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desireangel · 3 months ago

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Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen

Part Two

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o

Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!

Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Part One

Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach.

His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.

It was always on your mind. Always.

Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.

And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger.

Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.

You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job.

Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand.

If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all.

Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another.

On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly.

Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.

You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.

The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”

Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough.

Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know.

“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read.

Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that.

But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you.

Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you.

Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking.

“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there.

Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance–, you never flinched away from his touch.

Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose.

If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw.

There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy.

He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine.

No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince.

A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him.

But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage.

Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing.

The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue.

When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin.

Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.”

“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”

You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”

It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did.

But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you.

You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.

So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt.

A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago.

He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm.

One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that.

Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide.

Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance.

And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.

For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression.

“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”

With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless.

Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice.

There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption.

“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”

You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye.

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”

Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong.

Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger.

You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”

The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.

Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all.

Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there.

But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat.

“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”

Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist.

“My prince-”

“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”

The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating.

You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”

If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned.

There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived.

So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it.

“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”

Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.”

And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome.

A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you.

The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut.

You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced.

Footsteps. Again.

Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck.

It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was.

So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard. Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers.

You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.

Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you.

If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing.

But what else had you expected?

This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head.

Gods, you had never known anything like it.

Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist.

You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery.

Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him.

For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in?

Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.

Like things were going exactly how he had planned.

Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much.

The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear.

And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn.

Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along?

It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s?

You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.

Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.

He wanted you to see.

Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place.

The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day.

For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.

Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.

It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman.

There was none. Not a single strand of hair.

You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him.

“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”

You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”

Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava.

He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing.

The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”

“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”

Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”

“I did not think you cared to take note.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”

Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”

“I do not.”

You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”

“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”

“Answer my question, Aemond.”

“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”

“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”

The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”

Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat.

“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”

“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw.

There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”

“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”

Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time.

The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck.

When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach.

You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”

“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.”

For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”

You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs.

The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips.

Lavender, leather and him.

“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”

Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view.

His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”

“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable. “You should not have indulged in that whore.”

Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.

You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh.

It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him.

You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.

There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”

A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter.

You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.

“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.”

Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?”

You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”

Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”

“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”

“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”

You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”

“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”

Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap.

Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure.

You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.

“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”

“Gods, no–do not sto-”

Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter.

“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”

“No.”

It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.

Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan.

You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad.

“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor.

Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline.

“You would not dare,” he all but growled.

“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?”

Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”

“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”

There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile.

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 1 year ago

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⚔️ MWII (2022) Character Ages (as of 2022) ⚔️

I was on a character age brainrot back in January and now It's back because of @angelsarewatching so I'm gonna go ahead and post this on Tumblr. Tell me what you think tho and discussions are open!

🐑 Gen. Shepherd - Around late 50s, Pushing 64. I searched it up and apparently, the mandatory retirement age for all general officers is 62, in some cases 64. But if he got into the recommendation list after Brigadier General (O-7), it's allowed to be more than 62. He's a Lt. Gen, so that's O-9. Also, Glenn Morshower (Shepherd's actor) is 64 so let's go with that.

🧠 Laswell - 47-ish. At MOST 55. (Rya Khilstedt is 52. AMAZING BEAUTIFUL SHOW -STOPPING)

🚁 Nikolai - 45 as well. I would go with 48 though.

🪦 Graves - 40. He gives Texan cowboy energy. I just know he's an old dude and is actually older than the rest of the gang.

🛖 Alejandro and 🦂 Valeria - 37. Maybe 38. I don't know at what age someone could make the rank Colonel 'cause that's quite high up the ladder. (They might as well be older than Price. Shit, they might be 40.)

🚬 Price - 37 (Canon) c. 1985.

🐎Rudy - 36. He's been close with Alejandro for 20 years now. Assuming they're bestest of friends and knew each other even before military, Rudy would be around 36/37 as well.

💀 Ghost - 35 or lower. As far as I know, lieutenants are usually young, unless he enlists first before a few years later he went to the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst (RMAS). OR. His preference and efficiency of working alone are far better for use on the battlefield. The higher you are in the ranks, the more soldiers you are responsible for. So the higher-ups might purposefully don't promote him (and he prefers and agrees to it as well) so that he can continue working alone rather than leading a squad. He surely can lead a team, but he's better at doing shit alone. Crazy theory but hey, it's fiction.

🦿Alex - 35 (Alex was a Delta Force until 2013. Assuming he's around 26 when he finally goes to the CIA, that means he's around 32yo in 2019 and 35yo in 2022)'

🔭 Hadir - 33/34 (Canon) 1986/1987. I’m choosing 34 tho since in the ‘Hometown’ mission he was almost a teenager.

☀️ Farah - 30 (Canon) January 12th 1990.

🧢 Gaz - 26 (Canon). The bio says he enlisted in the British Army in 2014. Assuming Gaz finished high school first, he must’ve enlisted when he was 18yo. That means he was 23yo in MW19 and 26yo in MW22.

🧼 Soap - 26 (Canon). He’s canonically the youngest one in Task Force 141. The bio mentioned that his cousin is in SAS and he often time visits the base. Setting aside the fact that the cousin brought a fucking kid to a top-secret base, lil’ Johnny must’ve been like “I DON’T WANNA GO TO SCHOOL I WANT TO BE AN SAS SOLDIER” and he canonically LIED about his age. Apparently, he went in when he was 16 but got caught several times, until finally when he was 18 he got in.

That's it folks! Tell me what you think (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

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agapi-kalyptei · 4 months ago

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crowdstrike: hot take 1

It's too early in the news cycle to say anything truly smart, but to sum things up, what I know so far:

there was no "hack" or cyberattack or data breach*

a private IT security company called CrowdStrike released a faulty update which practically disabled all its desktop (?) Windows workstations (laptops too, but maybe not servers? not sure)

the cause has been found and a fix is on the way

as it stands now, the fix will have to be manually applied (in person) to each affected workstation (this could mean in practice maybe 5, maybe 30 minutes of work for each affected computer - the number is also unknown, but it very well could be tens (or hundreds) of thousands of computers across thousands of large, multinational enterprises.

(The fix can be applied manually if you have a-bit-more-than-basic knowledge of computers)

Things that are currently safe to assume:

this wasn't a fault of any single individual, but of a process (workflow on the side of CrowdStrike) that didn't detect the fault ahead of time

[most likely] it's not that someone was incompetent or stupid - but we don't have the root cause analysis available yet

deploying bugfixes on Fridays is a bad idea

*The obligatory warning part:

Just because this wasn't a cyberattack, doesn't mean there won't be related security breaches of all kinds in all industries. The chaos, panic, uncertainty, and very soon also exhaustion of people dealing with the fallout of the issue will create a perfect storm for actually malicious actors that will try to exploit any possible vulnerability in companies' vulnerable state.

The analysis / speculation part:

globalization bad lol

OK, more seriously: I have not even heard about CrowdStrike until today, and I'm not a security engineer. I'm a developer with mild to moderate (outsider) understanding of vulnerabilities.

OK some background / basics first

It's very common for companies of any size to have more to protect their digital assets than just an antivirus and a firewall. Large companies (Delta Airlines) can afford to pay other large companies to provide security solutions for them (CrowdStrike). These days, to avoid bad software of any kind - malware - you need a complex suite of software that protects you from all sides:

desktop/laptop: antivirus, firewall, secure DNS, avoiding insecure WiFi, browser exploits, system patches, email scanner, phishing on web, phishing via email, physical access, USB thumb drive, motherboard/BIOS/UEFI vulnerabilities or built-in exploits made by the manufacturers of the Chinese government,

person/phone: phishing via SMS, phishing via calls, iOS/Android OS vulnerabilities, mobile app vulnerabilities, mobile apps that masquerade as useful while harvesting your data, vulnerabilities in things like WhatsApp where a glitched JPG pictures sent to you can expose your data, ...

servers: mostly same as above except they servers have to often deal with millions of requests per day, most of them valid, and at least some of the servers need to be connected to the internet 24/7

CDN and cloud services: fundamentally, an average big company today relies on dozens or hundreds of other big internet companies (AWS / Azure / GCP / Apple / Google) which in turn rely on hundreds of other companies to outsource a lot of tasks (like harvesting your data and sending you marketing emails)

infrastructure - routers... modems... your Alexa is spying on you... i'm tired... etc.

Anyway if you drifted to sleep in the previous paragraph I don't blame you. I'm genuinely just scratching the surface. Cybersecurity is insanely important today, and it's insanely complex too.

The reason why the incident blue-screened the machines is that to avoid malware, a lot of the anti-malware has to run in a more "privileged" mode, meaning they exist very close to the "heart" of Windows (or any other OS - the heart is called kernel). However, on this level, a bug can crash the system a lot more easily. And it did.

OK OK the actual hot lukewarm take finally

I didn't expect to get hit by y2k bug in the middle of 2024, but here we are.

As bad as it was, this only affected a small portion of all computers - in the ballpark of ~0.001% or even 0.0001% - but already caused disruptions to flights and hospitals in a big chunk of the world.

maybe-FAQ:

"Oh but this would be avoided if they weren't using the Crowdwhatever software" - true. However, this kind of mistake is not exclusive to them.

"Haha windows sucks, Linux 4eva" - I mean. Yeah? But no. Conceptually there is nothing that would prevent this from happening on Linux, if only there was anyone actually using it (on desktop).

"But really, Windows should have a better protection" - yes? no? This is a very difficult, technical question, because for kernel drivers the whole point is that 1. you trust them, and 2. they need the super-powerful-unrestrained access to work as intended, and 3. you _need_ them to be blazing fast, so babysitting them from the Windows perspective is counterproductive. It's a technical issue with no easy answers on this level.

"But there was some issue with Microsoft stuff too." - yes, but it's unknown if they are related, and at this point I have not seen any solid info about it.

The point is, in a deeply interconnected world, it's sort of a miracle that this isn't happening more often, and on a wider scale. Both bugfixes and new bugs are deployed every minute to some software somewhere in the world, because we're all in a rush to make money and pay rent and meet deadlines.

Increased monoculture in IT is bad for everyone. Whichever OS, whichever brand, whichever security solution provider - the more popular they are, the better visible their mistakes will be.

As much as it would be fun to make jokes like "CrowdStroke", I'm not even particularly mad at the company (at this point - that might change when I hear about their QA process). And no, I'm not even mad at Windows, as explained in the pseudo-FAQ.

The ultimate hot take? If at all possible, don't rely on anything related to computers. Technical problems are caused by technical solutions.

#crowdstrike #cybersecurity #anyway i'm microdosing today so it's probably too boring to read #but hopefully it at least mostly made sense #to be honest I wanted to have more of a hot take #but the truth is mundane

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wardenparker · 7 months ago

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 11

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now?” He arches a brow in challenge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

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

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

My Masterlist!

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

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snowdice · 26 days ago

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Big Bang Editing Story [Day 125]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57

I have been sick and I'm very tired, but I will work on the epilogue today for a bit at least!

Chapter 58 (Patton)

If Patton hadn’t already been looking, he probably wouldn’t have had any idea what happened.

Everything had been fine. Virgil had been sitting cross legged, idly watching the conclusion of the game they’d been playing when his posture had suddenly changed. Patton had looked over at him only to see an expression on his face he didn’t recognize, but it didn’t seem good.

“What?” Patton had asked, but the question didn’t seem to register to Virgil.

Logan had glanced up confused and also noticed Virgil’s face. He’d just opened his mouth to also ask what was going on when chaos descended.

Virgil was suddenly moving, crashing into King Thomas who hadn’t even looked up to see something was wrong at that point. Patton realized after the fact that Virgil had swiped up the board of the game they’d been playing as he jumped over it, the pieces previously stacked on it scattering all over the blanket. There were three thumps as some things hit the thick board, imbedding themselves into the surface.

When Virgil discarded the board in favor of the picnic basket, Patton saw there were small darts in it oozing a dark black liquid. The parts of the board they touched were dissolving, the grass under the new holes beginning to wilt rapidly.

Logan seemed to notice the oozing liquid the same moment Patton did and was quicker to realize what it was. He grabbed Patton’s arm and yanked him away from the board so hard he almost dislocated Patton’s shoulder, not that Patton was too worried about that. He scrambled away from it when he realized what it must be himself.

He could hear the sound of glassware smashing above them. Logan and Patton had rolled off the blanket in their quest to get away from the smoldering, melting board and apparently Virgil had pulled the picnic blanket fully over the king at some point.

Virgil himself was now gone from where he’d been the last time Patton had looked and it took him a moment to figure out where the boy had gone. The person who had been shooting poisoned darts at them had been drawn out of the wooded area they’d been hiding in by Virgil’s attacks.

They were cloaked in dark green from head to toe, explaining why they’d been difficult to spot when they were in the woods. Whoever they were, they were significantly larger than Virgil, possibly an actual adult or almost adult assassin, but they were also clearly a long distant fighter. They had not been expecting resistance let alone resistance in the form of a so quick he was almost a blur fellow assassin.

They had a bow strapped to their back, but they hadn’t had a chance to get it. Instead, they were trying to fight Virgil off with an arrow they’d managed to draw from their quiver. Virgil, meanwhile was lunging at them with a broken piece of plate in one hand and the picnic basket in the other.

Virgil dodged out of the way of the arrow striking towards his arm, though Patton didn’t think it was because he was afraid of getting scratched by an arrow, but because it may also be poisoned tipped.

Virgil was distracted by dodging for long enough that the older assassin managed to hit him in the face with the arm not holding the arrow.

He went down, but he took the older assassin with him, sweeping their legs out from under them. Patton hadn’t noticed (his mind working too slow for how fast they were moving) but they were on a slight incline. They went rolling in a tangle of arms and legs towards the edge of the cliff and skidded to a stop only a few feet away.

Virgil ended up on top, his piece of broken plate in his hands. He moved to slash it across the other assassin’s throat and managed to draw blood, but the assassin’s fist came out to shove at Virgil’s chest at just the right moment, causing the strike to veer off course and slice across the assassin’s cheek instead.

Virgil jerked to the side to avoid a second strike to the chest and went back for another slash. The other assassin rolled to the side as he did and the plate only managed to nick their ear. The point of the motion hadn’t been to dodge, however. They were lunging for the arrow they’d dropped a few feet away while they’d rolled. They grabbed it with their right hand and in the same motion stabbed back behind them towards Virgil.

Virgil rolled to avoid the hit, already slashing up with his plate as the assassin turned back towards him.

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He didn’t hit them this time but his swipe managed to stop them from stabbing him when they tried again. They shoved themselves back to avoid Virgil’s swing, putting a bit of distance between them. Both of them managed to make it to their feet during the momentary reprieve, but both also stayed crouched, eyeing each other.

They both lunged towards each other at the same time. The assassin went for a stab to Virgil’s neck with the arrow, but Virgil was already ducking down. This time, he wasn’t going for a kill shot. He grabbed the assassin’s wrist and at the same time drove his piece of plate into the assassin’s arm, slicing down from the elbow to wrist. The assassin spoke for the first time, cursing in a language Patton didn’t recognize as they were forced to drop their arrow.

Virgil took a moment to kick the arrow away from the assassin and it ended up falling off the cliff.

However, this pause gave the assassin enough time to regroup. Despite their arm bleeding profusely, they still decided to use it to backhand Virgil across the face viciously, leaving a long line of their own blood across his face.

Virgil lunged back forward, but the assassin was able to get a leg between them, kicking Virgil squarely in the chest and sending him flying back a few feet parallel to the cliff’s edge.

The assassin went to grab their bow and another arrow from the quiver still strapped to their shoulder.

Virgil, however, apparently went for another weapon too and he was much faster with a knife than any archer. A knife appeared in his hand, having been strapped to his ankle and was embedded into the assassin’s chest before they could even full remove an arrow from their quiver.

The assassin promptly burst into flames, fire catching their clothes (and from the smell of it their skin) ablaze. Panicked and dying, they stumbled two steps to the side. They stepped directly off the cliff.

There was a second of silence. They heard the sound of the body hitting the ground far below and then the flap of wings and screeching as birds below fled from the startling sound (and possible soon to be forest fire).

…

“Uh, Virgil?” King Thomas said. He had managed to get the blanket off his head at some point. When, Patton didn’t know, but seeing any of it was probably enough.

Oopsie.

Chapter 59 (Logan)

Logan and Patton had been useless during the fight, but that may have been for the best. Considering the skill differential when it came to fighting (and that differential had never been as clear as it was in this moment), that was probably for the best. They likely would have just gotten in the way.

The moment Logan’s father spoke, however, they both jumped into action.

They both knew their jobs in a situation like this. Patton pushed himself up to his feet ungracefully and all but sprinted over towards Virgil. Logan, on the other hand stood to face his father, putting himself very purposefully between the man who had no idea what was going on yet and the boy who was two seconds away from remembering what was going on.

“I can explain,” Logan said.

His father was still sitting on the ground. “You can explain,” he said slowly, “how Virgil just threw an assassin off a cliff.”

Logan thought pointing out that Virgil hadn’t thrown anyone off a cliff and instead had set them on fire with a magical knife causing them to walk off a cliff, would not be useful in this moment. He glanced back briefly towards where Virgil and Patton were standing and then turned back to his father. “Yes.”

“And what would that explanation be?”

Before even starting to speak, Logan found himself making large dramatic ‘explaining hand gestures’ that he’d thought he’d long since trained himself out of. When he was younger and in trouble, he always used to give himself away as guilty by being overly expressive with his hands (and arms).

“So,” Logan said. He was still not able to stop the hand motions. “Virgil was an assassin. He came here to kill you last fall, but he accidently went to the wrong room in the royal wing. Patton and I were having a slumber party and caught him in the act. Then we reformed him and now he doesn’t kill people anymore.” He paused and glanced back, remembering the body that had just toppled off the cliff. “Er, uh, he doesn’t kill people who haven’t shot poisoned darts at people recently anymore?”

“What?”

“Look,” Logan said. “You’re going to have to tell him you’re not going to execute him soon. Patton can only keep him from bolting for so long.”

“Execute him?” his father asked.

“Well, he was a Mocnejsi assassin sent to kill you,” Logan said.

“Virgil is a Mocnejsi assassin,” his father repeated as though to confirm he’d heard him right.

Logan had thought the Mocnejsi was implied. “He was,” Logan confirmed.

“Why does that make more sense than any other explanation I’ve come up with for him?” his father asked while pinching his brow. Logan took that as rhetorical. Then, his father looked at him again. “He’s 14.”

“Yes,” Logan said, “I’m also pretty sure this is the first person he’s actually killed while not under a blood compulsion, so you really need to tell him he’s not going to be executed.”

His father seemed to actually absorb Logan��s request this time. He finally looked over Logan’s shoulder at Virgil, concern crossing his face at what he saw. “Right.”

He moved to step around Logan then, and Logan let him. Logan turned to watch him slowly approach Patton and Virgil, his hands out in a placating manner. He stopped a few feet away.

“Hey,” his father said. “That was a bit scary, huh?” Virgil looked at him, eyes wide and darting around like they did when he was looking for an escape. There wasn’t much of one being so close to the edge of the cliff.

Logan would worry he’d contemplate throwing himself off of it in a bid to escape if Patton wasn’t clutching him to prevent that. “You did a good job.”

That seemed to give Virgil pause, his eyes focusing on father. “Good job?” he asked.

“Yes, well,” father said with a small smile, “judging by what those darts are doing to the grass and how far we are from any supplies for counter potions, I think you blocking them probably saved my life. So, I think a good job is in order.”

Virgil did not respond verbally, though he tilted his head like he did when he was thinking through the steps of a potion.

His posture changed enough that Patton released him cautiously, taking a step away.

“But,” Virgil said. “I’m an assassin.”

“Yes,” Father said. “I could tell by how that fight just went.”

Virgil shifted his weight. “I came here to kill you.”

His father spread his arms wide. “Yet, here I am,” he pointed out. “You’ve had me alone multiple times including once in a secret room possibly no one would have ever found. Plus, you saved me today. I think that more than makes up for the intentions you had months ago.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to send me to prison?” Virgil asked. “Or execute me?”

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“No, of course not,” his father said.

Virgil eyed him, still slightly warry.

“I promise, Virgil, you’re fine.”

“Dad wouldn’t lie,” Logan interjected. Virgil looked over at him and then back at Father. He nodded slowly.

“Good,” Father said. “Now can we get a bit further back from the edge?” He glanced at Patton. “You too, Patton.”

Virgil and Patton both stepped towards him, and he herded them far away from the edge until they were at the edge of the surrounding forest. Logan followed as well.

“Can I touch your face?” Father asked once they were sufficiently away from the cliffs.

Virgil nodded and father pulled out a handkerchief. He carefully wiped the blood off Virgil’s face the best he could (most of it was not Virgil’s) and inspected the boy’s split lip and already bruising eye.

“Is your chest alright?” Father asked.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah.”

Father considered him. “Enough to ride back to the castle.”

“It wasn’t that bad of a hit,” Virgil insisted.

Father studied him for a moment longer. “I’ll choose to believe you for now,” he said. “We should get back to the castle as soon as possible just in case this is not an isolated attack.”

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“We don’t work in teams,” Virgil informed them. “They worry we’d get emotionally attached and not complete our missions.”

“I can understand why they would say something like that,” Father said, letting just a bit of his scorn come through, “but still, we should be on our way.”

With that, he put an arm on Virgil’s back to guide him back towards where they’d left the horses.

“Huh,” Logan said to Patton as they began to walk behind them. “I thought we’d be in more trouble for all of this.”

His father paused at overhearing that, turning to look at them over his shoulder briefly.

“Ah,” said Logan with a grimace. “I see.”

“It’s been nice being your friend all these years Logan,” Patton said solemnly. “Too bad we’re both going to be locked in our rooms for the rest of our lives.”

“Until your 50s with good behavior,” Father informed them blandly.

That was… probably fair. They did allow an assassin to freely roam the castle for months without telling anyone. The fact that his father was now watching that assassin like a hawk to make sure he wasn’t more injured than he was saying, did not change that fact.

Logan couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

Epilogue

“Do you think they’ll light your trees on fire this year?” an amused (but slightly concerned) voice asked from behind Jeffers. Jeffers ran a finger over the empty thumb of his slightly dirty gardening gloves while watching the two boys. They were currently leaning over an unlit lantern and various “supplies.” In truth, he’d stopped his own work to watch the two boys out of that very concern.

“Virgil helped me fertilize that tree a week ago,” Jeffers replied. “So, I’d hope he has some caution.”

“Virgil likes fire though,” Thomas pointed out.

Jeffers sighed. “That he does.” He tilted his head towards Thomas. “You did confiscate the fire knife again after last week, yes?”

“I did,” Thomas confirmed, “but that means very little. Even burying that thing with a corpse did not dissuade him.”

As he spoke, a sudden spark of light flew from where the boys were working. A whining sound and then pop sounded as the spark exploded into 10 pieces, raining down colorful light. Luckily, they burned up before hitting the ground (or the tree).

“Boys, if you set anything on fire, you will be grounded from the festival,” Thomas called in a booming voice. Both boys jumped. Jeffers imagined Logan hadn’t even known he was there. (Virgil certainly did, but he still jumped. “For the second year in a row in Logan’s case.”

“They’re not flammable!” was the claim from Logan.

“I don’t believe you,” Thomas called back.

The boys ignored this, turning back to their experiment.

“We should have kept them grounded,” Thomas muttered. Despite Thomas’s original decision to ground Patton and Logan until their 50s (and Helen’s push to keep them grounded until Thomas, Helen, and Jeffers himself were all dead and couldn’t enforce it anymore), the boys had only been grounded for two months after Thomas had found out the truth of Virgil’s origins. That did, however, mean that Patton and Logan had been grounded from most of the lantern festival the year before.

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Logan, at least, seemed to be trying to make up for lost time this year (explosively). Jeffers did worry about where Patton was slightly, but honestly Patton without Logan or Virgil tended to be much less destructive in his hijinx. The worst he was probably doing was stealing sweets out from under Helen’s nose. Which was why both Jeffers and Thomas were currently here watching these two.

There were more sparks from the boy’s experiment. The grass caught fire at their feet. Virgil hastily stomped it out.

“I’ll watch them if you want to get food to bribe Virgil away,” Jeffers offered.

#proofreading stories

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thalialunacy · 6 months ago

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[for the @calaisreno May Prompts Squad; in which there are many Holmeses and parenting is a contact sport]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) 20: do-over (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

It's a new week, and John declares on Monday he's certain it's going to be easier than the last one.

What an idiot.

---

By the time they reach Wednesday, they've not been back from hospital twenty-four hours when Sherlock's dear mama orders them onto a train.

'Mother,' Sherlock hisses into his mobile, glancing across the room to where John is firmly planted on the sofa with his daughter tight in his arms, watching Peppa Pig. 'Rosamund just got out of A&E. We don't want to go down the street, let alone out to a place so far from an adequate hospital that--'

'Oh, poppycock'

'I'm sorry?'

'Now, don't be angry at me, darling. I know you must be frightened to bits for your little girl--'

Sherlock turns away from the sofa again, chest clenching for the approximately thousandth time in the past two days. 'She's not my little girl,' he says between his teeth, trying to keep his voice steady and quiet.

'--but I'm only trying to help.'

Sherlock knows it's one of those times John would be a much better fit for the task at hand. Unfortunately, she's stuck with her son instead. 'Mummy. Clearly, that would not help.'

'You're not planning on feeding her peanuts again, are you?'

Sherlock closes his eyes. 'I won't dignify that with an answer.'

'Then pack an epipen and come see your mother. I want to kiss that baby.'

---

John is doing his best, Sherlock observes once they're gathered round his parents' kitchen table, but he's clearly still feeling scads of parental guilt. He refuses to let Rosamund out of his sight, and his jaw keeps doing that jumpy bit that means he's repressing something. Several somethings, obviously, because he is John Watson.

And Sherlock almost abhors how much he cares for John Watson.

---

His mother, naturally, can't hold back for long.

'Oh, John, I do hate to see you like this.'

John freezes like the proverbial deer in headlights, then carefully puts down his fork, stiff upper lip firmly in place. 'Thanks, Mrs Holmes, but I'm all right.'

Sherlock, who knows better, shares a Look with Rosamund, who blurps his name(ish) then happily stuffs more pickle into her mouth. John's face softens momentarily, and she notices. 'Want some, Daddy?'

It's not a question; John is immediately handed a chubby fistful of globby green.

'She not a fan of spoons, then?' Sherlock's father says with a chuckle.

'Only as a weapon,' Sherlock replies without thinking, but luckily it's the correct audience, because beyond an eye roll, the reaction is mostly laughter.

Except for John, Sherlock notices immediately. Oh, dear.

His mother notices, too, and her lips purse. 'John, I know we're all very English, but I'm old enough that I can speak plainly.'

'As if you hadn't already,' Sherlock mutters.

She ignores him, instead reaching out to touch John's right hand where it rests on the table. 'You mustn't punish yourself. You've done nothing wrong.'

John's extreme discomfort would be crystal clear to anyone in a ten mile radius. 'Mrs Holmes…'

'I mean it.'

He puts down his fork, and Sherlock sees him inhale purposefully. 'All due respect, ma'am, but my daughter nearly died. She nearly died because I insisted she eat something she clearly and repeatedly did not want to eat.'

'And?'

John's mouth opens, then shuts, before he speaks again. 'Are you joking?'

'Everyone makes mistakes with their children, dear.'

'Not that sort of mistake.'

She makes a noise close to a ladylike snort, if such a thing existed. 'We almost drowned Sherlock when he was her age.'

Sherlock's front chair legs drop back to the floor with a thunk. 'Beg pardon?'

'Yes, you came frightfully close to dying, it was very unpleasant.'

John's facade breaks enough to give Sherlock a slight smirk. 'And you didn't recognise my facetiousness on that train?'

'Yes, yes, thank you, now what is this about me drowning, Mother?'

'We left you with another child, a girl of maybe twelve.' She shakes her head. 'That poor girl. She's never forgiven herself.'

'But I didn't die!'

'Sherlock,' his mother chides. 'Don't be unkind.'

'Wait. Why didn't I die?'

A curious silence falls over the group.

Sherlock's chin drops, and he sighs. 'Mycroft.'

His mother nods. 'He was in the deeper end, and you were in the shallow end. Where you were meant to stay.'

John huffs a laugh. 'Right, good luck with that.'

She tuts. 'He's lucky his brother was watching.'

'You don't remember any of it?' John asks, clearly curious.

Sherlock thinks. 'I remember a pool, several pools, from childhood. Various ponds. I remember-- Yes, I think the first time I ventured into the deep end, I blinked and I was at the ladder.'

'Indeed,' his mother says.

'Right,' John says, bemused. 'So you've always hated pools, even before we nearly got blown up in one.'

His mother blinks. 'Beg pardon?'

'Oh don't fret, Mummy.' Sherlock waves a hand. 'It was ages ago.'

And worse things have happened since then, no one needs say.

Except his mother says it, sort of. 'She's going to have such unusual stories to tell,' she says, turning to Rosamund and touching her tiny nose briefly. 'Aren't you, darling?'

'Any hope of a normal childhood was gone long ago, I'm afraid,' John says, his voice only a little strained.

Sherlock's father, unexpectedly, speaks up. 'Perhaps, but what she's got is better.'

'I agree,' his mother says. 'John's normal enough for the three of you, anyway.'

Sherlock smirks privately. Yes, absolutely normal, building-jumping, gun-toting, life-saving John Watson.

As if he'd ever fall in love with "normal."

That's the end of the discussion, apparently, because his mother turns back to Rosamund with a smile. 'Now, precious girl, let's see if you can say "grandmama" yet.'

---

John, still feeling slightly sour, pulls out his phone once he's put Rosie down. 'Mycroft.' His tone borders on Captainy, but he's too bloody tired to be polite. 'What are you playing at?'

'Couldn't possibly have any idea what you mean, Dr Watson.'

'First my daughter is calling you her uncle, and now your mum is teaching her "grandmama"?'

'I fail to see the problem. She's very intelligent.'

John pinches the bridge of his nose. He can't shout, because Rosie is asleep in her cot next to him, and though Sherlock is outside smoking, Sherlock's parents are somewhere on the other side of the guest room door.

'Your brother,' he finally says lowly, 'cares for Rosie a great deal, but has most definitely not voiced an interest in being her father, nor should he feel obligated to.'

'With all due respect, John, I must disagree.'

'How.' It's not a question.

Mycroft's voice isn't hard, but he enunciates every word very, very clearly. 'She is my niece. If you can't see it, then God help you... Although I am aware my brother has inherited more than his fair share of the Holmes reticence. But,' he concludes, implacable, 'lest you forget: He said it himself. You are family. And therein lies the obligation.'

John's heart does a little twitch in his chest. 'Yeah, but--'

'No.'

'But--'

'Not to sound too much like my dear brother, but John?'

John exhales. 'Can't wait to hear this.'

'Don't be an idiot.'

'Oi--'

But the call is already over. Of course it is. Because Mycroft Holmes is a bastard.

He might also, maybe, just this once… be right.

[ <3 ]

[pool story lifted from my childhood: I literally remember nothing bad about nearly drowning; my five-years-elder brother saved me and I have loved swimming ever since]

#BBC Sherlock #MayPrompts2024 #Parentlock #Johnlock #It's gonna be MAY 2024 #Yes i know it's over but I'm stubbornnnnnn and will be finishing in June #May Prompts 2024

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simtleman · 1 year ago

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PASSENGERS TO THE TRAIN! LAST CALL FOR PASSENGERS TO BRINDLETON BAY!

The latest update completely broke my game, it would launch and then get stuck on the loading screen forever... so I had the pleasurable task of uninstalling and reinstalling everything, which no kidding took about four and a half hours considering all the DLCs I have. However, having to wait and not being able to play gave me an opportunity to really think about what I wanted to build next for this crazy 1920s, '30s & '40s Save File Project I'm determined to finish someday, and suddenly it came to me: a train station, duh!

So here it is, introducing Columbia Station, located in the heart of Del Sol Valley:

One of my favorite books ever is Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express. I remember reading it for the first time when I was about 7 years old and going to bed absolutely terrified yet wanting to know what was going to happen next, so naturally it has always been a dream of mine to someday be able to book a ticket for the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express. You can imagine how much fun I had building this while living my best film noir fantasy! Plus, I thought having a vintage train station in the save file would make for great storytelling.

The train itself (which I decided to call Grand Express, as you can see in the pics) has two functional wagons:

The first one is a Compartment coach, with three identical compartments. For the interiors in both wagons I mostly used @lilis-palace's Intarsia Moderne & Wainscot Wonderland sets. That varnished wood kinda look was absolutely perfect for what I had in mind:

2. The second wagon, on the other hand, couldn't be anything but a bar. Featuring @littledica's Art Deco Lounge bar as the signature piece, I took inspiration yet again from the actual Orient Express bar and decided to go for colder, blue tones:

I'm far from being done with this build, but I simply couldn't hold my excitement and had to show you guys how it's going. Next it'll be the station itself, I've build the exterior but gotta work on the interiors... I wanna set the lot as a Café so we shall see how that turns out!

I'll keep you guys posted and until then, pray for my game to not break again! Lol

#ts4 screenshots #ts4 retro #ts4 vintage #sims4cc #ts4 1920s #1920s aesthetic #ts4 1930s #ts4 1940s #ts4 simblr #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 legacy

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study-with-aura · 4 months ago

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Saturday, July 27, 2024

Today was a lot! However, it was also a great day at the same time! Algebra took up the most time of my day since I'm playing catch up with it. I would have practiced piano for another hour, but I really haven't gotten to play games with Julien much at all this summer, so I decided to spend more time doing that with my brother instead. I love when we get to game together.

We also went back out to the lake today as I was hoping we would be able to. It was kind of cloudy, but the sun made an appearance every little bit. It was hot though, so the water was fun to swim in once I met up with some friends out there. I may have also done some lake reading. Where I was in the book I just finished was really good, so I finished it up at the lake while Dad and Julien were fishing. They keep trying to get me to join, and I used to fish when I was younger, but nowadays, it isn't that interesting to me. Plus, even though my family eats meat and fish, I try to avoid it, and that includes catching the food myself. It makes me shudder to think about it.

🌞 I hope everyone is having a great weekend thus far! 🌞

Tasks Completed:

History 9 - Learned about Franz Liszt + studied Romantic Opera + learned about Giuseppe Verdi

KA GRF Algebra 2 - Completed Unit 3: Lessons 4-7 + Unit 3: Quizzes 1-2

Duolingo - Studied for approximately 30 minutes (Spanish + French + Chinese) + completed daily quests

Piano - 60-minute piano lesson + practiced for one hour

Reading - Read pages 193-309 of The Shadow Sister by Lily Meade and finished the book

Chores - Cleaned refrigerator, stove and kitchen counters + put away groceries

Activities of the Day:

Personal Bible Study (Revelations 21 + Week 23 reflections)

Morning yoga

1.5 hours gaming with Julien

Journal/Mindfulness

#study blog #study inspiration #study motivation #studyblr #studyblr community #study community #study-with-aura

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theartofdreaming1 · 7 months ago

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Fanfic Tagging Game

I got tagged by the lovely @wurzelbertzwerg - thank you! 💕

1. How many works do you have on AO3? - 30

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

111,591 words (at the moment)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I'm writing for The Quarry and the Batfam fandom (primarily DickBabs and BatCat)... I have posted fics for The Flash TV series and Brooklyn 99 on AO3 in the past... plus, some other stuff that is only on my old fanfiction.net account (although I've been considering updating my old Young Justice fics, so I may post them on AO3 some day)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Um, Rush Hour, Partners, Knight in Shining Armor, Loveable Nerds and Superheroes and Thank You, Becky Cooper - except for Partners, these are all Flash fics, which is wild, because aside from Rush Hour and Loveable Nerds and Superheroes, both of which I'm still quite proud of, I don't necessarily think that my Flash fics are my best works, but okay ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

5. Do you respond to comments?

Sometimes? I often don't know what to say in response 😅- but I appreciate every single one of them sooo much! 💕

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Okay... so this question prompted me to do some re-reading of my older fics... and honestly? Nothing on my AO3 account had an angsty ending to begin with ^^; So I had to go waaaay back, to my old ff.net account - and I think my Young Justice fic "Pain" had the angstiest ending (and even then, it's pretty moderate... even 17-year-old me was fairly mellow ;)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmh... Maybe my Flash fic "Coming Home"? It certainly has a very warm and fuzzy ending ☺️

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I can recall, no...

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope; smut is not for me

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, I don't really write crossovers (only multiple fandoms that already share a universe, i.e. Batfam-comic fandom)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope - since I'm a very slow writer, I wouldn't want to punish any potential co-writer of mine with that curse either...

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

To write? Hmmh... BatCat and DickBabs for sure! (Plus, LauraMax are getting there, too... I just need to give them some time to cement their position ;)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh boy, there are plenty of fics I'm worried I'll never finish... but I choose to stay optimistic enough to think that I will, someday, finish all the WIPs that I want to finish... (please, writing Gods, please help me accomplish this task!!!!)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Umm... I like to think that my writing is quite, um, pleasant? What I mean is, that it's pretty accessible (not too convoluted or complex, but also not boring) and while I sometimes write angsty/tense/sad moments, my stories generally have happy endings... And even though my writing isn't exactly groundbreaking, I still stand by all the ideas/concepts behind every story I've written so far, so... yeah...

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The process of writing itself (I have to fight for every single word I commit onto the page... I swear, me and writing are engaged in the most tedious wrestling match nobody ever wants to see... ever). I get excited for a particular story, start to jot down some basic ideas, maybe even put in some research for a few points that need to get tackled beforehand - and then psyche myself out of being able to write down that dang story 😩 (Doesn't help that I have a hard time making decisions and get super intimidated when faced with all the possible directions a story could go)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Depends on the context - if we're talking about two foreigners (e.g. Germans) that are talking to each other in their native tongue and maybe don't want to be understood by the people around them (who, for the sake of this argument, are all English speakers) - then, maybe I would give it a whirl, because it would fit the idea behind the conversation (especially if it's a short exchange that people, who would be interested in learning what the Germans said, could look up via Google translate) - but, imo, this only works in very specific circumstances and for short exchanges - otherwise it can get tedious real quick... and personally, I don't like writing in German and don't feel confident enough in my Spanish skills to attempt it for that language, so writing English all the way is it for me

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Um... a quick look at my old, old fanfiction.net account tells me that my first posted fanfic was for the "Sonny With A Chance" fandom when I was 14 years old - the writing is a little... rough, for sure 😅 (although, to be fair, this was written at a point when I had only had, like, 3-4 years of proper English class... all things considered, it's not that bad)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Don't make me choose, I can't pick just one!

I very, very much love my BatCat fic "The Chase" - it just feels like pure Selina, the pacing of it is great and I think it portrays Bruce/Selina's relationship dynamic so very well (plus, it has some of my favorite sentences I've ever written in there!)

I also love Partners for being the longest, most ambitious story I've written so far (yes, despite the fact that I still need to add that epiogue!) and On the Reciprocal Attraction of Heavenly Bodies has the potential to become my best fic of them all, with the Austen-esque writing style and all the historical and literary research I plan on putting into it... I'm certainly very fond of the two chapters that already exist.

And This Is Not Over, But Just the Beginning is so fun and challenging in a different way; being a Quarry fic, with the whole werewolf element, it's darker and more angsty than anything I've written in a long time - but that's what makes it so fascinating for me to write (and read)

I'll tag @queenofbaws @thychesters @rosegardeninwinter @icequeen-07 @clearbluewaters and @mollywog - only if they want to, of course! :)

#I'm feeling so attagged right now #about me #I write sometimes

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misguidedasgardian · 8 months ago

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The Lifeaters (I.7)

VII. Matches

MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: You resumed the semester at Hogwarts

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Cursing, magical objects, Mugglephobia, classism, other things, pretty tame so far, might miss some warning but I think you know what this is about…

Wordcount: 1.9 k

Notes: I'm already writing thongs for the fourth year and what’s to come, I’m excited for you all to read it! jeje anyways these are like filler chapters

You had mixed feelings when you found yourself back in the hallways of Hogwarts, on one side, it was a school, there were classes and assignments, but on the other, it was Hogwarts! It was amazing!

You resumed your classes with normalcy, but it wasn’t until after the first class of potions that you truly started feeling nervous again, of being caught by Snape even if you weren’t doing anything. It was like when you come face to face with an Auror, you weren’t doing anything, but you felt incredibly nervous regardless, he could grab you and throw you into Azkaban, that is what it felt like to be in classes with Professor Snape.

But you kept enjoying the rest of your lessons, like History of Magic, (that made everyone snooze) and Defense against the dark arts. Weeks went by amazingly fast, and before you even realized it… it was already February, and another very interesting thing was about to happen…

It was a Ravenclaw VS Slytherin match! the second match of Slytherin and the third in the season!

Draco, Blaise and you loved to see the matches, but the rest of your group didn’t care much for them. But you still made them attend with you.

The vibe was completely different from the first match against Gryffindor, it was Ravenclaw that they were playing against, and watching them flying in perfect lining was a bit boring, but… the Slytherin played playfully and tauntingly, making the Ravenclaws scratch their heads constantly

When they scored 30 points your throat was raw by the screaming you were procuring, and it didn’t help that you found Terence Higgs to be really cute, making your cheeks feel heated despite the cold.

“I have my eye out for the captain though”, giggled Pansy, you frowned, Flint was a good player, but he was a bit… unfortunate looking… but you could see the appeal as you saw him flying through the air. The Quidditch uniform certainly added some appeal you thought gleefully

He searched for you after scoring and waved at you, making Pansy clutch into your arm giggling in your ear

In half time you were winning by 50 points, and Draco wouldn’t shut up about beating Gryffindor for the Quidditch cup, you still had another game with Hufflepuff, you could still win!

The plays you had helped design were actually working! and they started again scoring and scoring, Given, the Ravenclaws also scored a couple of goals, but it was all over anyways when Terence Higgs caught the snitch, making you giggle and smile dumbly.

He was a third year? second year maybe… with blonde hair and big blue eyes.

There was a party in the common room after the match! all of Slytherin was there, chanting and applauding for our winning team, who of course, were the stars of the celebration

“Next year, those are going to be us”, promised Draco with a smirk, and you couldn’t be more excited, as you jumped and chanted Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin! It was so electric! the atmosphere!

You were enchanted.

But all good things must come to an end, as that day, and the weeks continued as normal

You hang out in the library with your friends, Daph, Draco, Goyle, and Matthew, working for an assignment for History in Magic, you had to choose a famous Wizard or Witch from the middle ages to do some work in, Daphne and you of course chose Morgan Le Fay.

The boys though, chose instead to take another book, not even remotely related to the task in hand… it was a small book they found regarding mischievous spells, more than jokes and the sorts

“Look!”, Draco giggled, “the leg-locker spell!”

“That’s a good one”, laughed Matthew, you thought it was going to end in that, but then, Neville showed up, picking a book probably related to the same assignment

“Don’t”, you warned your best friend, almost reading his mind. But he didn’t listen, he, Matt and Greg followed Longbottom outside of the library where Mrs Pince wouldn’t see them

And they cursed him

Poor Neville had to bunny jump away, scared, as Draco came back to his spot, laughing

You looked at him disapprovingly

“Did you see how he just jumped away?”, Matthew laughed, “a good spell that is!”

“I don’t know why you have Neville so much”, you mumbled, but he didn't answer

“You are so mean”, muttered Daphne, but you both sharing looks decided to keep working in your assignment, it was supposed to be you 5 doing it, but you were doing all the job as they played and mocked

But Draco had a change of heart, and grabbed one of the books you had selected

“I don’t know why we went for Morgan and not Merlin”, he said, bored

“That is what happens when you don’t help in the process”, you warned, and he nodded and shrugged, “please search her date of birth”, you asked, “Daphne and I are searching her best accomplishments”

“Sure”, but Gregory and Matthew kept playing jokes and mocking Ravenclaws passing by.

The very next month, a few weeks later, you were in the Quidditch pitch yet again, but this time, to watch the Gryffindor VS Hufflepuff game, you wanted to make sure Gryffindor lost, or really, you wanted to see it with your own eyes, and the tactics they were going to use, and also the Hufflepuff’s, Slytherin’s last game of the year in three more months.

You could not convince any of your friends except Greg and Vince, and of course Draco was there too.

And to more of your dismay, you got seats in the Gryffindor box, behind Weasley and Longbottom, Potter’s biggest fans.

Draco couldn’t help it, it came to him naturally. As you tried to focus on the game, he was focus more on the conversation happening in front of him.

Ron whined in pain as Draco had poked him to get his attention

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there", he teased, you only rolled your eyes at this, trying to focus on the game. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

But Weaslet didn’t answer, he just kept watching the game, and you too, to your surprise, Snape was referring, you had never seen him doing that before, and you guessed that’s why the redhead looked so worried, almost constipated.

Your headteacher hated Harry, even more so than Draco, and everyone could see it, especially in the Potions class you shared with the Gryffindors.

But as you thought about it, he threw a penalty at Gryffindor, after one of the Weasley twins tried to him him with a bludger, but that had been a blatant fault. Granger standing right in front of you, looked worried too, and wouldn’t take her eyes off of the Professor, rather than looking at her friend.

It was easy to spot Potter, who had spotted the snitch and started pursuit. You cursed yourself for being distracted, you needed to be watching the Hufflepuffs and their strategies, but it was becoming an interesting game

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?", Draco asked you then, you barely looked at him, trying to predict which hoop the Hufflepuff keeper was going to try and protect next.

But Snape blew his whistle again and threw another penalty in favor of the Yellow and Black team, that made you smile, because there was no cause for it.

"It's people they feel sorry for”, he continued after nobody asked him what was on his mind, “see? there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money -- you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains.", Goyle snorted a laugh, even though it was a little mean

But Neville, in front of you, turned around, with a strange determined look on his big green eyes, he turned to Draco

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered. you opened your mouth, surprised, but you were happy for him, clearly his Gryffindor friends were egging him on and you admired that.

But Draco found it even more entertaining, as he and Crabbe, and Goyle started laughing. Weasley barely paid attention to his friend’s bravado, as he muttered a simple: "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something”, alright, you had to admit you laughed then, Draco’s answers where always so quick, it seemed like he prepared them beforehand

Ron Weasley, who was watching Potter like a Hawk, turned then, very angry

"I'm warning you, Malfoy… one more word…”, he started his threat

"Ron!" called Granger suddenly. You followed her gaze and Potter went into a quick dive, chasing the snitch, even though you couldn’t see it

The crowd started cheering, everyone standing up and calling for Harry

Granger stood up too, blocking your view of the…biased-speaking spectacular play that Potter was executing.

He was good, you had to admit… but you wouldn’t, not outloud

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

That is when the Weasley turned angrily, and before nobody could stop him, he grabbed Draco and threw him against the wood planks in the floor of the box. They started wrestling. Longbottom jumped over the seat to help his friend

You only took a step back as you wished to keep watching the game, and you were getting tired of Draco bullying everyone

"Come on, Harry!" Granger screamed, moving so much that you had to do contortions to watch around her

You both remained oblivious to Draco and Weasley, wrestling on the floor. But you did payed attention when Neville whimpered, he had gotten in a scuffle with Goyle and Crabbe. it was a knot of fists and legs, it was almost chemical.

You thanked Merlin that there wasn’t any teacher present, or you would be punished.

But fortunately they were interrupted, when Snape blowed the whistle, indicating that the snitch had been caught, by none other than Potter

It was the shortest game ever! like ten minutes or so, it must be some sort of record

You saw the black haired boy, his hand clasping the snitch raised up high

He was good alright…

Everyone cheered for him, the stadium erupted in chants and cheers and applause.

Now, you would admit that you felt a little jealous, you wondered what it would feel like, to be a Quidditch star, and you really wished you could see what it was about, next year if you managed to get into the team.

leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape -- she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Draco had lost the squaffle and the Gryffindors had won, so he was not happy at all, as he stood up from the floor and managed to see Potter being raised in the air by his teammates, and you in turn were preparing yourself for another rant about Potter.

#misguidedlifeaters #harry potter au #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #philosopher's stone #draco malfoy #theodore nott #matthew gaunt #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson

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jpitha · 2 years ago

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Just a Little Further 34

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33

Janais stands. "Come. It is time for bed. The hour is late. I shall call what residents are left here and we shall all return to the Reach. There we can plan our next steps."

"We?" I look up at Janais. She looks down her nose back at me.

"I may not be Empress anymore, but I am still a Builder. You only have what... 5 Builders in total now?"

"4 Actually."

"Oh, That's right, your prisoner is not yet a Builder."

Yet?

Raaden crosses her arms and makes a face.

"Regardless, you need all the help you can get. I shall come with you and remain a Builder and assist you in your task."

"My task?"

Janais looks at me like I'm an idiot. "Rebuilding the Empire and ruling it as is your right. You need people, you need starships, you need Builders. It is a large task, but not an impossible one. It's been done before, it can be done again."

"Wait, wait, what does this mean? Am I going to have to go out and... conquer everyone?"

Raaden sighs. "We've been over this, Empress. They're not going to see a human that can use a Commanding Voice to make anyone who is around her do anything she wants as a friend. If you want to survive, the only option is at the top."

Janais nods. "Your prisoner is wise. You should make her a Builder. She would be an excellent commander of your fleets."

Both Raaden and I blink. "What? No. I can't be Fleet Commander here. For one, there's no fleet. For two, I'm from Venus. For three, MmEmpress would never allow it. I tried to take over here."

"And you failed, but yet you live. The Empress sees value in your still. She hasn't ordered your death, she hasn't even commanded your silence. She listens when you speak, even when you tell her things she doesn't want to hear. You are more valuable than you realize Helen Raaden."

I look over at her. Maybe Janais has a point. It would have been so easy just to order her to be quiet. But, she has experience, she is very intelligent. It would be stupid to throw away such a resource. Is it really just that she was on the wrong side all this time? She is incredibly ruthless.

We could use ruthless.

Ugh. This is going to cause trouble down the line, I just know it.

"Y̸̰̚õ̶̱u̴͚͛ ̸̢̌m̸̜̎a̴̢̎y̴͇͊ ̶͇̈́c̶̩̐ą̶͘l̸̙̓l̶̙̍ ̶̮̽m̵̝̊e̴̼̋ ̵̖͋M̵̟͝e̶̻̿l̴̯̅o̷̱̽d̷̹͆y̵̹͋.̴̻̑ Raaden."

Raaden snaps her head over to me and looks at me, eyes wide. "Why did you do that... Melody?"

Ava looks at me flabbergasted. "Yes, why did you do that Melody?

"Let's say that... you've earned it."

Raaden nods. "I did notice that you stopped calling me Helen after interviewing the crew. Who told you I hated that name?"

"Ginny did."

Raaden smiles gently. "Ginny is more observant than she lets on, good girl. It's not that I hate my name, I hate fake casualness. I hate when people use my first name to try and be friendly, when I don't want to be their friend and they really don't want to be mine." Raaden stood and stretched, and held out her hand. "Let's try this again. My name is Helen Raaden. Nice to meet you."

I stand and grasp the hand. "Melody Mullen. Nice to meet you too."

Omar gets up from his chair and starts walking around the room. "Okay, now that we're all best buds here, we need to figure out what we're doing. We're going to sleep here tonight, and tomorrow take everyone home? Empress Janais, how many people are left here exactly?"

Janais holds up a finger. "Builder Janais now. The only Empress here is Melody."

"Okay fine. Builder Janais, how many people are left here?"

Janais closes her eyes and for a moment looks far away. Do I look like that when I'm connecting to the Reach? Her head tips forward just a bit and her eyes snap open. "There are one hundred and twenty three people that I can feel. I think that's everyone."

"Call them here please. It may take most of the night to get them loaded safely. Tell them to bring only what they can carry. If there are precious things, we can leave them and come back. We're moving, not fleeing."

"Of course, Builder Omar." Janais closes her eyes again. "They have heard my call. They will be here shortly. Come with me, I will meet them with you and we can begin loading."

She stands and strides out of the room. Omar looks at me questioningly. I shrug. "Sure, go ahead." I appreciate him making sure I'm okay with it, but I can't think of a reason for him not to follow her lead. Omar shrugs too and hurries after her.

Starlight stands as well. "I will head back to High Line. I... am not comfortable here, I will sleep in my cabin. Good night Empress, Ava, Raaden."

Starlight walks out of the palace and it's just me, Ava and Raaden sitting at the table, alone.

Ava goes first. "Okay Raaden. It's just you and me and Melody. Why the hell are you with Venus? You know that everyone else in the galaxy thinks they're fascist assholes right? It's not a surprise?"

Helen looks down at the table. She then looks back up at Ava. "Venus is where I'm from Ava. I was raised in Regantown, I did ROTC at VPI, signed on right after graduation, majored in Leadership, the works. I've been steered towards the military from an early age. Most upper class Venusians are."

Huh, These are all things about Raaden I never knew. "Are you from a military family... Helen?"

She smiles slightly when I use her name. "Actually yes. My Dad was Rear Admiral Klein Raaden. He served for many years as part of the Inner Planet Defense Force, the IPDF. They handled the defense of the Mercury Array, Venus and Luna. Earth had their own force of course, and then from Mars out was the OPA. Dad was retired when Venus... struck out on their own. I remember being about 13 and Dad getting called back up to "serve his homeland." He... didn't think much of the Emperor at the time, or their ideals, especially around AIs. Dad had worked with and served with AIs for years. He thought AIs were fine and were probably the reason we were so successful with interstellar flight. But-" she pantomimed a salute, "-he was called to serve, and he did. Served until his dreadnought Redemption Arc was sabotaged by an OPA operative and crashed into the floating city Lavinia, destroying both. They sank into the atmosphere and lost all hands. Over one million people died."

My eyes go wide with recognition. "So your ship..."

"Was named for the incident that took my Dad, yeah." She gave me a wan smile and looked at both of us. "I was incredibly proud when I was given command of the Lavinia. It was only my second command. Nobody gets a dreadnought for their second command, that's usually an end of career thing. But 'the daughter of Klein knows what's she's doing' and so it was given to me."

"But all the anti AI rhetoric! They're sapient, have been for more than a thousand years. You must have known that stuff would have made you unpopular." Ava sounds conflicted. I wonder if she's trying to come to terms with the fact that Helen is... a person with good parts and bad parts and not just an attractive woman in a sharp uniform who she can just be labeled "bad guy" and stuck over in a corner.

She shrugged. "Well sure. That's for the folks at home. The AIs don't go to Sol much anymore. That makes it easier to make them out to be an enemy. Give the people a bad guy, and they concentrate on them and... less on you. Or the fact that Venus keeps losing ships and not getting more. They don't notice we've tried to take the Heinlein shipyards in the Earth L2 point three times now and failed every time. They don't notice how our trade deficit is eye watering. We are not self sufficient, not by a long shot. If everyone cuts off trade, we die, it's that simple."

"It's propaganda?"

"Mostly, yeah. Don't get me wrong, the Emperor hates AIs. He is absolutely convinced that they're behind every corner and are all actively plotting to overthrow him."

Okay, my turn. "What do you think about AIs, Helen?"

Her shoulders rolled gently. "I tend not to. I don't work with them, I don't interact with them. Other than the propaganda, I don't know much about them. I do worry that they'll decide we're just not worth the effort and try and take over, but the thought doesn't keep me up at night."

Raaden leans forward intently. "But what about you Melody? What do you think of them? An AI declared your captain unfit if I am remembering your story to Janais correctly. The AI, now in charge, left you here. An AI abandoned you to your fate."

I'm taken aback. "I-I-I mean, she was thinking of the mission and..."

"And what Melody? You just said that she didn't continue the mission. She went home."

Ava raises her eyebrows, surprised at herself. "Raaden... is right Melody. FarReach was scared of you. She only gave us a few minutes to grab our things. Omar and Um'reli came with me because their minds were already made up. Nobody else who was unsure got time to think about it. FarReach locked Q'ari in her cabin, declared her unfit and left."

Raaden sat back. "Sounds like you have your own reasons to not particularly care about AIs Melody."

I sigh. It feels like Ava and Helen are right, but it also feels wrong to agree with them. "It doesn't matter anywhere. There are no AIs on this side of the galaxy."

Ava gestured with her teacup. "You heard Janais, we might be all that's left on this side. We should go to the other locations she knew and see if anyone is there. If there isn't, then... well the other side of the Galaxy is where the action is." Ava looked worried. "Melody, I don't want to lose you. If the only way that you can ensure that you won't catch a sniper's bullet is to be in charge... then be in charge. I can think of worse people to rule."

"Easily" Raaden agreed. "Frankly Melody, if you're half the ruler I think you are, you'll be the best ruler that anyone alive has ever seen."

"Thanks Ava, Helen... I think. You really think I'd be a good ruler?"

Ava nods emphatically. "You're ruling over the Reach now and are doing great. Do you remember how nervous everyone was when we first showed up? Now they cheer you, and tell you about their families when we go for a walk and say hi."

"Believe me when I say, I've known Emperors Melody." Raaden looks around for something to drink, finds her tea and sniffs it. "You're a better ruler than any Emperor I know." She tosses her tea back. "Come on, I don't feel like sleeping in this mausoleum. Let's go back to High Line and sleep. We can make sure everyone is loaded up and leave tomorrow."

We stand and leave Janais' Palace for the last time.

Ava and I have a comfortable night in our cabin. It's not our rooms in the Royal Dawn, but Omar has really made an effort to make our cabin seem homey. I appreciate it. In the morning I left my cabin and almost ran into an Azurian standing in the hall. "Oh, I'm sorry, excuse me."

The Azurian looked up at me and stepped aside. "Empress."

I made my way down the hall to the Command Deck squeezing past people here and there. Thankfully, when I got there, the only people inside were Ava, Starlight and Janais. "Where's Raaden?" I walked up to Ava and bent down and gave her a hug while she was seated at a station.

"She said it was too cramped, and was going to stay in her room." Ava returned the hug quickly, but then bent back down to her terminal.

Starlight looked up at me. "Empress, this is going to be an unpleasant flight. High Line is overloaded as it is. We should get going quickly."

"Good idea Starlight. Omar, how soon can we go?"

"We're ready now. Ginny and I just finished loading everyone. It's tight, but we can do it in one trip. Actually..."

"Yes Omar?"

"Since things are so tight, and nobody wants to be onboard any longer than necessary do you want to give the wormhole generator a spin and link over?"

"Do we have the power for it?"

"Ginny says we have more than enough for a link of that distance. We could clear the Wilds and link over to the Reach in minutes."

"Okay then. I approve linking from here to Reach of the Might of Vzzx."

"Excellent. I'll let you know when we're ready for you to order it. Maybe another hour."

"We're going to use a wormhole generator?" Janais looks nervous.

Ava looks up. "They're common on our side of the Galaxy, we're using an existing design. It should be no big deal."

She is clearly trying not to look as nervous as she feels. "Then I defer to your judgement, Builder."

I spent the hour on the Command Deck. It was the only place I could have more than a meter on either side of me without risking bumping into someone. As we cruised between the Wilds and the Gate Omar came over the PA. "We have reached safe distance from the Wilds of Besmara. Empress, we can link to Reach of the Might of Vzzx on your order."

"Omar, please link us home."

"Aye Empress."

And... that was that. It was like any wormhole link back home. There was a flash of white, and we were back in the system that housed Reach of the Might of Vzzx. I let out he breath that I didn't know I was holding and...

I heard the screaming.

"What's going on? Omar?"

"It sounds like it's coming from the people from the Wilds. None of them have ever taken a wormhole link before. We forgot to tell them about the side effects."

The side effects.

When humanity developed the wormhole generators, it was discovered that about one in one hundred (now one in one thousand thanks to further refinement of the technology) for lack of a better word dies when we link.

It's not permanent at least. But those people swear they died and visited the afterlife. Usually only for a few moments, but enough people do it that it has opened up all kinds of new theological arguments that people thought were closed and gone millennia ago. It doesn't happen to me, or anyone I know, but from what I understand even when you're expecting it to happen, it can be a shock.

I look over to Janais and... she has tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Janais! Are you all right?" I rush to her side.

She turns and looks at me, wild eyed. "I saw her Empress! I saw my Aeche! She was wearing a beautiful gown and when she noticed me she smiled like a dawning star and walked towards me." Janais looked into the middle distance and continued. "She said "You have done it, just like I knew you would!" I said "Done what?" and she smiled and said "Found our salvation." and then I came back here." She chokes back a sob. "Tell me. Tell me Empress. What did I see? Did I see my Aeche waiting for me, or was is all a hallucination? Did I go to the Beyond, or was it a dream?"

I gently touch her hand. It's warm and soft in mine. "Janais... nobody knows. About one in one thousand people experiences what you just experienced. Nobody has ever been able to confirm if your soul really leaves your body, of if it's just some kind of... mirage. A side-effect of going through a hole in spacetime. People who... experience it have tried asking the people they meet, and they always get a cryptic answer, if they get one at all. In the end, everyone must decide for themselves if it's real or not."

Janais looks at me strangely. She reaches into her pocket and takes out a small handkerchief and wipes her eyes delicately. "Thank you Empress."

What? "You're welcome, but why?"

"You have enabled me to see my love again. I do not know if it is real or not, and right now I do not care. I got to see Aeche again, and she as so happy, so beautiful. If I have to wait seventy four years to see her again, it will still all be worth it." She wipes her eyes again and looks at the forward screen. "Is that the Reach?"

"It is, Janais. Shall we go home?"

She exhales, relieved. It was real. "Yes, Empress. I would like to go home. Let's build you an Empire."

Part 35

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans go on adventure #humans are space oddities #sci fi writing #writing #humans and ai #humans and aliens #the k'laxiverse #jpitha #just a little further

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skyler10fic · 5 months ago

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Public journaling because I need to get this out:

I'm having reflux/GERD induced by my anxiety disorder among other stress related things.

This anxiety is often triggered by spending time engaging with how awful the world is.

I do want to help raise awareness, make the world a better place, be a more informed voter, and do my duty to give everyone resources to do the same.

I cannot keep engaging with this reality at the current rate.

I struggle to set boundaries with my scrolling because it's my highest level/easiest accessible connection point with other people and something for my ADHD brain to focus on.

I cannot simply stay focused because of the ADHD. It is an inability.

At home, I do other things, like household tasks.

But I'm required to be in the office three days a week. Half days are an unofficial/coincidental accomodation.

When I'm at the office, I don't have little tasks to do. Everything is (honestly quite boring) deep thinking, high concentration work.

I cannot "just get a new, more interesting job" in a field that was always highly competitive and has been dying for 20 years. My job is very good for pay and benefits in comparison to others in my field.

So the key is I need a way to engage with people and work with my brain that isn't working against it: neither doomscrolling nor shaming myself into just staring at the screen and forcing myself to work at a slower pace so I don't have so much extra time. I can't just tell my brain not to be bored or not to need distractions.

If I get up from my desk at the office, I'm supposed to count it as break time. So I can't go on walks on the clock. If I take lots of breaks, that adds to the amount of time I'm physically at the office and cuts down on free time. (I do take 30 minute lunch and occasionally 15 minutes here and there.)

My group chats are great, but my friends have busy lives with lots of other things going on so it's not the frequency and volume of Twitter and Threads.

Almost all of my friends are far away, and the people physically close to me have resisted my efforts to increase emotional closeness and depth. They are all in for hanging out, but uncomfortable with emotions or vulnerability or friendship beyond "people I do preorganized activities with."

I can't eliminate the brain need through ADHD meds because of my liver problems (thanks for that, Strattera extremely rare side effects) and other medical risks the doc is not willing to take. Psych doc also says I need to show a positive result on the computerized ADHD $5k test my insurance doesn't pay for (created for hyperactive boys, not high achieving adult women who perform well on tests) to really consider my "attention issues" as for sure ADHD despite EVERY other medical professional verbally diagnosing me. I definitely have ADHD. This is not a question. But there doesn't seem to be a med solution anyway.

Possible solutions I'm working on:

1. More library books I can sneak glances at or listen to on my phone

2. Lists, curated social media experiences, joining more happy/low-stress groups

3. Boundaries, muting words, blocking abundantly

4. Under desk bike helps a lot when I'm not too tired

5. Standard GERD reduction tips and other physical health care

6. Mental health care

7. Listen to soothing ASMR at night

8. Physical self care (food, exercise, hydration, sleep, etc)

I think if I didn't have the ADHD creating a need that the doom sites solve (and by solve, I mean meet the immediate need by creating different problems), this would be easier. It isn't simple "addiction." It's higher up the logical food chain than that.

Today this came to a head with some emotional dysregulation: there is a big personal issue with someone I trusted potentially being a bad guy, and I can't talk about it with my local friends because they won't understand OR they are his coworkers, who can't discuss the situation with me for understandable HR reasons.

Add that stress on to the national / global doom written on the wall for political reality and history and life as we know it, and then there are Oppression Olympics competitors yelling at us that we're privileged , spoiled brats if we're upset because THEY have been marginalized worse than us and THEY aren't fazed or distressed because they are so morally superior to us BABIES who are apparently new here....

Blah blah blah

Anyway. I would very much like to get rid of this stress response in my digestive system so I can eat normal food.

#tw: mental health #us politics #tw: physical illness #adhd

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bcrncoldx · 1 year ago

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𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖘𝖎𝖝𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑

Please find below a little bit about what each of my muses will be up to in the event! please reply with who you want a starter from/who for. I'm capping at 4 per muse for now!

𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖑𝖊𝖞 — (4/4) entered unwillingly. not open to death. Bill's very much in the era of wanting a quiet life, and as far as he's concerned, mazes are bad news (he had been present for the third task of the triwizard tournament.) But now he's found himself in the maze he'll do whatever he can to find his family and friends and keep them safe. starters: 1. lily luna potter | prompt 13. werewolf 2. victoire weasley | prompt 20. living corn attempting to eat characters. It is still the size of regular corn. 3. fred weasley | prompt 1. giant spiders 4. fleur weasley | prompt 6. the husks of corn emit a poisonous gas, making characters weaker the longer they breath it in

𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔩𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔫 — (2/4) entered willingly. not open to death. Carlisle's not going to sit by when there's people in need. He'll be making his way through the maze, providing what medical care he can to those who need it, whilst trying to find his family. He knows that they can handle themselves, but he'd feel better knowing they were alright. starters: 1. edward cullen | prompt 4. skeletons 2. garrett | prompt 7. the area exists as a zone of truth, making characters incapable of lying. Characters are aware of this when they enter the space. 3. 4.

𝔡𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔯 — (4/4) entered willingly. not open to death but open to injury. Dale takes his job very seriously, but so does he his promise to Marina. So he'll only be entering the maze when it becomes apparent that there are people who need help trapped in there. He'll be doing whatever he can to find the way out. starters: 1. periwinkle | prompt 14. vampire 2. calleigh duquesne | prompt 24. dementors 3. peggy carter | prompt 27. minotaur 4. marlene mckinnon | prompt 17. masked murderer wearing the ghostface mask

𝔡𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔫 — (1/4) entered unwillingly. not open to death but open to injury. She doesn't want to be there and is terrified of something happening to her family. Dís will be trying to get out of the maze whilst finding her brother and her sons. starters: 1. jem carstairs | prompt 2. characters encounter a pit trap, so obvious they almost want to explore 2. 3. 4.

𝔡𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔢 — (2/4) entered willingly. not open to death. Dru's been eagerly counting down the days until something else strange happened in the city, and she didn't hesitate in making her way to the maze after sundown. She's loving every second in there and has no intention of finding her way out until she's had all her fun. starters: 1. claudia | prompt 10. stormtroopers 2. victoria sutherland | prompt 26. characters enter a mud filled portion of the maze, where their footsteps feel heavy, and every push further seems to sink them farther and farther into the mud. 3. 4.

𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔬𝔫 — (3/4) entered willingly. not open to death but open to injury. She's never known to leave something well enough alone so it didn't take long for Eloise to end up in the maze. She knew that she should have waited and went in with someone but once she gets an idea in her head there's nothing stopping her. She'll definitely be looking for her friends and family, as well as an explanation for what's going on. starters: 1. simon basset | prompt 30. a swarm of bats 2. laudna | prompt 3. living scarecrow 3. gregory bridgerton | prompt 19. characters are greeted by a giant rushing stream going all the way across the maze that they must cross in order to keep moving. 4.

𝔧𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔱𝔬𝔫 — (1/4) entered willingly. not open to death but open to injury. James would much rather be at home with a cup of tea and the new season of Ghosts but decided to go into the maze, sword in hand, when he couldn't get in contact with Elizabeth, so finding her and getting out in one piece. He'll be helping anyone he comes across who needs it. starters: 1. saegyl | prompt 9. characters reach a dead end, full of pollen spores, which when inhaled make characters feel drunk for the next hour. 2. 3. 4.

𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔞 — (4/4) entered unwillingly. not open to death but open to injury. The only thing they want to do is to find the exit and get home. Owen had hoped that this sort of thing was left behind at Bly, but he's realised that's impossible here. Open to teaming up with someone/a group if it means he'll get out quicker starters: 1. stitch pelekai | prompt 16. characters are greeted by two beings the size of children but with pumpkins for heads arrive with a cart, gesturing for characters to get in.2. jedediah | prompt 5. a hoard of geese 3. richie tozier | prompt 28. characters find this section of the maze to be extremely cold, with frost hanging from all of the corn stalks and the icy ground beneath their feet making the terrain difficult to traverse 4. will graham | prompt 15. gritty

𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔱 𝔤𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔰 — (3/4) entered willingly. not open to death but open to injury. This isn't Giles's first rodeo, and he knows it won't be his last either. He'll be heading into the maze to try and help out people where he can. starters: 1. buffy summers | prompt 31. the area is just absolutely full of croaking frogs. they aren’t dangerous but they are loud and difficult to step around. 2. angel | prompt 22. though relatively empty the plant life whispers threats and warnings to people in this portion of the maze. It tells them to give up on their progress 3. anya jenkins | prompt 11. a rat with a gun 4.

𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔠𝔨 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔪𝔢𝔰 — (3/4) entered willingly. not open to death but open to injury. Sherlock's not terribly pleased about it, but he won't stand by when there's people in need. He'll be attempting to help people out of the maze whilst trying to find his family. starters:1. enola holmes | prompt 12. characters enter a portion of the maze to find it completely dark.2. patia por'co | prompt 25. characters wander in to a giant feast, long empty tables piled high with food, with chairs much too high for anyone human to sit in.3. jorah mormont | prompt 18. murderous clown 4.

#hw: starter call #hwevent16

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nazmazh · 3 months ago

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Well, I'll say one thing - Pokemon Go making me activate my video game grind mentality at least meant I made myself go for a walk

(well, several laps around the basement. I probably should have done my driveway loop earlier in the day, but it's dark now)

Basically, there's a "Masterwork Research" Quest Line, full of long, pain-in-the-ass quests. Most will finish eventually. It'll take me a long time to hatch 20 eggs, catch 500 Pokemon, and make 50 excellent throws.

But, statistically, they'll happen eventually

The "Visit Pokestops on 7 Different Days" one will be probably take some time, because I'm out in the middle of nowhere, but eventually, I'll get it done.

Being a rural player is kind of a pain for this, honestly - Back when I was in Airdrie, the park behind my house was a stop, so I could ping it from my desk. Same thing back when I was in Edmonton; there was the convenience store stop across the street to the north, and the dorm building across the street to the east, not to mention that from my office on campus I could reach several, and getting more meant just taking a quick stroll to stretch my legs.

Anyway - The only one in this set of tasks that required actual planning was "Catch 75 Pokemon in One Day"

The big obstacle there is that you need to have at least 75 pokeballs. More, most likely, because you're probably not gonna catch with every throw. Again, being rural and not having access to many convenient stops, my stocks of supplies usually run fairly low.

But, as luck would have it, I ended up finally being able to progress a bunch of "Beat Team Rocket" quests that had piled up, because I've finally got some mons that can actually take down the leaders' overpowered teams [I haven't really gotten tons of overpowered mons from raids or anything. In fact, earlier this month was the first time I managed to snag a raid participation while heading through town, which is what progressed all those quests to a stage I could actually do with my usual routine]

This meant that I had like, 5 or 6 quests to beat Giovanni ready to go, and I managed to just drag myself across the finish line on that one with a C-Team in the morning before going to bed [Shout-out to my Passimian for taking down his Persian, the big MVP, my Crustle, for taking out his Crobat (which had a Dark-type attack, meaning my Psychic mons couldn't safely fight it), and my Durant for bringing it home against his Cresselia. Bug-Types for the win?]

So, beating Giovanni got me a ton of items and a bunch of Pokemon encounters Meaning, this morning before going to bed, I had like 30 captures, and a ton of Pokeballs (ultra balls, even), so I figured now was a good day to push for the quest

I would have done more on it earlier, but we had company pop in Anyway, I had a bunch of incense in my inventory and read on how it worked. Apparently, one bonus Pokemon spawn every 5 minutes if you're stationary, one every minute or 200 meters if you're moving. So, I figured I'd make myself do some walking around to guarantee enough spawns to finish up

As a bonus, this meant my current egg hatched (Shiny Hisuian Growlithe, of all things!) And this finished another quest Which led to a bunch of "Pokemon Encounter" rewards Culminating with a guaranteed Celebi catch reward And as a capper, my Celebi spawned as a shiny! {Maybe it's guaranteed to spawn as shiny? The quest was called "Distracted by Something Shiny", after all]

But yes, now, the rest of the quests are inevitable. The one I actually had to actively work towards is done!

And I got a 20 minute walk in, which is never a bad thing.

Yay, exploitative video game mechanics…?

(I'm glad it was a guaranteed-to-catch thing, because the little fucker kept hopping around, and spawned far enough back on-screen that it was a major pain in the butt to actually hit with a Pokeball, so I probably would have burned all my stock trying to get it otherwise)

#pokemon go

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snowdice · 2 months ago

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Big Bang Editing Story [Day 124]

I have been sick as a dog since I last worked on this story. I'm not even doing any work today lol. I just want to get this chapter finished. Will probably do a couple rounds and then cook myself dinner, so there may be a gap at some point. Mostly I'll just be, like, reading when not posting. Wish me luck.

“Good day for a picnic,” Helen commented as she handed over the basket Thomas had requested from her a few days before. He was taking Logan, Patton, and Virgil to the cliffs today and it was perfect weather for it. Spring was truly here, which meant that those of Thomas’s duties that had laid dormant over the harsh winter were about to start up again.

The world had been on pause for a bit considering no armies or agents from any kingdom could get through the snow the last few months, but the concerns of last fall were showing their heads once again.

Thomas had just gotten word a day ago that the queen of Lamir had routed out a second assassin hiding in her ranks over the winter. The assassin had been sent shortly after it was made clear that the queen wouldn’t bow down after the assassination of her mother. Luckily, the assassin sent for Queen Cecil had not managed to complete her mission during the winter months.

While there had been no similar attempt on Prijaznia soil, Thomas couldn’t help but feel it was only a matter of time now that the snow had melted. They were already working on increasing security in the coming weeks and, though it was doubtful an assassin had managed to hide in the castle all winter without revealing themselves, they’d be closely scrutinizing all of the newer staff members.

It would be a stressful time in the coming months, which is why, despite everything Thomas needed to do, he was still going to take his son and his son’s friends on a picnic today. Logan had already started taking on royal duties as of late, but he still hadn’t taken them all on quite yet. Considering this was last summer before Logan was of age, they should at least try to take advantage of it where they could. Patton was a year younger, but the sentiment held for him as well.

Then there was Virgil. Despite their best efforts, they still didn’t know enough about Virgil, but Thomas was fairly sure he’d never had a summer to enjoy until now.

“Thanks for prepping lunch for us,” Thomas said to Helen with a smile.

“No problem,” she said waving them off. “I put in some of Virgil’s favorites.”

“Great,” Thomas said. “Do you know where the kids are?”

“Patton said they were going to go pet the cats, so I’d guess they’re in the gardens.”

Thomas thanked her again and told her to have a good day before exiting the kitchen. There was a nearby door that led straight towards the part of the gardens Patton and Logan had always favored. He figured they’d either still be around there, or they would have wandered towards the stables by now knowing that they’d be taking horses to the cliffs. So, he decided to simply walk the normal path from the door to the stable, hoping to find them.

His prediction ended up being hilariously correct. They were indeed on the path Thomas had chosen. It was clear they (or at least Logan) were attempting to make it to the stable. However, as was typical, a portion of the party had been waylaid by whimsy.

Logan was standing further down the path, arms crossed and frowning as he watched his friends. Patton and Virgil were surrounded by cats. Patton was sitting down, holding two of them in his lap and watching Virgil’s legs being swarmed by the rest of them, maybe two dozen in total.

Virgil looked confused, but not unhappy about the presence of so many cats. He was leaning down to try to pet them all.

Logan met Thomas’s eyes as he approached and waved a frustrated hand at the two of them. Logan couldn’t help but smile.

“Virgil fed one of them,” Logan complained as though he wanted Thomas to somehow go into the past and prevent this crime.

Patton and Virgil looked over at Thomas, noticing him when Logan addressed him.

“You’re going to make Princess Marisol jealous,” Thomas said. Logan frowned at Thomas as he used the ‘Princess’ label for the cat.

“Princess Marisol decided not to come,” Virgil said with a shrug. He continued to pet one of the cats.

“She’s probably sleeping on my pillow,” Logan said, sounding grumpy.

Thomas just chuckled. Princess Marisol was technically Logan’s cat, at least that’s what the kids said, and she did spend much of her time in the royal rooms. However, she was very clearly actually Virgil’s cat. Virgil just spent a lot of time in the royal wing as well.

In fact, Thomas still didn’t know where Virgil was supposed to be sleeping. He and Mr. Deknis had gone so far as to tail him a couple of times, but he always ended up sleeping in Logan’s room those nights.

Knowing Virgil, he might just sleep in the walls. Though that still did not answer the question of where his parents or guardians were. They still had not figured it out. Thomas would assume he was an orphan who’d snuck onto castle grounds for safety, but Virgil had told Mr. Deknis during their first meeting that he was supposed to be in the castle, and it had not been a lie.

Then again, it had slowly become apparent that Virgil was good at dodging the multrum’s powers. It was starting to seem more likely that he’d somehow inserted a second meaning into his answer to Mr. Deknis that night than he somehow had some ghost guardian no one was able to locate working in the castle.

“She deserves the pillow more than you,” Virgil said, bringing Thomas’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. The look of audacity on Logan’s face made Thomas chuckle.

Thomas cut in before it could become a fight. “I could get Princess Marisol a pillow, so she doesn’t sleep on yours. Or we can get you a new pillow if you’d prefer, Logan.”

“It’s not about the pillow for her,” Logan argued. “It’s about her inflated sense of superiority.”

“She deserves it,” Virgil declared. Thomas could tell he was just trying to rile Logan up, and Thomas was sure Logan knew it too, but still his son reacted exactly in the way Virgil wanted him to.

“You have enabled and encouraged this behavior from the start!” Logan seethed.

“She’s a princess.”

“She is not a princess!”

Patton shook his head while squeezing the cats in his arms, completely used to this behavior. He ran a chin idly over one of the cat’s heads while watching the argument.

“We’re never going to make it to the picnic at this rate,” Thomas said to him, “and after your mother made all of this wonderful food.”

“You’re the dad,” Patton said. “Make them stop.”

And, of course, Patton did just mean that he was Logan’s dad with that statement. However, when he glanced back up at the silly argument still going on between his son and the cat covered boy, it did almost look like a fight between siblings.

Especially with the dark hair and stubborn but mischievous look in Virgil’s eyes, Thomas could almost imagine the boy being his own child.

He shook away the thoughts and glanced at the picnic basket in his hand.

“We do have a lot of food in this basket,” Thomas said, pitching his voice up so that Logan (and more importantly) Virgil would hear them clearly.

Virgil immediately turned to look at him, abandoning all interest in antagonizing Logan to look at the basket curiously.

Thomas was never sure if he should be amused or worried about how food motivated Virgil often was.

“What’s in the basket?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure,” Thomas said. “Patton’s mom made it. We’ll just have to see once we get to the picnic area.”

Virgil nodded in understanding and began to gently extract himself from the droves of cats. Logan rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem inclined to continue the argument he’d been dragged into. Virgil and Patton got to their feet, and they continued on their way towards the stables.

The horses Thomas had requested be prepared for their trip were already in saddles, though the stable hand who had been handling Mr. Apples seemed a bit dirtier and more exhausted than the rest.

The stable hand seemed as happy to hand Mr. Apples over to Virgil as Virgil was to have Mr. Apples handed over to him. Thomas received Bella with a smile and Logan and Patton got their own horses as well.

The cliffs were about half an hour's ride from the main castle. There was a mostly well-maintained path to them, though it was easy to get lost if one didn’t know the way. Mr. Apples knew the way perhaps better than Thomas himself and seemed annoyed by the fact that Thomas was trying to lead the way. Virgil and Thomas ended up side-by-side whenever the path allowed it to placate him.

Thomas still marveled at how willing Mr. Apples was to let Virgil ride him, especially when he tossed his head in Thomas’s direction, a horse’s equivalent of giving Thomas a stink-eye.

“Are you excited for the picnic?” Thomas asked the boy beside him.

Virgil glanced over at him and nodded.

“I am too,” Thomas said. “It’s always beautiful this time of year. I’m glad I could find the time to take you all there this year.”

“Are you very busy?” Virgil asked curiously.

“I am king,” Thomas reminded, “and now that the world isn’t snowed in anymore things will be busy.”

“With the war?” Virgil asked.

Thomas paused for a few seconds. “Yes,” he confirmed. “With the war, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil asked.

“You’re just a kid,” Thomas said.

“I’m 14,” Virgil said.

Thomas glanced at him. “Exactly,” he said, “a kid, and luckily, you’re in a place that can afford you the luxury of being one.”

“What do you mean?”

“The war has been mainly fought on Mocnejsi soil in recent years. Our boarders have held strong against invasions. Unless something goes horribly wrong suddenly, it would take a long time for the main conflict to get here. The only real threat in the castle would be assassins sent after me personally.”

“Right,” Virgil said. There was an awkward pause in conversation before he spoke again. “You’re winning the war then?” he asked.

“Something could always happen,” Thomas said, “but for the most part, yes, we have quite the advantage right now.”

“Oh,” Virgil said.

Thomas shook his head as they were coming up to a narrowing of the path. “Anyway, today is a day to not think about war. Today we’re going to have a lovely picnic and do some bird watching.”

“Right,” Virgil agreed from behind Thomas as Bella took the lead (to Mr. Apples discontent.)

When the path widened again, Thomas did his best to direct the topic to lighter subjects and soon they made it to the cliffs.

Chapter 57 (Virgil)

Virgil had never been to a picnic. At least, that’s what Patton had informed him when Virgil had described his past experiences of eating outdoors. Logan had agreed even though he’d admitted that the definition of “picnic” was only eating a pre-packaged meal outdoors which Virgil had done plenty of times.

From what Virgil could tell, the main difference was just how much stuff one brought to a picnic.

In addition to the basket full of food (that Virgil still hadn’t gotten to look in yet), the king had brought a large soft quilt that he had Logan and Virgil spread out on the ground for them all to sit on.

Patton and Logan had also packed some things themselves to bring along. Logan had brought along a book to read, and Patton had brought along a board game (thankfully not checkers but something Virgil did not recognize). Virgil hadn’t brought anything (except for the fire knife he was definitely not supposed to have and was definitely not letting the king see) because he hadn’t known he was supposed to bring things. He wouldn’t have known what to bring anyway.

The blanket was soft and a much better alternative to sitting on the ground, especially because, while there was grass at the top of The Cliffs, there were also a good number of rocks.

The king set the picnic basket in the middle of the blanket once it was spread out and then lowered himself down to sit on one side. Patton quickly followed him, already fiddling with some of his board game pieces, though he wasn’t setting it up yet. Virgil highly doubted that Logan was going to be allowed to read his book unless Patton eventually got bored of the game.

However, they would, hopefully, be allowed to make use of the basket the king had brought along.

Virgil followed the king and Patton’s lead and got to his knees on the blanket across the picnic basket from the king. He peered at the basket curiously.

He didn’t quite know what picnic food was, but Patton had told them they’d be getting ‘picnic food’ and he was very curious about what that meant.

King Thomas smiled at him. “Let’s see what Patton’s mom packed us, huh?” He reached for the basket and flipped it open as Logan sat next to Virgil. “There is a lot more food than usual in here,” the king said, sounding amused. “Let’s see.”

He began to pull out packaged food and glanced in each package to identify it before setting it out.

“We have a few types of mini sandwiches,” he said, putting them down, “and some pasta salad.” He set down the bowl.

“We also have… er something else.” He showed it to Logan.

“They’re hot cauliflower bites,” Logan said instantly upon seeing them. Virgil perked up in excitement. That was one of his favorite foods.

“Ah,” King Thomas said, but shrugged and set it down. “We also have two desserts apparently: cookies and mini apple pies. That last one’s a bit extra for a picnic.”

“They’re very good,” Virgil said happily.

“And we also have.” King Thomas paused, looking confused. “Chicken alfredo?”

“Yes!” Virgil said.

“Why do we have chicken alfredo for a picnic?”

“It’s a Virgil picnic,” Logan groaned. “She packed us a Virgil picnic.”

“Hey, at least momma sent us something too,” Patton said.

“I think I’ll stick to sandwiches for today,” King Thomas said. He looked at Patton and Logan. “Do either of you want…?”

“No,” Logan said. Patton shook his head.

The king nodded and offered the entire covered bowl of chicken alfredo to Virgil. “Here, this one’s yours,” he said.

“Really?” Virgil asked tentatively. It wasn’t exactly strange for people here to offer him food, and he’d expected and anticipated getting to eat on this venture, but the king of the country offering him an entire bowl of his favorite food was something else.

“It’s not really my idea of a picnic food and you seem excited for it,” King Thomas said with a warm smile, still holding it out.

Virgil took it reverently. Despite the time it had taken to get to the cliffs, the bottom of the container was still warm. Virgil assumed it was one of the heating spells the kitchen sometimes used.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, setting it in his lap.

“Of course, Virgil,” the king said.

The bowl was enough for four people to have a little bit, but for one person it was a lot. Still, Virgil was offered a little of every other food in the picnic basket (and he ate a good number of the hot cauliflower bites).

“Where do you put all of that?” the king asked when Virgil finished polishing off the chicken alfredo bowl.

Everyone else seemed to have finished eating long before Virgil, though Patton still had a small plate of grapes, and he occasionally popped one in his mouth. King Thomas was currently setting up the board game they’d brought on the blanket between all of them.

Virgil shrugged in answer to his question. “It’s good,” he said, “and I don’t want to waste any of it.”

“You know we can just take the leftovers back to the castle and eat them later,” King Thomas said. “You don’t have to eat it all now.”

Virgil just shrugged again, watching as the king set out a group of 8 figures on the board.

“Here, which character do you want to be?” the king asked Virgil, gesturing at the group of figures. Virgil had not noticed the figures were different at first glance. They were all copper colored and about the size of his thumb, but they had slightly different shapes. He squinted at them each carefully, finding they all looked like people, but with different clothing. Some worse pants and some skirts, a few had hats, and one was even carrying a book.

After a few moments, he pointed at one that looked like it had vines wrapped around its arms and was wearing a floppy hat that almost covered its eyes.

“That’s the druid,” King Thomas told him with a grin. “Good choice, and luckily not one that anyone usually fights over.” He glanced at Logan who didn’t react to his father’s gaze. He just plucked the figure clutching the book off the board for himself.

Patton and the king picked pieces for themselves. Patton picked one with an apron that kind of reminded Virgil of his mom and the king picked one that was in a suit of armor before putting the other 4 figures away.

Unlike checkers, this game wasn’t just for two people, and so no one had to sit watching people play while bored out of their mind.

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They played a practice round so Virgil could figure out how the game worked, though honestly it wasn’t that complicated, so it wasn’t really necessary.

The theme of the game was all about stealing. They were supposed to steal special tokens from other players as well as characters in the game and the first person with 20 tokens won.

The other three players argued that stealing was not the point and not the main mechanism of the game, but considering Virgil was consistently winning the entire time, he would argue they were just playing it wrong. He managed to collect 20 tokens before anyone else. In second place at this time was Logan with 9 tokens.

Logan insisted on continuing to play the game to determine 2nd and 3rd place, so Virgil ended up watching them play for a bit. Virgil didn’t mind sitting and watching other people play this game, mostly because he still had the joy of victory running in his veins.

Thomas was definitely going to lose, he noted. He kept wasting his money feeding the nonplayer characters who lived on his lands. Virgil didn’t mention this faulty strategy to him in case Virgil ever played him again.

When Logan took too long thinking about his next move, Virgil took in their surroundings.

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He’d been a bit too distracted by the prospect of food and then trying to understand (and then win) the game to truly take in The Cliffs. They were settled a good distance away from the cliffside but Virgil could still see how quickly the edge dropped off. He couldn’t see the large river he was told was at its base from where he was sitting, but he did see a few of the promised wild birds (including doves) flying around. The king had promised they’d bird watch for a bit, and Virgil figured that would happen after the game was over.

A cool spring breeze brushed across Virgil’s face, and he put his hand in his hoodie pockets to warm them. Instead, his fingers hit something icy cold.

For a moment, he didn’t remember what it was. The crescent shape of it was familiar when he put his hand over it, but he had never felt it cold before.

It was the protection charm: the first charm Virgil had ever made with Logan so many months ago. It was meant to ward off small threats as well as warn you about larger threats by changing temperature…

It had always been warm.

“What?” Patton asked, having noticed Virgil suddenly tense. Virgil, despite how he drilled into his friend’s heads to stay alert had gone soft. He’d let himself be distracted by a full belly and warm blankets and fun games.

He didn’t answer Patton. He filtered the other boy’s worried face out as well as Logan’s face as he glanced at him and the king’s still focused on the game for now. He filtered out the picnic blanket and smell of food still lingering in the air and the vine covered figure set in the middle of the board on the winner’s space. He filtered out the sound of the breeze and the breath of his companions and the distant chirping of birds.

And he heard a whoosh.

Chapter 58 (Patton)

If Patton hadn’t already been looking, he probably wouldn’t have had any idea what happened.

“What?” Patton had asked, but the question didn’t seem to register to Virgil.

Logan had glanced up confused and also noticed Virgil’s face. He’d just opened his mouth to also ask what was going on when chaos descended.

Virgil was distracted by dodging for long enough that the older assassin managed to hit him in the face with the arm not holding the arrow.

Virgil rolled to avoid the hit, already slashing up with his plate as the assassin turned back towards him.

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Virgil took a moment to kick the arrow away from the assassin and it ended up falling off the cliff.

Virgil lunged back forward, but the assassin was able to get a leg between them, kicking Virgil squarely in the chest and sending him flying back a few feet parallel to the cliff’s edge.

The assassin went to grab their bow and another arrow from the quiver still strapped to their shoulder.

…

“Uh, Virgil?” King Thomas said. He had managed to get the blanket off his head at some point. When, Patton didn’t know, but seeing any of it was probably enough.

Oopsie.

Chapter 59 (Logan)

The moment Logan’s father spoke, however, they both jumped into action.

“I can explain,” Logan said.

His father was still sitting on the ground. “You can explain,” he said slowly, “how Virgil just threw an assassin off a cliff.”

“And what would that explanation be?”

“What?”

“Look,” Logan said. “You’re going to have to tell him you’re not going to execute him soon. Patton can only keep him from bolting for so long.”

#proofreading stories #not writing

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