.

One...two...three fingers stretch you to the limit, making you drop your head back as you ride his hand and clasp his shoulders to hold yourself steady. The bathroom fills with moans and breathy cries as he builds you up, punctuated by his own deep groans of approval each time you rock your hips or gasp his name.

It’s not as slow and sweet as it would have been if he had you stretched out in your bed, but it’s satisfying to watch as you try to restrain yourself. Knowing that you are wanting and needing more, but trusting him to give it to you at his own pace. The jerk of your hips stilled with a shuddered moan. “So beautiful.” He promises, his mouth buried against your throat and working his way down to your tits.

He takes the most pleasure in pulling that first orgasm from you at an unhurried pace, priming you to take him and to let him draw out both your pleasure for as long as he pleases. Only the temperature of the bath water will dictate how long you spend riding him tonight, and even that is up for debate. You can always top off a cold bath with piping hot water.

He keeps the rhythm of his finger deliberate. Playing your pussy like his favorite instrument and loving the soft moans and the way the slickness of your arousal feels coating his fingers under the water. His mouth wraps around a nipple with a groan of your name and he sucks languidly.

One of your arms wraps around his shoulders, anchoring you to him as his fingers fill you over and over again, and with your other hand you reach under the surface of the water to wrap your hand around his cock and stroke it just as languidly as he is at your breasts. Nothing is rushed tonight, though your need for him is growing every second.

Marcus moans against your flesh, twitching in your hand as he pumps his fingers into your heat steadily. Aware that you are panting in his ear because you are so close. “So good.” He mumbles.

This close to your peak is when the chanting starts, moaning his name over and over in time with each thrust of his fingers into your entire body bears down on those thick digits and your fingernails bite into his back with one hand and the other stills on his cock. You fly apart for him at the perfect curl of his fingers inside you, but it’s just the beginning of the night. Just the first of many orgasms. The start of a night that will be as drawn out as you could possibly desire.

Watching you cum, feeling it, is probably one of his best gifts. The awe that always washes through him when you combust in pleasure is so satisfying. Knowing that he had made you peak this way. “I love you.” He moans, slowly working you through it.

When you sink down against him fully worth every muscle in your body relaxed and the aftershocks still coursing through you, absolutely no feeling could be better except what’s coming next. “I love you, baby.”

He hums, almost chuckles as your body leans against his heavily. His fingers are still curled up inside you, but he swears you could probably drift off to sleep right now.

“You’re so good at that,” you hum, giggling at how drunk your voice sounds on pleasure alone.

“Yeah?” his own voice is slightly smug and he kisses your chin. “I think you just like to cum.”

“I mean you’re not wrong,” you giggle a little but pull back to look him in the eye. “But I’d rather cum on your cock than anywhere else.”

“Is that a hint?” He smirks at you. “You’re ready for more? Insatiable.”

“Would you rather just go to bed?” The teasing edge in your voice spreads with a grin. “Did you not want to breed me tonight?”

Marcus groans at the magic word, his cock twitching against your folds. "Fuck." He hisses, blowing how a breath through his teeth. "You know how to twist my arm, don't you?" He huffs, leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss as he pulls you close again. "I want to breed you, fill you with my baby tonight."

Twist his arm? You grin into the kiss, knowing it's just as pleasurable of a kink for you as it is for him. Especially now that it's no longer make believe. Since deciding to try for a baby, even your lovemaking has gotten decidedly more animalistic with that need. "Do it, Daddy," you hum, gasping sharply when he pulls his fingers out of you and replaces them with his cock in one practiced stroke.

Hissing in pleasure, his hands turn harsh. Fingers digging into your flesh as pulling you down onto his cock harder than the previous languid pace of his fingers. Reacting to your need for him, your use of the word Daddy in both the submissive nature and the fact that you wanted him to breed you, had water sloshing over the side of the deep tub from the force of his thrust.

You’re both needy when you’re like this. Grasping for handfuls of each other, teeth biting and tongues laving everywhere. It’s like a flurry of competition to decide who wins the award of fiercest love, as if that depth could be quantified in the sweet aches you leave behind on each other’s bodies.

"So good, so good to me." Marcus praises breathlessly. "Gonna be such...a good wife." He pants. "Good momma. Everything."

"All for you." It's so easy to promise him the world when you mean it so dearly, and even with your head thrown back and your chest arched against his as you rock in his lap and ride him there in the bath, you pour out praise of your own to let him bask in just as much love as he's giving. "Perfect soulmate, feels so fucking good inside me — gonna fuck a baby so deep inside me—"

Marcus groans, loudly at your surety. Knowing that he will fill you up and pray that it takes. That you are so willing to change your body for him, for your future kids. His hand slides down to cover your stomach, where the baby will rest, before he slides his fingers down to your clit again. "Fuck yes. Take it, want you to carry my baby." He pants out raggedly.

“Then cum for me, Daddy.” Sweet and filthy all at once, you speed up your pace bouncing on his cock and feel your pussy bear down on him as he starts to rub your clit. “Cum for me and fill me up.”

His head rocks back, unable to do more than sit still and rub your clit while you bounce on his cock like you are riding a rodeo. "Fuck, not—" He chokes when your walls clench around him and barely resist giving into his body and filling you up. "Before— you do." He manages, his voice strangled and he just knows tonight is the night that he's going to get you pregnant.

"So close." He's long since learned which buttons to push to make you cum quickly, and in this case the button is very literal. "So close baby, so close to our baby."

"Want you- to prop your hips up." He groans, leaning in and wrapping his lips around your nipple for some extra pleasure. Knowing that you say that sucking on your tits shoots straight down to your pussy.

"Fuck!" It's sharp and sweet and earth shattering, the way your second orgasm hits you as soon as he sucks on your nipple, scraping his teeth down your areola with just the right amount of pressure. Your body locks up gorgeously, hands clinging to his shoulders just as firmly as the velvet walls of your pussy hold his cock deep inside you.

He had been holding back for you. Already on the cusp of his own orgasm, as soon as you start pulsing around him, he lets go. He has to rock his hips up, "fuck, take it, oh fuck baby, so good, so good for me." He pants against your breast.

There are some times when the two of you will break out into an endorphin-driven fit of giggles after sex. Or sometimes lie panting together for long moments afterward just holding each other. Sometimes the overwhelming emotions that come with lovemaking have you both smothering tears afterward. Tonight you find yourselves staring into each other's eyes as the shockwaves course through you, filled the the unshakable determination that something wonderful has just happened.

"I love you." A whisper in the flickering candlelight. A promise. And a wholehearted vow for the future.

______

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𝙴𝚟𝚒𝚎’𝚜 𝙶𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚃𝚘 𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝

Sylus X Evie (OC)

Warnings -> 18+ NSFW (penetration/use of ‘sweetie, kitten, sir’/light power play/climax control/gentle hair pulling & teeth grazing) Sylus lowkey offs a guy, situationship dynamic

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

𝒯𝒾𝓅 #1: 𝒜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝓊𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈

My head snaps up as the dining room doors swing open, a ridiculously tall man strolling through like he owns the place. Well, actually, he does own the place.

“Welcome back, Sir.” I greet him in a calm but upbeat manner. “Is any of that blood yours? Should I dig out the first aid kit?”

Sylus, the big bad boss of Onychinus and the devil parents use to scare their children into behaving, doesn’t glance my way. Instead, he makes the blood staining his figure vanish into black mist and heads for the back end of the large dining table. “No. Bring me some wine.”

Setting the documents in my hand down, I get up and move to his displayed collection. “Do you have a preference today?”

I hear a chair pull out, hear the rustling of his clothing as he sits down. “No.”

“Then you can have whatever I can reach.”

I think I hear him snicker, but don’t risk commenting on it. In no time at all, I have a glass filled and set on the table within his reach. Sylus picks up the glass and swirls the dark liquid around before taking a sip. He closes his eyes, either savouring the taste or taking a moment to rest.

I allow him that moment of peace. Then, I pop it like a bubble. “I know you just got back, Sir, but there is a matter we should discuss.”

Sylus cracks his eyes open and levels me with that intense crimson gaze of his. That look used to scare me, froze my body in a way that had me rooted to whatever spot I was standing in. “Is it necessary to discuss this now?”

“Well, no.” I hold my tongue just long enough for him to close his eyes and return to that restful state. “Unless you care that money is missing from the organization’s accounts with no explanation for it.”

Again, he opens his eyes. I fight back a smirk at the barely there change in his expression; the change between being annoyed at the situation and annoyed with me for interrupting his peace. Twice. “What is it?”

I leave his side to grab the evidence I need from the mess of paperwork scattered across the other side of the dining table. I have an my own office in his wing of the base, but sometimes I need a surface larger than my desk to organize everything, hence why everything is spread out in the dining room.

I place the most important documents containing my findings in front of him. “The accountants sent over the final income reports for this month. The revenue is lower than we usually see, about forty percent lower. I did some more digging,” Shifting my attention to a copy of a map, I pointed to a particular district outlined in a hot pink marker. “This seems to be the route where the loss is coming from. I asked Luke and Kieran to drop by the businesses that work with us and ask for the authentic copies of their transaction records. Every single one checks out. The businesses have paid what they owe for the month.”

Skimming over the reality of our partnership with the businesses in the N109 Zone is second nature now. Onychinus makes money in many ways, collecting protection money is just one of them. Normally, those who seek out the organization’s protection aren’t ballsy enough to play around with their debts, but it was still a possibility that needed to be looked into.

Sylus hummed, the sound rumbling deep in my ears like a mountain experiencing an earthquake. He gave the wine in his glass another swirl. “So, it’s an inside job.”

“That’s what the evidence is leading me to believe.” I cross my arms and pinch my chin. “Forty percent is big enough loss to notice right away. The accountants should have caught on immediately, unless-”

“They’re in on it.” He downs the rest of his glass. “Who was collecting debts for the area this month?”

I shrug. “No idea. It’s my job to catch these things, and it’s your job to solve them.” I glance at the clock and grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m stepping out for my lunch break. I’ll be back in an hour.”

His eyes are baring holes into my back, I can feel it as I practically skip towards the doors. “I want this mess cleaned up when you get back.”

“Yes, Sir!”

𝒯𝒾𝓅 #2: 𝒜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓈

𝒯𝒾𝓅 #3: 𝒜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒

“That’s a lovely painting.” I say, gesturing towards a beautiful landscape hanging on the wall with the hand holding my glass. “May I ask who painted it?”

The man sitting across from me in the skyscraper’s boardroom looks less than pleased in my presence. He came across rather irate when we met in the lobby, immediately asking where Sylus was and grumbling the entire elevator ride up after learning he was running a bit late.

I had to bite my tongue to keep from warning him that stressing over this meeting would only make his wrinkles deepen.

Tapping his finger impatiently on the gilded handle of his walking stick, he tilts his chin towards the painting. “That is one of Rafayel’s masterpieces. The only one of its kind.”

“It’s lovely. Mr. Rafayel certainly knows his way around a colour palette.” I take a sip of the water. “I wonder what was going through his mind when he painted it. Any thoughts?”

“No.” He pulls a golden watch from his pocket, clicking his tongue at the time. “Are you sure Sylus is coming to this meeting? I certainly hope I’m not wasting my time entertaining a young lady with no real hand in Onychinus’ affairs.”

My smile widens. “Of course not. Mr. Sylus is a busy man, but he wouldn’t abandon a meeting without word. If you are unable to wait any longer, I can notify Mr. Sylus that we’ll have to reschedule - if he is willing to reschedule. It took a lot of convincing on your part to have him agree to meet with you, yes?”

I reach for my phone sitting on the edge of the table, but he holds up a hand to stop me. “It’s alright. I can wait.”

The door opens just then, and in comes the man we’ve been waiting for. Sylus looks as intimidating as ever, though to me he almost seems bored. His red eyes find me first, then shift silently to the man who has been nearly harassing our phone lines for the past week.

Smiling, I stand up and turn my body towards my boss, hands folded in front of me. “Glad to have you join us, Sir. Mr. Gallagher has been very eager to speak with you.”

Sylus’ lips curled into a sneer. “So, I’ve heard. Your proposal must be worth my while, considering all the trouble you’ve gone through to get me here.”

A bead of sweat rolls down Gallagher’s temple, but he wipes it away with a handkerchief as Sylus and I take our seats. “I appreciate your kindness in coming all the way here today, Mr. Sylus. Now, let us begin.”

Half an hour passes, and nothing comes from Gallagher’s ramblings. On and on he went about a research project he wanted his company to jump in on, spoke blatantly about just how much funding they would need. He has statistics and research papers from the past, before the age of technology we have today, but not once in has he mentioned Onychinus’ benefit in backing this project.

My hidden glances at Sylus revealed nothing of what he was thinking, and I had given up after the third attempt to read his mind. A year and a half I’ve been working under him, and his mind is still a mystery to me most of the time.

“Evie.” Sylus suddenly calls my name, interrupting Gallagher in the middle of his spiel.

Recognizing the cue, I close the notebook I have wasted an entire page of. “Yes, Sir?”

“How long has Mr. Gallagher been wasting our time for?”

I glance at the clock. “A little over thirty minutes, Sir.”

Sylus hums, but it sounds more like a growl. “Thirty minutes.” He taps his finger repeatedly against his temple. “Tell me, Mr. Gallagher, you’ve spoken a lot about what Onychinus can do for you, but what can your company offer me for this deliberate waste of time?”

The older man, with more bravery than someone with a receding hairline should have, points a finger at Sylus. “Now, you listen here, ya’ punk! You wasted an hour of my time making me wait on ya’! What are ya’ gonna do to compensate me for that, huh?!”

The temperature in the room suddenly drops. Sylus is as still as a predator, lying in wait to pounce when the prey least expects it. The room is so silent, I swear I can hear Gallagher’s heartbeat growing louder with each unsteady breath.

I lean to the side, bringing myself closer to Sylus. “I think your tardiness has offended him, Sir.”

Slowly, with both hands in his pockets, Sylus rises to his feet. With shaking hands, Gallagher draws a pistol from the inside of his coat and points the barrel at the large man’s chest.

“I-I’m warning ya’!” Gallagher explains, voice shaking almost as badly as his hands. “D-Don’tcha take another step towards me!”

The sinister grin on Sylus’ face, even though it isn’t directed at me, sends shivers down my spine. “Or what?”

The old man’s Adam’s apple bobs, eyes doubling in size. In the blink of an eye, the gun changes its aim from my boss to me.

That’s as far as he gets. Black and red mist swirl around his body, seizing his wrist and forcing him to drop the gun. It clatters to the ground as the mist yanks him off his feet, suspending him in the air.

Gallagher clutches his throat as if doing so would free him of the Evol’s hold, kicks his legs in a feeble attempt to escape. The more he thrashes, the more obvious his struggle to breathe becomes. By the time Sylus finally lets him go, Gallagher is nothing but a heap on the ground.

When the room falls quiet again, I stand up and gather my phone, notebook and pen. “I think we best take our leave now, Sir. There isn’t anything more to discuss.”

Sylus heads for the door. “Come. I will drop you off at the office.”

A spring found its way into my step as I chased after him, his strides much longer than mine. “Are we taking the motorcycle?”

“The car.”

My shoulders dropped. “Well, that’s not as fun.”

𝒯𝒾𝓅 #4: 𝒜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒

𝒯𝒾𝓅 #5: 𝒜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓅𝓊𝓉𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈𝓀𝑒𝒹

A cup of warm honey tea in hand, I set the ceiling lights of my office to a dim lighting and stroll inside. The small office, neat and tidy and cozy, is irresistible at this hour of the night. It called to me like a siren’s song, its summons so strong I changed the taxi’s drop off address from my home to here.

I didn’t fight the urge much; I was looking for an excuse to avoid going home this late, anyway. Returning early from the club would open the door for my brothers to pry.

Mephisto swoops in through the ajar door, landing on a perch near the desk. His red eyes glow like a beacon in the shadows, watching me for a moment before opening his beak to caw.

“Shhh!” I hiss, scrambling for the bag of chopped peanuts I keep hidden in one of the drawers. “Don’t you dare disturb the boss.”

The odds of Sylus actually sleeping at night are low, but it’s not a risk I’m willing to take.

I dump a handful into the flat dish attached to the perch. Mephisto stops his ruckus to eat them, the treat keeping him distracted enough for me to get the fireplace going. He’s finished them by the time I settle into the leather chair on wheels.

“No more.” I sternly answer his silent, pleading look. “I will not be the one to get in trouble if you become too fat to fly.”

Mephisto, seemingly displeased, rustles his wings before taking off to do whatever it is mechanical crows do in their free time.

I get started on work the moment he leaves. It’s nothing complicated, just filing paper documents and sorting through digital ones on my laptop, organizing schedules and meetings for Sylus over the next few weeks. The smallest of the bookshelves keeps creeping into the corners of my vision, trying to tempt me to stop working and pick up one of the saucy novels instead. Definitely not work material, but with my brothers, it’s too risky to keep these kinds of books at home. Anything I want to hide from them, I have to hide it in here.

I hear the door click shut as I’m filing papers into the cabinet. Turning my head, I find Sylus, dressed in a red robe, approaching my desk. “Good evening, Sir.”

He picks up the top page from a stack of papers I have yet to sort through, and after looking it over, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not only are you working overtime at this hour, but you’re doing so on a Friday night.”

I sneak a glance at the clock. “Technically, it’s Saturday morning, Sir.”

“You don’t work weekends; you made that clear when I agreed to hire you. My point still stands.” He turns his gaze to me and doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes mark my outfit. I, meanwhile, am struggling to keep my eyes off the ‘V’ his robe makes down his beautifully toned chest and stomach. “What happened, sweetie? Did you get so bored at the club, you decided to come work instead?”

Perhaps I should be concerned with how he knew where I have been, but Sylus has eyes and ears everywhere. Either Mephisto followed me, the twins said something about my plans for a girls night with my friends outside the organization, or he put the pieces together from my makeup and clothing alone. Impressive, if that’s the case - my low cut jeans and crop-top are more of a casual style that could be worn anywhere.

Instead of just standing there gawking, I moved back to the desk and started putting away the unfinished work. I’ll finish it another time. “It’s not that I was bored. I got kicked out.”

His chuckle had me looking up. “You got kicked out? What did you do, kitten? Scratch someone’s eyes out?”

When all the papers are safely tucked into the drawer, I lock it and put the key back in a smaller drawer. “Pretty much. Some men can’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” Recalling the satisfying crunch of his nose under my fist has me smirking. “Maybe he’ll remember tonight every time he looks in the mirror from now on.”

“Did you strike the way I showed you?”

Smirk growing, I nodded once. “Broke his nose.”

Sylus chuckles. “Good girl.”

My core pulls tight, thighs squeezing together at the rush of heat pooling between them. That sort of praise with the baritone voice he has is dangerous.

My reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, it flips a switch in him that turns his amusement into something almost predatory. The change in his eyes brings with it an electricity in the air, igniting a buzzing in my skin and a pounding in my heart.

“Are you… satisfied with the fun you’ve had tonight, sweetie?” Sylus asks, making his way around to my side of the desk with languid strides.

I turn with him, keeping my front to him, never taking my eyes off him. There’s no where to run to, and I have to tilt my head up and lean back against the desk just to keep eye contact as he gets closer. Sylus is pure dominance, towering over me and caging me in as he grips both sides of the desk.

Subconsciously, I lick my suddenly dry lips. “No.”

“No?” He lifts one hand and drags the pad of his thumb over my lips, then down and across my chin. “If you’re in the mood, would you like to play our special game?”

My blood runs hot, temptation whispering into my ear like a little devil on my shoulder. The skin where his thumb touched tingles, the taste of an addiction bubbling on my tongue. “A game sounds nice.”

Sylus hums and tilts his head a little. His thumb returns to my lips, parting them so he could tease the wet inside of my lower lip. “And what do we say when we want this game to stop?”

The cogs in my mind stopped at some point, and I have to kick them back into gear. “Crow.”

“Again.”

“Crow.” I repeat, much faster this time.

Sylus chuckles again, but this time, it comes out deeper and sends a wave of arousal through me. He lashes me with those lethal words of praise again. “Good girl.”

Then I’m being devoured by him, my lips and tongue under the command of his as he takes what he wants - what we both want. My moan comes out muffled, swallowed by him as I pathetically push my tongue against his. I’m not trying to force him out, that’s a battle I’ll never win; I just want to feel how strong he is, test how much control he has.

The answer is all of it, just the way I like it.

His massive hands sear my skin as he grips my bare waist, squeezing and pulling, dragging across my lower back and tracing the hem of my top. Mine can’t stay still either, moving quickly in their exploration of his chest. I have to grab fistfuls of his robe as a means of grounding myself when he suddenly grabs me beneath the thighs and lifts. A moment later, I’m being set down on the top of my desk.

One of my arms rests across the back of his neck and shoulders, the other extended behind me so I could brace my hand on the desk for extra support against the onslaught of Sylus’ kisses. One of his hands is planted on my thigh in a near bruising grip, the other busy with popping out the buttons of my top. When the last one comes undone, he halts his kisses to slide the sleeves down my arms and throw the unnecessary garment aside. He doesn’t treat my bra any much differently.

My breasts are exposed, nipples hardened from the foreplay, but Sylus doesn’t pounce right away. He’s too cunning for that, enjoys playing with my desires too much to pass up making me beg for it.

Instead, he buries his hand in my hair and, gently pulling on the roots, tilts my head back so my throat is bared to him. He drags his mouth over the sensitive skin, teasing me with tongue, teeth and kisses of varying pressure.

“Sylus.” I whine, giving his shoulder a squeeze. A pulse starts between my legs, one so intense it makes me want to clamp my thighs shut. I can’t, not with him standing between my knees. “Sylus, please.”

“Please’ what, kitten?” He nibbles my earlobe, blows a breath of air across it that has me gasping. “Use your words.”

“Please touch me.” I cave, breathless. “Please stop teasing me.”

Sylus breaths a chuckle against the side of my head. “You have such good manners, sweetie, but I’m afraid you’re not being specific. I am touching you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. “N-Not there.”

“No?” His fingers drag over my stomach, his touch featherlight. I’m so sensitive, my back arches beneath his attention. “Here, then?”

Again, I shake my head. My breasts feel heavy, aching so bad they almost hurt.

“Ah.” Sylus feigns realization, pretending as though he had no idea what I wanted before now. “I see. You must mean here.”

I cry out as his lips wrap around my left nipple, tongue and teeth toying with the hardened bud. Pain isn’t my thing, but the lightest teases of it such as gentle hair pulling and teeth grazing gets me off more than I want to admit it. Sylus knows my limits and has always maintained respect with my boundaries, even though this kind of play was something I didn’t know I liked until getting involved with him.

It’s only after giving equal attention to both breasts that Sylus advances, swiftly undoing the button and zipper of my jeans. With one arm wrapped around me, he hoists me up by the waist and uses the opposite hand to tug the waistband past my hips, bringing my underwear along with it. I squeal at the show of strength, but my attention is quickly redirected when he sets me down and yanks the remainder of my clothing down my legs, taking my shoes off with it. He tosses everything aside like they’re meaningless and steps back between my legs.

Excitement buzzes in my veins as he tilts my head back again. Then comes relief when he finally touches me.

His groan mixes with my moan and the cracking of the fireplace, lips brushing against my cheek as he speaks. “You’re so eager, sweetie. You enjoy this game as much as I do, don’t you?”

Another moan spills into the air. I can feel how slick I am, can hear it when he sinks a finger into me. My back momentarily arches at the much welcomed intrusion. “Yes, Sir.”

He releases my roots to cup the back of my head instead, adjusting its position so I’m looking at him instead of the ceiling. His eyes are narrowed, dominant but also painfully gentle in a commanding sort of way. “Did that man touch you?”

“Y-Yes.” I answer, slowly losing myself to the pleasure.

“Where?” It’s a non-negotiable question.

“He-” I have to take a breath to get my brain on track, but it’s a shaky one. What happened in the club again? It takes a second to come back to me. “H-He grabbed my hips and- ah- t-tried dancing behind me.” I should keep my mouth shut, but a certain thought has a weak, breathy giggle escaping. “Are you jealous, Sir?”

The addition of a second figure quickly shuts me up. Sylus curls them, nudging a spot that makes my muscles tighten and hands claw at his chest. “Unless you want to be treated like a brat, I suggest you watch your mouth.”

Tempting, but not what I want this time. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Good.”

His fingers disappear, and I whine at the loss. Sylus pulls the knot of his belt and shrugs off his robe, discarding it like he did with everything else. Pulling me off the desk by the hips, Sylus sets me on my feet and lifts one of my legs until he can get the crease of his elbow beneath my knee. To keep my balance, I hold onto his broad shoulder with one hand and grip the edge of the desk behind me with the other.

“Eyes on me.” Sylus commands, lightly tapping me beneath the chin to get my attention.

I look into his eyes, let those deep pools of red pull me in and strip me bare - more bare than I already am. I hold his gaze even as the tip of him nudges against my entrance. Hold it as he slowly sinks inside.

My jaw drops as he fills me, inch by delicious inch stretching me more than his fingers had. Sylus is big, and though my body is more accustomed to him now, he’s still kind enough to take this part slow.

“That’s it.” His voice is huskier now, thumbs massaging circles into my skin as he helps hold me steady. As he slowly pushes and pulls his hips. “Good girl. You can look where you want now.”

As soon as he releases the invisible leash, my eyes drop to where we’re connected. Combined with the pleasure of his building movements, it’s too much, too overwhelming. So instead I lift my gaze to his stomach, watching his abdominal muscles work as he starts to set his rhythm. A strong, steady rhythm that has gasps, cries and moans dancing on my tongue with each thrust.

“Fuck.” I whisper, feeling a familiar knot start to pull in the pit of my stomach. Every push of his hips into me makes it pull tighter and tighter, my breath climbing higher and higher. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

I realize my error instantly, but it’s still too late to correct myself. Sylus pulls out of me completely, and instead of crashing into the waters of euphoria, I fall flat onto a hard nothing.

Sylus clicks his tongue cups my cheek in his hand, tilting my head up until I’m looking at him. “Is that how we ask for things?”

I shake my head, parting my lips as he skims his thumb over them. “No, Sir.”

His lips curl into a cruel smirk. “Was it so good that you forgot the rules? Do we need to take a break so you can remember?”

Frantic, I shake my head. “No, Sir. I remember.”

Sylus hums and drops his hand from my face, lining himself back up. “Let’s try that again.”

In no time at all, I’m back to where I had been before my mistake. I can feel his eyes boring into me, watching, waiting to see if I’ll screw up again. I can almost sense the gears in his head turning, trying to decide what he’ll do if I fail.

But I don’t fail. The second that knot pulls dangerously tight, I’m looking into his eyes and asking. Pleading, more like. “Can I come, Sir? Please?”

“Better.” Sylus leans down and kisses me once. “You can come. Come for me, Evie.”

The band snaps at his approval. My cry is loud, body trying to arch yet curl in on itself at the same time. I’m not sure when my head goes blank, but when I start to recover, it’s to Sylus’ sexy voice in my ear and his deadly fingers drawing circles onto my clit, heightening the stimulation.

“Good girl.” He praises, carefully setting my leg down. He cups my face again and rests his forehead against mine. “See how much better it is when we ask nicely?”

I nod, whining at the aftershocks still working through my body. Sylus kisses me again before spinning me around, one hand pushing on my back until I’m bent over with my chest pressing against the cold surface of the desk. He moves my hair out of the way and attaches his lips to the back of my neck, alternating between open mouth kisses and teases of his teeth as he makes his way down my spine. I moan and scratch the wood with my nails, trying to be patient.

He reconnects with me when I least expect it, one hand planting itself on the desk near my head while the other grabs my wrist and pins it to my lower back. His grip is firm, not crushing, and he isn’t pulling on my arm either; is just holding it there. He immediately begins a brutal pace, his hips colliding with my ass at every inward thrust, his shaft hitting places deeper than before. It’s just so Sylus that I can’t help but throw my remaining caution to the wind. I wrap my free hand around his arm as a means of grounding myself, delighted by how solid his muscles are.

Tears begin to line my lashes from the intense pleasure. I turn my head, letting my cheek rest on the desk so I can peek at Sylus from the corner of my vision. He’s devastatingly beautiful, his jaw dropped a little as he watches the way he claims me. Beads of sweat catch the light of the fire as they roll down his skin, white hair falling with the way his head is titled. His heavy breaths wrap around me like a blanket and sink through my skin until they settle in my bones.

Unfair. Truly, this man is unfair.

The knot in my stomach comes back, the muscles between my thighs clamping down on him in anticipation of what’s on the horizon. He must feel it, because his eyes lift until they met my gaze. “Do you have something to ask me, sweetie?”

‘Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.’ I mentally plead with myself. My thoughts are working faster than my voice, surprisingly. “May I come again, Sir?”

“Good girl.” He growls, the possessive tone in his voice sending shocks through my core. “Come.”

His command does me in. The sound that comes out of me is a high pitched squeal, my acrylic nails digging into his arm as white hot release burns through me. “Sylus!”

Suddenly, the wrist that was pinned to my lower back is set free. Sylus grabs me by the biceps and hauls me up so I’m no longer laying on the desk, one of his arms banding across my stomach to hold me up. The other dives between my thighs, finding my clit again. “One more.”

Choking on a sob, I claw at his arms. “I can’t!”

“You can.”

I don’t have a choice. No, I have a choice - one four letter word and this all stops. But I don’t want to use that word.

One more. I can take one more.

The third release robs me of my voice. I slump back against Sylus, boneless in his arms as he chases his end. It doesn’t take him much longer to find it.

“Fuck, Evie-” He groans against my neck, pulling out at the last second. He’s nearly crushing me against him, short bursts of tremors working their way through his body.

Managing to peel my eyes open, I wiggle out of his hold and slump over the desk, my arm as heavy as lead as I reach over to pull a small towel from one of the drawers. I toss it over my shoulder, waiting until Sylus has regained himself enough to take it and clean us up.

His fingers gently take the towel from mine. “You keep these in your desk?”

“Must I explain why?” I try to fire back, but I’m way too tired to sound the slightest bit sarcastic.

His hands are gentle as he works, but I still have to bite my lip when he attends to the more sensitive areas. “I’m almost done. Hang in there.”

I hum in response. It’s all I can manage.

The towel disappears from my skin a minute later. Sylus puts his robe back on and helps me redress, then places me in the chair while he puts out the fire. Once the embers have snuffed out, Sylus returns and lifts me into his arms, carrying me out of the office. He heads further down the wing to where his home is.

“Bath or shower?” He asks, keeping his gaze forward.

“Bath.” My response is quick. “I can’t trust myself to stay standing. Can I use your fancy soaps and stuff?”

One corner of his lips curl. “You can use whatever you’d like.”

“Oils, too?”

“Yes, kitten. Oils, too.”

𝒯𝒾𝓅 #6: 𝒜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝑒𝓃𝑔𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃 𝓊𝓃𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑜𝓈𝓈… 𝒶𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈

SFW Masterlist || NSFW Masterlist

Tag List:

@softlycandescent @goat-mama-breezie

[joyswonderland1108]

Let's talk

Hi hello how are you? Hope you're all doing well! I know i'm still not back to being active, i started an internship for a while now so again i'm busy trying to find some time to share my thoughts whenever i have a buttload of them.

Did you know that to be able to productive at work streaming MUSE is an essential? SO GO STREAM MUSE!!!! I don't think my supervisor is happy with me wearing earphones the whole day but sucks to be him BTS come first.

What is it that i wanted to say? Oh yes. Again, i'll say it, i couldn't care less if you're a solo, sucks, but as long as you keep your own limits, stan whoever you stan and keep your own goddamn thoughts to yourself, then WHATEVER.

Now am i gonna name drop? No, because honestly i feel like there's no need to target one person when i know there are others that fit in the same box so if the shoe fits, wear it.

Starting off as an ARMY, OT7 lover, to become a Jikooker (aka liking Jikook's dynamic whatever the fuck you think they are to each other) to becoming a solo, and treating the members as if they are just spare and whatever they do or say should revolve positively around the X member that you solo stan.. HUM.

Needless to say the amount of guilt tripping is astronomical, making Army feel guilty about having a goddamn life and not being able to post to show their support or "share proof" of them actually streaming.. Darling no one owes you anything, whatever effort a person does whether they show it to you or not, that is none of your goddamn business, don't make anyone feel bad for their effort, just because YOU have enough spare time to be chronically online it doesn't mean everyone is.

I'll go back to what i mentioned above and take it as an example whether it's me or anyone else, do i have enough time to be coming in here the same way i used to? Not for now, am i still streaming while doing my internship when i'm supposed to stay professional? Yes. Well same goes for many others, some Army are parents too, besides work they have a family to tend to, if you are still young and unmarried with a lot of time to spare, good for you, not everyone is.

Some ex-Army couldn't even handle the pression of being an Army because of people guilt tripping them for not "showing proof of support" and to make it worse posting shit like "Oh you hate X member" because people are simply not making a new post every 2 seconds about the X member you are solo stanning according to YOUR standard.. You really need to go out and touch some grass.

"Oh but no i'm not a solo can't you see my reposts?" I couldn't give two fucks about what you repost or do not repost, it's the shit that you keep on saying, the pattern that you've created that many people noticed, you turning into a solo stan and trying to hide this with a few reposts, maybe just maybe if you are still not ready to assume that you've became a solo, then at the very least make a second account to go cry in there. You can't fool anyone when the pattern is patterning.

It is absolutely sickening to see this going on for MONTHS and just earlier i've seen a friend talk about it and i was reminded how with my girlies in our gc we would share posts related to the boys and everytime we were a bit confused about "some posts" we always had that "Um.. Was that person a solo to begin with or are we just not really understanding?"

Please for the love of God, take your solo stanning elsewhere, stop spitting venom at people for rules that YOU are setting.

With that being said, i hope y'all are having a nice day and STREAM MUSE!!!

[gent-illmatic]

A matter of time⏱

(A long af ramble)

I don’t care how long you’ve known some people, what the bond was, if they’re relatives, part of a community, childhood friends, best work buddies etc.

Everybody isn’t meant to stay in your life!

During my spiritual journey I realized you can’t “helicopter” over the people you care about. It’s a dysfunctional love language many of us have. I wanted to support and guide my loved ones to the best of my ability. I’m known as the therapist/fixer of any friend group I’m apart of.

I’m the Olivia Pope of this shit. However, I would end up being the emotional trash bag ,while they reject every plausible solution presented. Im the person strategizing how to get them on track and distracting from my own goals to save theirs (ppl pleasing). Silently seething because not only do they seem to care very little about themselves … but also about my time and effort in supporting them! They’re turning up while I’m stressing for them.

I also realized a lot of these actions stemmed from events in my childhood, but I digress!

Then the “Ah ha” moment hit!

They don’t owe me shit.

Why? … because it’s not my job to do that! They’re not calling for advice. They’re calling to vent. Yes, being a good listening ear is part of being a good support as well. We don’t always have to swoop in with “what you should do is…”. I also learned my actions of support make me seem like a “know it all” with good intentions. It sends signals that I don’t believe they are capable of figuring out their own issues. As if they were mentally challenged. This dynamic breaths life into resentment.

However, for people like me , that becomes exhausting after while. Loved ones complaining about the same bullshit misfortunes over & over without looking for solutions, better discernment, or to establish positive patterns/habits. Constantly returning back into the arms of what has them forever frustrated. Wanting you to hold all of their emotional and dysfunctional baggage. You are being spiritually drained!

🫠

Especially, if you’ve done the work for your own life’s outcome! With or without therapy! You’ve put in the effort aside from your prayers. Now, you’re reaping the peaceful benefits of the investment in your life. You feel your spirit and life being led to better pastures ….It’s time to realize…

You’ve outgrown them.

it’s time to love them from afar!

The dynamic you once shared has expired/changed. The people you were in the beginning, No longer exists now. It’s no longer serving or fulfilling.

People will always prioritize themselves (as they should). You need to make sure you do the same. Nobody will care about you more than yourself as an adult. You can care for your loved ones, and wish them well. Give them guidance if specifically asked. However, we can’t live for them or force them to take our advice! It doesn’t matter how great the quality of our advice is…. We don’t even have to experience the consequences of the advice we give them! They have the choice of what to take and what to leave! We don’t even know if we have all the facts of the scenario anyway. They have their journey and you have yours…

But….

If their dysfunctional life starts to effect yours just being in their company…you begin reaping their consequences for their choices…you notice yourself regressing … you recognize you’ve lost sight or esteem of your own life mission…

Fall back.

You are the average of the 5 closest people to you. Choose wisely!

The mental ease you receive for allowing people to “do them” and letting go is priceless. Now you have time to dedicate towards your own conquests , continue your own development, and learn from your own choices.

I’m rambling now… but one last thing

Beware: When people notice you walking away to a better life, they may morph into your enemy. They may spill your secrets, smear you, they may not even care about your absence. If that’s the case It’s all good… some people can live in your heart but not in your life!

Keep the grass cut🌾🐍🌾

-KANAAN🌱

[viiisenyas]

It confuses me that ppl in the hotd fandom say that Laenor loved Jace Luke and Joffrey. Did he tho? cuz... he was out drinking with his buddies and there was only one scene where he was actually being a dad to them. Fr, the only time he stepped in as a dad was when he named Joffrey and that was it.

I think it's a little more nuanced than that, Anon. But if I'm being entirely honest, (if a bit controversial) those children were not his obligation yet when he tried to step in, Rhaenyra kept him at arm's length until it was convenient to her.

Episode 6:

"You don't think to consult me before you name my child?" "He's our child, is he not?" "Only one of us is bleeding." "I deserve some say in the affairs of my own family." "You haven't seemed so interest in our affairs of late."

"I deserve some say in the affairs of my own family."

I find this interesting in particular. Upon a rewatch, I paid attention to Laenor's facial expressions and his tone of voice. Now it could be me, it could be a misinterpretation, but he seemed a bit exasperated if not desperate, almost pleading with Rhaenyra. Given that 10 years has been glossed over, we were robbed of seeing their actual dynamic. But what I can see is that he is attempting to assert his place as her husband, and Rhaenyra just waved him off with the following line of dialogue.

Keep in mind his facial expression deflating after she wanders out of frame. I genuinely do think that he was trying, but again, she kept him at arm's length. And of course this sets up later in the episode when he returns to Rhaenyra's room a bit drunk with Ser Qarl.

Notice how he seems more happy to go back to war?

"After all this time, this is just what I need. A little adventure. A good honest battle to enliven my blood again... A few months maybe - to be back at sea."

I don't know about you, but no man that has been in a happy marriage (hell, even a man who has a close bond with his supposed kids) would want to return to a fucking war unless he has no other choice. The way he says "to be back at sea," was almost in yearning.

At that point, he was more than happy to leave King's Landing because Rhaenyra made it abundantly clear that he's of no use to her.

And she continues to make snide remarks with regards to Ser Harwin's little outburst that brought even more negative attention to their family.

"Are you mad? Do you know what's happened while you've been guzzling all the ale in Flea Bottom - gods know what besides?"

If you watch his expression, it can be read as "What are you talking about," or it can be read as "Excuse me?" Pick your poison. (I don't know about you, but I read that as a homophobic microaggression.)

Now moving on to my point above.

"Dark rumours are hunting us, Laenor. They nip at our heels. Questions about our sons' parentage. Vile, disgusting insinuations." "Insinuations, are they?" "They are our sons! Yours and mine. And their true father will not abandon them now to go carousing through the Narrow Sea waggling his sword, and winking at his sailors."

Notice how she finally flips it around? Now, those boys are suddenly Laenor's responsibility. And as you can see with his sarcastic reply, he has no mind to listen to it. And I don't have to point out the second microaggression against his homosexuality.

Now Laenor says this, with conviction.

"I am a knight and a warrior. And I have played my part here. Faithfully, for ten years."

Which really drives home the point that he was trying to be a dutiful husband. He was trying to be a dutiful father. But then, Rhaenyra throws his efforts back into his face.

"You are owed nothing! For ten years you have indulged yourself at court, bought the finest horses, drunk the rarest of wines, fucked the lustiest boys. This was our agreement. I have not begrudged you."

Except she just did. Four times. in the literally same episode. Laenor did what any lord living at court would have done even if they weren't in the clusterfuck situation that he was sucked into.

Now, Laenor is completely done, and it's obvious that he wants no part in it.

"You do not desert your post when the storm lashes." "The wise sailor flees the storm as it gathers." "Very well, then I command you... as your Princess and heir to the throne, you are commanded to remain in King's Landing and at my side."

I'm certain that he was well aware of the rumours swimming about regarding Rhaenyra's actions and of course, I genuinely think he did his best to cover for both himself AND her after the first two Strong kids were born - otherwise he wouldn't be looking for an out in this specific scene. He probably would have left long ago.

TL;DR. I think Laenor did care about those kids, but Rhaenyra alienated him from actually being in their lives until shit hit the fan for her.

[thedreadvampy]

I think the thing that worries me about many approaches to mutual aid (and this isn't a criticism OF mutual aid, nor is it a new or unique concern) is yeah, that need for systematisation and, honestly, an amount of alienation that a lot of small communities are currently not super able to create.

like as somebody who grew up in a family shouldering the burden of failure of care. there's stuff you as a family member or friend or community member can and should do to support loved ones, and it's hard and unpleasant work at times but it needs doing.

but then on the other hand there's stuff that can only really effectively be done by someone whose relationship to that person is more distant and care-specific. because the burden of carrying on that close relationship can really get in the way, for both people, of the care work that needs to happen Right Now. and vice versa.

the need for more depersonalised/professionalised care can look like a lot of things. from being someone with a serious injury who doesn't want people they're close to to see them naked and vulnerable, to someone finding their resentment towards a parent make it hard for them to care for them in old age, to people who burn friendships out by being there through someone's violent manic episodes. it looks like adequate personal/professional boundaries with a therapist, so that you know that the session is just about you and not about them. it looks like being able to care for someone who's consistently vile and aggressive towards you because you know that at the end of the day you'll finish your shift and walk away into a space where you can take care of yourself.

like that's what a system where people don't fall through the cracks has to look like - a balance between what we owe each other through loving relationships, and what is best done by someone who isn't personally connected to the person needing care.

professionalised care isn't enough on its own. we all need community and personal relationships - and all of us will sometimes need to grit our teeth and weather some storms and go out of our way to keep that going.

but equally community care isn't enough on its own either. often we end up having to choose between being someone's friend/lover/family and being their carer, because they can be mutually exclusive. often we don't get a choice, because there's nowhere else they're getting that care. but your relationship doesn't come through unharmed and equal if you're regularly having to put your own wellbeing aside to provide in-depth care for someone. it can't. that affects both of you a lot. it affects power dynamics. it builds mutual resentments. it puts you in a position of either burning yourself out or abandoning them, and it puts them in a position of constantly mitigating their needs to keep you.

Like, when we talk about how in a fully functional community, shitty, unpleasant and miserable-to-be-around people can't be left without support, this is part of that. but also it's part of managing the tendency to burn ourselves and each other out and lose love by trying to be all things to all people.

there have to be some sort of distancing structures in place for some kinds of care - both physical and mental. idk what that looks like necessarily - shift rotas, committees, nominated carers without close existing ties, idk - but it can't just sit solely within existing friendships and relationships.

I do think a lot of communities understand this need, but communities working on mutual support and mutual aid often just straight up lack the resource and capacity to NOT be doing this in a close knit group. I don't know how to resolve this. but I've seen enough examples of people throwing themselves into the fire over and over again to the detriment of both the carer and the caree to know that it needs resolving.

[goldxnfemme]

also on the topic of harrow being femme [tlt spoilers] - theres a lot of coding that goes into harrow and gideon as simultaneously oppositional and complementary; the obvious layer stuff, like cavalier/necromancer dynamics, the reveal of how lyctors are made and the end of GtN. but also in the coding: they have, imo, 3 linked dichotomies: mars and venus, jesus and lucifer, and masculinity and femininity (although both through a lesbian lens). (also all 3 of these are intertwined). so mars/masculinity and venus/feminity is well-established; the astrological symbols for those planets give us the gendered symbols: the lucifer/venus connection is less well-known: lucifer comes from the latin word translating literally to light-bringer and in practical use to the morning star - venus. Harrow owes her existence to a terrible crime; furthermore harrows own name could be a reference to the harrowing of hell, a biblical event that took place while Jesus was temporarily dead: Gideon has a number of Jesus parallels - the GtN pool scene where she absolves Harrow of the sin that created her, the fact that her literal biological father is god, and that, having died in sacrifice, she is revived with her stigmata intact. Gideon's butchness is obvious, surface level, but people struggle with the idea of Harrowhark as a femme for reasons I don't quite understand.

Yes! That's actually a great analysis of the characters.

I think in this I'll address your last point a bit more:

"Gideon's butchness is obvious, surface level, but people struggle with the idea of Harrowhark as a femme for reasons I don't quite understand."

I think femmes have always been kind of a mystery outside of our own community, it makes me think about that piece, I can't remember where it's from, but it talks about this femme who bought and started wearing boots and the people outside her community would perceive her as butch for that, compared to when she was back with her community and people, butches specifically, would recognise all of it clearly as femme. I think people are somewhat misguided on these identities because, even outside of butch/femme circles, they've been somewhat used to when thinking of lesbians noticing and expecting butch signs, in such a way that femmes flew under the radar as an identity and definition and we still deal with that heavily today, even more so than the confusion between feminine lesbians and femmes.

When people look and see Gideon it's what they expect of butch, it's easily identifiable, now femme takes a little more, to understand the intention.

When it comes to this particular subject, I'll leave some parts I love of Persistence Desire by Joan Nestle:

"the femme is the lesbian who poses this problem of misinterpreted choice in the deepest way... Femmes are women who have made choices, but we need to be able to read between the cultural lines to appreciate their strength. Lesbians should be mistresses of discrepancies, knowing that resistance lies in the change of context."

"Butches were known by their appearance, femmes by their choices."

"I think that straight people know that there is something different about me, but I'm not always sure they know what it is." (Which I think fits for lgbtq+ people outside of butch/femme circles too)

And Butch Is A Noun by S. Bear Bergman:

"(For the record, I believe that the same is true of femmes; the femmes who get the most admiration, the most approbation in the queer community in which I live seem to be the ones who cherry-pick exactly what of femininity they want, mix it with a hearty dash of traditionally masculine characteristics like sexual agency, stompy boots, assertiveness, fondness for power tools, and so on, and shake up a gendered cocktail that makes traditional unexamined cultural femininity look a little watery, a little pale. This is what I see, as a longtime admirer of femmes in all their variations, but I freely acknowledge that I only see what any femme cares to show me, and it's really not for me to say."

Now, when it comes to tlt, I think for me Harrow's subtle behaviours and her little intricate rituals point very strongly to femme and I respect people who don't agree, but the notion of the impossibility of her as femme using arguments that would dismiss and invalidate a lot of femmes I know, even myself, femmes through and through, were odd to see, it's very constricted and it looks more like not considering her a feminine lesbian (sure, I'll take that) than not considering her femme and yes, there's a difference.

[beardedmrbean]

A missing persons case took a mysterious turn this week when a teenager walked into a Montana police precinct four years after she vanished without a trace in Arizona.

Alicia Navarro was 14 years old when she was last seen leaving her home in Glendale, Arizona, on 15 September 2019. She left her parents a note saying she would return but never did.

The disappearance of the teenager, who has autism, prompted a huge search involving the FBI and the Center for Missing and Exploited Children.

But, despite thousands of tips pouring in over the past almost four years, there was no sign of the missing girl – until now.

Glendale Police announced on Wednesday that the now-18-year-old walked into a police station thousands of miles away in a small town close to the Canadian border and told officers that she was the missing girl.

In a press conference, police spokesperson Jose Santiago said that Alicia is “by all accounts” well and has since been reunited with her mother.

“She showed up to a police department. She identified herself as Alicia Navarro. She basically asked for help to clear her off of a missing juvenile list,” he said.

“She is by all accounts safe, she is by all accounts healthy, and she is by all accounts happy,” he said.

Police Lt Scott Waite told reporters that the investigation so far indicates that Alicia ran away from home of her own accord.

“Every indication she’s given to us so far is that she willfully left her home,” he said.

“Now the dynamics surrounding that decision are obviously something we’re looking into.”

Lt Waite added that the investigation is still ongoing but the teenager is not facing any charges over her disappearance and is “not in any kind of trouble”.

Questions remain around where Alicia has been for the past four years and how she got from Arizona to Montana.

Police said that the reunion of Alicia with her mother Jessica Nunez was “emotionally overwhelming” for both of them and that the teenager was “very apologetic to what she has put her mother through”.

“She wanted to talk to her mom, and she wanted to make sure her mother knew she was OK,” said Mr Santiago.

Now, the teen and her mother are hoping to rebuild their relationship, he said.

“We will continue to work with our state, local federal partners and even across state lines to make sure that Alicia has everything that she needs,” said Lt Waite.

“That she’s taken care of, that her family is getting the help that they need, and that most importantly that this investigation is completed thoroughly and done correctly.”

Following news of her daughter’s return, Ms Nunez released a video statement saying that their case shows parents of missing children should never give up home of finding them.

“I do feel I owe this video to the community and to God,” she said in the video, shared on Twitter by 12 News journalist Bianca Buono.

“I first of all want to give glory to God for answering their prayers and for this miracle.

“For everyone who has missing loved ones, I want you to use this case as an example. Miracles do exist and never lose hope and always fight.

“My daughter, Alicia Navarro, was missing since September 15th 2019, she has been found safe.

“I do not know the details. I do confirm she is my daughter. She is alive and she is safe.”

She added: “This is recent news for me, it was an hour before it was posted on social media and the news. I don’t have details but the important thing is she is alive.

“I want to thank the community and God for all that you have done.”

[morbidist]

#WANTED PLOTS. A WISHLIST FOR LOUIS DEGARMO.

louis, out wandering early into the morning, hears the beginnings of a fight and out of sheer curiosity goes to investigate.  when he finds your muse being assaulted by two assholes, he steps in.  he could just knock them out or kill them outright, but he picks a fight with them instead.  it’s more fun this way, but by the time he’s done, they're both in bloodied, dismembered heaps on the pavement & he’s got blood dripping down his chin onto his shirt & uh oh! your muse saw the entire thing. depending on their reaction, he has to either convince them (by way of threats, probably) or incapacitate them long enough for him to take them to his home upstate [*thread dependent].  because he can’t possibly let them start telling everyone about the monster in town.  well, he could, because who would believe them anyway? but it’s more fun this way...

louis happens upon a newly turned werewolf or vampire and has to help them:  a) learn how to come to terms with the fact that they aren’t human, and/or b) learn to exist in a world full of hunters with skills that far surpass their own.​

give me that one plot where your muse spends years seeking out supernatural creatures because they want to be turned.  they don’t want humanity anymore and they’re wholeheartedly willing to give it up.  they’re “lucky” enough to find louis–and now they have to convince him to turn them.  of course, he’s going to be an asshole about it and really make them jump through hoops.  or, another option: they find louis and see how he is, how indiscriminately he kills, how brutal he can be. suddenly they’re not so sure about giving up their humanity.  for a darker twist, maybe louis isn’t so happy about them changing their minds; they’ve wasted his time so now he’s going to make them pay for it.

after hiring your muse to be a private tutor for some subject he’s suddenly got an interest in, meetings always take place at louis' home upstate [*thread dependent]. things start to get eerie for them when they start to pick up on all these strange things about louis and his unusual personality, his weird hybrid-related quirks.  he can pick up on their growing unease straight away, but he doesn’t mention it; he keeps things cordial, just smiling through it.  three weeks later, they get the courage to confront him about it and demand the truth.  bonus points if they end up being from a hunter family... can you imagine the angst?!

give me louis + hunter plots!!! all of them!!!!!

a specific hunter-esque plot:  some twenty years ago, louis took a young orphan child under his wing (he does nice things every couple of years!).  he cared for them while they couldn’t & taught them to hunt wildlife and defend themselves against both animals and people.  they parted ways while the kid was still relatively young, but old enough and smart enough to care for themselves.  flash-forward to now, when louis is running as a wolf in his woods and here they are, all grown up with a crossbow aimed at louis' heart.

witches!! give me all the witches!!!  louis loves witches so give me one that hates his guts and can’t stand him, but he still shows up unexpectedly with that one thing they need but don’t have.  “stop coming here, i told you—you aren’t welcome.  i’ll set you on fire.”  —  “but wait, i brought this thing for you.”  and the entire dynamic is just louis hardcore adoring them while they can’t stand him.

also give me one-sided relationships where louis is the one being taken advantage of; a witch who isn’t afraid to use his love for them to their advantage, one who only tolerates his presence because of the things he does for them, etc.

another witchy plot (we love our witches here) where louis unexpectedly comes across a scent that reminds him of dahlia, his creator.  he’s completely thrown and just freezes up for a few minutes because he hasn’t come across a scent like that in hundreds of years—and for it to be so alike is insane on its own.  as insane as anything in his world can be.  apparently, dahlia has a distant ancestor that louis wasn’t aware of.  give me an awkward, hesitant first meeting and eventual bonding! also: maybe they don’t yet know they’re a witch, so louis has to break it to them. *this one requires some plotting, as dahlia is very close to my heart.

found family plots!! family dynamics!! please. i want close connections and louis to struggle with them; i want new people coming into his life and reminding him of the past; i want new relationships that challenge what he knows of love and allow him to learn new, better ways of expressing it... i want him to learn how to love someone again after being alone for so long!!

give me... louis + human ships!! platonic or romantic; they're always tragic.

[brownfrogs]

so Hanzo and Cole set up this agreement to help each other out and scope out different information, at first there is a hesitance bc Cole knows the Shimada Clan does /a lot/ more than just robberies so he is naturally hesitant to make this alliance.

the adding of ashe could give such a fun scene of Hanzo being like a little jealous and asking like, fine purely for 'business reasons' you don't have any romantic relations I should know about… And Cole is like ... Ashe??? and just laughs at him. Hanzo just blinks and is like ??? very obviously missing the context maybe thats the lore drop of them growing up together and some fun stuff but both are like dating?? never.

maybe they used to perform together in deadlock (maybe deadlock was a band of sorts who would sneak into events under cover as the entertainment.) and her and Cole often were talked about as a duo when in reality Ashe was who taught him to play guitar or smth sweet like that

oh and they absolutely have some intimate moments here and there. but later on we see Hanzo getting badly affected by the clan. Maybe this is where we see a Hanzo & Genji divide starts to happen. Hanzo is like venting about Genji going off and just being human and Cole is like don't yall think the clan shouldn't be getting you into this shit, like theft is one thing but (not sure what the crime is yet, maybe some sort of displacement of famous performers, thats how we loop around with singers and such) xyz is a whole other.

but the story arc would see the corruption of the clan happen before us, we have like some super sweet moments of Cole comforting Hanzo when he breaks apart from being overwhelmed with responsibility and realising that maybe, /just maybe/ he shouldn't have to have the weight of this entirety crime syndicate on his shoulders.

like i imagine they both have their own limits about whats morally correct or morally grey if anything but i think the corruption would take it too far for both of them, this could be genji being exiled or something similar

so i could see them bounding together against both of their organisations and thats when we get the yeehan dynamic in such full so when we do have our OW police and detectives coming in at first it's definitely hostility but then its our anti heroes working against the police bc they won't handle the missing subjects with enough care

like theyd only care about arresting the criminals not getting back the ppl whilst Hanzo and Cole are like no we need our people. they matter.

also i could see them both truly indulging in casual intimacy that isn't limited to threatening grabs and shoves.

like being held??? being simply /held/ when they are in an industry so rough and tough and having the most gentle hug and soothing lullabies would truly be healing for them

Ugh I honestly don’t have much to add to this bc this is already so perfect.

Cole saying him and Ashe practically raised themselves in this cruel world but made it on the other side. Maybe not so different to Hanzo and Genji.

Knowing that Sojiro gets assassinated, I like to think it left a power vacuum over to who will get his districts/finances/weapons, since Hanzo wasn’t established fully yet. The elders stepped in to fight off the Hashimoto claiming territory outright, but they felt Genji was out of control and needed to be leashed in by Hanzo. They manipulate him into thinking Genji is feeding the police information or something similar to make him turn on his brother. But thankfully Cole is there to instill some sense into him enough to break through that control. And also just be a comforting shoulder to lean on.

I LOVE CASUAL INTIMACY BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM. (I honestly think of this art piece all the time bc of it) Hanzo and Cole facing each other as they talk softly of things, legs touching, Cole placing one of Hanzo’s bangs behind his ear, Hanzo squeezing Cole’s knee. Cole dressing Hanzo in his expensive suit, tying his tie, fixing his cufflinks. Hanzo getting Cole new cigars and carrying a lighter just for him to light without as so much a word. Allowing themselves to be vulnerable and comfortable with each other in a world that would punish them for it? Incredible.

Then the kidnappings start happening yes, and maybe Kiriko’s dad is the latest one (instead of a swordmaster he could be a musician) and Kiriko asks for their help along with her little crew to get justice. So they can be in full swing along with the rest of their people and have a nice satisfying ending haha

[canichangemyblogname]

My friend got into her feels about Heartstopper. Watching the show left her with regret for what she didn't get as a queer kid. Heartstopper had her thinking about what could have been despite living in a world where it never would have been.

I spoke with her about this, and we discussed how nostalgia, even for what never was, often looks at life through rose-tinted glasses. She was searching for an ideal world that never existed, doesn't currently exist, and will likely never exist. The world of Heartstopper is entirely fictional. Nick and Charlie are far more emotionally intelligent than the average person in part because the genre and the progression of the story's plot necessitate them working through complex emotions. Young queer love doesn't usually look like what Nick and Charlie have. It's messy and awkward in a way Nick and Charlie never will be because Nick and Charlie's romance is fantasy. Real life isn't nearly as fair or kind to us. Real-life people aren't afforded the same comfort, safety, acceptance, or space these kids in this fictional show are.

And that's the saddest part about the show. The way it contrasts with reality is the most painful part.

She got choked up and, through her tears, told me that she does not even want a relationship right now, but still feels this almost intangible grief which she attributed to not having had a (romantic) relationship like those portrayed in the show. I mentioned that what she's grieving maybe isn't romance, but the lack of a robust support system. I told her that she may need a more diverse friend group full of people who can meet her emotional needs more frequently (more frequently than me). "We work together now, and that changed our dynamics. We don't meet to discuss what we did like we used to. You may be feeling like your relationships; your friendships, specifically, are unfulfilling, and may need to find more friends or build more robust community with a diversity of people." I told her that our emotional needs won't always be met in the way we need when we communicate that need, especially if our support systems are fragile or small, and that being able to reach out to lots of different people for support- a primary theme of the show- is beneficial.

There is an epidemic of loneliness among our youth, and many are throwing themselves at or pressuring themselves into romance to alleviate that pain and this feeling of a void. We often discuss building community, but now how or even if people have access to the space and tools to build that community. We often discuss the need for emotional maturity and conflict resolution but not how to achieve it so that community does not dissolve at the slightest sign of discordance. And that's why unrealistic- nearly idealistic- shows like Heartstopper can be so important for young people, namely teens. The characters don't just model representation but also emotional maturity, conflict resolution, self-care, and how to support friends and loved ones when they are most in need. The show models empathy; an empathy so many are campaigning to counteract through the demolition of DEI and SEL initiatives.

I also feel people are focusing so much on regret for a childhood entirely out of their control that they forget the messages of this show. The show is about creating a kinder and fairer world. It's about making the space for people to explore identity and be themselves. It's about having patience with yourself. It's about the hard work that goes into creating sturdy support systems and communities. It's about taking your time to learn and grow. It's about overcoming adversity. It's about acceptance. It's about how you don't owe anyone anything. You don't owe them a performance. You don't owe them the personal details of your life. And you don't owe them a justification for who you are.

And it's about how there's no timeline. Life has no timeline. Romance has no timeline. Coming out has no timeline. Aging has no timeline.

"Probably a bit late for me to have any youthful moments of discovery." "Don't think there's an age limit on those, to be honest."

Don't grieve something that never died.

[foggyparadisecandy]

[tw: tough topics ahead … not worth reading .. should not be read if you are not in a good space … honestly shouldn’t be read by anyone .. I’m venting them because this is my space and I’ll use it how I want… the warning and the break are so you don’t have to read it.]

I apologize for my previous post (since deleted). I’m in a slightly better space.

I know why I’ve slipped back into depression.

I’ve been reading up on trauma … so I can better understand my ex … and I can better understand me.

This has opened up a lot of stuff in me that I’ve held on to for … oh … forever. Starting with the most recent stuff …

I love my ex. I believe I do and that’s all that matters. I care about her. I’m worried about her. And she is not safe. And there is nothing that can be done.

That makes me feel so powerless. Big shock: I’m a control freak. I’m a domineering, control freak and to be powerless to help someone I love? Pretty fucking powerful negative emotions crashing into me.

Worse? I’ve realized I love her like a daughter. Which … maybe the dd/lg thing has a bunch of that baked into it plus the sexual aspects which makes it “hot” and kinky … idk.

I’m pretty fucking much a n00b in the bdsm space - at least as an active participant. I need to dig into the dynamics and see if most “daddies” feel like actual fathers to their lg’s.

All I know is that I’ve come to realize that is how I think of her. And I have this overwhelming sense of “keep my baby safe” that is killing me. I realized earlier .. “keeping her safe” was always an illusion.

I can’t keep her safe. Even if I was with her every second of the day, keeping someone else safe from all life throws at them is a … dangerous mindset. So. I can set that down. And if I find I pick it back up, I need to remember this and set it back down.

I also have been ghosted by her. This is tougher for me. It dings my ego and belief that I’m some sort of savior that she needs. No. She clearly doesn’t *need* me. She’s a fully functioning (although saddled with some serious trauma of her own) human being. We were together and shared some beautiful experiences. She doesn’t *need* me. So I can set that down too. She has decided she doesn’t need a savior and that’s her choice, not mine. I respect that even if it bugs me.

And she doesn’t owe me anything. Although, admittedly, I find that last bit hard to swallow because I know she loved me deeply even up to the end. Shit, if we don’t owe our loved ones common courtesies, I just don’t know what the fuck is up with the world. She’s young. She doesn’t have my perspective on loving relationships. Also true: my own perspective is probably (haha definitely) screwy from my own bullshit.

The ghosting hurt also because I didn’t get any proper closure or explanations. In the end, she was sending so many confusing messages at me. But this one, as hard as it is, is just what it is. I know she wasn’t thinking clearly about her own safety and well-being in the end. It’s impossible to think she was ever going to give either of us good closure. So I need to set that down too. The closure is to be found on my own. And I think … appreciating what she brought me and shared with me … which was extremely lovely and enjoyable.

I worry about her future potentially being diminished. But it’s not mine to worry about. She’ll either get it or she won’t. I know this. I keep forgetting. She’ll either survive her mission or she won’t. I can’t keep her safe from that and I can’t bring her home.

Set it down. Set it down. Set it down.

Ahhhhh sometimes talking these things out is useful. I’ve repeated this stuff so many times, it’s getting easier to get there each time. Instead of getting stuck in depression, I need to remember the lessons and set these things down if I find I’ve picked them back up.

These aren’t burdens I can carry anymore or should carry. As tough as it is to admit, I’m not a god. Many days I’m barely a functioning human lol.

Then … setting all that down .. I think I see my real problems … my childhood shit. I’m not sure I can even consider it at the moment without spiraling so I’m calling it a night on this venting.

I wrote that little song the other day which was pretty spot on imo. A friend told me it was kind of fucked up how painful it was to read. Yeah. I get it. I lived it.

lol some of y’all are masochists if you keep reading these things. I’m so so sorry … I just need to work these things out and there is a comfort in imagining another human is reading my stuff and feeling my emotions.

It’s nice to imagine a connection with others when we are hurting. It feels better than dumping this to my private journal.

Thank you fellow humans.

[enki2]

i hate that twitter screenshot that's been going around that's basically telling people never to consider other people's feelings and then conflating that with "taking up space". it's stupid, and because people are liable to take it seriously, it's also kind of dangerous.

living in a society means stepping back and assessing how our actions affect other people. humans are not born domesticated: it takes about 20 years for us to get to the point where we begin to be effective at avoiding hurting the people we love, under ideal circumstances, and few of our circumstances are ideal.

a relationship with another human being involves both people making a good faith effort to suppress and redirect those instincts that, if not suppressed or redirected, would harm the other person. this can never be done perfectly, because human beings are wild beasts, and because our society is not built around fulfilling our needs the way personal relationships *must* be.

most people who cannot redirect their desires to pro-social ends are children, so we call people who choose not to do this childish.

for instance, i have a very human need: i want the people i like to also like me. sometimes this is simply impossible: i fail too often to behave in ways someone finds acceptable, and they can't be around me; to demand that they continue to be my friend would be childish! similarly, if i demand that they show me affection without justifying it, that would be childish. the adult thing to do is, if you want somebody to like you, be likeable, and if they still don't like you, give up and leave them alone.

healthy relationships involve people trying their best to be mutually tolerable, doing things for each other to try to make up for the future when they will inevitably fail to be tolerable, trying to forgive what failures are forgivable, and handling the collapse of this arrangement in such a way as to minimize pain (since all human relationships are doomed, if only by the inevitability of death).

part of the reason the meme annoys me so much is that people should know better. like, OP is using therapy language but apparently never fucking read madness and civilization? go back to high school, re-take intro psych, and come back when you're not gonna try to convince lonely vulnerable people that the key to love and friendship is to become that one friend with no self control who everybody dreads hanging out with

the sane version of this is: yes, anybody who doesn't give you at least as much slack for failing to cater to their needs as you give to them is not being fair, and a relationship with them is not going to last, so maybe cut them off.

but don't become an adult that needs to be babysat just because some tweet told you that all your impulses are perfect

"take up space" is also a horrible framing.

accept the space that is offered to you, and if the space that is offered is too cramped to live in, leave. don't invite yourself into somebody's house and steal their couch.

this only applies to friendships and other kinds of equitable arrangements, of course.

when it comes to, say, work, being careful to avoid imposing on people is not always an ethical consideration: it's one thing to impose upon colleagues, but you don't owe your boss any courtesy; instead, it is a matter of life or death ("being authentic" at work *will* get you fired, pretty much no matter *who* you are or *where* you work, and regardless of ostensible legal protections). we should not allow ourselves to confuse the two situations (which may even overlap and interact, but which have extremely different dynamics).

[mmbaaccountants]

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After all, London’s recognised status as an international financial hub means that if you are a UK business in need of an offshore tax assist London really is the logical place to come. And of course there are many other aspects of tax regulation in the UK jurisdiction that we might also recommend you get some advice on from a suitably experienced tax accountant.

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[my-life-literally]

You know R, I couldn’t accept those “blooms” from you today. I am not a toy you can pick up when you feel generous, or when you feel like connecting. I am mindful that you claim nice gestures in front of others. But in our exchanges, you remind me of how useless, fake, and what a negative force I am in your life. Always, I apologize. Always. 

Ok. I believe you. I believe that for the last ten years our relationship has seriously deteriorated. If not, then it has always had an undertone of fakeness. I take full responsibility for that. For my actions. And for my actions impacts on you, and our relationship. 

I don’t think that I need to be in your life. I don’t think you need to be in mine. I have worked to put your feelings ahead of mine for the majority of our lives. Every thing I did wrong, you brutalized me for. Every time I fell in love, you scoffed, laughed, and threatened my partners. You blamed me for anything bad that happened to you. I believe that I am not a good force in your life. 

And I don’t want to pretend. 

Our relationship was never what I thought it was. It was coerced under abuse of all kinds. And I am setting it free. 

You told me that you don’t believe me when I say it, but, I truly do want you to be happy. I am happy that you have started afresh with your husband. I don’t want anything to stop you or your happiness, safety, and wellbeing. And I release you. 

I have given most of my life to caring for the emotional, well being of the family we were both born into. A family that I did not create. I have celebrated you and supported your relationships in a way you have not supported mine. You laughed. And I am letting you go. I don’t know if I can say I am letting you go in love, because I don’t know if that can exist between us, after everything I have done. I suppose then, that I am letting go in safety. Be well. 

I am alone, R. I am alone because I have spent years trying to figure out what is wrong with me. Why did I do that to you? What was it like for you to grow up alongside your monster of a sister? How can I make sure we are protected from our mother? And you never wanted that. You never wanted me. I didn’t choose you and you didn’t choose me. I don’t exist for you and you don’t exist for me. 

You offered me blooms today, after you berated me to your new family to the point of no one speaking to me at your wedding. Your husband won’t speak to me or look me in the eye anymore when we’re in the same room, which is rarely. You reemed me out when I suggested therapy. You said my depression was selfish. And the worst of it is, you equated me to our mother. 

I don’t know what the future holds. But right now, I need space from this dynamic. It is not healthy. And it’s burned into my brain like walking. And I wish it could be different. God knows that I wish it could be different. I can’t tell you the countless hours I have talked about this with C, I, A, P and counsellors on what to do, how to conduct myself, how to make myself less harmful to you. But it’s not different, the situation is the situation. I am a person too, R. I barely have time or mental space to think about my own traumas. And I am alone - just to think of all these things. I understand you needed to leave, and that’s ok. But I have feelings too. I am a person too. I am a real sister. I don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the texts you sent last October, but I feel like I truly don’t owe you anything. Not in an angry way. Just in a I am letting it go way. There is nothing more I can do. 

I feel like if I accepted them, it’s just fake. You get to feel like you have solved the problems or are taking steps. But I have a feeling there is a show right around the corner you probably want me to participate in. And I am not. For most of my life, I felt like our relationship was one of the only real things in my life. And it wasn’t. And our of respect for that, for what real sisterhood is or can be, I just can’t do these trinkety things. I am not doing it here and I am not doing it anywhere. 

I am no longer your emotional punching bag. Or yo-yo or whatever. I am tired. And I am aware I turned down the flowers of my pregnant sister. But I can’t. I just can’t accept them in good faith. I can’t accept the show of it, especially in front of our male family members. I don’t even think you know you’re doing what you do. But it’s fake. And I am no longer pretending anything.