#both of whom i miss very much . so i drew them in outfits i think they deserve

[gncrezan]

buttonkenzie vs. the chicago subway

#warmup for school that spiralled <3 #kent zarneki #laila wiseman #mind blind #both of whom i miss very much . so i drew them in outfits i think they deserve #one thing u must understand about me is that i firmly believe in kenzie wearing dresses #and that i also believe in the gnc capabilities of gender variable ROs. so there #my art #ignore very kindly the half assed background. i have this vivid in my mind and drew a sketch like this some time ago in my notebook #struggled to make it work tho.. #anyways if anyone on this sideblog enjoys m*rvel i have a spideyblog at pbnmj <3 #of which i am currently fixated on. LOL #also playing around with the rendering its half me trying smthn out cause ive been into sketchier stuff #but also partially some amount of just bsing it till i enjoy what it looks like </3

[michaelgovehateblog]

Piggy in the Middle

Queen Elizabeth x Michael Gove, Michael Gove x Matt Hancock, 1500 words

“Michael Gove and Sarah Vine to divorce.” She knew it was bad, but Elizabeth’s heart couldn’t help but skip a beat when she saw the headlines. She had spent years forcing herself to ignore how she really felt about Michael and pretending the flirty looks and comments they shared were meaningless or all in her head; after all, they were both married, and publicly at that, especially in the case of her and Philip. And it’s not that she didn’t love Philip, because she of course did, but there was something about Gove and his pig-like face that just drew her in. And now she was rid of Philip, and Michael and Sarah were splitting up – maybe there was a chance for them.

Not that they would be able to go public with it if anything even did happen between them. As far as the country knew, Elizabeth was still mourning Philip, just putting on a brave face and soldiering on without him. The public probably wouldn’t be able to deal with her moving on so soon. She sighed – her life as a parasite was so difficult.

Elizabeth was so lost in her thoughts she almost didn’t hear the knock at her door, and subsequent voice.

“Your Majesty? It’s 12, we’re scheduled to leave now.”

“Of course, I’m coming now.” She responded, and stood up to leave, making sure to glance in the mirror to check she still looked presentable. Everything was still pristine: icy white grey hairs all perfectly in place and nude lipstick completely un-smudged. She was wearing a long royal blue (her signature colour) coat with large buttons of a slightly softer blue colour, all of which were done up. This was worn over a classy floral-patterned dress, which wasn’t visible under the jacket. Perched on top of her head was an elaborate hat made from material the exact same colour as the coat and adorned with white and blue flowers. The shoes she wore were a standard pair of elegant black heels and the look was finished off with a pair of black gloves.

Satisfied the outfit was perfectly uncreased as always, Elizabeth left the room to head to the whatever event it was this time, she didn’t really care. Mostly she just showed up at these things for a bit of good PR and so people would continue believe she works hard and really cares about the common people (Which she didn’t obviously. Why would she.) Although, she was certain that someone had told her that this event would have many politicians also in attendance, so she was hopeful that she might encounter a certain cabinet member.

As per usual, Elizabeth was finding the event mind-numbingly boring, just endless shaking hands with forgettable people she was supposed to pretend to be interested in. But then she spotted him. And at the same moment she saw him, Michael glanced in her direction and they were making direct eye contact. She gave him a shy smile, which he returned as he started walking towards her, not breaking eye contact.

“Your Majesty,” said Michael, extending his arm to shake hands, “How are you today?” They shook hands, Michael noticing how dry and wrinkly Elizabeth’s felt, and her in turn mentally noting the bizarre clamminess of his, both of which only increased each person’s attraction to the other.

“I’m doing wonderfully,” she responded, “And thoroughly enjoying this lovely event.” she made sure to add, aware of how many people were probably in earshot. “But what about yourself? I heard the news. It must be a difficult time for you.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing this; he couldn’t believe that the Queen actually cared enough about him to pay attention to the news about him and his (soon to be ex) wife. He had always felt there was some kind of connection between the two of them but told himself he was imagining it – what other option did he have. But unusually for his cowardly personality, he got a sudden burst of confidence, and was shocked to hear himself talking.

“Ma’am, I think I need to step outside to get some fresh air. Would you be interested in joining me for a walk?” He hadn’t had confidence to do anything like that since his coked-up days of 20 years ago. Well, he always said 20 years ago, but those close to him, such as Matt Hancock, knew he was prone to enjoy a smidge of the substance of an evening.

“Yes, I would enjoy that a lot.” replied Elizabeth, much to Michael’s delight. He offered out his elbow, purely out of politeness, of course, which she accepted, outwardly calmly but very eagerly inside. A walk outside would probably mean time properly alone, where other people couldn’t hear them, something they had probably never had before.

They continued small talk for a while, about the event and such, until they were far enough away from the general crowds for more intimate conversation.

"How have you been coping, Ma'am, without the Prince? Such an unexpected shame, his untimely demise like that. It was truly a shock to all of us."

Right, 'untimely'. Elizabeth often forgot that Philip's death was supposed to be something entirely unexpected for her, not something she knew would happen down to the exact time and place.

"Missing him, of course, but life has to go on. And it's strange to remember that I am single again, after all these years. That's not been the case since I was 13 and Philip was an adult."

"Yes, it's the same for me, minus the questionable age difference. I’ve been married to Sarah for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to meet other people - and be with other people...” at these words the two made eye contact, neither knowing what to say aloud but having an entire unspoken conversation.

“Mr Gove… Or Michael, may I call you Michael? Would you be interested in visiting the Palace for dinner sometime soon? I could give you a personal tour of the grounds.”

“Yes, Ma’am, of course you can call me Michael,” Almost unthinkingly, the pair faced each other and reached for each other's hands. “And I would be honoured to visit the palace, Ma’am.”

Elizabeth let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding, “Please, no need to bother with the formalities, at least not whilst nobody else is listening. Call me Elizabeth. Now, we should probably head back inside to the event, we’ve been out here a while, people will be missing me. They basically worship me. But I’ll get someone to contact you about your visit to the palace - I’d do it myself, only that sort of thing is far beneath me.” A smile spread over Michael’s pig-mannequin hybrid face as they made their way back inside.

What they hadn’t realised during their encounter, was that it wasn’t as private as they had thought; in fact another politician had been lurking and watching the entire scene.And he wasn’t happy about what he saw. As soon as Elizabeth and Michael walked off in separate directions, Matt Hancock quickly grabbed Gove by the arm and dragged him into a quiet corridor.

“Hancock.”

“Gove. I saw you outside just now, heard you talking with a certain monarch. The two of you seemed quite friendly.”

“Oh. Right. I hadn’t thought anyone else had been outside. You won’t - you won’t tell anyone what you saw or heard, will you?”

“I won’t. But only because it’s you, if it had been anybody else, I would be telling the sun immediately. The queen’s new love interest, I couldn’t hope for anything better to get the tabloids off my back. But because it’s you - I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

“Matt, what do you mean? Why are you making an exception for me?”

“Govey, as if you don’t know. You must have realised how I feel about you.” Hancock stepped closer to Gove and in his mind’s eye, imagined the Sims social interactions menu, and pictured selecting ‘kiss’. (It was from looking at the characters in the game, after all, that he learnt to kiss in the first place. The mindset and techniques stuck with him.) To his delight, he felt Michael kissing him back. Matt deepened the kiss and their tongues battled for dominance. Suddenly, Michael pulled away and stared, speechless, at Matt.

After about half a minute unable to muster any coherent thoughts (not even coherent by conservative standards) Gove turned away and briskly walked to an empty room, where he could sit alone and process all of what just happened. Not only was he certain now that Elizabeth felt the same spark that he did, but Hancock, whom he had secretly had a low-level affection for for many years, had just snogged him out of jealousy? He didn’t expect to be wrapped up in a love triangle the very day his divorce was announced, and yet it seemed that was what was happening. His years of being an incompetent and sleazy politician had clearly earned him some admirers.

~~

If you made it to the end, I'm only partly sorry for what you just read. I would be willing to write a second chapter if for some godforsaken reason somebody actually would want to read one. This took me far too long to write for something that is honestly not that many words but I feel like it's understandable, given the subject matter. k bye

#i dont know if the title is actually funny but i found it funny #because of gove being a pig #also does anybody happen to have an ao3 invite they would be willing to share cos i kind of want to post this there but i dont have an acc #i have not proof read this at all so it might be complete nonsense lmao #anyway here is the promised fanfic please enjoy #uk politics #i will be reblogging this at some point because i put far too much effort into this #michael gove #matt hancock

[qlala]

Is it cheating to submit a fic request for the pride post you just made? I neeeed the whole thing (I'm on my laptop, but insert the big gay eyes emoji)

fjskdgjslg "big gay eyes emoji" you know what? just for you. just for you i have written this. i'll clean it up and upload to ao3 later but for now: have 2.7k of len dragging a sunburnt, tipsy, and glitter-covered barry back to his apartment, and happy pride!

Len wasn’t the type to begrudge anyone a good time, especially when the good time involved loud music, leather harnesses, and throwing water bottles at cops. Central City’s annual pride parade came as close as it got to challenging that attitude; families, fellow queers, and queens descended on the city waving more flags than the United Nations after a hurricane, all decked out in color combinations that Len hadn’t been able to keep straight since the ‘80s. 

The end result was the kind of crowds that could make a grown man feel claustrophobic in the middle of a city block, and that was without the visible haze of alcohol wafting off the whole event. 

But what the parade lacked in personal space, it made up for with one very important commodity: unattended wallets. 

The flock of sunburnt twinks in denim cut-offs made Len’s job almost too easy—a hand on a sweat-slicked lower back, a flash of blue eyes, and most of them wouldn’t have noticed their wallets going missing if Len had dangled their IDs in front of their faces afterwards. (While there were plenty of women dressed in just as little clothing whom Len certainly wouldn’t have minded getting within robbing distance of, he’d found queer women as a group to be less enthusiastic about uninvited touching and more enthusiastic about wallet chains, even when three sheets to the wind off of canned rosé.)   

He’d taught a dozen visiting suburbanites the importance of not keeping valuables in their back pockets by the time he spotted a familiar profile in the crowd. 

His usual red getup wasn’t much more modest than some of the outfits Len had already seen, but even knowing the shape of that body didn’t prepare Len for seeing Barry Allen stripped to the waist, bright-eyed and flushed and shimmering all over with a fine dusting of glitter. Len noted, on auto-pilot, that it didn’t seem like he’d put any of the glitter there himself; he was standing dangerously close to a drag queen throwing handfuls of the stuff on anyone who got within arm’s reach of her. It set the sun refracting off every dip and plane of muscle across Barry’s chest and stomach. Barry’s hair, already wild and dark at the roots with sweat, was full of it.   

Len’s feet were carrying him closer before he gave himself permission to move. Barry managed to drag Len into his orbit at the best of times; visibly tipsy and dripping sweat, Len would’ve had better luck resisting the turning of the earth. 

Up close, Len could take that Barry had lost his shirt somewhat recently; the slight touch of pink spanning his shoulders and chest had nothing on the serious flush across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He had a spray of new freckles as well. They were barely distinguishable under the haze of glitter stuck to his skin, but Len noticed them at once, the change unmistakable on an otherwise unchanging face (not a scar to be seen, even after three years of running into burning buildings and jumping in front of bullets; Len was equal parts frustrated and relieved).   

It looked like someone had painted a few strokes of color across one of his cheeks at some point, but it was smudged to hell and back. The back of one of Barry’s hands was stained a tell-tale matching purple, and Len could only guess at what it had been at the start of the day. 

He stepped into Barry’s space as easily as he had the rest, taking care to keep Barry between him and the source of the glitter, and hesitated for the briefest moment with his hand above Barry’s spine. He’d never touched Barry like this, skin to skin; the gloves had never come off between them, metaphorically or literally. Kept things neat. 

Nothing about Barry was neat right now. He turned even before Len touched him, and the movement brought Len’s hand into contact with his side instead. It took everything in Len not to pull it back in a flinch, and he met Barry’s curious glance with a tightly-controlled smirk. 

He’d expected Barry to step back, maybe add a bit of blush to those already-pink cheeks. Instead, Barry’s eyes took a belated second to focus, and then he gave Len a face-splitting grin. 

“Snart!” 

That time, Len did have to pull backwards to avoid Barry dragging him in for a hug. To think he’d been concerned about a hand. 

Barry didn’t seem the least bit put out, smiling loose and easy like Len hadn’t iced him to the door of a bank vault the last time they’d seen each other. He hadn’t taken Barry for such a cheerful drunk—he seemed inclined toward melodrama on a good day—but Len would take it over any of the alternatives. 

“Barry. Fancy seeing you here. And so much of you, at that.” He let his gaze slide down his bare chest and stomach, pulse ticking up at the warm brown of his nipples and the sharp vee of his hipbones that invited his gaze further down. 

“You’re overdressed,” Barry disagreed. He wasn’t quite slurring, but there was a careful deliberation in his tone that told Len it was a near thing. He took a step closer and peered at Len, suspicion evident in those pale green eyes.   “And… sober.”

“I’m not here to score. Perks include keeping my shirt on.” 

For the briefest second, Barry looked almost disappointed. But it was gone in a blink, confusion taking over. He glanced down at himself, puzzled. Then his expression cleared, and he looked up with another easy-going smile.  “I got hot.” His gaze dropped again, to Len this time, and he licked his lips. “Aren’t you… you gotta be hot in all that.” 

Len was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and thin jacket, and it hadn’t hit eighty degrees all week. But he wasn’t in the mood to argue with drunk logic. And besides, another scan of the nearby revelers had made something unpleasant begin to scratch insistently at the inside of Len’s chest, and he tapped Barry under the chin with one knuckle to bring his attention back up. 

The contact startled both of them—Len’s control had slipped, something he could not afford to happen around Barry Allen—but Len recovered first. “Where’s the rest of your team of do-gooders?” 

“Lost ‘em.” Judging by the return of Barry’s crooked grin, it was an accomplishment, not a concern. “Cisco said the shot was too strong, but I didn’t wanna go. He’s the d…” He faltered, brows pulling together as he frowned. “S’the designed. Designinated, superhero, anyway. Shh!” 

He shot a pointer finger toward Len in a movement that Len clocked, alarmingly, as intending to be pressed to his lips, as if he were the one who’d been chatting about Vibe’s secret identity. Len had three years of dealing with the Flash to thank for being able to catch Barry’s wrist in time to stop him, and he glared at him for the attempt. 

But Barry only gave him a crinkle-eyed smile and twisted his hand in Len’s grip to clasp his wrist back. “S’so good to see you here. I didn’t think…” 

“Don’t tell me you had me pegged for straight.” 

Barry made a frankly insulting noise halfway between a scoff and a hiccup and tilted Len a condescending look. 

“Speedster, remember?” he asked, far too loudly, even for a crowd currently screaming along to a pop song that’d been bad enough the first time Len’d heard it in 2000. “I see it when you...” He let go of Len’s wrist to make a gesture with two fingers, parting them in a V and sweeping them up and down Len’s body, the muscles in his forearm shifting distractingly under Len’s hand. God, the kid had to be a hundred degrees. “When you check me out. In the suit.” 

Len smirked. “It’s cute you thought I was being subtle.” 

“You’re cute,” Barry muttered, childish and sulky, and Len took it for the compliment it wasn’t. 

“You had a point, Barry.” 

Barry still looked displeased with him, but his brow was furrowed again when he met his gaze. This close, it was impossible to ignore that Barry had an inch or so on him. “About what?” 

“You didn’t think…?” Len prompted him. 

Barry stared at him blankly, and Len rolled his eyes and let go of his wrist. 

“Get out of the sun, Barry,” he said. “Find a park bench. Wait for your little friends to come find you. Shouldn’t be hard—you’re as red as your suit.” 

Barry either ignored his last comment or didn’t hear it. “Iris is here somewhere,” he said, possibly to himself. “She’s…” He twirled his finger absently beside his head. “Curly, today. And… bikini.” 

Len strongly considered abandoning Barry to his sunburn to go find out for himself. But Barry was beginning to sway a bit, and a man closer to Len’s age than Barry’s was giving Barry’s toned back a speculative look from a few feet away, and Len gave in to the unsettled feeling gnawing at his ribcage. He refused to call it worry. It was annoyance—or, at the very least, the feeling was annoying him, which was close enough.   

“As much a sight for sore eyes as that would be,” he said, allowing a magnanimousness he didn’t feel to color his tone, “I doubt Miss West ran away from her group and got heatstroke. Unlike some people” 

Barry didn’t look the least bit chastened, lips curving up mischievously in a way that drew another couple interested looks. Len needed to get them both out of the crowd before he started breaking noses.

“Tell you what. Give Cisco a call, tell him you went home. My bike’s on Kingsbridge, away from the parade route.” 

Barry’s smirk sharpened. “Trying to get me out of here, Snart? I thought you weren’t here to score.” 

Len gave him a flat look, ignoring the decidedly interested way his body was reacting to Barry’s tone. 

“You can barely stand.” 

Barry’s eyes glittered at the challenge, and Len realized his mistake. 

“Barry—” 

He hadn’t even finished biting out the second syllable when the world spun out from under him, the noise and the heat and the press of the crowd swallowed up in a hair-raising charge of yellow lightning. Exactly two and a half seconds passed in a blur of movement, just long enough for Len to realize Barry was supporting the back of his head with one too-warm hand. Then the world came skidding to a stop around them. Barry’s momentum carried them both forward several feet even after their new surroundings materialized, and they very nearly went straight through a window again before Barry seemed to remember how to stop. 

Len considered pushing him out the window anyway for the stunt. True, he’d been itching to get another taste of that feeling, the ozone snap-drag of Barry’s power like a live wire under his hands, but he’d rather have waited until Barry could pass a breathalizer. 

He realized Barry still had an arm around him and shoved him off. It did nothing to dim Barry’s self-satisfied grin, and Len had to look away or risk giving into the interested once-over Barry was skimming over his body again. 

“Pretty sure the point of a designated driver is not doing that.” 

Barry followed him when he took a step back. Len made a calculated decision, decided the risk of touching Barry again was worth it, and pressed his fingers to the middle of Barry’s chest—right where the Flash insignia would be on his suit, his brain offered unhelpfully—and pushed him backwards, hard. 

Barry unbalanced and wheeled back a step. Then the backs of his knees hit the edge of the couch, and he toppled, satisfyingly, back onto the dark leather cushions. 

It was a nice couch. The whole apartment was nice, actually. Len could’ve drawn a perimeter of possible locations based on Barry’s speed and how long it had taken them to reach it if he hadn’t already known the address. 

“Sit,” he said. And then, with a smirk: “Stay.” 

Barry rolled his eyes. “Gonna have to ask nicer than that if you wanna boss me around in bed.”

The way he threw it out there, easy as anything, almost made Len miss a step as he turned away. He wasn’t going to lay a hand on Barry, not when he was drunk on sunlight and skin and whatever concoction Cisco had apparently cooked up for him. But hearing him say it, like they’d already gotten all of the messy parts out of the way—it set off warning bells in Len’s head, flashing past all the possible off-ramps he would’ve taken if Barry had ever tried to have the conversation in a more linear fashion. 

“You’re drunk,” Len said, which was a coward’s answer, and behind him, Barry made a vague noise of agreement. 

“Probably,” he acknowledged. “You could stick around ‘til I’m not.” 

Christ. Len didn’t trust himself to look at Barry again, not when he knew he’d find him sprawled out and shedding glitter all over what had looked like a very expensive couch. “Stay,” he repeated, and went off to find the kitchen. 

By the time he got back with two glasses of water, the problem had solved itself; Barry was out cold on the couch, his painting cheek pressed to the throw pillow he’d curled himself half-around. He was shivering faintly in the air conditioning, all cooled sweat and goosebumps, and Len resigned himself to the now-familiar impulse to help him that stirred in his chest. He put one of the glasses down on the table and, not trusting his hands, knocked his knee into one of Barry’s where it was bent close to the edge of the couch. 

Barry buried his face into the pillow with a noise of displeasure, and Len said his name again. 

“Last warning,” Len said. “Ten seconds, you find out if I put on steel-toed boots today.” 

Barry groaned, and if the sound hadn’t made Len’s pulse skip, the easy shift of muscles in Barry’s arm as he pushed himself up to sitting again would’ve done the trick. 

“Water,” Len said, unnecessarily, as he passed him the glass. 

Barry took it with the tips of his fingers, as if it were something personally offensive to him, and took a single, polite sip before putting it down beside the other with no small amount of distaste. Then he glanced between the glasses, and up at Len, a dirty spark already lighting behind his eyes again. 

“Don’t get your hopes up. They’re both for you.” 

Barry let out a breath with audible annoyance and dropped back against the couch cushions to glare at him. 

Len felt a modicum of sanity return to him. This, at least, was familiar ground: Barry, frustrated, asking for too much, too soon. True, it had always been about the hero business until now, but Len knew a pattern when he saw one. Give Barry an inch, and he always took a mile. 

Len gave Barry one last, appraising look. He looked ridiculous, all self-righteousness and bare skin. There was only one break in the otherwise even coat of glitter, there on Barry’s side: faint, but unmistakable, the outline of Len’s hand on his waist. The feeling in Len’s chest coalesced into something pleased and possessive. He met Barry’s glare with a slow curl of his lips, then gave him an inch.  

“Call me when you’re sober, Barry,” he said, letting his voice slip into the Cold drawl just to watch Barry’s eyes go dark. “And you can show me how well you sit up and beg.” 

He could see the impatience radiating off of Barry’s frame, the effort it was taking him to stay on the couch instead of closing the space between them. 

“Call your friends,” he reminded him. “Enough people got a look at your face today without the CCPD splashing it on every milk carton, too.”

In the elevator, Len reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the thin black wallet he’d liberated from Barry during their sprint across the city. Two and a half seconds: child’s play. A little extra incentive for Barry to track him down in the morning, not that Len thought he needed it. He flipped it open, noted the deer-in-the-headlights picture of Barry on his driver’s license with amusement, and then thumbed open the bill compartment. 

Len smirked. Barry wouldn’t miss a few dollars; he owed him for the dry-cleaning it was gonna take to get the glitter out of his jacket, anyway. 

#coldflash #leonard snart #barry allen #the flash #my fics #is 10 pm on a tuesday peak posting time? no! is it when i finished this? yes! #also this is blatantly nyc pride sorry #write what you know etc

[fangirlwriting-stories]

These Unprecedented Times

Chapter One

AO3 Link

Chapter Three: Intrusive Thoughts

Introducing Roman next had absolutely been the right move.  Janus hadn’t seen either him or Thomas that happy or excited in a long time.  He hadn’t felt that positive for a while himself, either.  Things seem to have improved in the Mindscape too.  Virgil was glad Thomas had finally brushed his teeth, as he’d been worried about cavities.  Patton liked the idea of using their next video to help others, and Logan appreciated that Thomas was at least beginning to take care of himself.  And Remus, for once, had moved on from disease and death, albeit in a Remus way.

“And we should definitely tell all of the viewers how soap is bad for you,” he said with a nod during their attempted movie night.  “And that they should never shower ever again.  And how deodorant is delicious and so if they want to eat it—”

“Remus,” Janus cut him off, and Remus looked at him.  Janus paused the movie.  “Would you like to come to the brainstorming session tomorrow?”

Remus started grinning.  “Really?”

Janus nodded.  “So long as you at least try to stay on the video topic, I see no reason not to have you there.  You are Creativity too, after all.”

Remus gave a cry of delight and bounced up off the couch, springing onto the wall, and down onto the floor, and then on top of the table.  “I get to meet Thomas!” he screeched.

“You couldn’t have sent me out of the room for that?” Virgil grumbled, covering his ears.

“I’m not sure it would have made that much of a difference,” Janus said, as the other three sides showed up in the doorway.

“What in the world is going on?” Patton called.

“I invited Remus to the brainstorm tomorrow,” Janus called, trying to make himself heard over Remus, which was a task all its own.

Patton’s immediate discomfort was obvious, but he wasn’t really the one Janus was worried about.  “Is that alright with you, Roman?” he called.

Roman looked unsure.  “You sure he’s not just going to start talking about death again?” he asked.

“I can’t rule out that possibility entirely, he is Remus,” Janus said, as Remus leapt down off the ceiling and landed on the couch again.  “But he seems to like the video idea you’ve come up with.  And I think he could have things to add.”

Roman still didn’t look fully comfortable with the idea, but after a minute he sighed.  “Alright,” he said.  “I suppose it’s not really fair to keep him exiled from brainstorms.”

Remus started vibrating in excitement again.  “We get to brainstorm together Ro-ro!” he called, leaping up and running over to pull Roman into a hug.  The level of excitement he was currently at meant that Roman was beginning to be shaken up and down.

“Okay let go of me!” Roman yelled, though Remus naturally did no such thing.

“He’s really excited, huh?” Virgil said from Janus’ other side, and he was starting to smile.

“Well, how would you react if you got to meet Thomas?” Janus asked.

“I’d start panicking.”

“Right, yeah, that does sound more like you,” Janus admitted.

“Hey, Jan?”

Janus turned to face Virgil more.  “Yes?”

“You really think this is a good idea?”

Janus looked back to Remus starting to swing Roman back and forth in between flipping him upside down over his head.  “I do.”

“Alright,” Virgil said, though he still sounded unsure.  “I trust you.”

“I appreciate it,” Janus said.  “I imagine I’ll get a different reaction from Logan and Patton.”

“Yep.  Good luck,” Virgil said, patting him on the back.  Janus shoved him halfheartedly, and prepared himself for the conversation he’d definitely be having with a couple other sides later.  Either way, this was a good idea.

Most likely.

…

“But do you really think—”

“Yes, Patton, I really, really, really think this is a good idea.  Really,” Janus said, trying to avoid the impulse to look up at the ceiling.  To his surprise, Logan hadn’t seemed to have much of an issue with introducing Remus, but that didn’t mean Janus was spared from the moral side, who had pulled him into the Mindscape kitchen right before he went to go meet Thomas.

“He’s just… he’s not exactly the best side we have around,” Patton muttered, rubbing at his arm.

“No, but I don’t really think any of us are the ‘best side’ in the way you mean,” Janus said coolly.  “Thomas needs all of us, Patton.”

“I know that,” Patton said.  “I just… Remus?”

“Remus,” Janus agreed.  “He’s making an effort to stay on the video topic, and that’s asking a lot of him.  And he’s Creativity too.  It’s not fair to let Roman do all of the work in that department.  To Remus or Roman.”

“Roman’s managed alright without him so far,” Patton said quietly.

Janus drew himself further upright.  “No,” he said.  “Roman has been having a breakdown about the fact that he doesn’t think he’s good enough.  He really hasn’t been managing alright, and shutting Thomas off from an entire side of his Creativity is in no way a good idea.  The three of them need to learn to work together.  And that’s not such a terrible idea for you to be considering, either,” Janus said, crossing his arms.

Patton narrowed his eyes.  “You don’t think it’s a little unfair for you to be talking about working together when you’re only letting sides through to Thomas when you want to?”

“Maybe,” Janus said.  “Or maybe if you were making more of an effort to work together I’d be more willing to let you talk to Thomas.  We could have this argument all day.  I need to go introduce Thomas to Remus.”  Janus turned and headed for the door.

“What if he doesn’t like him?” Patton asked, and Janus stopped.  He turned back around.

“How do you know how Thomas will react to Remus?” he asked.

“You want to start working together?  Fine.  Thomas doesn’t like the kinds of things Remus comes up with.  I can’t imagine why he’d like Remus in spite of that.  Just…” Patton sighed.  “Look.  I can’t honestly say that I want Thomas to dislike Remus.  It wouldn’t be fun for Remus, and I don’t want that for him.  I’m just saying you should prepare yourselves for the possibility.”  Patton looked hesitant for a moment.  “Maybe… maybe you should prepare Thomas for the possibility.  Maybe that would help?”

Janus was about to snap back a reply when he considered the statement for a moment longer.  “You know…” he said.  “That’s actually not a terrible idea.”  He looked up at Patton and nodded.  “Thanks.”

“Oh.  Um, you’re welcome kiddo.”

Janus disregarded the kiddo comment and sunk out to see Thomas, without Remus or Roman for the moment.

…

Thomas was surprised when Self-Interest showed up alone again.  “No Escapism today?” he asked, setting down the notebook he’d been getting ready to use to brainstorm.

“He’ll be here in a moment,” Self-Interest said.  “I just thought it would be fair to give you a heads up that the other half of your creativity will be coming today too.”

“Oh,” Thomas said.  “Didn’t you say that was my Intrusive Thoughts?  I thought I wasn’t ready to meet him.”

“He’s been calmer as of late.  You have noticed, haven’t you?” Self-Interest asked.

Thomas paused, and realized after a moment that he had noticed less invasive thoughts about death and disease lately.

“I told him he could join if he tried to stay on topic.  But a forewarning, he’s… not very good at that.  It just might be a lot, and I wanted to give you a chance to prepare yourself to be a little overwhelmed.”

Thomas nodded uneasily.

“He cares quite a bit,” Self-Interest said.  “In his own way.  He’s just… a lot sometimes.”

Thomas crossed his arms, feeling a little unsettled.  “It sounds like you don’t think I’ll like him.”

“Well, he’s the creative thoughts you don’t want for a reason,” Self-Interest muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I just… don’t want you to be expecting another Escapism and be disappointed.  Because he’s really excited for this, and if you end up acting disappointed, I just…”

“Hey,” Thomas cut him off by reaching out and grabbing his hand.  “Does he mean a lot to you?”

Self-Interest looked up at him in surprise.  “What?”

“It sounds like he means a lot to you.”

“I… I practically raised him,” Self-Interest admitted.

“Okay.  Then it’ll be fine.  I’m not going to be rude to someone who matters that much to you.  I know to expect someone a little eccentric.  It’ll be okay.”

“A little eccentric is putting it mildly,” Self-Interest muttered.  “But alright.  I’ll go get them both.”

Thomas nodded, and Self-Interest sank back down again.  Thomas prepared himself for getting overwhelmed or maybe screamed at, and not a moment too soon, because after a second there appeared in front of him someone who looked similar to Escapism, though with a black and green outfit and a much crazier grin on his face.

“Thomathy!” the side exclaimed.  “Wow, you look exactly like I thought you would!”

“Like… you?” Thomas asked in confusion.

“Like shit!  You really should try some eyeshadow, I can show you how I do mine!”

“I think I’m okay,” Thomas said, making note of the purple eyeshadow smeared all around the side’s face in a way that didn’t look exactly flattering.

“You didn’t let me finish,” said Self-Interest, as he rose up with Escapism, the latter of whom looked nervous and the former of whom looked weary.

“You said I could go see Thomas,” Intrusive Thoughts said, turning and bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.  “So I did!”

“I said, ‘Yes, you can go, but.’  There was more coming.”

“Wait, I missed a butthole?  Was it juicy?”

Thomas couldn’t help the startled laugh that came out of him, and Intrusive Thoughts grinned back over at him.  “Hi,” Thomas said.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi!  I’m your Intrusive Thoughts, but that’s kind of a mouthful, so you can just call me Remus!”

Thomas blinked.  “Uh… okay?”

“Wait, how come he gets to tell him his name first?” Escapism asked, sounding offended.

“Wait,” Thomas said.  “You all have names?”

“No one was stopping you from telling him your name,” Remus said, grinning back at Escapism.  “I just got here first.  I win, fucker!”

“What— that’s not even— Remus is a terrible name anyway!”

Remus gave a long and clearly not actually offended gasp.  “Bold words coming from someone named Stinky Poo Poo Side The Third.”

“That… that’s not actually your name, is it?” Thomas asked in concern, glancing back at Escapism.  “Because if you want to pick a different one—”

“Roman,” the side groaned, burying his head in his hands.  “He’s Remus, I’m Roman.”

“Oh,” Thomas said.  “Okay.” He glanced over at Self-Interest, who was massaging his temple and looking very done with the whole situation.

“Why did I think it was a good idea to send you both here together?” Self-Interest muttered.

“Well, you did, no take backsies!” Remus called.  “Anyway!” he swung back around and plopped himself down on the couch next to Thomas.  “I have some thoughts on this video idea of yours!”

“I figured,” Thomas admitted.  “You are my creativity too, aren’t you?”

“I am!  So!  Let’s you and me talk about the wonderful world of soap allergies.”

Roman joined them after another moment, and after a little bit of a bumpy start, he and Remus started to work off of each other well.  Roman seemed to be very good at picking out what ideas from Remus’ ramblings would actually be helpful, and then they could start working on how to use them.  By the end of the brainstorming session, Thomas had a section planned in the video about how to stop hyperfocusing on world event stuff, brought up by Remus admitting that even he had been starting to get a little bored with all of it.

And by the time they all called it quits for a while and Thomas got ready to go make some dinner, he wasn’t sure what Self-Interest had ever been worried about.  He liked Remus just fine.

Self-Interest stuck around after Roman and Remus both headed back to what they called the Mindscape (Thomas made a mental note to ask about that later), and followed Thomas into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Thomas said, looking at him.  “You alright?  You look nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Self-Interest scoffed.  “I’m… just curious.”

“About?”

“What you thought about Remus,” Self-Interest said, looking down casually at the gloves on his hands, as if this was merely a fleeting curiosity he wanted satisfied.

Thomas melted a little inside.  “Oh, you really love him, don’t you?” he asked.

“Wha— I— of course not,” Self-Interest said, crossing his arms and looking indignantly up towards the ceiling.  “I simply want to know if I have to spend the night consoling him.  It will take such a large chunk out of my self care time, so I’d rather avoid it if I could.”

Thomas chuckled and shook his head.  “You don’t need to worry,” he said, getting out a pot to make mac and cheese in.  “I definitely don’t dislike him.  I don’t see how I could, to be honest.  He’s like a big excitable puppy.”

Self-Interest laughed.  “That’s a pretty fair comparison,” he admitted.  “You really do like him?”

“I really do,” Thomas said, smiling amusedly back over his shoulder.  He saw Self-Interest’s shoulders slump slightly in relief and felt a little bad the next second.  Had Thomas been unintentionally mean to Remus in the past?  Or well, to his function, he supposed.  He didn’t want to make any of his sides think he wouldn’t like them.  Especially when every one of them so far had seemed to adore him so completely.  He was a little awed by how much, if he was being honest.

“Okay,” Self-Interest said.  “Good.  In that case, I have things I should really—”

“Come sit and have dinner with me,” Thomas cut him off, surprising Self-Interest into silence.

“Excuse me?”

“Come sit with me while I have dinner,” Thomas said.  “If you’d like to, of course.”

“I… really?  You want me to stick around?”

Yeah, Thomas decided he didn’t like that tone being in any side’s voice.  He was going to do his best to get rid of it from all the ones he met.  “I rather appreciate your company,” he said, and went to go get the box of mac and cheese noodles to put in the water.

“I… alright then,” Self-Interest said, moving to lean tentatively against the counter.  “I suppose I could spare an hour or so.”

“Good,” Thomas said.  “It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to.”  And with that, he started preparing the rest of the ingredients while chatting pleasantly with Self-Interest as he did.

Chapter Four

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #my fic

[caught-in-the-filter]

Smutty CS notion: sweet duckling Princess Emma stumbles on Dark Hook and is too intrigued for her own good...there are some things she just won’t tell Queen Snow 😉

Chasing a Shadow (Chasing a High) - Chapter 1

A/N:Thank you so much for the prompt @karlyfr13s! There is never enough Dark Hook Duckling. 😏 I hope you like it! 😘❤️ Huge thank you to @veryverynotgoodwrites for beta-ing and being awesome. ❤️ And thank you to everyone on the CSMM Discord for all your support! ❤️

Rated: E; Words (Ch1): 3856; AO3 tumblr.: Ch1, Ch2

——

Emma knew how to handle herself. As the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, who’d since become the ruling queen and king, she’d been well-trained in several ways by which to defend herself and protect the citizens of their kingdom. She could use a bow and arrow, was very skilled with a sword, and knew how to travel amongst others undetected. Whenever she’d asked to venture into the town, her parents were usually agreeable to it.

They didn’t know, however, about the dark figure in whom she’d taken an interest on her last few visits. Curiosity bubbled inside her while she watched him from afar as he swiftly moved through the crowd, the hood of his cloak concealing his face as he rounded a corner and vanished from her sight.

It became a little game she played with herself—finding him, trying to catch a glimpse of the man beneath the shadows, almost copying his swagger as she followed him. She wanted to know where he disappeared to every day as the sun set.

Her desire for answers made her bolder than she’d ever been, determination fueling her next moves.

Emma tracked the mysterious figure to a seedy street a few towns over, sparsely lined with lamps which mostly remained unlit as the day gave way to nightfall, and she found herself squinting in the darkness as she lost sight of the man again.

“A bit far from home, aren’t we, lass?”

Emma jumped at the sound of the sultry voice and turned to face its source. Her eyes widened as she got a good look at the cloaked man for the first time. Dark wisps of hair covered his forehead, and matching scruff decorated his chin, with equally dark kohl setting off his deep blue eyes and making them look that much more wild. An intriguing scar had long since healed on his cheek, and despite it, she couldn’t explain the sudden ache she felt as she scanned his features. He was rather attractive, she had to admit, save for the threat of the sharp metal hook whose tip he held at her throat as he backed her to a wall, the sudden contact of cold stone taking her by surprise. (In all honesty, though, that intrigued her too, the moonlight dancing across its surface as it sent a chill of some sort coursing through her.)

“What is it, love?” he sneered. “Are you here to make a deal or to try to kill me?” He glanced down at her scabbard and loosened it with his hand, shoving it to the ground with a clatter. “Either way, you’re in so far over your head.”

“Please,” Emma croaked, her throat suddenly dry, though from what she wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t exactly fear, she knew that much. “Neither. I just—”

“Ahh,” he gave her a devilish grin, “or perhaps you’re after something else entirely.” His hand snuck beneath her bodice and seared her skin as he slid it up her side. “Does the thought of the big, bad Dark One turn you on?” He leaned the curve of his hook against the wall over her shoulder and hovered his face just above where it had been, inhaling sharply along her neck and humming against the shell of her ear, making her legs tremble beneath her as they suddenly grew weak. “Ohh, you don’t know what you’ve just gotten yourself into, then,” he growled, “Princess.”

The Dark One?!

“W-wait—” she pleaded because she knew she should. Panted, really. He already had her breathless as his mouth explored what little skin was left exposed by her modest outfit, while his hand found her laces and worked to reveal more of it to him. “I didn’t know….” She’d heard stories of the Dark One that had made her blood run cold, and she knew the danger he presented.

But the man in front of her didn’t quite fit the description that had been passed along in fairy tales, and all she felt now was heat, pooling low in her belly and blossoming on her cheeks and curling her toes.

“You know who I am?” she questioned, not that her identity was exactly a secret, but she thought she’d done well to evade his observation, though she guessed her current circumstances proved otherwise.

“Aye. Why do you think I led you all this way?” he asked, rucking up her skirts as his fingers brushed the back of her knee, encouraging her to lock her leg behind him as he lifted it and caressed her thigh. “I couldn’t very well take you in the middle of your own town for everyone you know to witness.” His eyebrow raised as he added cheekily, “Unless, of course, you’d like that too.”

“I wouldn’t,” she replied quickly, unamused by his soft chuckle.

“But you’d like me to take you here?” he teased, not waiting for an answer. She gasped into his mouth as he slanted it against hers, his tongue inviting itself between her lips and she found it not unwelcome as it drew forth a moan from deep within her in tandem with his thigh as he nudged her legs further apart and nestled it between them. Without a second thought, she rocked her hips, seeking a friction she didn’t know she needed until each pass both soothed and spurred the throbbing she felt in her core.

“Tell me what you desire, Princess,” he coaxed, breath hot over her lips. “I know you’ve been following me for some time. Tell me what you’ve come to crave, and I shall make it happen.”

“And what would I owe in return?” Emma knew any interaction with the Dark One would have unintended consequences.

“For you, love, I’d make an exception. Consider it my patronage to the crown,” he said with a flourishing bow while keeping his thigh pressed between hers. The timbre of his voice dropped much lower as he pressed his forehead to hers and purred, “With or without magic, you’ll come with no price, I assure you.”

Emma knew it was a bad idea, tried to convince herself to push him away, but her hands and hormones betrayed her mind as she pulled him closer, one hand anchored in his hair while the other splayed against his back and travelled lower to grip his ass with a confident playfulness neither of them had expected. She felt the hard bulge rubbing her thigh through his trousers as she continued to ride his leg and cursed without realizing what she was saying.

“My, what a crude vocabulary for a princess,” the Dark One commented, slowly sliding his hand toward the apex of her thighs. “Beneath the yards of intricate fabric, you’re still just a needy little wench, aren’t you?” He sent a jolt along her spine as his fingers passed through her folds and eased between them, working her more gently than his reputation would’ve led her to expect. “You put on airs of piety, in your castle with your guard and your formal address, but your slickness reveals the truth of your primal desire.” He pressed them deeper inside her, adding another and curling them towards himself, and she arched into his touch with a whimper and another string of curses when he continued to repeat the motion. “That’s it, darling. Fuck yourself with my hand. Show me just how desperate you are for me.”

Emma furrowed her brow at his words, unsure of when he’d stilled his hand and let her take over the pace. Her rhythm faltered, and she canted her hips in protest as he removed his hand from her core, only to watch in stunned amazement as he licked her arousal from his fingers one by one, his talented tongue determined to catch every drop.

“Your taste is exquisite, Princess,” he said. “It’s no wonder you stay locked away at most times. If they only knew what they were missing, you’d never be without a caller begging for even the smallest sample of your irresistible sweetness.”

Emma stuttered over unintelligible syllables, biting back words she hadn’t expected to want to say, a vulgar question nagging to be spoken that she wouldn’t dare to voice.

“Yes, love?” The Dark One pressed his chest flush against her, staring into her eyes, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from hers.

“I, umm—” Emma hesitated. The Dark One simply smiled, waiting.

“You’re a bit of an open book, Princess,” he said. “I can read your thoughts, but to get what you want, I need you to say it.”

Not one to back down from a challenge, Emma worked up the courage to ask, “Would—would you like to taste it directly?”

He raised his eyebrow and hummed his assent, his voice a low rumble in his chest as he prodded, “Is that what you would like, love?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then tell me.”

“I want your mouth on me, Dark One,” she pleaded. “I want to feel your tongue inside me.”

“Mmmm, with pleasure,” he growled as he sank to his knees in front of her and ducked beneath her skirts.

The sinful cry that left her lips echoed down the empty street as he made contact with her wet and aching flesh, and Emma was sure someone would hear it and the equally loud moans that followed. Her legs wanted to cave beneath her, instinctively pulling together and pressing tightly around his cheeks as he devoured her, the brush of his scruff burning her skin in the best way. He chuckled without pausing his ministrations and held her thighs apart with the palm of his hand warming one and the flat of his hook cooling the other. She squirmed at the conflicting temperatures, or more likely at the way he licked and sucked in the space between them.

“Still with me, Princess?” he mumbled into her core, muffled by the layers of fabric cinched at her waist that shrouded him. Bracing herself with her arms against the wall, her fingertips dug into the gaps between the stones as he scraped his teeth against her clit and nipped at her sensitive flesh, his tongue plunging inside her as he drank in her arousal.

“Mmhmm,” she sighed unconvincingly, rolling her hips as she chased her high. A building tension overwhelmed her as the Dark One nosed at the swollen bundle of nerves while his tongue relentlessly found a spot that his fingers had only teased. “Oh gods,” she panted, her knuckles turning white as she heavily relied on the wall to keep her upright, losing the support of his hand and hook as they met his mouth in the middle to bring her to the edge.

“You flatter me,” he muttered, the joke lost on her as her head spun dizzily and fell back against the stone, her eyes fluttering closed while her hips bucked into his encouraging grunts as she came hard on his tongue.

The Dark One did well to catch as much of it as he could, opening his mouth beneath her as he thrust his fingers inside her with purpose and let her release pour into it, licking along her folds and sucking on her clit until she at last relaxed into the wall behind her. He lifted her skirts and stood before her once more, looking absolutely wrecked and feral, his chin glistening with her wetness below swollen lips, his hair mussed from static and sweat, his pupils blown wide with a greater hunger they’d yet to sate.

“I so wanted to make you wait for it,” he growled, chest heaving, “to make you wait for your release until I had you on my cock, but you were just too tempting, my dear. I had to taste all of you.”

Emma’s hands reached up to attempt to tame the haphazard locks atop his head but only served to add to the chaos as she clenched fistfuls of it instead when his lips collided with her own. She melted at the heady taste of herself on him and welcomed his full perusal of her mouth. The Dark One moaned eagerly as his tongue teased hers as it had her core, and Emma boldly took his bottom lip between her teeth as she pulled back for just a moment before she rose on her toes to meet him again.

“That’s it, Princess,” he said as they breathed together. “Take what you want.” He nosed along her jaw, nipping at the path until he bit her earlobe. His hook caught on her neckline and he tugged it down, down until he freed her breasts. The cool night air rushed across her newly exposed skin, teasing her nipples until he harshly palmed one breast and thumbed at the stiffening peak as he asked, “What do you want?”

“I want—” she could barely breathe, let alone think enough to speak. But then, she really didn’t need to think at all, only feel, to feel something more and then keep feeling it until she crashed all over again. “I want your cock, Dark One. Give me your cock.”

“Good girl,” he purred into her ear as he unlaced his trousers and lifted her skirts in the crook of his hook. His hand departed from her breast only long enough to align himself with her entrance and press inside with one steady roll of his hips as his teeth sank into her shoulder.

Emma cried out at the pleasurable pain of his bite and the stretch of his cock, clutching at his back for any sort of hold, finding purchase in the material of his cloak.

The Dark One’s fingers returned to their task of kneading her flesh as his tongue worked to soothe the purpling spot onto which his mouth had latched, and he began to move inside her with deep thrusts that left her almost empty before filling her completely each time.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight, Princess,” he praised. “Tight and wet and fucking perfect. All for me.”

The small, encouraging sounds she made with every slide echoed the muted slap of his balls against her wet skin, the Dark One’s hungry moans finding their own sort of syncopated rhythm as he kissed along her collarbone and licked at the hollow of her throat before meeting her mouth again.

“Oh, how I’d love to taste every inch of you,” the Dark One groaned against her lips, “to watch your body quiver as I run my tongue all over your skin.” He dipped his head to trail his breath down her chest and suck at her nipple before releasing it with a soft pop. “But alas, we’ve not the time nor is it the place, and there’s a much more pressing matter for us both.”

Emma felt that tension building inside herself again as he devoured her mouth once more, massaged her breasts relentlessly, and slammed into her aching core. His words affected her more than she thought they could, and she writhed against the wall as she moved with him in an effort to bring them both to completion. She could tell he felt it too as the cords in his neck tensed and the force of his hips increased.

“Where do you want it, love?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper this time as the words caught in his throat.

“Ins—inside me,” she choked between whimpers. “I want to feel it inside me, Dark One. Please come inside me.”

“Fuck, Princess, you are a naughty minx.” His thrusts grew rougher, more frantic as he began to lose the last of his resolve. “As you wish, my darling.”

While she thought he was already as impossibly deep as he could go, the Dark One adjusted his angle so that his legs would give him a stronger foundation as he pistoned his hips with abandon. The change sent her reeling, and she struggled to hold on as the corners of her vision blurred from his merciless snaps.

“Are you with me, Princess?” He breathed.

“Mmhmm,” Emma answered as before, though she knew it wasn’t quite true. Her mind travelled to the edge of another blissful plane, and her body was kept from physically falling only by his pinning hers to the wall.

“No, I mean, are you with me, love?” the Dark One clarified. “I’m so fucking close, sweetheart. Are you with me?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” His hand slid its way up to her throat, taking a loose but firm hold. This time Emma did feel just a touch of fear, wondering how far the darkness would go to get him where he wanted to be, but it soon turned to further desire as the Dark One only tightened his grip enough to make her gasp as she relaxed in a mildly lightheaded haze. “Come for me, Princess. Come right on my cock as I fill you with my seed, you naughty thing.”

It did something to her, the way he continually mixed formalities with such vulgarity in equally sultry tones and with an eloquence that made her wonder for a brief moment why there would be any other way to speak when his speech alone could make her feel so good.

Emma’s legs began to quake beneath her when he passed the curve of his hook over her clit in deliberate circles and reminded her that she didn’t have to rely on just his voice to find her release, for which she was most grateful.

The Dark One stifled their moans of pleasure with a passionate kiss, plunging his tongue as deep as his cock as his hips stuttered and stilled and he spilled himself inside her. Their chests heaved as they rested their foreheads together and panted over each other’s lips, attempting to catch their breaths and waiting for their limbs to feel solidified again before daring to move.

“That was wonderful, darling. And I’ll be expecting some… other reciprocation with this pretty little mouth of yours next time,” the Dark One smirked. With a snap of his fingers, he righted himself, leaving her already missing the feel of his cock as his trousers laced themselves.

“Next time? I thought you said I’d come at no price,” she teased, wrapping her fingers around his hook and running them back and forth along the curve.

“That I did. And I didn’t lie, you’ve nothing to repay me.” He took the time to manually fix her bodice, every brush of his fingers lighting little fires across her skin, his effort with the ties as hot as the rest of their prior interactions. “But you withheld the truth from me of just how good of a fuck you are, Princess. You can’t honestly say this was a one-time thing.”

Emma hummed and placed her other hand on his chest as she challenged, “And what if I do?”

“Then I’d hope you’d kindly get on your knees for me right now, and I would assure you that whatever ungodly hour you arrive home will have been worth it.”

Emma’s gaze flicked from his eyes to his mouth and back as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“As tempting as that sounds,” she said with a smile, genuinely interested in finding out how he tastes and curious to see just how weak she could make the all-powerful Dark One in the process. But she knew she shouldn’t have gone this far to begin with, and fearing the consequences of further pursuit of whatever this was with him, she responded, “I need to get back before my extended absence is noticed, unless you want to deal with the army of guards my parents would send after you if they somehow found out you’ve ‘ruined’ me.”

“‘Ruined’ you?” His eyebrow raised as he scoffed, “Oh love, your innocence was clearly gone long before tonight. We both know you knew what you were after when you followed me here, and you certainly knew what you were doing when you got it.” His voice became darker, almost threatening when he added, “And I can handle the guards.”

“We might know that, but they sure as hell don’t, and I intend to keep it that way.” Emma sighed. “And I know you can handle them, that’s what I’m afraid of. It’s not for your sake but for theirs.” That earned a sarcastically begrudging eye roll from him.

Emma ducked and slipped away from him, picking up her scabbard as she did, and he spun on his heel as he watched her slowly step backward, beyond his reach.

“Goodbye, Dark One,” she said.

“I’m not unwilling to fight for what I want. Don’t think I’m letting you go this easily.”

“I would despair if you did.” Emma took another backward step before turning and taking off in the direction of her castle.

“Goodbye, Princess,” the Dark One called after her, or thought he called, his voice softer than he’d realized or intended as he watched her leave and got lost in the thought of his release still inside her.

It was all Emma could think about too, knowing it was driving him just as mad and grinning to herself at the fact that she could get to him. She could feel the way it dripped down her thighs as she moved. She could feel the way it dried sticky on her skin as she allowed it to remain there longer than she probably should have.

And she could feel it later as she further explored herself when she finally reunited with her bed and imagined what else he might do to her if given the chance, and what she could do to him, the scent of his pleasure mixing with that of her own arousal as they blended on her desperate fingers, which would have to suffice until she could find him again. She bit back moans and struggled to refrain from calling out his infamous moniker as her head fell back with the fresh memory of his mouth on her neck and the promise that she would feel it everywhere else.

Oh yes. Yes.

Yes, she would absolutely have to see him again, somewhere that would allow them a bit more freedom, the potential danger of granting that to him only adding to the thrill of it all.

Recalling his request, she brought her wet fingers to her lips and tested herself to see what she could handle, learning how much could fit and how deeply and for how long before she’d need a break. Just the hint of him on them encouraged her to try more, deeper, longer, as her other hand matched the pace inside her core and her thumb flicked at her clit.

She’d find an excuse for why she’d need to clean her own sheets tomorrow.

As Emma at last relaxed into the mattress, she drifted into dreams of what might be in store for the two of them. There are some things she would never tell her parents, and fucking the Dark One again and again would just have to be one of them.

——

Tag list ❤️: @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @qualitycoffeethings @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @xsajx @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert

#cs smut #captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfiction #dark hook duckling #dark hook #princess!emma #pwp #cs pwp #kayla writes #my writing #prompt fic #chasing a shadow (chasing a high)

[ladyopinior]

FATE: THE WINX SAGA – review

Fate: The Winx Saga is a teen drama inspired by the animated series Winx Club. The series is aimed at an audience of young adults and features a darker story than that of the cartoon (Wikipedia). In order to watch the show, you have to have to leave out of the picture most of your previous knowledge about the Winx Club. Although the show is inspired by the cartoon version, it is clear within the first few minutes of the first episode that most of the events do not match the Winx Club’s story. Now, I know that a lot of people are angry and disappointed at the fact that both Flora and Tecna do not appear in the show, that The Trix are nowhere to be seen, and that the story does not correspond with its source of inspiration. However, I think that this adaptation has potential (this will be discussed later on) - although it can bit a little bit cringy at times. Like it was said before, Winx club is merely the source of inspiration for this show, but that does not mean that Fate: The Winx Saga was going to follow the original storyline step by step as it was. If we take Winx Club as our object of comparison, I do think that the characters are fairly well matched, although some of them are lacking certain characteristics (and being honest, I am still salty about what they did with Stella):

Bloom, for example, has the same personality traits as the Original Bloom. First, let’s recap Winx Club’s Bloom’s personality: Bloom started off as an insecure girl at the beginning of the series because of her ignorance of her true origins and her strange, yet surprisingly potent powers. Later on, as she learned more about magic and herself, she grew increasingly curious about her past and whom her biological parents are. An escapist by nature, she has a tendency to run away when things get too hard or confusing for her, and can also be impatient and stubborn, with a short temper. Bloom was also impulsive at times, which led to some very bad experiences for both her and her friends. Her greatest strength and greatest weakness was her status as the guardian of the Dragon's Flame. While the Dragon Flame made her arguably the most powerful fairy in the Magic Dimension, it also consistently drew numerous enemies to her such as the Trix, Darkar, Valtor, and the Ancestral Witches. Despite her flaws, Bloom still has a heart of gold. She cares for all of her friends, allies, and families (both adopted and biological) deeply, and is always willing to help and fight for a good cause. She has shown herself to be selfless, caring, brave and a true capable leader. Bloom is tough when needed to be and always lends a helping hand to people in need (Wiki). Now that we have checked Original Bloom’s personality let’s compare it with Fate: The Winx Saga’s Bloom: she also has the same insecurities as the original Bloom - also caused by her lack of knowledge when it comes to her true origins and the fact that she is a changeling (Aisha tells her this in Episode 1). In this show we see a Bloom that is willing to learn more about her powers and magic, and that is also curious about who her biological parents are. She is also an escapist and has a tendency to run away when things get too hard or confusing for her - this is told in Episode 1 when she tells Aisha about how she lost control and nearly burnt her parents alive “Every night after that, I… I snuck out. I was so… scared that I’d hurt them again… that I slept in this… creepy-ass… warehouse near my house until Miss Dowling found me”. In this case, it is also her status as the guardian of the Dragon’s Flame that attracted the Burned Ones to her. This Bloom is also impatient, stubborn, and has a short temper. Bloom was also impulsive at times, which led to some very bad experiences for both her, her friends and the rest of students at Alfea - her decision of freeing Rosalind and letting her recharge her powers weakened the protective barrier and allowed the Burned Ones to enter Alfea risking all the teachers and student’s lives. The Original Bloom is said to be selfless, caring, brave and a true capable leader, however we can say that this Bloom is overall selfish and thinks about her interests first instead of worrying about the consequences of her acts. Although it is still too early to assume that she will be a good leader, we can’t deny that she is brave, tough and caring towards her friends and parents. Overall, I am happy with this Bloom: she matches the original one’s personality pretty accurately and in terms of physical appearance she does resemble the Original Bloom.

Now Stella… Dear God, what did they do with her… I know I said that Fate: The Winx Saga was not meant to follow the original Winx Club, but I did expect the characters to at least have the same personalities. This is where I am most disappointed. The Original Stella is said to be proud and self-centered, Stella also cares deeply about her friends and family, not just herself. She will stick to the people she loves and do anything to keep them safe. Stella is not always seen wearing a smile on her face, but she does crack jokes to cheer her friends when they are depressed. Basically, Stella has a cheerful and optimistic personality. Besides that, she is totally obsessed with fashion, which clothes look best on her, and which dresses match her face the best. Stella often gives fashion advice to people in Alfea, but this advice is often not taken well. She would rather flirt with Brandon than study and do work, which sometimes annoys the other girls. The most intuitive of all the members, Stella likes to match make but has often had problems with understanding why her friends do not always like getting set up. However, despite her intuitions, Stella can be rather oblivious at times. She was sent to Alfea to become a stronger fairy, but this did not mean so much to her, though she did effectively become a fully accomplished fairy and a powerful one by fighting the first three season villains with the Winx. She uses her magic for anything, but she mostly wants to help her friends as deep inside she is a generous and helpful girl. Although she might disagree with her friends, Stella is very supportive and protective and will not hesitate to help them. She learns to accept that love and friendship are far more important than royalty, fashion, and shopping. Sometimes she hides her true personality because of her upbringing. In short, her cheerful exterior masks great sorrow (Wiki). Well… Where do I start analyzing Fate: The Winx Saga’s Stella… I guess I will take a shot at the similarities first. This Stella is proud and self-centered - which the original one was - and she does like fashion (although I would not label her “obsessed” with it) and gives advice to Alfea’s students… kind of… she mostly critics their outfits - specially Terra’s. Like the original one, Stella was sent to Alfea to become a stronger fairy and rehabilitate from the incident that took place the previous year (meaning that she had to retake the first year again) - in Winx Club, Stella accidentally destroyed the potions laboratory but it is not stated what happened exactly; in Episode 5 of Fate: The Winx Saga, Stella tells Musa the truth of what happened the previous year - that her magic is erratic because of her mother and that that day she lost control and blinded her best friend unintentionally. And that’s about it in terms of similarities… This Stella is dependent on Sky, her ex-boyfriend (still angry at the fact that there is no Brandon, and still creeped out by these two being a couple in the past) and seeks his attention all the time. The Original Stella is the most intuitive of all the members, but to be honest I do not see that trait in this Stella. This Stella is not shown to be a helpful girl nor someone that wants to help her friends, at least not until the end of the season when she tells the others that Bloom deserves to know her truth and that she supports her “I have an opinion. Everyone in this damn suite is so black or white. Bloom is a pain in the ass, but she deserves to know who she is, not the stories the faculty is telling her. Now we can worry about being right, or we can help our friend. Which is it?” (Episode 5). Stella is not a very supportive nor protective friend and only cares about herself… and Sky, and we do not get to see that cheerful exterior the Original Stella showed. This Stella is full of sorrow and sadness, and sometimes this eclipses any other trait she might have. To be honest this Stella is just a bitch most of the time and treats the rest of the people in Alfea like her mother treats her. However, if I put aside the Original Stella for a second, I do think that this version of her can be quite enchanting: she has all the characteristics needed for a great character development in this series, in fact, you can see some change in her towards the end of the season.

Aisha is one of the characters whose personality does not bother me too much, and I do see similarities with the Original Aisha. Winx Club’s Aisha is extremely opinionated and open minded. She is as intuitive and when asked to, gives practical and pragmatic advice. She is also a talented dancer, athlete and speaks many different languages. Aisha gives practical advice and always provides a shoulder to cry on. She continuously shows this caring nature throughout the show, comforting Musa after her conflict with her father, and calming Flora's nerves when she experiences qualms about her feelings for Helia. However, besides the other girls, she might even be the most sensitive of the crew. She has also been shown to be rather stubborn and impatient, something that can get her into trouble by making her hold grudges and jump to conclusions. This could be the result of her isolated upbringing growing up, as she didn't really have many friends, making her come off as a little anti-social at times when she first appeared. Over the course of the seasons Aisha lost her tomboyish side possibly due to her opening up to the Winx and Nabu, but yet she still loves sports and still determined and energetic (Wiki). The Aisha from Fate: The Winx Saga is highly opinionated and she does not shy away from telling the rest her thoughts. She is also quite judgmental when meeting new people: in Episode 1 she helps Bloom end the call with her parents, they engage in a conversation about why Bloom’s parents do not know she is a fairy and when Bloom tells her that the idea of being a fairy is ridiculous, Aisha asks her if she has never read Harry Potter, and the conversation follows like this: B - “Please. If you knew how many hours I have wasted taking Sorting Hat quizzes…” // A - “Ravenclaw?” // B - “Sometimes Slytherin, yeah” // A - “That explains the lies then” // B - “Hm. Let me guess. Gryffindor [silence] Explains the judgment”. She is intuitive, tries to help as much as she can while being truthful (even if sometimes she ends up hurting people) and gives advice - sometimes uncalled for. But, unlike the original one, this Aisha can also seem a bit meddlesome at times. Like the Original Aisha, this one is also sporty and is shown in the series - she goes swimming every morning. Now, what I miss the most in her character is the lack of background… we know the Original Aisha is the princess of Andros, but we know nothing about this Aisha - Who are her parents? Where does she come from? What worries her? Also, we never new why the is unable to control small masses of water… we are just shown that she has trouble with it and that’s it, no more development for her. I think we should have been given more information about her and not just shown the same four traits of her personality all the time.

The next one is Musa and being honest I don’t know what to feel about her. I am not bothered by the changes made but at the same time I am (being honest there is just one change they made that deeply bothers me)… For example, the Original Musa was a fairy of music and now she is a mind fairy - a fairy who feels other people’s emotions (Wikipedia). This is not a big deal, Winx Club’s Musa was able to feels nature’s emotions thanks to the sounds it made and was very in tune with her musical side, this Musa is also linked to music but in a different way - she uses it to scape her overwhelming surroundings - and she is also able to feel emotions, it’s just that instead of natures’s it’s people’s. I guess what bothers me the most is that the Original Musa was Asian and this one is not, I do not get the need to change that about the character… I have nothing against Elisha Applebaum, the actress that plays Musa, but why couldn’t they cast an Asian actress instead? It would have brought more diversity to the show. Now that I have that out of the way, let’s focus on her personality. Winx Club’s Musa loves music, dancing, singing, and playing all instruments, but her favorite instrument is the concert flute, the first instrument she ever learned to play. Musa usually plays amazing music but plays best when she is alone by herself in Alfea in a quiet spot. Despite being the most tomboyish of the Winx, she is perhaps the most emotionally vulnerable, and she balances this by putting up a tough front. Surprisingly, Musa gets the best grades of her friends, as mentioned. Her emotional weakness is the result of her mother's death and her father is far away. She is also a bit of a loner and had a crush on Riven, but they do not admit they like each other until the end of season two when they had their first kiss, which then starts dating (Wiki). When talking about Fate: The Winx Saga’s Musa I feel like we should first address the elephant in the room… no, there is nothing going on between this Musa and Riven, in fact, they’ve had like two interactions in the whole show - I can’t say I am mad about this, we all know Winx Club’s Musa and Riven had a very toxic relationship so maybe this is a good move for this adaptation, and also, Sam seems to be good for her. Now, this Musa has said since Episode 1 that she used to dance and that she loved it just like the Original Musa, but unlike her she doesn’t seem to play any instruments. However, she likes to listen to music alone by herself in her room or a quiet spot. She is also emotionally vulnerable and puts on a tough front. Just like Winx Club’s Musa, this Musa’s emotional weakness is the result of her mother's death which she tells Terra in Episode 6 after she asks her to help Sam ease the pain he is feeling after having been infected by a Burned One: T - “You can’t just run away. He’s in pain. And dad’s trying, but—” // M - “Please just leave me alone” // T - “I know you care about him” // M - “That’s the problem. I can’t feel it. I can’t feel somebody I care about die. Not again” // T - “What? … Musa…” // M - “My mum died last year, Terra. And I was with her, and I felt it, the moment it happened. I felt everything she felt. That’s why I can’t talk about my family, and that’s way I can’t be with Sam now. I can’t feel it. Please don’t make me feel it again”. One thing we don’t know about is wether she gets the best grades out of the group because we have never seen her study. Also, we know that she hates not being able to fight along with the Specialists and she is bother by the idea of having weak powers. Being honest, I am not disappointed with this Musa, in fact, I quite like this character but there are a couple of things I would like to know: once again I would have loved to see the moments she shares with the rest of the group because I can only remember her being open with Terra, maybe if they had included a couple of scenes of her bonding with the rest the friendship would have made more sense. I also wish that in season 2 (if they make it) they focus more on her, she has great potential to expand her powers… maybe let her fight with the rest of the fairies and the Specialists, getting to know more about her family and background, and also giving her more bonding time with other members of the group and not just Terra (but I get why they chose her to be her closest friend, I mean, she is her roommate and is dating her brother).

Now, now, now… let’s talk about probably the most “controversial” character: Terra, not Flora but Terra. This the character that people where most disappointed with when the trailer was released, mostly because she is not Flora. Now, another elephant in the room: a lot of people who had watched Winx Club did not like the idea of having a plus sized character, especially when it was supposed to be a Winx. However, I think it is a great move including a plus size girl - the show being inclusive in this aspect is showcasing that anyone can be a Winx, because your size does not matter at all with the strengths you may have, so I approve this change, I applaud it. Another thing that disappointed fans was the fact that Terra is white - now, we don’t now Flora’s ethnic because it was never stated in Winx Club but many people believe that because of her skin color she had to be Latina… I don’t know about this because Miele, her sister, is white so… I guess you can believe what you want in this case but taking into account that Miele is white, and that Terra is just a cousin then the change made there it’s not that horrible (except that it narrows down the diversity in the main cast of the show). Also, another thing that left audiences speechless was that Flora was in fact mention in the show, but as Terra’s cousin “Shocking. Earth fairy called Terra likes plants. It’s a family thing. I’ve got this cousin called Flora” (Terra in Episode 1), I guess everyone though that the producers making an adaptation from an already existing show would mean that at least the names of the main characters would remain the same, but clearly that was not the case. All of that being addressed, I am still going to compare Terra with Flora, mainly because they are supposed to be “the same” person. So, Flora is shown to be a very calm, soft-spoken, caring, sweet, shy and genuine girl who loves plants and vegetation of all kinds. Being interested in experimenting with her plants, Flora became the potion master of the group who specializes in brewing and creating remedies and medicines from the uses of her magical plants. Due to her gentle and caring personality, Flora is strongly connected to nature and loves helping people. She is shown to have a sensitive personality to the point where she would instinctively care for her friends as well as her plants when they are in distress. Flora is the most mature member of the Winx as she possesses a deep sense of love, peace, happiness and tranquility. However, it is shown that Flora has an insecure side to her personality as she would have problems believing in herself at times. Her insecurity would sometimes cause her to hide most of her feelings to the point where she would have problems expressing them. Flora is one of the most diligent student at Alfea and is cautious of her actions. Although she has a kind-hearted side, she at times gets very angry at her enemies which can cause her to act quickly and show a more aggressive side of herself. As an older sister, she is shown to be quite overprotective who often forgets that people do mature and can protect themselves. Miele often has to deal with this side of Flora whenever the latter suspects a mission to be too dangerous. In this case, Flora has demonstrated some level of ignorance as this attitude tends to hurt Miele's feelings (Wiki). If you have read Flora’s personality, then you would have realized that Terra is just the same. Literally, there is very little I can add here… both of them are very calm, soft-spoken, caring, sweet, shy and genuine girls with sensitive personalities; both of them love plants and vegetation of all kinds; both are interested in experimenting with plants and their properties and creating potions; both love helping people; both have shown signs of insecurity and would have problems believing in themself at times. Terra’s insecurity would also sometimes cause her to hide most of her feelings to the point where she would have problems expressing them. Terra also shows quick responses when it comes to protecting her friends and herself and becomes more aggressive. I guess the biggest difference between them would be that Terra is insecure about her body, in Episode 2 this is clearly seen when she is unable to change in front of the rest of her friends. Overall, I do like Terra, in fact, I think is the best character of them all. I literally have no complains when it comes to her. I declare myself a big fan of Terra.

The next character I am going to talk about is the new addition to the Winx World: Beatrix, who is supposed to embody The Trix in one person. Beatrix is an air fairy who can manipulate electricity (Wikipedia). Now, we all know that The Trix are a trio of witches who act as the main antagonists of the Winx Club series. The group is made up of three direct descendants of the Ancestral Witches, the most powerful and evil witches to have ever existed. They focus on what they are best at: acting maliciously and joining forces with the darkest villains the Magic Dimension has to offer (Wiki). These three witches are Icy, Darcy and Stormy and if my interpretation is correct, Beatrix would have the “looks” of Darcy, the evilness of Icy and the powers of Stormy, however as it was said before she is an air fairy which means that she can manipulate many aspects of the weather spectrum, so her actual powers can be a combination of Icy and Stormy’s. I still don’t know if she is evil or not… I mean, she helped Rosalind but that’s because she saved her when she was a baby so… I don’t know, we’ll see what happens with her in season 2 (if we get one). What we know about her is that she is a troublemaker, and she does not hesitate to kill if it’s needed. She is also a very powerful witch, powerful enough to temporarily damage the protection veil placed by Luna (queen on Solaria) upon Aster Dell and also powerful enough to control other people with electricity. Although we don’t have enough information about her or her background, I think she is a great addition to the adaptation and I’m hoping to see more of her.

Now that I have these characters out of the way I would like to talk about the plot. I actually watched the show trying to forget any knowledge I had about the Winx Club - which was not easy because I breathed Winx when I was a child, and after getting pass the fact that the storylines are completely different, I actually found myself enjoying the show. The plot is definitely a lot darker than Winx Club, but I guess it’s normal, after all this is aimed for young adults and not kids. As I said at the beginning of this post, I do think the show has potential: the plot is interesting and by the end of the show you find yourself seeking answers to all the open questions left. For example: Who is Rosalind and what does she want from Bloom? Why did she take her to Earth? What is going to happen between Stella and her mother? And Sky and his now-I am-not-dead-but-you thought-I was father? And what is going to happen with Silva? What is going to happen to the students of Alfea with Rosalind as Headmistress of the school? What is this war - mentioned by Rosalind in Episode 6 to Farah Dowling - that is about to come? Is Headmistress Dowling really dead? Will we be hearing more about blood witches? Who sent the Burned Ones after Bloom? And many more. I also think that having the Burned Ones as the monsters of this season is a great throwback tho the end of Winx Club’s season 1: if you remember in the war between The Trix and the Magic World, the three witches invoke the dark army to fight for them - these creatures are made purely of dark magic and slightly resemble the Burned Ones, although I am aware of the fact that they are not the same - Burned Ones are zombie-like figures that appear to be able to infect others by cutting them, in addition to possessing superhuman speed and strength.

I have to make a comment here, and that is that I think that the storyline was way too rushed, although I get that there’s so much one can show in 6 episodes of 40 minutes each. Still, I would have liked them to cut down the horny scenes between the characters and showed us more scenes of the main characters backgrounds, their stories, etc. I guess what I missed the most in this series was the friendship that characterized Winx Club. Although by the end of the first season the five girls are friends (in Episode 6 all of them go with Bloom to California to tell her parents that she is a fairy - emotional support - and stayed a few days there, and when they came back to Alfea they did it together laughing and smiling while reaching the school’s entrance), most of the journey that allowed the girls to reach that point was not shown - specially how they get along with Stella and the moments they shared prior to her leaving Alfea at the end of Episode 4. I would have liked to know the moments they shared, because all we got was the same bitchy Stella doing her own thing while the rest shared their moments, so when Stella tells her mother in the car “You could’ve let me say goodbye to my friends” I was left deeply confused and thinking ‘what friends?’… It was a missed opportunity and if there is a season 2 I would like them to show the moments the girls share and how their bond strengthens. Overall, I did like the show and would like to have more seasons with more episodes - 6 were not enough for me. I hope that, if the show gets picked up for another season, that the producers consider focusing more on the girls’ friendship and their stories. I also would like for the Winx to transform like Bloom did and that their wings improve (honestly Bloom’s wings were cool but a little bit meh, I actually think the trailer’s wings were better).

And that’s all my beautiful people, my review on Fate: The Winx Saga.

(Fun fact: Fate in Italian means fairies).

#winx #fate: the winx saga #netflix #winx bloom #winx stella #winx aisha #winx musa #winx terra #fate beatrix #winx sky #winx riven #winx club #winx saga

[draven-imani]

Journal 5 (part 1)

We’ve had an…extremely productive day. We found a note on Hosilla’s person that detailed three safehouses of the cult of Baphomet: Nyserian Manor, Topaz Solutions, and the Tower of Estrod. The note was signed SV—which I’m assuming is Stauton Vhagn. Looks like he came back and finished the job of destroying the Wardstone after Commander Tirabade stopped him the first time.

After talking to Aravashnial, Anevia, and Horgus, we pooled our information together. Nyserian Manor was owned by a noble who sometimes worked with Horgus, and had taken out a loan from him once to buy Commander Tirabade’s sword from her. Anevia hadn’t been aware Irabeth had sold her sword—apparently she’d told her wife she’d lost it. Anevia was going to be having words with the commander of the Eagle Watch upon seeing her again.

The Tower of Estrod was of interest to Aravashnial, as it was a place of arcane studies. He also requested that we look into the Blackwing Library, where the Riftwardens would be located.

Anevia wanted to look for Irabeth, and therefore would like to look into going home as that was the only lead she had on where her wife may be.

As we discussed, we exited the subterranean tunnels and entered the sewers. And came upon three orphan kids and a middle aged pinkish tiefling woman with many piercings and a bow. The orphans immediately ran to Luna, clearly familiar with her. Another point in her favor for ‘good person, not a murderer/serial killer/whatever else the rumor mill decides to say’.

“So you must be ‘Una’,” the tiefling said, imitating the orphans mispronunciation of her name. Or maybe legitimately mistaking her name for that. “Nice to meet you, incase you haven’t noticed, everything’s gone to hell.”

The tiefling introduced herself as Hiskaria. She had arrived in town from Numeria recently to join the Raven Corps, actually, although she was apparently a Kenabres native initially. She was on lone by one ‘Kevoth-Kul’, because she was a criminal on parole, and joining the Raven Corps was her penance.

Ouch.

Aaaaaand as the only member of the Raven Corps around that means it fell on me to keep her around until we could either find her handler or someone with more authority. That and strength in numbers. We couldn’t exactly leave her behind, even if she is a confessed murderer.

Oh, yeah, I didn’t mention that her crime was murder did I? Yeah, our new buddy’s a convicted murderer. One fake murderer and one real one, and if I had to put money on it, everyone’s going to get who’s who wrong.

After some discussion, we decided to head for Horgus’ manor first. It would provide a safe place to leave the orphans, so that we wouldn’t be dragging them around in the open where every demon still lurking around might decide to swoop down on them.

We made it there with only minor incident, some rat demon ripping up a clothing store who dubbed himself ‘the rat king’. He was of personal offense to Melody given that he was in the process of destroying things of beauty. That and the owners of the shop were still there and might be able to salvage some things.

Given my studies I was able to identify the demon as an Abrikandilu, a wrecker demon. A destroyer of beauty, not just of artwork like the dresses, but of physical beauty, using their fangs to cause horrible scarring on those they attack. I also knew that Radiance was the only weapon we had that would pierce its defenses, although it also had a unique weakness to mirrors, due to all demons of this kind having an abhorrence of their own visage. That being the case, I suggested that Luna and Melody slip into the store to get one of the mirrors from the changing rooms within while I distracted and fought it with Radiance and Hiskaria took pot shots at it from a safe distance.

Radiance and I were both more than happy to finally be putting a demon to the blade.

Spilling demons’ blood, at least, we both agree on.

Things went off about how we’d hoped. The Abrikandilu was a bit faster than I’d anticipated and it rushed me rather than me pinning it by the building as I’d planned, but I stopped its fangs with my shield and avoided any new scars. Melody and Luna came out with a mirror, which drew the demon’s attention. Luna’s axe stuck into it. Then Radiance slew it.

Radiance roared in my head each time it drew blood against a demonic foe, in what I can only describe as ecstasy. They, at least, get joy from battle. I wish I could say the same, but the demons die all the same. I feel good about it, that we slayed the demon and helped those people. It’s something good. Not joy, that’s too strong of a word. I feel—satisfied, maybe?

Regardless, the shop owners thanked us. They had little to offer and we tried to assure them that we didn’t need anything, but they insisted on at least providing us with a nice outfit each in thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever owned anything so fine. An orphan and a soldier don’t exactly make for elegant living.

Afterwards we made it to Horgus’ manor with no further incidents. His holdings were untouched. Melody mused at first that perhaps someone was trying to frame him. However after some thought, Hiskaria and I disagreed with that assessment. Demons by nature would seek out where the most people are, the places where they could wreak the most havoc. And as we approached it was clear that his manor was devoid of life. It would seem that his men and his servants had fled their posts when the attack happened, and as a lucky result the manor had been untouched. I’ll give Horgus some credit here. While he was clearly visibly upset that the men he’d hired to protect his holdings had left their posts, he tried very hard to be reasonable that it was for the best that they’d left and protected the servants, and that it had indirectly kept the demons from destroying his things. He was however very upset that they’d taken all of the mints from the little bowl at the front entrance—as was Miss Melody, who bemoaned that it was quite rude of them. Ah what I would give to have her priorities.

Luna was shepherding the orphans—one of whom, Hamm, had taken a shine to Hiskaria’s magic and gotten it into his head that he was going to…what was it? Summon demons in his snot bubbles? Charming kid. Glad his entire world falling apart around him didn’t completely destroy his sense of innocence and wonder. Suppose he was lucky he ran into Hiskaria so the three of them didn’t get killed or worse. That’s a point in her favor.

After gathering up food from the kitchen and some entertainment for the kids from a room formerly used for the staff’s children while they were on the job, Horgus went down to the safest part of the manor: the vault. He opened the safe, which proved to have been completed untouched. Inside was more wealth than I’d probably ever seen in one place before, or ever will again. He paid Luna that looked like a rather hefty sum. Then he also paid myself, Melody, and Hiskaria 1000 gold for returning him here safely, although payment had never been promised. Hiskaria tried to argue that she’d only just joined with us, but he said that it was payment due to someone who couldn’t be here to take their cut.

Horgus…is a complicated man, I am beginning to realize. I cannot pin him down yet. Even more than most people, his words and actions do not align. And even some of his actions I think are more masks on top of that. Luna insists he’s a good man but won’t give details beyond that. She’s had a few private conversations with him, so I’m inclined to believe she knows something that’s given her that impression. And I trust Luna’s judgement in people.

As Horgus locked himself away, we heard the beginnings of him teaching the kids something or another about some…math thing. I don’t know, look, I’m not the one to look to about Abadar tax bracket stuff. Luna was just glad he was hopefully keeping Hamm from thinking about snot demons.

From there we went next door, to Nyserian Manor. Or what was left of it. Which was not much. At all. Or anything, really. See, the demons hadn’t been very discerning in their building demolition. They’d destroyed their own safehouse. Idiots. Served anyone who was inside right for betraying humanity to the demons.

Next up was Blackwing Library.

Oh Blackwing Library. This one made me angry.

If you know me you know that’s bad. Of course, you don’t know me, because you’re just a bundle of inanimate papers sandwiched in leather that I’m writing in to keep my tenuous grip on sanity together. Suffice to say: that’s bad. I don’t get angry easily. Unless you’re a Deskari worshipper or waving his symbol in my face like I’m a bull, but I mean, that’s just asking for trouble from any Iomedaen, really.

As we approached the library, it was immediately apparent that the entire thing had been decimated. Aravashnial was despondent. All of his friends and colleagues with the Riftwardens would have been there, and he feared the worst. While Melody and surprisingly Hiskaria tried to comfort him, Luna tried to sneak closer to look into the library. I stuck close to her, although not so close as to blow her cover.

What she saw was a turncoat Iomedaen with five librarians bound and gagged, and a sixth librarian being forced to pile books around them, to serve as both a book burning and a funeral pyre.

We didn’t have long to think as he pulled out the flint and tinder. Luna downed a potion of invisibility and vanished. We had to put our faith in her. And as usual, she didn’t let us down, as a moment later blood splattered across the floor and she reappeared behind the armored man with her hood up and a declaration that she was “the Butcher of Balestreet, Bitch”.

The cavalier’s two tiefling thugs tried to flank Luna, but I helped fight off one and Hiskaria finished them with a potshot from outside the door that got him right between the eyes, while Melody swooped in to take a stab at the other.

Luna clearly outmatched the man she was facing, and he was smart enough to realize it. He dropped his weapons, and offered to surrender. He swore if we let him go, he’d never do such a thing again.

The others seemed ready to let their guards down.

I didn’t buy it.

I could feel it. This was an evil man. The kind who would just turn around and do something like this again the second he had an opportunity, if we let him live.

Luna lowered her weapon to go deal with the tiefling thug. I told her what I just wrote, that if we let him go he would just harm others. She said it wasn’t going to be her choice to make.

If anyone was making this choice, it was going to be me, and me alone.

Melody tried to reason that maybe we could get some information out of him. That we could take him alive, and question him. After all, that’s what she was best at.

And then what, I asked her. What do we do with him after that? There weren’t any jails. The city was in chaos. Where do we put him when we’re done questioning him so that he doesn’t hurt anyone else?

He swore again that he’d just go away and be good. I called bullshit.

Melody said maybe he’d know more about the safehouses, or the other plans. What we’d potentially be walking into.

Fine. For the safety of the rest of the group, I’d take him alive.

So I punched the cocky bastard in the face and left him to Melody.

Hiskaria and Luna went about helping the librarians while Melody did her thing. She manacled the man and tied him up for a nice friendly chat. I stuck around. I didn’t trust this man. Kaleb, I learned his name was. Much good it did.

Melody woke him up. First thing he did was tried to play ignorant. Tried to pretend like he’d been possessed, like he hadn’t been in control of his own faculties before.

Bullshit. More lies.

Melody saw through his lies this time just as much as I had. She told him to start over and try again.

Next he tried to weave a sob story about how he’d been coerced into doing what he’d done. How he was a crusader who’s unit had been taken captive, and he’d been forced into committing evil acts out of desperation.

Again, nothing but lies. All he knew how to do was lie, habitually, spew whatever falsehood he thought would get him in our good graces.

When Melody and I called him out on it again, he snapped. In a final act of rebellious desperation, he finally told the truth. He’s nothing but scum of the earth. He was a crusader, and his unit had been wiped out, that was the one honest thing that had left this mouth. Afterwards he’d decided to hedge his bets and side with the demons, so he started committing every atrocity he could to try to win their favor. And he swore that when he died and went to the pits of the Abyss to be reborn he’d come back.

And flay us alive.

Bad choice of words.

I think the bull metaphor before was apt, because I certainly saw red for a moment. I don’t think anyone was in disagreement when I stabbed Radiance through his blackened heart at this point though.

We didn’t learn anything though. Except that he wasn’t a cultist. Just a psychopath who found an excuse to start killing people.

As we discussed our next course of action, the librarian we’d rescued approached us. He knew that Aravashnial was with the Riftwardens, and he knew what had happened to them. The Riftwardens after locking what they could in their vault had teleported to a different location, meaning Aravashnial’s friends were safely somewhere else. Unfortunately, a day later someone else arrived. Xanthir Vang. Another of Deskari’s generals. A worm that walks, a terrible creature that is both a swarm and one being bound to Deskari’s will. Xanthir cut through the floor, right above where the vault would be in the secret Riftwarden floors below, and lifted the entire vault from the floor. Then he ripped it apart like it was nothing. He seemed disappointed that the Riftwardens weren’t there—predictably, I suppose, since he had a personal grudge against them.

We found a single dead and dried up worm husk in a corner of the room. I don’t like this. It’s probably my imagination that my arm itches. Probably. Another of Deskari’s generals so close. That’s…terrifying.

With this information tucked away, we decided to head for Anevia’s home to look for clues of where Commander Tirabade may be. Mostly to make sure her wife was safe, and to inform her of everything we’d found out thus far, and a little tiny bit to ask her about that sword she’d apparently sold behind her back.

On the way, we were accosted by a skeletal demon from atop a building, who also called himself the rat king. He claimed the one we’d defeated before was a usurper, and then summoned a swarm of dire rats to attack us. We dealt with the dire rats handily enough. They took a few chomps at me, annoying little things. Between rats and lizards, do I just taste good or something?

Nope, just licked my hand to test it, I’m quite certain I do not taste good.

We arrived to a small unassuming house. Irabeth’s funds clearly went to things other than worldly possessions. Not that it was a bad house. I’m not trying to be judgmental of Irabeth Tirabade I’m just saying with her position most people would have much larger quarters, so she clearly puts hers to good use elsewhere. I’m not one to judge small living quarters, I live in the barracks. Which probably are in ruins now. Ah, well. Not like I had anything of sentimental value in there anyways. My fiddle, my sword, and my shield were on my person, those were the only things I might have cried over losing. And then my sword got forcefully replaced by a talkative holy blade anyways.

I wish I could say Radiance is growing on me like Horgus. Unfortunately, we got off an extremely wrong foot and they haven’t exactly tried to mend any bridges. Luna says I should be more assertive with them, since I’m the only one who can wield them, they need me to do their holy mission they want. And Radiance even agreed with her, because of course they did.

Figures. A guy tries to be nice to the holy sword who he’ll have to be working with for the foreseeable future and apparently even trying to just not make waves with the being you’ll have to work with talking in your head is the wrong move.

Fine…assertive. What do they want me to do, put Radiance in time out in their little box when they get uppity? That is a funny image though.

I’ve completely lost my train of thought.

Right, reread a few paragraphs, Anevia’s house. So, Luna and Melody took a peek inside to make sure nothing was lurking around inside.

Predictably, something was lurking around inside.

He was invisible, but when Melody began using detect evil he ‘pinged’, so she had an idea of where the invisible presence was. The invisible presence summoned a fire beetle outside to attack Anevia, but Hiskaria turned and shot it dead before it got a chance.

Melody and Luna had a good idea where the invisible foe was, and began to force him back into a corner, although their swings of axe and glaive kept hitting nothing but air.

I came in, and I swear to you Iomedae guided Radiance’s blade. Not only did I strike true, from the amount of red that splattered across the ground, I’m certain I hit something vital. That, and I made him very angry. The next thing I saw was an enraged orc, whose invisibility faded away as a blast of fire was released from his hand point blank in my face. Too familiar. Far too familiar. And then darkness.

And then I was awake again, Melody tipping one of my potions into my mouth. Luna had bloodied the orc, but he’d refused to go down in his blind frenzy. Then Hiskaria had stepped in and finished the job.

I proceeded to heal myself a little more thoroughly while the ladies talked to Anevia about what just happened.

Huh, now that Aravashnial and Horgus are gone I am the only guy in the little group of ours, aren’t I?

The prettiest guy in our group by default as well, not that that’s saying much.

Anevia recognized the orc, he was someone who Irabeth had stopped from some previous scheme years back, who she’d left out in the world alive. Apparently, he came back for revenge. He won’t be getting a third chance.

With that settled and no more assassins lurking about, Anevia went to her and Irabeth’s bedroom and opened a secret compartment. Inside she read a note and took out some supplies. She told us that Commander Tirabade and the other remaining Crusaders were hiding out at the Defender’s Heart tavern, and the passcode to get in was “Silverstrong”.

We decided to go straight there, as it was closer than any of the safehouses, and allies were still more useful than victories at the moment.

I was especially feeling that way when that damn skeleton ‘rat king’ showed up again, and threw a flock of vultures at us. Most of which decided to descend upon me. I know vultures are a bad omen but come on, that’s too on the nose even for me. What’s worse? Do you know what’s worse? What’s even worse than vultures? Fiend vultures. These things could smite. I had, no joke, five buzzards smiting me like a bunch of feathery antipaladins.

Just my cursed luck again. Why does Desna hate me?

So, yeah. I was hurting. And really wanting some rest. While everyone else was ready and raring to go for two more safehouses after we finished meeting with the Commander. I finished healing myself again and I was almost tapped out of spells, and completely out of potions. My fervor was wearing thin as well. Luna was all well and good, she didn’t use spells. Hiskaria was fine, she mostly only used her cantrips to empower her bow to fire twice—a neat trick that didn’t really cost her anything. Melody had used one judgement and some spells but she was just fine and equally ready to go.

Ever the weak link.

Eh, no point thinking like that, right? Plenty more happened after that. We arrived to Defender’s Heart and gave them the passcode. They came out to meet us, initially excited to see Anevia.

Then they saw Luna, still with her hood up in her Butcher guise from our fight earlier.

Oops.

We tried to explain that this wasn’t what it looked like. That she wasn’t actually a murderer. That the rumors and stories and reports were wrong. Anevia tried to back us up. Luna took off her hood, and pointed out that she drank one of the two of them under the table at this very tavern just a few days prior, and no one got hurt. Despite our best efforts, tensions were raising. The guards were going for their weapons, and we were surrounded. The paladins were throwing accusations, and no one was listening to our words, they were only hearing what they believed to be true.

Then a strong hand came down on both of the guards’ shoulders. A voice spoke, and told them that maybe sometime they should try actually using the gift Iomedae grants them to detect evil.

Irabeth Tirabade stood behind the two guards, in the flesh, as…everything as I ever would have imagined. Tall, proud, honorable, noble.

The guards scrambled to cast the detect spells, and predictably found that Luna was not evil. They were puzzled but relaxed somewhat. Then jumped and went for their weapons again when they looked in Hiskaria’s direction.

The Commander told them that it was alright, and held up some papers, saying all the paperwork was in order for Hiskaria.

It looked like she was officially Raven Corps now.

Commander Tirabade picked up Anevia and carried her inside, and asked the four of us to follow. She got to quarters where she could lay Anevia down, then turned to me.

And the conversation went something like this.

“Acting Captain of the Raven Corps,” she said.

I was flabbergasted for a moment then realized she had to be talking to me because there was literally no one else she could be talking to. “Me?”

#journal entry #pathfinder #pathfinder wotr #pathfinder wotr spoilers #Draven Imani

[ofcastora]

@lavolumnia replied to your post: i wanna read more from this AU

In which I continue the DiVerona Regency AU // Part 1 of me transforming Castora and Vivianne’s baking class into a Regency women’s archery club, inspired by this historical club and these outfits ft. Bridgerton-level historical accuracy

MENTIONED/APPEAR: @lavolumnia, @priam-taravella, Damiano Montague, Cosimo Capulet, Tiberius Capulet, Rafaella Capulet, Juliana Capulet, @ofaguilar, @deadvalentinagallo

Miss Castora Aguilar learned that young ladies should hold their tongue at a young age, but she quickly disregarded the lesson. She was a poorer, scandal-tainted relation; not quite an orphan, but just as good as. If she did not speak for herself, then who would? The world was unkind on a good day, and outright cruel on another, and there is no shame in surviving.

She had been permitted to be sharp-tongued by society because she had titled and/or well-connected friends who would vouch for her, and while she toed the line of what was appropriate or not, the only truly unforgivable thing she had done was be the daughter of a scoundrel. It is, unsurprisingly, difficult to find a match on the marriage mart when your father may or may not have stolen great deals of money from your potential suitor’s fathers, and perhaps something of more value from their mothers.

Alas, the Season practically thrived on such awkward encounters.

--

It had started out a day like any other – a quiet breakfast with her cousin that became quite rowdy when Miss Valentina Gallo came by to call on Ramona. The two went off on their own “adventure” to “buy some new ribbon,” which meant Castora would discover what they actually did in two weeks time. They used to invite her to their outings, but Castora learned it was better for all them if Castora had other plans during that time.

To achieve that purpose, she had recently taken up with a women’s archery club that practiced every Thursday in Hyde Park: the Hyde Park Amazons, a name that Castora had thought wonderful until she met the club’s captain, Mrs. Silviana, and realized she was more of a meddlesome matron than a ferocious warrior, although were the two not the same? 

It took Castora about five minutes about joining Silviana’s group to realize that she was awful at archery. By all accounts, she should have been good by it. She was an active young woman and her temperament was certainly suited to the activity. In fact, she was the worst.

Well, second-to-worst.

Well, she and Lady Vivianne Sloane were about equally matched. It was quite lucky that their practices were in a rather empty area of the park

The two women had started around the same time; since they were both new and awful, they were often paired up during practice. Castora didn’t dislike Lady Vivianne – she just did not like her very much. During their time with the Hyde Park Amazons, the two had barely exchanged two words, and those words have been teetering on the edge of civility. 

It made perfect sense to Castora. Lady Vivianne, daughter of an Earl, was engaged to Lord Capulet, a Duke who had never gotten along with Lord Montague, Castora’s benefactor. Lord Capulet was also in the unfortunate possession of a reckless nephew who had started a feud with Castora’s oldest friend and the most wretched woman in the whole of England as his ward. He also had a sweet-tempered daughter, who had nothing wrong in Castora’s eyes except to have the misfortune of being engaged to Priam Taravella, whom Castora had strongly disliked and had “accidentally” hit with a pall-mall ball during a game at a garden party. 

She imagined it was the same way for Vivianne. Here she was with a known associate of her husband-to-be’s enemy...and someone who caused bodily harm to her future son-in-law.

It was not personal. It was all personal-adjacent. It was awkward. In fact, if not for her unfortunate connection to Lord Capulet, Castora would have felt rather confident in publicly asserting that she rather liked Lady Vivianne. The older woman was poised, gracious, charming, biting, and powerful. No visible rough edges. 

She was everything Castora would like to be. 

“I cannot imagine why Silviana thinks it’s wise to pair the two of us together with weapons,” Castora had muttered under her breath. She could have sworn the corners of Lady Vivianne’s lips turned up.

They both drew their arrows and released them. Neither hit their the target. “Oh, I do imagine that’s why,” Castora said dryly, “We probably would never be able to hit each other.” In addition, the more time they spent bickering and failing together, the less they would be rolling their eyes at Silviana’s teaching metaphors. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Miss Aguilar. We are close enough range to one another that anything is possible.”

“Shall we play a game of William Tell to test your theory?”

The two shared a look. Too risky.

Castora took another shot, putting all of her might into her aim. She hit the bottom of the target. “Do you think we will get better one day, Lady Vivianne?” Castora sighed, unable to hide her exasperation.

“We better.” 

-- A few more Thursdays came and went. Castora and Vivianne displayed marginal improvement, and she was beginning to appreciate the other woman’s company. The more time she spent with Vivianne, the less she had to look at the other show-off members of the group.

They understood the virtue of leaving one another to the soul-crushing frustration of slow progress with minimal interruptions. Castora thought it would be nice to have such a companion; she loved Ramona and Valentina, but there was only so much she could take of being number three; Pandora was her dearest friend, but she was married. There was power in a bond that existed only in their silence. 

Prior to their meeting at the archery club, Castora had little idea of who Lady Vivianne was, outside of her association with the Capulet family. She did not know if the universe threw some crumbs of gossip her way because of this or if she simply paid attention to it now, but over the course of the past month or so, Castora had come to learn that Lady Vivianne herself knew something of scandal; perhaps that was why they shared a quiet understanding.

First of all, she was a spinster who managed to nab a duke. Second, there was something about her coming out postponed for a year in favor of a nine-month stay in seclusion at the Sloane’s country estate, her parents sudden death, and something about them not leaving her as much money as expected. And there had been something about a broken engagement many years ago, but Castora had stopped listening by that point. 

Even though there was often some truth to such rumors, Castora would never bring them up to Vivianne’s face, lest she take Castora up on her offer of a game of William Tell. 

At the end of practice one day, Silviana gathered all the ladies and passed around a piece of paper, which Castora instantly recognized as an invitation.

The elegant and beauteous assemblace of Ladies Archers established three Summers ago at Hyde Park under the name HYDE PARK AMAZONS courteously invites you to a supper and Ball at the Liston Hall on the 31st of August. To all interested parties, the Amazons will host their annual showcase at a luncheon before the evening’s festivities.

Castora and Vivianne shared a horrified look. 

“Is this not exciting, Lady Vivianne?” Silviana crooned. “You and Miss Aguilar’s first showcase.”

Castora cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Mrs. Silviana, but do all Amazons have to perform at this showcase?”

“But of course, my dear.” She brought her voice down to a whisper so that only Castora and Vivianne could hear. “This is quite an opportunity for you, Miss Castora. This sport quite shows off your figure and there will be plenty of eligible young men in attendance. There always are.”

“Nothing really demonstrates how eligible a bride a girl is like demonstrating your expertise with a weapon.”

“Exactly!” 

“And how many people received this invitation, Mrs. Silviana?” Vivianne asked cooly. Castora could tell by the arch in her brow that she was not pleased by this situation either. 

“Liston Hall is my brother’s estate, so quite a few. Most of the ton is usually in attendance. Usually some family from the neighboring estates come as well. Aubrey Park, Kellnych, Hall, Campden Court, the like. Do not worry Lady Vivianne, I have ensured that Lord Capulet receives an invitation as well.” 

“Did you say Campden Court?” Castora asked. Both Silviana and Vivianne’s heads snapped to her.

“Do you know the family?”

“No, not really.”

Silviana soon left Castora and Vivianne to mingle with the other ladies of the club. As soon as the woman’s meddlesome gaze was no longer upon them, Castora turned to Vivianne. “Will you be attending?”

“I quite think Mrs. Silviana will have my head if I do not.”

“I think I might catch a chill that day and be too sick to attend.”

“In August?” 

“You are right. Mrs. Silviana may be a fool, but she will never believe that.” 

“And mine. I must confess, I do not have any desire to embarrass myself in front of the ton.”  Castora had oft said she would never to marry unless it was for love, and she had vowed that she would never love, but she had no desire to publicly humiliate herself. 

“Nor I.”

Castora picked up an arrow from a nearby quiver. “That leaves us with one option.”

“It does,” Vivianne nodded in agreement.

“We must ––” Castora started, before Vivianne interrupted, fishing her sentence.

“–– Practice.”

-- 

The next day, the pair met in Hyde Park. Vivianne handed Castora a bow and arrow.

“How did you manage to procure these in one day?”

Vivianne smiled, “I have my ways.”

“I do believe I am quite glad to know you, Lady Vivianne Sloane.”

“And I, you, Miss Castora Aguilar.” 

#&. asks | answers & memes & drabbles & more oh my #diverona regency au #&. vivianne | a reflection in a fun house mirror #&. vivianne | in another life we would fight side by side #i can't remember which tag i use for them but the second one feels oddly apt for this #lavolumnia

[heyyyharry]

My Girl Series: Chapter 15 - My Girl

…in which Harry and Y/N go back to where it all began. {end of book 1}

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 14: Home Truth - Y/N discovers a family secret, and Harry is in despair.

Book 2: Masterlist - Thursday, May 16 // First preview - Thursday, May 23 // First chapter - Friday, May 24 (WATTPAD) and Saturday, May 25 (TUMBLR) // 12pm GMT.

Warning: nothing but angst and plenty of mistakes because I didn’t proofread.

A/N: listen to this while reading. And let’s see if you can find all the parallels between this chapter and the first one. ;)

OC version

.

Ten years ago, in the town of Holmes Chapel, a little girl started her first journal entry with a story for her class assignment. She defined true happiness as the older boy next door who owned her heart. Her parents' marriage had proven that true love didn't exist, yet Harry showed up and all her walls came tumbling down.

Every day before bed, Y/N would write about him in her pink notebook, about the possibility of an unknown future where they lived happily ever after. She was so young. And everything was easy, until it was not.

He was hers, until he wasn't.

One night she went straight to bed without writing about him. There was nothing to write about the person you were no longer friends with.

She'd been losing sleep, asking herself why Harry never came back to their treehouse, why he didn't say hello when he walked right past her with his friends, how he could just stop knowing her. She kept wondering, yet she waited, and waited, and waited.

She waited, until he left her.

For two years since he was gone, she'd been expecting a call, a letter, anything that let her know for him she still existed. But every day came a new disappointment as she checked her mailbox to find nothing from him.

Eventually, Y/N took her mother's advice to write to Harry first. She began with a draft in her pink notebook, putting her heart and soul into every single word on the paper. But once she'd finished it, her fear of never getting a response overpowered her need to reach out for him. So she kept it to herself and decided to write even more letters that she would never send; just to get the overwhelming sadness out of her system, and for her to miss him a bit less every day.

Now 24-year-old Harry was alone in his bedroom, too focused on those words to even notice the sun was rising. With tears running down his face, he imagined her reading everything to him.

Dear Harry, she would begin in each letter before telling him about her day, her silly thoughts, her plan for the future, how much she'd missed him, and asking him questions like 'are you coming back?' and 'do you think about me sometimes?' All of those things made his heart wrench in a way that healed him and tore him up at the same time.

The bone-deep fear grew much larger now that he'd reached Y/N's last entry written the night before her first time on a date. The love she had for Blake was proof that she had moved on from Harry once and would do it again if she wanted to. So apparently, Harry had less time on his hand than he thought. It was in that moment of dismal stillness that all the voices in his head started screaming at each other. What should he do now? One wrong move would inevitably lead to major consequences. But if he didn't make a move, he'd have zero chance of winning her back.

As his ringtone pierced through the silence like a cannonball, Harry's eyes sparkled with hope. He had prayed that it was her until seeing the name Niall on the screen made him gutted. Harry held the phone at his ear, falling down onto his back and darting his tiring eyes to the ceiling.

"Harold," his best friend spoke first. "Do you know the brand of that camera Isey's been using lately?"

Harry sighed at the question, laying an arm on his forehead. "I don't know, mate. Why don't you ask him?"

"I did text him but he hasn't replied. Thanks anyway, I'll wait until he comes back from Holmes Chapel."

The town name caused Harry's eyes to shoot open as he sat straight up on the bed, eyebrows drew together. "Why's he in Holmes Chapel?"

"Yesterday he came to visit Smiley, I mean Bambi, then decided to stay for her father's wedding. But...which one of you is dating Y/N? Are you back with Ruby now, because—"

"Sorry mate, I'm—I'm gonna have to call you back," Harry interjected those endless inquiries before hanging up on Niall without further explanation. There was not enough time to raise questions of his own about why Isaac didn't tell him anything and went to see Y/N alone. He didn't even feel betrayed, he just felt scared as he grabbed his car key and bolted towards the door. He couldn't lose her now, not again, not this way.

.

.

.

"This is it," Y/N mumbled to herself as she walked through the door. The air was sweet and the sky was clear, a perfect day for a wedding.

There was nothing outside but sunshine, yet just to step into it made her heart thump in her chest. Something about seeing her garden for the first time in years away from home was so strange. Maybe it was the giggles of children, or the screaming of their parents who warned them about spoiling their outfits, or loud conversations of overly excited relatives who only showed up when there was a wedding or a funeral.

The white decorations went a bit over the top for a wedding that was supposed to be small. Knowing Marcy, Y/N wasn't surprised. She thought it was smart to be extravagant on the white and having pastel as the dress code, now the scene really did look like a beautiful mosaic.

But it wasn't just the wedding that had changed her backyard entirely. It was also the fact that Marcy had turned this spot into the dream garden Tam had always wanted, with all types of flowers Y/N could name or even more. The grass was always green and fresh as her stepmother made sure that it was watered and trimmed regularly. The sprinklers would come up in the early morning to wake up the flower kingdom that used to only exist on the other side of the fence. Apparently, Bradford wasn't the only one well-taken care of since Marcy came around.

Y/N went to find Isaac, trying to avoid the cousins she disliked, the aunties who always pinched her cheeks, and those uncles who always asked whom she was dating. And even though she wasn't actually thinking about him, like a habit she still darted her eyes to the tree standing tall in the backyard next door.

There it was, her childhood fort made of wood — the only thing that stayed the same in this town despite how many years had passed. It stood there, tall and proud, unbothered by the changes in weather and time, surviving through all the storms. If only people were the same, Y/N thought to herself. Sadly, the human heart was a delicate little thing. It had to change in order to adapt, otherwise, it wouldn't stay alive.

"Hey."

The voice caused her head to spin. Instantly, Y/N put on a smile when she saw Isaac, who was wearing her father's pastel blue shirt in order to match the theme.

"Wow, you look..." The man was speechless for two seconds as he saw her in the dress Marcy had picked out. He tried to look for a better word, but he couldn't come up with anything else so he settled with "...beautiful."

Y/N giggled as she shook her head, standing with her hands behind her back and trying to hide her rosy cheeks from his charmingly timid blue eyes.

"Thank you," she said. "You look beautiful yourself."

"To be honest, I think I'm way too underdressed," he replied, opening his arms to look at the shirt that seemed too oversized for him. The way he lifted an eyebrow questioningly at himself made her giggle. When he finally looked up and flashed her a grin, they shared the kind of glance that sent both into silence for a long moment.

"We should go find our seats," she blurted, turning away to leave yet he stopped her just in time.

"Hold on." Isaac took her wrist, taking a step forward to close the distance between them. Before Y/N could ask, he carefully tucked the wavy strand behind her ear since it kept falling out of her bun, no matter how many times she'd tried to brush it back into place. As his eyes twinkled with another smile, Y/N was certain she had never seen a blue so warm.

"Pastel pink suits you very well," he said in an undertone, his fingers which had previously wrapped around her wrist were now intertwined with hers.

"T-Thanks," Y/N muttered shyly as she followed him, they were the last ones to find their seats so the wedding ceremony could begin.

Even though Y/N's idea of love had changed constantly throughout the years, her adoration for weddings never had. To her, a wedding was like a temporary happy ending. No matter what had happened before or might happen after, in this moment, there was nothing but bliss. This was the closest reality could ever get to fiction, and for someone who'd been writing fictional love stories her entire life, it was good to live through a moment like this once in a while.

All the guests rose up when Marcy's favorite song 'Yellow' began to play. Most eyes were on the beautiful bride as she marched down the aisle, holding her father's hand and a bouquet of daisies that Y/N had helped her arrange last night. Meanwhile, the twenty-year-old kept her eyes on her father, who had already burst into happy tears. Seeing him cry was all it took for Y/N to start sobbing as well.

"Dumbass Marcy picked the worst day to wear non-waterproof makeup." Her lips twitched in amusement as her father kept wiping off his bride's running mascara every five seconds.

"She looks good though," said Isaac, who couldn't stop beaming now.

Y/N nodded to agree. She could never deny the fact that Marcy was naturally pretty and was always the center of attention. But today she looked radiantly gorgeous, probably because happiness was the most authentic real-life filter. Y/N was content, knowing a woman could only look that happy when she was madly in love.

Bradford had gone through so much, starting from his wife's betrayal and tragic death, to rumors about him being unfaithful and a cold-hearted liar, to his daughter's hatred for she had loved her mother too much to understand. After everything, this was the ending he deserved. And Y/N was very proud of him.

.

.

.

"Y/N! It's happening!"

Y/N widened her eyes as her overexcited best friend grabbed her by the arms and pushed her against the lockers. They had caught the attention from a few other kids in the hallway, however, Celine was too thrilled to even care.

"Blake Roman is gonna ask you out!"

"Blake and I are only study buddies." Y/N snorted. Holding her books to her chest, she told the shorter girl, "I know he doesn't like me, at least...not that way."

"But he does! He told Flynn who told Marcus who told Amala who told me that he was gonna ask you out today! God, I'm so happy for you!" Celine squealed, shaking Y/N violently before pulling her into a suffocating hug. The tiny girl expected her friend to jump or even scream, yet her actual reaction was much disappointing.

"I really like Blake, but..."

"No, but! But isn't good!" Celine rebuked Y/N's thought before she could even finish it. Straightening her arms, the smaller one pulled away, seemingly so upset. "You like Blake, Y/N. Just stop there, alright?"

"Blake and I are so different. Besides, have you seen the girls he used to date?"

"You're not turning him down because you're insecure, are you?!"

"I'm not!" She was. "Boys like Blake..." Or boys in general. "They're gonna leave you eventually."

Celine's hardened expression was exactly in the card, but the words that came out from her mouth was definitely unexpected.

"It's still about Harry, right?"

The tone of the question made it seem more like a statement. Following her instinct, the first thing Y/N did was counter the remark, yet deep within she was still second-guessing what her true answer might be.

"Not everything I do is about Harry."

Celine couldn't look less dubious. At a time like this, she would normally start ranting about why Harry wasn't worth it, but she knew Y/N would shut her ears to such opinions as always. Of course, she couldn't understand the kind of love her best friend had for a boy who'd been gone for two years. Therefore, she hated how Y/N refused to acknowledge the fact that Harry might not return.

"Please go out with Blake," Celine said, taking a deep breath. "Don't put your entire life on hold just because you're missing someone."

And just like that, she walked off, knowing her words would stay behind as they were already engraved in Y/N's brain.

.

.

.

"Harry, where the hell are you?!"

"Jeff, I—"

"What's wrong with you?! The whole team is waiting!"

Honestly, Harry didn't know what was wrong with him, like when he skipped the BAFTAs, when he canceled his schedule at the last minute to take Y/N back to Holmes Chapel. And now he was returning to that old town for it might be his last chance to win her back. The reason that he'd put his career and reputation at risk, the only person who mattered above all, was the one he'd let down.

"I'll explain to you later, I promise. I'm so sorry," he told his manager and didn't even let the man speak as he hung up the call to keep on driving. He knew he might not make it back before the wedding was over. He could only hope that she would wait. She'd waited for him her whole life, yet a couple minutes more seemed so expensive.

As he drove, the only thing playing in his head were the words she'd written in her journal, which he'd left behind when he was in a rush. Still, he remembered everything and now those words wouldn't leave him alone.

'Dear Harry,

This might be the last letter I'm writing to you. I'm going on a date tomorrow, a real date, can you believe it?

Blake finally asked me out. This would be my first date ever and I'm sweating just from thinking about it. If you were here I know you would give me a ton of advice, something like 'don't let him touch you where you don't wanna be touched', and I would roll my eyes and tell you you're overreacting. Fortunately you're not here. But don't worry, we won't go that far. I really like Blake, and you might like him too once you see how sweet he is to me.

As I said in one of my letters, when there comes a guy I really like, I will stop writing to you and let you go. I feel like this is it. This is the one...'

.

.

.

Since her family didn't usually have guests, Y/N was pretty surprised when she got home to find her mother talking to their neighbor in the kitchen. The last time she spoke to Anne was the day Harry left, after that she had no more reasons to spend time with his family to get updated on how they'd been. Now that Anne was here, she was hoping to get some news about Harry.

Of course, Tam had no idea that her sixteen-year-old daughter was standing right outside and listening to this conversation. If she had known, she wouldn't have said what she was about to say.

"You must be so proud. If I were you I would tell the whole town that my son just signed a big movie contract, and his girlfriend is a model."

"I'm about to go knock on every door," Anne replied as they both shared a good laugh.

Meanwhile, heartbroken Y/N flopped down on the bottom stair with her hands on her chest. She couldn't make a sound or else they would know she was there, but she was too hurt to even move. When the front door opened, she almost didn't notice, until her dad appeared and paused as he saw his teenage daughter sitting right there.

At first, he couldn't understand why she seemed so sad, until he heard Anne laughing in the kitchen. He took a guess that his daughter had sat there long enough to hear something about Harry which she didn't want to hear. The look on her face had said it all.

He parted his lips, yet no sound escaped. He was never good at talking about feelings and giving advice on growing up and falling in love for the first time. That was why he'd left it all to Tam to be the consultant in the house. However, seeing Y/N like this made him wish he had tried to be her friend. Now he'd missed another chance to get to know her as she was quick to run upstairs without saying another word.

Y/N locked herself in her room and sat with her back against the door, holding both knees to her chest. The moment she spotted the pink notebook lying on her bed, Celine's words came to life once again. She'd been putting her life on hold for him, while his life still moved on as the earth kept spinning round. He'd got a movie contract and was dating a model. Here she was, saying no to every chance of happiness she could get, to keep her door wide open for someone she hadn't heard from for two years.

What was she doing?

The buzzing of the phone in Y/N's pocket made her flinch. She pulled it out, expecting it to be Celine but it was a different name that she saw.

⌲ Blake: Can I see you tonight? I have something important to say to you.

So it was true, Y/N thought to herself as she went over that question a couple times. Blake did want to ask her out. However, she wanted to say no. This relationship hadn't even started yet and she could already envision all the different scenarios of him leaving her.

Sighing, the girl typed down her answer, knowing it was for the best if she'd just turn him down and be alone. But when she was done and ready to press send, she hesitated. No. This wasn't the right way. Her life had to move on, she had to start somewhere.

After contemplating for a little bit more, she came to a decision to delete it all and type down something else.

⌲ Sure. Where do we meet?

It took less than two seconds for her phone to buzz again.

⌲ Blake: I'll come over at 8.

When Y/N read his reply, her heart came to a halt. She exhaled through her mouth, tossing her head back against the door to roll her eyes upward, staring at the ceiling. This could be the worst decision or the best one she'd made. She would never know if she didn't try.

.

.

.

Y/N loved the view from her treehouse. When she was sitting up there, looking at the trees and the roofs and the field behind her yard, she felt like she was on top of the world. She remembered thinking that someday she would build her own house in a tree where she and Harry could live happily together with their little family.

But growing up was when you realized not everything was possible like it was in the mind of a child, that people didn't live on trees, that it wasn't always good to be alone all the time, and the boy you thought would be the love of your life couldn't be the love of your life forever.

As the wedding party went on, Y/N decided to find her escape on the treehouse. It was the first time she'd been up here since the night of her mother's funeral. She sat on the edge, watching the children chasing one another in her backyard and thinking about when she was their age. However, she wasn't depressed as she thought about the past anymore. After everything that had happened, her falling out with Harry, her finding the truth about her mother, she realized life was too short to hold onto grief. Everything you had today could disappear tomorrow. In order to enjoy life to the fullest, it was best to just treat memories as a place to visit once in a while, not a place to stay.

"Smiley!"

Isaac's voice pulled Y/N's attention away from her jungle of thoughts. She looked down right by the fence where he stood with a massive smile upon his face.

"What are you doing in your neighbor's treehouse?"

"This is my treehouse actually."

The way she scrunched up her nose made him laugh. Though Isaac was a bit confused by that answer, he simply shrugged it off and asked, "can I join you up there?"

"Sure. The ladder is over there."

When Y/N said it, she temporarily forgot the promise she'd made to Harry when she was fourteen. As soon as it came to her mind, Isaac was already on his way up. But then she thought to herself, maybe even if Harry had been there, he wouldn't have cared. She'd never let anyone else enter their treehouse, not even Blake, because she used to take that promise so seriously, thinking this place must've meant the whole world to him. Now she didn't really know if it still meant anything to him.

"Be careful!"

"Don't underestimate m—Shit!"

Isaac nearly missed his last step on the rope ladder, and the look of relief on his face when she reached for his arms made her laugh so hard.

Once again, she had someone else by her side as they sat on the edge of the treehouse with their feet dangling in the air, feeling the breezes blowing through their hair. She felt his eyes on her as she watched her father and Marcy laughing with the wedding guests.

"Bored of the party?" He asked in an attempt to gain back her attention.

"Not a family gathering kind of gal, you know what I'm sayin'?" Her fake American accent as she did a peace sign got Isaac chuckling and rolling his eyes playfully. He looked around after she'd gone back to silence. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, beginning with the reason why she'd told him this treehouse belonged to her. But it wasn't necessary anymore now that he'd just seen ‘Y/N ❤ Harry’ carved on the floor.

"So...this is Harry's..."

Y/N seemed a bit puzzled by what he said, until she also spotted the words that she didn't even remember were there.

"He let me have this place when he left so it's mine now." She laughed slightly, but Isaac knew she found no humor in those words. Taking a deep breath, she added, "in the language of angsty teens, this was where I came to cry."

Her joke made both of them chuckle.

"This used to be my favorite place in the world," she said in a hushed toned after the laughter had died down. "Harry...used to be my favorite person in the world."

This was the first time she'd ever admitted her feelings for Harry to Isaac. The last and only time she spoke about Harry to him was on their first unofficial date, otherwise, Isaac would've misunderstood the nature of their so-called 'friendship'. Now she felt like Isaac deserved to know more.

"Two of my hardest goodbyes happened here," she went on, lowering her voice and her smile was no longer there. "The first one was Harry, the second was my first boyfriend Blake. Both left me to follow their bigger dreams, but for me at the time, they were everything I'd ever wanted."

She paused for a long time, yet Isaac didn't try to throw in a comment. He was just waiting for her to go on. So she did.

"I wanted to be somebody's first choice so bad that I forgot to make myself my first choice. Now I know that everyone is allowed to leave, and the only person I can control is myself."

"Right." Isaac agreed, nodding his head. "So if we cannot love ourselves, then when people leave us, we've got nothing left."

"Right," she repeated his word while holding his gaze.

He could soothe her like no one else, it was impossible to stay anxious or upset with Isaac around. That was why she must tell him what had been bothering her since yesterday, knowing he was too good of a person to say anything first.

"I shouldn't have dragged you into my mess," she spoke, giving him a dreary smile. "I've caused you so much trouble already, and I've never done anything good for you. I'm the worst friend ever."

"You didn't drag me into anything." His voice right now was as soft as the look in his eyes. "I walked straight into the trouble, because it's yours...and when it comes to you, I don't mind."

When he reached out and placed his hand on her neck, her entire body tensed up. He thought she might withdraw from his touch, but instead, she stayed still, eventually relaxing her muscles as their eyes met once again.

"If you think you're supposed to do something for me, don't." He shook his head, his eyebrows pulled together. Y/N had never seen Isaac upset or worried and this was the closest he'd ever got to being sad. She couldn't help but blame herself for doing this to him.

"I don't...I don't deserve you..." she faltered.

As much as she wanted to give him the chance that he wanted, she knew her brain had built new walls after what had happened with Harry. It would take time to tear them down brick by brick and it would be cruel to ask him to wait for her to pick herself up and start again. One thing that she'd learned from her own experience was, no one besides yourself was worth the wait.

"Who are we to decide who's good for us and who's not?" he told her, lifting his other hand to cup her face as well. A small lock tumbled in front of her face, resting just in front of her cheek, but with one swift slide of his thumb, it was brushed out of the way. He looked so nice like this, especially in the natural lighting when the color of his eyes matched the ineffably blue and distant sky above their heads. She was now reminded how much she'd loved that color since the first time they met, the color of hope.

"Look," he began again as she didn't say anything. "I'm not gonna pressure you into doing anything you're not comfortable with. I know you need time to figure things out, but I'm not going anywhere. You can take your time, and just...just let me look out for you like this. That's all I ask."

Y/N remained silent, this time she nodded her head. The frown on his face was soon washed off by a hopeful grin as their eyes locked.

"Thank you," she faintly mumbled before her lips alighted on his cheek, as soft as a feather.

.

.

.

"Harry Styles?!"

Harry had spent most of his energy and patience driving as fast as he could from London back to Holmes Chapel. The last thing he wanted when he arrived was for any of the wedding guests to recognize him. He almost turned down the request to take a photo with the woman, but she was quick to grab him by the arm before he made it to the door leading to the backyard.

"Do you remember me?" She asked, sounding thrilled to bits. Now that Harry had got a good look at her face, he finally realized who she was.

"Aunt Lynn?" His eyes widened in shock. Lynn was much skinnier than the twenty-year-old she used to be, and her hair wasn't purple anymore so Harry had a hard time trying to recognize her. The only thing that hadn't changed was the way she chewed her gum while speaking. Though Y/N used to go on and on about how annoying it was, Harry hadn't got a chance to talk to the woman long enough to notice, until now.

"Baby Harry Styles?!" She gasped, reaching up to pinch his cheeks. "Oh my god, I remember when you were a little boy and now you're much taller than me."

"That's...great...But I really need to go." He grabbed her shoulders, pushing her away politely. "Have you seen Y/N?"

"I didn't know you two were still hanging out now that you're famous."

Harry rolled his eyes, ignoring the unnecessary remark. "But have you seen her?"

"She was with another handsome boy," Lynn said, bringing the champagne glass to her red lips to take a sip. "Man, I remember when I was her age. She's so me."

"Thank you," Harry spoke fast as he slightly pushed her aside so he could stride towards the door. This time it was her laugh that stopped him halfway.

"What?" He lifted an eyebrow in confusion as the woman shook her head, a huge questionable smirk appeared on her face.

"This is the first time I've seen you chase after little Y/N and not the other way around.”

She might've said it as a joke, but there was something about those words that did him damage as he turned away. He stepped into her backyard, scanning his anxious green eyes around to search for a figure of the girl he loved. He was too lost in his own head to acknowledge how much this place had changed, or the curious stares people were giving him for some could recognize who he was.

'I'll always love you most of all. You'll always be number one, no matter where you are, or if we'll ever meet again.'

He looked so hopeless, wanting to call out her name but he didn't want to draw any more attention on him. He could feel anxiety and fears growing within him like an unstoppable snowball rolling down the hill. His heart started to beat harder and faster as his adrenaline levels rose. 

'I know this letter will never get to you, but it's doesn’t hurt to imagine, right? Maybe after reading this, you would realize that you love me and don't want me to be with another boy. So you would get into your car and drive from London back to Cheshire to tell me those three words in person.'

And then he finally saw her, in the only place she would go to when the crowd became overwhelming. For someone who could spend the whole night at some bar dancing away her sorrow, she strangely enjoyed being alone. But she wasn't alone. She was with Isaac. In the treehouse that was once her and Harry's. He could hear the sound of his heart cracking open as the pain that felt almost as if it was physical choked the breath out of his body.

'I'd be waiting by the treehouse so when you came, I would run into your arms...'

Everything once whole was now shattered. The sweat soaked through his shirt and the pressure within his chest made it feel like it was going to explode. Somehow he was still sane enough to notice she was wearing pink. He hadn't seen her in pink for so long, if only he could tell her how much she resembled the girl she was trying hard to get rid of. She looked good, happiness really made her shine. He wished he could read their lips to know what they were talking about. But if he could, would those words break him even more than the genuine smile on her face?

'...and just like in every romantic movie, we'd kiss and live happily ever after.'

He wasn't mad at her for breaking the promise she'd made when she was only a child. It was when she leaned in and kissed his best friend's cheek that he realized everything was over. The first and only time he'd chased after her, he ended up showing up too late. Harry knew there was more to that friendly kiss, for someone with trust issues and fear of attachment like her to get intimate, there was always a reason. She was willing to give Isaac and herself another chance, what she could've done a long time ago had he not been in the way.

'But life isn't a movie. Someday when if you realize that you love me, hopefully, I'll still be here waiting for you.’

Harry left her house with his head hung low. On the way back to his car, he thought about everything, about their first kiss, their last kiss, their first time, their last time, and all the other in-betweens that he didn't appreciate enough until they were gone. In his head, he replayed the same two words he had said to her many years ago, the ones he didn't think she would hold onto until long after he was gone, the ones that he wished were still true knowing they weren't anymore.

‘Your girl, always.’

#harry styles #harry styles writing #my girl series #older!harry #actor!harry #bestfriend!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles series

[chocoluckchipz]

Dance with Me, Chaton - 19

Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net

Written for @ladynoirjuly2019

< Previous

19. Identity Reveal

Adrien ran. Going home to take his car would've probably been faster, but Adrien couldn't think straight.

Ladybug and her Chaton.

There was only one person whom Adrien could've called that name. Only one person called him Chaton in return.

He ran faster.

Faster.

FASTER.

There had to be some clues on his phone. He was sure there were. At least he could see if Ladybug texted him yet. If he failed to find her yesterday, she would've texted him already. She did every morning. And if not, well, he only hoped she didn't see him making out with Marinette… if she wasn't her, of course. Because as it stood now… The thought of Marinette being his Lady…

The club in his sight, Adrien dug deep and sprinted.

"My name is—Adrien Agreste. I forgot—my phone—here. Yesterday," he said in one breath as soon as he reached the bartender.

"I remember you." The guy smirked. "The non-drinking guy who downed a bottle of vodka with a girl and didn't make it to a room."

Adrien closed his eyes, still trying to catch his breath. "Yeah, I got it. Everyone saw. Can you tell me where I can find my phone?"

"Model and colour?"

Adrien answered.

"Can I see your ID?"

Adrien pulled out his driver's license.

"Here." The bartender drew his phone from somewhere below the bar.

"Thanks," Adrien murmured, grabbing the device. It was dead. He growled and ran again. This time back to his apartment. The moment his phone was back on, Adrien feverishly unlocked it. There were quite a few missed calls and messages, most from his father and publicist. He ignored them, clicking on Discord.

Chat Noir: Hello. Where are you?

Ladybug: At the bar. Having fun with my crush.

Chat Noir: What's the name of my rival?

Ladybug: Adrien.

Chat Noir: <image1584>

Chat Noir: I'm right beside this lady. Can you show me your Adrien?

Ladybug: <image1281>

The last message was sent only an hour ago.

Ladybug: So, I guess you found me yesterday, huh?

Adrien's lips spread into a lovesick grin. Marinette. His Lady was Marinette. The most awesome girl he'd ever met was also the one he was slowly falling for the last few weeks. On both sides of her identity.

Chat Noir: Now I have a legitimate excuse to give you those hickeys.

She replied right away.

Ladybug: Are you trying to get out of making it up to me?

Chat Noir: Not at all. I'm just saying, I'm not a creep who jumped you for no reason.

Ladybug: Do you want to get together and discuss this and "reasons" and other stuff, like the fact that you're my boss?

Chat Noir: When and where? And I wouldn't worry about the boss stuff. Father's regulations concerning in-company dating are pretty lax and personally, he couldn't care less.

Adrien tried to push the worry away. He didn't lie: Gabriel truly couldn't care less about his employees dating as long as it didn't influence their work. However, Adrien was his son, and that little aspect might affect how his father would react. He didn't want to talk about it now, though. Marinette was his Ladybug! He'd deal with his father when he got there. For now, let him just bathe in happiness he'd never thought possible.

Ladybug: Let's talk about it tonight. I have to go to my parents for dinner in an hour, but I can make it out in two hours? So, I'll be free at seven?

Adrien checked his messages. Nothing from Plagg which didn't mean he didn't have to go today. Just not in the next few hours.

Chat Noir: Seven works for me. I'll pick you up at your parents' bakery?

Ladybug: No way. If my parents see us (and believe me, they will) we aren’t getting out. Stop a block or two away and text me when you're there.

Chat Noir: Got it.

Ladybug: Have to go now. See you soon, Chaton. <3

Chat Noir: Have fun. Ttyl, my Lady. <3

His heart struggling to beat consistently, Adrien grinned at the screen, biting at his lip. She wanted to see him! She even sent him a heart! Being fully aware of his identity and everything he did, including all the embarrassing incidents he'd had.

His breathing hitched as he scrolled higher. He was her crush! He must be dreaming but no, there it was: black letters on a white background. She called him her crush!

He grinned wider. Dreams do come true. Marinette liked him back.

Wait! Was… was this a date then? The word hadn't been said, but it sure sounded like one. He'd better prepare. Just in case. He had three hours until he had to pick her up. That should be more than enough to plan something. Location first. They'd probably want somewhere private to talk. The public had seen too much of them already… speaking of which, he'd better make sure that video was taken down soon. Note to himself: call back Nathalie and his publicist as soon as he finished planning the possible date.

So, should he bring her home? Nah. It might send the wrong message, and he'd rather avoid that. They needed to talk it out first. Her place was out of the question for the same reason. Restaurants were too busy and full of people. Plus, she’d be having dinner with her parents, so a restaurant was a No. They needed somewhere quiet. Maybe they could go to a park or stroll along the Seine? The Seine was probably a better option, less touristy places there. Or he could drive them to one of the more remote places… The farther from the centre of the city, the better. Adrien held his breath. He knew the perfect place. He hadn't been there in years, but it was perfect! Done. Now, off to change his clothes and get flowers because he absolutely had to bring her flowers…

Three hours later, Adrien stood in front of his car a block away from Tom and Sabine’s bakery, a bag with Marinette's clean clothes in one hand, a red rose in his other, and a text message sent a few minutes back. She didn't take long to appear.

"Hey." Marinette waved and smiled at him, her cheeks adorably pink.

"Hi," Adrien echoed, frozen in his place. Gosh, she looked amazing. Her hair tied up in a messy ponytail, a red top, paired with a fitted, cropped jeans and red sandal heels. A simple clutch and a few bracelets for accessories. Adrien forgot how to breathe. There was a reason Marinette got into Gabriel all on her own. She certainly knew how to dress to impress.

“You look amazing,” Adrien whispered.

“Thank you,” Marinette said. "We'd better get out of here before my parents see us. Papa wanted to take Maman for a walk just now."

“Kay,” he mumbled and didn't move, his half-lidded eyes glued to Marinette. She had a crush on him. Him! This amazing woman thought he was worthy of love.

Marinette giggled and pointed to his car. “Is this yours?”

“Yes.” He stirred and offered her a rose. “For you.”

“Thank you.” Marinette smiled, taking the flower.

Adrien opened the door for her. “After you.”

Marinette settled in. As soon as he closed the door behind himself, she asked, "So where are we going?"

"A little garden by the Seine on the outskirts of Paris. It's the most private public place I could think of for tonight."

"Sounds good."

Adrien drove off. His hands sweaty, he glanced at Marinette fiddling with the rose.

“Is it all right?”

She looked at him questionably. “What do you mean?”

“The temperature. Should I make it colder or warmer?”

She smiled. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He let a few cars pass at an intersection, before making a turn.

“Do you want some music?”

“Sure.”

Adrien turned on his favourite radio station and Jagged Stone’s tune ripped through space. He hurried to turn the volume down.

“Sorry.”

She chuckled. “That’s fine. I love Jagged.”

“Me too!”

Another intersection. Red light. Light traffic. He almost missed their turn.

“How was the—”

“How was your—”

They both chuckled.

“You go first,” Adrien offered.

“I just wanted to know how was your day?”

“Not bad. Lots of running around.”

“You didn't get in trouble with your father? For that video?”

“Not much,” Adrien shrugged. “He’s too preoccupied with his own problems to get me in real trouble. I was summoned more for a scolding than anything else.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.”

He slammed the brakes, a motorcycle cutting in in front of them. “Sorry.”

“That’s fine.”

They stopped at a red light.

“How was dinner?”

“Good. As always. You know my parents. They are easy to please just by showing up.”

“They seem very nice.”

“They are. I’m lucky to be their daughter.”

The car in front of them suddenly stopped. Adrien slammed the breaks again.

“Sorry. I’m usually a better driver. I promise. Don’t know what’s going on  today.”

Marinette laughed. “You’re alive and your car isn't dented. I’d say you’re a decent driver.”  

He concentrated on the road, terrified of making a mistake. They could talk later. For now, Adrien had to focus on getting them there safely.

"So,” Marinette broke the silence a few moments later. “You are Chat Noir?"

Adrien nodded. "And you're Ladybug."

She hummed.

They fell into silence. Why was it so awkward now when they could chat for hours online and had no issues talking as Adrien and Marinette before knowing they were also Chat Noir and Ladybug? Was it—

"Okay, I have to know: do you really dislike your father's new line?" Marinette asked. "Because I thought—"

"That if I'm his son, I must love everything he produces?"

"Kind of?"

Adrien huffed. "Please. I don't think he really likes it himself. But he was tipsy and Audrey Bourgeois had it out for him. It all happened way too fast, and now he's dead set on going through with that ridiculous bet with his head high."

"So, technically, we didn't have a chance for him to change his mind in the first place?"

"I was hoping more people than just me would appeal to his reason," Adrien replied.

Marinette sighed. "Well, high fashion is full of ridiculous outfits. Let's just hope it'll pass as one of those ‘made for art, rather than wearability' things."

Adrien chuckled. "I'm sure everyone would look at it that way. Though, usually, it's a few outfits in a line, not most of it."

"There is always a first for everything," Marinette snickered. "And your father did start a few new trends over the years. Maybe this time it's us who don't get his genius?"

"I really hope that's the case," Adrien chuckled. "Otherwise, I can't see how Gabriel can remain at the top, considering it's already in the middle of at least two scandals."

"The designers' firing?"

"Yeah. Father's trying to contain it, but from what I've heard, the damage is already done, and if he'd managed to salvage his reputation with payouts only, he'd be lucky."

Marinette sighed and said nothing for a few moments. "What's the other one?"

"Scandal?"

She nodded.

"Us," Adrien said. "#AgresteMakeOut. Though Nathalie assured me she took the video down and it should die out soon."

Marinette turned to watch the scenery in her window, whispering, "It seems I'm at the centre of both scandals. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Adrien used the few moments he had at a red light and turned to Marinette, placing his hand on top of hers. "You might be involved, but it was me who pushed it into a scandal territory both times. And since I've been the perfect son all my life, I think it's time I caused my father a few troubles already. Otherwise, how will he experience the full joy of parenthood?"

Marinette giggled. "Still—"

"No stills, no buts, no worries," Adrien said. "We'll have time for those later. For now, let's just enjoy this evening and take one thing at a time."

"Okay." Marinette smiled at him and switched the topic to something unrelated to the main issue on both of their minds.

They arrived at the park shortly after. Majestic trees serving as a canopy, bountiful of bushes and flowers nestled on the sides of wide walks, vining between spacious lawns. Not many people walked around. Birds’ singing filled the space instead. The park housed multiple benches, but Adrien led Marinette to the one from which they could see the sunset over the Seine and the part of the city in the background.

"It's so pretty here," she said, looking around.

"My mom used to take me here for walks when I was a kid," Adrien said, sitting down. "She loved it."

"I can see why."

Shyly, Marinette joined Adrien on the bench, her eyes focused on the scenery, cheeks the prettiest shade of pink. The conversation stagnated, neither brave enough to start.

"So…" Marinette started a few awkward moments later. "We wanted to talk?"

"We did," Adrien replied. A light breeze blew by, bringing a faint, flowery scent of the nearby blooms. There was a distant noise of people chatting and cars passing somewhere far away. Adrien nibbled on his lip, fiddling with his fingers. "You did an incredible job on covering the hickeys. I can't see a thing."

Marinette suppressed a snort. "Thanks. The girl from the store was most helpful."

He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I read our chat from yesterday."

"So did I."

"You said you had a crush on me."

Her face went crimson, eyes snapping to him. "I was drunk! I could've claimed to be a long-lost love child of Namibian Princess or an elephant from the Mars!"

Adrien laughed.

"Not funny," Marinette pouted. "I warned you I say nonsense when I'm drunk."

His chest tightened, smile vanishing from his face. "So, you lie when you're drunk?"

"Not necessary, but I can say stuff I don't mean."

He searched her face for a moment, something tightening in his throat. "So, you don't have a crush on me?"

She didn't answer, bowing her head and hiding her face in her hands.

His gaze falling to the ground, Adrien sighed. "I… Sorry, I thought… I assumed… hoped at least…"

"Maybe a little," she murmured into palms. "Tiny teensy one. Miniscule. Ridiculously small. Like almost non-existent."

Adrien grinned, joy filling his chest as he scooted closer and took Marinette's hands away from her face. “Really?”

"You can shame me," Marinette pouted. "I've had a crush on you since I was, like, thirteen. I admit—a celebrity crush at first, but then it grew into something more. And now that I've met you in person—why do I even have to justify myself to you, anyway? It's your fault for being all flirty and gorgeous and kind and fun and completely amazing and don't you get me started on those Pet Me, Marinette thingy! Do you even realize I almost died in there?" She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's not like I'm not allowed to have a crush, anyway, so I'm not sorry, but it's completely your fault."

Adrien laughed and threw his arms around Marinette, pulling her into a hug. His head buried into her hair, Adrien whispered, "Wasn't I the antisocial, thinking-that-he's-better-than-anyone-else son of Gabriel Agreste? How did you still like me?"

Marinette tensed for a moment, but once he wrapped his arms around her tighter, she relaxed. "One reason I've been so ecstatic to work at Gabriel was because I thought it would allow me to meet you. But then you were never around, and when you were, you never paid much attention to any of us, always rushing away as soon as you were free. My crush got squished pretty fast, and rumours were swirling around, and I was in a vulnerable place, so I might have believed them. That's until I've met you, of course, but I'm still sorry."

"It's me who's sorry," Adrien murmured into her hair. "I was too busy to notice you before. To notice anyone. My loss. If only I'd known there was such a sweet and beautiful girl who liked me."

"I'm sure there were and still are plenty of girls who like you, Adrien."

He shook his head, a bittersweet smile on his lips. "I'm sure there are. I mean I get dozens of Valentine cards every year—"

"Oh, gosh, no!" Marinette groaned, dropping her head into her hands.

Adrien pulled away and frowned. "What's wrong? Did I say something?"

"Please, don't hate me," she whispered through her hands.

"Why would I hate you?"

"I used to send you letters every Valentine until I was about eighteen. I'm such a fool. I didn't even sign them."

Adrien sucked in the air. "You didn't sign them?"

Marinette shook her head. "I kept forgetting or was too ashamed."

Adrien chuckled and gently lifted her face to his. "Please, tell me you also put little hearts over your Is?"

She looked at him. "Yes? Why?"

Adrien grinned, pulling her back into a hug. "Every year there was only one unsigned card, and I always thought that person was the only sincere one. They didn't expect me to reply. They just told me their feelings, and that was it. It was cute. I ended up looking forward to your cards, and I might have kept them all."

"You kept them?"

"Yup. Not only that: I reread them often."

"No," Marinette whined. "They were cringy. Why would you do that?"

"They're beautiful." Adrien smiled, pulling Marinette close. "Just like you."

Her lips parted, eyes widening just a speck as Adrien leaned forward.

"I really like you, Marinette. As Ladybug and as Marinette."

She gulped, her cheeks darkening. "You… you like me?"

"Very much," Adrien whispered, cradling her face with his hands.

Marinette's lips parted in an airy, shy smile.

He gave her one of her own and leaned in.

Her breaths shallow, Marinette let wet her lips, her eyes fluttering closed.

That was all the permission Adrien needed. He pulled her closer. Soft breaths burned at his skin, her lips just a speck away—

His phone rang a particular tune.

His body tensing, Adrien growled, closing his eyes. Barely breathing, he pulled back and giving Marinette an apologetic smile, murmured, "I'm sorry. I have to take this one."

Adorably flustered, she squicked something incoherent and pulled away.

He didn’t take his eyes off her, fishing for his phone. The annoying voice from his cellphone brought him back to reality.

“You didn’t answer my messages.”

Adrien frowned. “I didn't get any. Good evening to you, too.”

“Get a better phone then,” Plagg grunted. “Can’t you afford it?”

“My phone is fine. You haven't sent me anything.”

“I did and every single one of them said that you have a session in ten minutes.”

Adrien pressed his lips together. Plagg was lying. He was sure he was. But then, his phone had been off for some time. If Plagg wasn’t lying and he’d missed his messages, what else did he miss?  Funny though, how in the last four hours Adrien had his phone back, Plagg hadn't sent him a single message… “I’m sorry, but I can’t make it tonight.”

“Bullshit. I’ll see you in ten.”

“Plagg, I can’t make it. I’m serious. I’m out of the city. Can’t I have a day off?”

“Absolutely not, but I’ll give you an hour to get here.”

Adrien growled, his body tensing. His pulse sped up, heat coursing through his body. Enough! He’d have enough. “You know what! I’ve had enough! I quit! You win!”

He disconnected and shoved his cellphone on the bench beside himself. Closing his eyes, Adrien dropped his head into his hands. His lips pressed together, he growled. He quit! He’d wanted to quit for a long time, and now he did! Plagg had it coming. He did it to himself. There was no need to make Adrien this miserable, no need to mess up his schedule, his sleep, his sanity. He was tired of his bullshit. He was mentally and physically exhausted! He had a right to quit. Plagg hadn't even taught him dancing yet! Why would Adrien stick around and let that selfish glutton torture him even more?

Why did he feel like he’d just lost something important then?

A light touch to his shoulder. Adrien looked at Marinette, apology written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I just… that was my butt camp instructor… and I just—”

“Plagg?” Marinette looked at him with her eyes wide. “You said he’s name was Plagg?”

Adrien sighed, “Yeah, Plagg. Camembert-stinking tyrant Plagg. He even has a throne,” he scoffed. “Can you believe it?”

Marinette squealed in return. "I only know of one Plagg in the whole of Paris. What does he train you in?"

"He was supposed to teach me dancing, but so far—"

She gasped, her eyes widening. Immediately, she was on her knees in front of him, grabbing his hands. "Oh my gosh! Adrien! You got invited???"

He looked at the ring on his finger. "I think so? The day I visited Kwami Kave, after they kicked me out, I helped an old man on the street. He gave me this ring and Plagg's card. I was curious, so I called him, and it all snowballed from there."

Marinette grinned in excitement. "Adrien. That’s amazing! He invited you. Plagg chose you. Do you even realize how awesome this is?"

He frowned. "No? There is nothing awesome about that glutton. All he cares about is his reeking cheese and making me miserable."

Marinette giggled. "Well, Master Plagg is peculiar, but if he chose you, it means he's quite fond of you."

"Hard to believe he feels anything for anyone but his cheese."

"I beg to differ." Marinette stood up. "We should go. You can't be late.”

“I just quit. I can’t go.”

“Text him back,” Marinette begged. “He’ll take you back. Please, Adrien, I know he’s harsh, but I promise you, Master Plagg has a heart of gold. His approach is just… different, but if he chose you it means you need him.”

“I need my sleep,” Adrien grunted. “I need some normalcy back in my life.”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell you much because I don’t know your life, Adrien, but if you stick with Master Plagg and pass his training, your life would never be the same. My dance trainer practically saved my life. It was also hard; believe me, I’ve been there. But it’s only at the start. Tikki’s become my best friend and still helps me with so much even now. I could never go back to the way I lived before. Do you want to live the way you’ve lived so far, or would you be willing to try something different? Something that might be much better than what you have now? You can always go back if you’d like but don’t quit before you reached the end to see what’s there.”

She looked at him with her eyes wide and begging. Her hands gently holding hers, Marinette still lightly squeezed his. “Please?” she whispered. “Give him another chance.”

Adrien inhaled deeply and squeezed her hands back, closing his eyes and bowing his head. How could he say no to her? “Alright. I’ll give it another go.”

Marinette launched forward, throwing her arms around Adrien. “Thank you! Master Plagg is full of surprises. Good ones, I swear."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “Hard to believe there is anything good in him, but I’ll believe you.”  

She pulled away a little and kissed his cheek, cradling his face in her hands. “It’ll get easier, I promise. You’ll love the end.”

“As long as you’re by my side,” he whispered, lavishing under her touch. “I can take anything. Any kind of end, as long as you’re there.”

“I will be,” she whispered back, her head leaning closer. “I’ll be with you all the way till the end, Chaton.”

“Promise?”

She lightly touched his lips with hers. “Promise.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Next >

#ladynoirjuly2019 #LadyNoir #adrienette #identity reveal #fluff

[whatarubberchicken]

AU YEAH August - 24 - Workplace

@auyeahaugust

(A little different than what this prompt intended, I think, but I had lots of fun writing it!)

Masquerade

Adrien stepped out onto the empty balcony, reached up and loosened his bright green tie, before giving in and tearing it off his collar completely. Finally, he could breathe. He took a deep, deep breath of cool night air, and immediately shucked off his dinner coat as well. His ostentatious mask soon followed, and he briefly considered throwing it into the garden below. But no, his father would kill him. He was pretty sure there were real emeralds and maybe even gold thread woven into that thing.

If anything else, Gabriel Agreste’s family always had to be the height of fashion.

Speaking of… Adrien looked down at himself, free of all the extra odds-and-ends that his father had designed for him to wear tonight. Thankfully, all of that had gone into the coat, tie, and mask. He was much happier like this.

Simple, black and white. Still elegant, but… he reached up and ruffled his own hair, grimacing when it crackled under his fingers from all the gel. Adrien didn’t stop ruffling it until it stopped crackling, though. His hair should be able to breathe for a moment too. He took another deep breath and leaned against the balcony’s railing; content to just relax and be himself for a moment.

After all, he thought with a shudder, soon he’d have to go back. Soon he’d have to put that stupid mask back on and pretend to smile while Chloe and Lila fought over who got to be on his arm.

It was how he’d gotten out here in the first place. They’d been tugging on him so much that his tie had become askew. Then, they’d fought over who got to fix it; each of them “fixing” it tighter and tighter and tighter….

Nathalie was the one who’d realized he couldn’t breathe and sent him to the bathroom to fix it himself.

Instead, Adrien had escaped to the balcony.

God, he hated these parties. Inane small talk, barely veiled threats and backstabbing, having to listen to people go on and on about their stupid clothes….

“There you are!” a voice behind him exclaimed. Adrien stiffened and turned around slowly, his heart only slowing down when he realized he didn’t know this woman.

But damn, if she wasn’t cute.

Black pigtails, bright blue eyes—her outfit was more severe than the rest of the girls here, but she’d somehow made it work for her.

A waitress, he realized, as he took in her attire. She wasn’t wearing a huge ballgown like the rest of the female guests, and her mask was simple and white. Black pants, a white button-down shirt, a black vest—

She grabbed him, tugging him towards the door. “C’mon,” she said impatiently, “Charlie’s gonna pitch a fit if anymore of you guys go outside to ‘sample the dishes.’ I know you’re just a temp worker and you’re not used to this, but you could at least make an effort….”

Black pants, a white button-down shirt, black vest—which was exactly what he was wearing, Adrien realized as she tugged him into the kitchen. Without his elaborate mask, tie, and dinner coat….

She’d mistaken him for a server!

“Um, miss—err, ma’am—” he stammered, as she handed him a tray of flutes filled with champagne. “I’m not—”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Fine, I’ll take the drinks. You follow me with the hors d'oeuvres. And don’t you dare think of scampering away to eat some!” she said, swapping trays with him effortlessly. Adrien stared at her, wide-eyed, as he tried to copy her movements and hold the tray so he didn’t spill anything.

“Where’s your mask?!” she asked, still clearly upset with him. He gestured helplessly outside with his free hand. She glared at him, but, before he could speak again, she set her tray down and whipped a spare mask out of her apron. “I’m not even gonna ask what happened to your apron,” she muttered.

Adrien could only stare at her as she leaned in close to put it on properly. She smelled like cookies. After hours of being pressed up against two girls who smelled like they’d bathed in perfume… it was a really nice change.

Finally, his new friend stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Your hair’s a mess, but that’s okay,” she said, giving him a final once-over. “Just act like a gentleman and the girls will immediately fall all over your ‘handsome rouge’ act.” She shot him a wink as she picked her tray back up.

“And don’t forget to smile!”

Adrien shot her an uneasy half-smile, which made her laugh.

“Exactly! C’mon.”

Adrien followed automatically, still trying to convince his non-functioning brain to just tell her there’d been a mistake and go back to the party as himself. But, there was another part of him, deep down inside, that was bouncing with excitement.

Can I really pull this off?

What if nobody realizes it’s me??

What kinds of things could I do… if I’m not being Adrien Agreste?

The masquerade ball took on a whole new light as he exited the kitchen, still following the waitress with blue-black pigtails. Nobody looked at him (except to spare a glance for what he was carrying), nobody spoke to him (not even to ask him to move, they simply assumed he would step out of the way), and certainly nobody tried to butter him up or hang on him (Chloe and Lila were currently cooing over a boy that Adrien recognized as Prince Ali, who looked very uncomfortable—Adrien sent up a small prayer on his behalf).

It was… liberating.

“Hey—HEY!”

Adrien jumped, just barely managing to not spill anything on his tray. He looked over to see his fellow waitress glaring at him impatiently. Oh, right. He was supposed to be following her. He quickly scurried back to her side.

“I know it’s bad form to ask for names at a masquerade, but if you’re going to keep drifting into La-La Land, I’m gonna need to call you something,” the waitress muttered to him as they continued to make their way through the crowds.

“Huh?” Adrien tore his eyes away from an exchange between two people he’d always thought liked each other. As soon as they turned away from each other, however, their happy faces dropped and pure disgust showed. Adrien was amazed. No wonder Mother had always said that the servants’ gossip was always worth listening to. It was incredible, what people thought they could get away with when nobody “important” was listening.

“Your name!!” his companion hissed, breaking his concentration again. “Give me something I can call you, before we get separated again!”

Adrien blinked at her wildly. He couldn’t give her his real name! That would completely blow his cover!! Quickly he looked around for a name. Someone he knew, maybe? Nearby, something caught his eye. One woman’s masquerade dress was clearly cat-themed—her mask was cut to resemble ears, with bits hanging down like whiskers; she even had a bell around her neck, cute!!

“Chat,” Adrien said absently.

“What? You want me to call you Chat?” his new work-buddy said.

“Well, you can’t ask for my real name, right?” he said, grinning at her winningly. “So, yeah. Chat Noir.”

The girl let out a short laugh. “All right, then, kitty. Chat it is.” She turned to continue her loop around the room.

Adrien hurried to catch up. “And what can I call you, m’lady?” he purred, enjoying getting into character.

Another laugh. “’My lady’ sounds fine to me,” she said, smiling at a guest who was helping himself to her tray.

“Aww, but I can call anyone that,” ‘Chat’ pouted. “I need something uniquely… you!”

“How about Ladybug then?” the girl said, tapping her spotted earrings playfully.

Chat felt his grin grow. “Perfect, Bugaboo!”

Ladybug levelled a glare at him. “No. Not Bugaboo.”

“Bugsy? Buginette?”

“Ugh, worse and worse,” she moaned. “Just stick with ‘my lady.’”

“As you wish, my lady,” Chat said happily. This night was looking better and better! He turned to give her a bow, and nearly upended his tray. Ladybug rolled her eyes at him and tapped him playfully on the shoulder.

“Concentrate, alley cat!”

Now that he had a new name, Adrien was able to lose himself fully in the persona of the waiter known as Chat Noir. He bowed and flirted with the guests (and with Ladybug!), all of whom seemed to laugh easier and more whole-heartedly than they ever had with Adrien Agreste.

By the time he and Ladybug had finished a couple of loops around the room, their trays were empty several times over, and Adrien was having the time of his life. He and Ladybug had made a game of it, handing out jokes and puns as much as drinks and hors d'oeuvres. He followed his partner back into the kitchen, still laughing at his last bad joke.

Ladybug smirked at him, grabbed his tray and handed him a bottle of water. Adrien took it gladly. He’d gotten warmer than ever in there, but he’d hardly noticed.

Ah, the freedom of not being his father’s child!

“You’ve never worked a day in your life, have you?”

Adrien choked on his drink, coughing as he looked up at Ladybug. She was raising an eyebrow at him.

“Of-of course I have!” he sputtered, offended. “I work all the time!!”

“Not this kind of work.”

Adrien looked away. A few moments of tense silence stretched out between them.

“I wanted to get away for a while,” he finally admitted.

“And you never thought of the repercussions if you—or I—were caught??” Ladybug pressed, now looking angry. “If they found out I mistook a guest for a server, I’d lose my job!”

“That won’t happen,” Adrien said sullenly.

“Oh, won’t it??”

“I won’t let it!” he snapped.

She scoffed. “You really think you can influence Chloe Bourgeois?”

“Yes,” Adrien smirked. That was one of the few things he was sure of.

Ladybug paled a bit. “Just—just who are you?” she asked quietly. He gave her a dry stare and tapped his mask.

No names at a masquerade.

“It’s almost midnight,” she said softly. Adrien drew in a breath. Midnight was when Chloe had planned for everyone to reveal themselves and have a good laugh at the antics of the night. But both she and Lila had been overtly obvious in their identities throughout the night already. There was no need for him to pretend to be surprised.

In fact, the only person Adrien really wanted to know the identity of… was the girl in front of him.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he offered.

Ladybug blinked at him, then shook her head and backed away. “You just want to get me fired,” she whispered.

“No, I don’t!” Adrien assured her, stepping forward to catch her before she could flee completely, “I promise! I’ve never had so much fun!”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “I made you serve hors d'oeuvres all night!”

Adrien smirked. “And I could’ve gotten away I’d really wanted to,” he pointed out. He stepped forward again and caught her hand. “Please, my lady,” he said softly, kissing her knuckles. “A name.”

In the ballroom, the clock struck midnight.

Ladybug opened her mouth to answer him—

—and Nathalie pushed her way into the kitchen.

“There you are, Adrien!” she said, sounding exasperated. “Miss Bourgeois has been quite upset at your extended absence!”

“I… I….”

All he could think of was the fact that Ladybug had slipped away from him and was now disappearing through another pair of doors in the kitchen. He’d never see her again. Didn’t know her name, or how to contact her.

His heart broke.

“Well, Adrien?” Nathalie called. He looked over to see her raising an eyebrow at him. She opened the door to the ballroom; full of lights, and glitter, and hundreds of people chatting inanely.

Adrien shot off after Ladybug.

“Cover for me, won’t you, Nathalie?!” he called over his shoulder.

“ADRIEN?!?!” came Nathalie’s astonished cry.

He ignored her, focusing on finding the one person who had made this night his best night ever. He burst through the same doors she had gone through to find another kitchen, this one with several bakers in it.

Before he could even open his mouth, the bakers grinned at each other and pointed towards a set of doors on the other side of the room.

“Better hurry, kid,” the big one called. “She’s a quick one.”

Adrien yelled out his thanks as he raced on in the direction they’d pointed him. The doors led to a hallway. Adrien paused.

Left or right? Left or right???

To his right, the door leading to a stairway was swinging slightly, as if someone had just come through it. Adrien grinned, taking off in that direction. He’d just gotten inside when he realized he’d have no way of knowing which floor she’d gone to….

No, I won’t give up! He thought, looking around desperately for any sort of clue—

“Your service was exceptionally slow tonight, Marinette,” he heard a voice below him say. “But I’ll let it go this one time. I’ve never seen you look so happy! Did you get his number? Or at least his name??”

“No, sir,” a soft voice answered.

“What a pity. You deserve to be happy, Marinette.”

He heard a door below him close, and practically flew down the stairs.

That was her. It had to be! She’d been slow tonight because she’d been having fun! With him! And if she’d really been as happy as he was…!

Adrien rounded the next flight of stairs and stopped short.

There she was. Still in the stairwell, at the very bottom of the stairs. His Ladybug.

And her mask was off.

She was wiping away a few tears, and she whirled around to face him. Her eyes widened.

“Chat?!”

He reached up and wrenched his mask off as he made his way down the stairs.

“Adrien,” he said, striding towards her determinedly. “Adrien Agreste.”

She gasped in horror, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, no, no, no!” she whispered, backing up until she was pressed against a wall. “Your father’s going to kill me!!”

“Nobody’s going to kill you,” he assured her, unable to stop smiling now that he had her in his sights. He stopped a few feet away. “Marinette, wasn’t it?”

She gulped, her face reflecting the fear that she must still have. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to magically wipe it all away! For the first time in his life, he could finally understand how the prince could fall in love with Cinderella after one night at the ball.

Of course, instead of falling for the girl with the fancy dress, he himself had been turned into a servant in this fairy tale! He smiled, hoping to make her feel more at ease.

“Do I truly frighten you, my lady?” he asked, adopting his Chat persona one more time. He took her hand and lightly kissed her knuckles, just as he’d done a dozen times during this magical night. “If so, just say the word, and this cat will scurry back to the alley from whence he came, never to be heard from again.”

Please, please, don’t turn me away.

Please, my lady.

“Yes,” she said softly. Adrien felt his heart break a second time.

But then….

“Yes, my name is Marinette,” she continued, her voice slowly getting stronger. “And you are a stupid, stupid cat if you thought I would spend all night with someone I never cared to hear from again—!!”

Adrien couldn’t help it. He swept her up into his arms, bending down to give her a kiss that took his breath away.

It was thrilling… and terrifying. On one hand, he was kissing her! His Ladybug! But, on the other hand, he was kissing her! And she was frozen in shock—and, oh crap, I didn’t think that through—what if she hates me—what if she changes her mind and runs away and I never, ever see her again—!!

Then, she was kissing him back; wrapping her arms around his neck and threading her fingers through his hair while her head tilted, granting him more access. He took it gleefully.

“Oh, and Marinette—OH, SWEET MERCY! AS YOU WERE, MY GIRL!!”

Adrien and Marinette barely had time to break apart in surprise before whoever had interrupted them went right back out the way they came. Still clutching him, Marinette started giggling.

“We should get back,” she said. “I have to start cleanup, and you….” She trailed off, looking up at him.

“I have to check in at some point,” Adrien admitted reluctantly. “But there’s no reason why I can’t hang out for at least a little bit… and maybe help you some more?” he added, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Marinette winked at him. “I’m sure we can find a job for an old alley cat.”

End.

#au yeah august #workplace #masquerade #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #chat noir

[one-of-us-blog]

Never Say Never Again (1983)

Today Drew is forced to watch and recap 1983’s Never Say Never Again, the completely noncanonical James Bond adventure that features the final appearance of Sean Connery in the franchise. Remember Thunderball? Well, would that movie be like if Bond was in his fifties, Largo was a video game playing nerd, Domino was just sort of there and Fiona Vulpe was absolutely out of her damn mind?

Keep reading to find out…

Eli, you’re killin’ me, buddy! I was totally choked up during your Golden Girls retrospective! I’ve always thought about this project as something for the two of us, so the idea that it also turned into something that you got to include your family in really tugged at my heartstrings. You’ve done the Girls proud, Agent 0069! And, I have to say, I breathed a sigh of relief when I read your first recap for The Golden Palace. This series both very similar and very, very different from its predecessor, and I had no clue how you would take to it. I feel like it’s a sign of good things to come that you didn’t completely hate the pilot, but I’ll be on the edge of my seat each week to see how your feelings toward the show change! Speaking of continuations that nobody asked for, though, it’s time for me to tackle this outlier in the James Bond franchise!

Buttocks tight!

Screenplay by Lorenzo Semple Jr., Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais, film directed by Irvin Kershner

We start off without a gun barrel sequence, and there’s no prelude scene before Lani Hall jumps right into “Never Say Never Again”, the film’s less-than-rousing theme. This time around, Bond is sent to the health clinic because he fails a training mission (maybe because he’s 52). This M (Edward Fox) doesn’t have much use for 00 agents, and Bond’s spent more time teaching lessons to junior agents than getting his hands and/or dick dirty in the field. M orders Bond to get back into shape while Miss Moneypenny (Pamela Salem) is there for no reason and contributes nothing to the movie.

Fatima Blush (Barbara Carrera), this movie’s version of Fiona Vulpe, arrives at a SPECTRE meeting. Hey, we haven’t heard from SPECTRE in a long time (sort of)! Blofeld (Max von Sydow) sends Blush to harass an American pilot named Jack Petachi, who happens to be staying at the same health clinic Bond is at. Bond catches Blush in the act, because she’s insane and awful at stealth missions. Bond, who, to be fair, is also awful at stealth missions, immediately makes his presence known while Blush is having the pilot scan his iris into a machine so they can make sure the horrific replacement eye he’s been outfitted with will pass a retina scan. Blush recognizes Bond on sight because he’s the worst secret agent on the planet and sends an assassin to kill him. The assassin is much stronger than the aging Bond and has half a dozen chances to take the spy out, but he’s a dumb henchman so Bond eventually gets the better of him. How, you ask? By throwing his own urine sample into the assassin’s face. Bond’s piss is strong enough that it stuns an assassin long enough for him to fall back onto a shelf of glassware which kills him.

M is pissed and Bond isn’t interested. The pilot uses his truly repulsive transplanted eye to pass a retina scan which results in a pair of nuclear bombs being loaded onto a jet. The pilot drives away, Blush drives up beside him and throws a snake into his car to cause him to crash and die. Blush is worried about the snake’s safety and retrieves it, but if she’s so worried about it maybe she shouldn’t have thrown it into a car that was about to crash through a brick wall. Blush plants an explosive and blows up the pilot’s car, so maybe next time she can just throw the bomb in instead of involving the snake to begin with. The nukes are fired off the unsuspecting jet and retrieved out of the ocean by SPECTRE.

SPECTRE sends a message to world leaders and holds the world for ransom. M is told to reinstate the 00’s, and Bond gets a briefing on Maximillian Largo (Klaus Maria Brandauer), formerly Emilio Largo. We jump over to see Largo being gross in general and possessive of his girlfriend, Domino Petachi (Kim Basinger). Bond meets with an absolutely insufferable version of Q referred to as Algernon (Alec McCowen) and then heads to the Bahamas (maybe he’ll visit Quarrel Jr. on the way) where he meets the equally insufferable Nigel Small-Fawcett (Rowan Atkinson) whom he tasks with gathering intel on Largo. The manic Blush throws herself into Bond’s arms and gets him onto a boat, where she immediately sleeps with him. The sex scene lasts for about fifteen hours, and then we’re treated to another seven hours of scuba diving. My favorite part of Thunderball was the long, drawn out scuba scenes, so I’m tickled pink to see one in this film as well. Blush plants a device on Bond which causes a shark to head his way. Couldn’t have just shot him in the head, huh, Fatima?

After this scene is finally over, Blush is living her best life and dancing around when she catches sight of Bond and the fisherwoman who reeled him in out of the ocean. Blush really is awful at her job and still insists on putting a bomb in Bond’s room instead of just shooting him. Bond’s busy screwing around in the fisherwoman’s room, though, so Blush continues to be the worst at her job. Small-Fawcett informs Bond that Largo’s yacht is headed for Nice, France, and there Bond meets up with a French operative named Nicole (Saskia Cohen Tanugi) and our old friend Felix Leiter (Bernie Casey). It’s been a while, Felix! Bond and Leiter ogle Domino through a telescope while she dances on the deck of Largo’s yacht, and Bond poses an employee of a spa Domino visits. While posing as a masseuse as an excuse to manhandle her, Bond figures out that Largo will be holding a charity bond at a casino.

Nicole drops Bond off at the casino where Blush is waiting for him. She sends her own driver off to kill Nicole while Bond threatens to kill the doorman in order to get into the charity event. Bond reunites with Domino and the two are spotted at the bar by Largo. Largo challenges Bond to a game of Domination, a video game rip off of Risk that gives the player an electric shock when they lose points. The game looks, no joke, fucking bonkers. Bond gets his asses handed to him the first few games, but Largo eventually loses. Bond and Largo both view Domino as property, so as a prize for winning Bond is allowed a dance with Domino. Bond lets Domino know her brother’s dead and had been working for Largo, because in the middle of a dance surrounded by hundreds of onlookers is the best time to receive devastating news.

Largo invites Bond to lunch the next day and he goes back to his villa to find Nicole drowned in a waterbed. Bond chases after Blush on a motorcycle but is eventually captured.  I really can’t stress how absolutely insane Fatima Blush is. She has the manic energy like nothing I’ve ever seen. She frantically demands that Bond declare, in writing, that she’s his number one sexual partner, and Bond uses the explosive dart hidden inside a Q Branch fountain pen to blow Blush to hell. Leiter arrives and the two agents head for Largo’s yacht. Leiter is prevented from entering, and Bond doesn’t seem to mind. Largo was ready for Bond and reminds him they have a lunch date for tomorrow. Bond tells Domino about what happened to her brother and she tells him about the Tears of Allah, a necklace Largo gave her. Bond kisses Domino to make Largo jealous, then sneaks into Largo’s little man cave and sends a signal to MI6 telling them the yacht is headed for Palmyra in North Africa. Largo accuses Domino of betraying him despite her having no agency in this movie and torments her about her dead brother before having her sold as a sex slave to some racist caricatures of Middle Eastern men. Fantastic. Bond is chained nearby, and Largo reveals that one of the nukes is hidden in Washington DC.

Bond gets free thanks to a Q device and rescues Domino. Bond rides a horse off a cliff and he and Domino are rescued by Leiter. Turns out that Tears of Allah necklace Largo gave Domino was a map to the second bomb’s location. Why would he…? You know what, never mind. Bond and Leiter use jetpacks for no damn reason to reach some underwater caves, where they find Largo and the second nuke. Leiter and his team take on Largo’s henchmen while Bond goes after Largo and the nuke in a chopper. Bond chases Largo underwater and Domino arrives out of absolutely nowhere to shoot Largo with a harpoon while Bond disarms the nuke.

Bond and Domino relax in a pool afterward. Small-Fawcett arrives on behalf of M to beg Bond to return to active duty, because without him in the field the fate of the civilized world is at stake. Anyway. Bond and Domino make out after Bond declares he’s never taking up spying again.

The End

~~~~~

Yikes. This one was real bad. I didn’t like Thunderball to begin with, but this rehashing of it was even worse. None of the jokes landed, the self-referential dialogue felt pandery and the whole movie reeked of desperation and spite. On some level I enjoyed Blush’s manic insanity, but she was a cardboard cutout of a character. Largo was turned into a smug nerd in this version, and don’t even get me started on the MI6 crew. A lot of people know about the Bechdel test, but there’s another litmus test for movies called the Sexy Lamp test. Until the end scene where Domino shoots Largo, which, again comes out of absolutely nowhere, this movie did not pass the Sexy Lamp test. Even on a technical side, the effects for this one sucked. I know they were trying to be cutting-edge with Domination, but I have to think that even in 1983 people realized that game was dumb as hell, beside the fact that it had nothing to do with the rest of the movie. I could go on forever, but needless to say I did not care for this movie. The one good thing about it was that we got a Black character who didn’t die by the end of the movie courtesy of this version of Felix Leiter, but even he couldn’t keep this brick afloat.

I give Never Say Never Again Q on the Five Q Scale.

Tune in soon for Eli’s recaps of “Promotional Considerations” and “Miles, We Hardly Knew Ye”, the next two episodes of The Golden Palace (the second of which I have very, very strong feelings about), and after that I’ll be back with my recap of A View to a Kill, the next James Bond adventure and the last to feature my beloved Roger Moore.

Until then, as always, thank you for reading, thank you for saying never and thank you for being One of Us!

#One of us #james bond #007

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[the-jade-cross]

Burning Water - Chapter VII

Chapter 7

It seemed like any ordinary day in Littlefinger’s brothel as Oberyn Martell studied each of the women that the man Olyver had brought in for his amusement. Ellaria lay behind him, lounging on the bed as she waited for him to select the perfect candidate. Oberyn honestly did not want to be there, selecting a woman whom he felt suited Ellaria’s fetish. It had been this way for almost six years, wishing desperately that he had found a better purpose in his life rather than visiting every brothel known to man with his paramour who would one minute seem obsessed in sharing Oberyn’s bed with a third party and then the other minute, acting ridiculously jealous if Oberyn’s full attention was not on her enjoyment.

As Oberyn ordered the women to remove their clothes so he could “examine them” his mind raced back several years when he was standing upon that dance floor in Highgarden, his hand securely placed on the slender, but not too thin waist of Mayaka Tyrell. Her perfectly curved hips swaying to the gentle music, her long auburn ringlets dancing against her back, the gold in her hair radiated by the color of her dress. Her eyes, as blue as the clear sky of Dorne looking up at him inquisitively from beneath thick, long lashes that dusted her creamy cheeks. Her perfectly rounded bosom dangerously close to being pressed against his own chest, her tiny, slender hand cupped firmly in his tanned one. For a sixteen-year-old girl, she was a picture of beauty, elegance and grace.

The man was snapped from his thoughts by Ellaria who made a laughing comment about the shy and timid personality of the girl Oberyn had been examining. Oberyn hastily moved on to the next girl, realizing that he had zoned out. When Ellaria seemed satisfied with the red head before him, Oberyn took a step back, the tension in his shoulders relaxing now that he didn’t have to view girls whose very existence was about sleeping with people. Not that he didn’t like sleeping with women… but it was one thing to have one’s physical pleasures taken care of and another for all the pleasures of the body to be caressed and appreciated.

Oberyn turned and faced the man, Olyver, who stood beside the girls, seemingly pleased that one of the girls he had selected suited Ellaria’s tastes. After Oberyn had fathered eight girls, four of which had been by women that he had slept with only once or twice, he had made it a mission to not father children unless he meant to. That was why he took Ellaria as his paramour since his brother Doran seemed to dislike any woman in Dorne as the candidate for Oberyn’s wife so a paramour was the next best thing and the best way Oberyn could father children without suddenly happening upon a 5-year-old child who was declared his bastard. He had seen that mistake being made by Doran with Oberyn’s niece Nanteza. Doran had fathered the girl without his knowledge and Nanteza had been discovered by Doran the night of Elia’s rape and murder, an innocent, lost child with no family.

Oberyn had taken the girl under his wing and disguised her lineage as her being his daughter, fearing that either Doran would deny her being his child or would treat her terribly because of her lack of legitimacy. It was safer for both Nanteza’s sanity and safety that she was believed to be Oberyn’s daughter, though the knowledge of the truth was known only by Nanteza and Oberyn. He had told Nanteza the truth upon her 7th name day, feeling that it was only fair she knew but the girl had declared that she understood that Doran might have been the one to create her, but Oberyn was the one who loved her and had continued to look upon Oberyn as her father, though only called him “uncle” in private.

The prince of Dorne strode over to Olyver and considered the young man who was just a little taller than him. “You stay.”

Olyver frowned. He had been frowned upon for the past three years since his brother had foolishly raped the serving girl Maya in an unconscious state and he had soon found that unless the customer payed handsomely, he was not allowed to gift his time to the desires of the guest. He was not sure if this was because Miss Veer wanted to avoid him getting into a similar situation as his brother who had become thirsty for flesh after years of constant pleasure giving to guests or perhaps, she was doing that to punish Olyver in his brother’s absence (who had been sent to prison for his crime) by denying him the pleasures except at certain times. The latter seemed less likely but even so, Olyver preferred to not get in trouble today.

“I am sorry, but I am not one of the candidates,” Olyver protested, sweat appearing upon his brow when the prince of Dorne sauntered toward him.

Olyver was completely unaware that Oberyn was as frustrated as they come, in all forms of the word. It had been two weeks since Oberyn had taken someone to his bed and that person had been Ellaria, but he had come back feeling unsatisfied, unable to even reach his own pleasure while Ellaria had reached her own at least twice. Not only that, Oberyn was in the nest of Lannisters. A snake amongst the lions, dying to bury his teeth into the ankle of an unsuspecting Lannister.

Oberyn opened his mouth, about to sass the denying Olyver when two voices caught his attention… singing… and praise the gods, he knew that song… sadly.

“Oberyn… no,” Ellaria warned, knowing full well what was going on inside the man’s head at the sound of that song.

Oberyn did not pay her any heed and strode out of the room, Ellaria hastily following leaving a confused Olyver and prostitute behind. When the man entered the sitting room where two Lannister men sat with women atop their laps, he slowed his pace in order to calm the fiery desire to strangle the men right then and there.

He slowly walked toward the two men who had stopped singing, dangling a hand over a burning flame before pulling away, not even feeling the heat of the flame thanks to the salve that he daily worked into his hands to resist the burn of fire.

“You lost friend?” one of the men asked, agitated that they had been interrupted.

Oberyn smirked but it was fake. “Forgive me for staring. I do not see many Lannisters from where I’m from.”

“We don’t see many Dornishmen in the capitol,” the older of the two men, Morgan, observed.

“We don’t like the smell,” Oberyn said just loud enough for the men to hear.

The Lannister men forced out fake laughs as Ellaria rushed in and tried to pull Oberyn away from the scene, “Come away lover.”

The Lannisters continued to spout insults that were meant to sound jestful but Oberyn managed to keep a straight face before making a fake chuckle. “Do you know why all the world hates a Lannister? You think that your gold and your lions and your gold lions make you better than everyone. May I tell you a secret? You are not a golden lion. You are just a pink little man who is too slow on the draw.”

When Morgan moved to grab his longsword, Oberyn made a swift motion and stabbed the man through the wrist. Morgan’s companion gripped his hilt and cringed when Oberyn moved his knife just enough to make a ripping sound.

“If I remove my blade, your friend will bleed out but he will survive if you get him help quickly,” Oberyn told the man, finding a part of his frustration ebb away at the feeling of his dagger in the wrist of the Lannister.

Just as he drew the knife out, spitting blood everywhere, Tyrion Lannister came hurrying in with Bron close behind him. “Prince Oberyn, we hurried hear because we feared there might be…. Trouble.”

“Seems it already arrived,” a woman’s voice muttered in an annoyed tone from behind Tyrion.

In the doorway stood two women, both garbed in simple attire but both were a lot more modestly dressed than the skimpily clad women that frequented the brothel as well as the prostitutes who were an inch from naked.

The woman who had spoken was tall for a woman, probably a little taller than Ellaria with short brown hair and serious brown eyes that pierced the very soul of the person she was looking at that happened to be Tyrion. She had her hands on her hips, the veil around her face failing to hide the annoyance that laced her face.

“Why is it that whenever you are around here, someone bleeds out?” the woman inquired, huffing as her companion slipped into the room with a bowl of water and cloth to clean up the bloody mess.

Oberyn’s eyes trailed from the taller woman to her companion as the brunette continued to argue with Tyrion about how this wasn’t the first time someone had stabbed another person in the brothel in the presence of Tyrion Lannister.

The second girl was the complete opposite of the first woman whose name was apparently Zarina. This girl was petite with a fuller figure than the skinny build of Zarina. Her hips were just the right width with perfect curves, a generous bosom that was held tight against her form by the dress she wore with creamy smooth skin that was covered as much as possible in the skimpy outfit she had been given. Her skirt swished silently around her legs as she strode past Ellaria and Oberyn to the table that was covered in blood and set the bowl down patiently as she silently began to work. Oberyn watched her back and noticed that she wore no shoes, giving a perfect view of adorable slender feet as she stood on tiptoe to reach across the whole table to capture the blood that threatened to spill off the table.

The prince found himself even more frustrated than he was a moment before because of the metal mask that concealed the girl’s face, hiding everything but her eyes and slender eyebrows. Beautiful, big eyes like those of a small animal, as blue as the Dornish clear sky with perfect black lashes that fluttered as she blinked, itching to be kissed as they lay closed in sleep. The girl’s hair was either short or all pulled up and hidden beneath a dark blue cloth that she had tied around her head but Oberyn had gotten a slight glimpse of a whisp of red atop her head.

The girl finished the cleaning faster than Oberyn could blink and he wondered how she left the table perfectly clean without a hint of a stain or even a dampness from the wet cloth before she placed the soiled rag into the now empty bowl and headed to the door. Oberyn’s eyes locked upon her back and he noticed the faintest of scars upon her lower back, barely an inch long but from the look of it, she had been struck with something blunt… not a weapon… but as if she had fallen on a rock or a table.

Oberyn didn’t realize that Ellaria was trying to draw his attention to Tyrion who was now speaking to him but when Zarina and the imp noticed where Oberyn’s eyes had trailed, they shared a knowing look and Zarina hastily departed to look for Maya, knowing full well that the girl was probably in a state after finding herself in the same room as a particular Dornish Prince.

*******

Oberyn cracked his eyes open before glancing at Ellaria. Still asleep. Good. She was so demanding and suspicious, Oberyn was unable to glance at anyone without her accusing him of infidelity, as if they were married! It seemed he couldn’t like someone other than her without her permission! Slipping from beneath the covers, Oberyn proceeded to sneak from the room they had rented in Littlefinger’s Brothel. Oberyn found the red-haired prostitute still lying at the foot of the bed and he visibly cringed before exiting the room. The hallways were dark and silent, all the prostitutes’ home or in bed and the guests renting rooms were dead asleep from too much wine, much like Ellaria was.

He was looking out for someone, that was evident in the way his ears listened for any sound, not to avoid but to follow. That little blue eyed serving girl no doubt lived in the brothel especially in the shy, unsure way she acted around strangers… she was not used to the outside world. Oberyn was beginning to lose hope of ever finding the mysterious girl when he heard the soft pitter patter of bare feet and the jingle of metal… the chain mask! Oberyn sought out the owner of the sound like a dying bull in search of water.

Stalking silently around corners, not afraid to be found up and out of bed. When he rounded the final corner, he spied the girl in question, removing new, clean sheets from a closet and placing them in one arm before using her hand to close said cabinet. In doing so allowed the girl a sideways view of Oberyn who stood about five meters from her, hands clasped behind his back and burning chocolate orbs piercing the very metal of her mask that still remained on.

Over her partially skimpy outfit she had worn earlier, she had a thin, lacy shawl wrapped around her shoulders that had once hidden her hair which now billowed in ringlets to her luscious hips. Sadly, due to the lack of light, Oberyn was unable to make out the color of her hair.

“You are up late my lord,” the girl said in a low voice, not turning her eyes in his direction.

Oberyn smirked, “I could say the same for you my lady.”

“I am no lady,” the girl said but the way she seemed to grit it out, Oberyn had a feeling she was forcing herself to not say otherwise.

“Perhaps not,” Oberyn stated, taking a few strides closer to the girl who did not move a muscle at his close proximity. “But those hips and your bodice say otherwise.”

He saw the girl’s hands twitch as if she was keeping herself from smacking him for his brazenness. He was surprised she didn’t seem to blush in the slightest at his compliment like every other woman would.

“Well I am sorry to disrupt your evening my lord,” the girl said, making to leave but Oberyn failed to notice that she kept both hands from his view.

“Actually, I was looking for you,” he whispered in her ear, reaching for her wrist but the girl beat him to it.

Grabbing his wrist, she stuck her opposite foot behind her, catching him in the abs before she proceeded to do a clear flip forward, taking the startled Dornish Prince with her, Oberyn landing on his back with the girl straddling him. A knife seemed to appear out of thin air in the girl’s hand that she pressed to Oberyn’s exposed neck. Oberyn did not however miss how her thighs were pressed on either side of his, her strong, surprisingly trained muscles holding him immobile beneath her.

“I would ask if you were an assassin, but I would assume that is not true,” Oberyn muttered.

“I do not have the luxury of a paid job or a wealthy life. There are many people in this world I would gladly put a knife through for nothing, but you are not one of them.”

“You fear me?” Oberyn asked, smirking.

The girl’s eyes flared blue, “Like a cat fears a dog before it hisses at the dog? Or rather a frog fears a serpent?”

Oberyn furrowed his brow, feeling surprisingly at ease with a knife to his throat and a beautiful girl’s skirts billowed over his lions. “But do not frogs eat snakes?”

The girl’s eyes smirked, “You learn fast.”

Oberyn felt a cold breeze at the girl’s bold bravery but then he smirked and trailed his surprisingly free hands up her thighs. “I don’t know… I rather like the thought of you finding me worthy enough to eat.”

He froze in his exploration of her thighs when he met unwelcome resistance from something hard and cold covering the expanse of her mid thighs up past her waist.

“You wear chainmail?” he asked, rather frustrated at the denied entry.

The girl shrugged, “When men tend to be vulgar beasts, you catch on quickly.”

Oberyn frowned, partially because the girl had detected the evidence of his arousal and to torment him, had wriggled her adorable arse against the bulge, denying him direct contact with her glowing smooth skin.

Also, the girl’s words stuck, puzzling him as to what man had done something that ignited such a hate of men in the girl that the flirtatious, undeniably erotic prince of Dorne was denied the pleasures of the first woman in years who ignited such pure desire in his flesh. Had someone foreseen this encounter and wished to torment him by placing such a siren in his presence and denying him? Oh wait… obviously the girl had foreseen this or something like this or she would not be wearing chain mail in the first place.

The girl finally slipped from his lap, being sure to drag her limbs over his irritated self before standing up.

“I will bid you goodnight my lord as it appears you have business to see to,” she said.

Oberyn stared in disbelief and frustration as the muse sauntered off, giving him a perfect view of her curves before he made his way grumbling and groaning to bed, choosing to not enlist Ellaria’s help but to deal with his problem alone.

Meanwhile, Maya had rushed to the roof before scurrying under her sheets, panting, flushed and heart pounding. How as it that even when she had control of her actions, Oberyn Martell never failed to ignite a fire in her heart that was said to be coated in cold sea water?

#oberyn Martell x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn Martell x oc #oberyn Martell x you #oberyn #got #game of thrones

[zebraslovescupcakestoo]

Golden eyes chapter 1

It was a lovely late night for a burglary. I was in one of the Grande Hotel Riche's suite for investigation which the crime took place that evening. The room itself was one of those that looked like a Victorian style and a bit of modern for convenience. I glanced at the window before I turned to my colleague. “Woody, my dear fellow, I think we can inform the Countess that we found out how the  Lavender Pearls were stolen and by whom.” My friend looked at me dumbfounded.  “Did ja really solved the theft case that easily, Felix? Cause the Chief will be flying off the handle at ya if you screw this up, ESPECIALLY when it comes to important guests like royalty.” “Yes I do understand, but I assure you, it's a bit unbelievable if I told you who are the culprits.”

Before he asked, our Chief came to visit, along with our robbed victim, Countess Violette. My Chief, Inspector Hank Blake, was my 40-something years old boss. The man's got brown eyes, a small, short, french moustache and has a few wrinkles in his face. He had a old fashioned bowler hat with a black ribbon and a stripped beige vest and brown pants.  The Countess Viollette, was probably in her late 20's, wavy, brown hair and green eyes. Did I forgot to mention she's obsessed with that colour purple? Her entire outfit, Vest, skirt, hat, glove and all just screamed that message. “Ah! Felix, my good men! I knew you were always on a crime scene for personal reason  but I'm surprised it doesn't involve the mafia this time.” He pronounced. “You look quite the charmer, better than what Mr. Inspector described, and here! Even Lilly adore you!” Countess Violette complimented.

I blankly glanced at the dog, a Beagle to be precised, was wagging her tail and tried to climb on me. I REALLY can't explain why, but most dogs are friendly to me and I'm not really a dog person.

“Down Lilly! Please! Do not disturb the man!” The woman ordered.

“No harm for a friendly dog, Milady, and for the burglary, I may have a plausible, yet unbelievable answer and our culprits identity.”I told her. “Well?” My chief asked.

“How about we start at the beginning so we can all be at the same page.” I suggested and my hand gestured at the empty glass case. We all stand in front of the case with a small hole on top of the glass case. “It was at 7:40 pm when our Countess was worried about her Beagle when she noticed her companion started barking in the lobby and rushed through the stairway. She was frantic at the door of this room and you hear an odd pitch and then a shattering sound, correct?”

The countess replied. “Yes, I called immediately the room services as I was rushing down. The manager has the spare key while I had my own, but I was terrified to unlock alone and when we opened the door, there was a broken window and the glass case with a circle cut right where my Lavender Pearls were.... It was a very lovely light shade of purple and I do love that colour very so...”

“Yeah, your belongings explained to us very well-oof!” Woody replied with an elbow 'bump' by the chief and a cough followed. “Please continue, Felix.” He ordered.

“R-right, umm... During that time you explained, our thief had a diamond on him to cut opened that glass panel and if  you looked closely at the broken-window...” I jested with my left hand. “You can see a crescent-like  line at the left side of the frame. It was almost unnoticeable until I saw a bit unusual. Normally, the cracked glass on the right are all straight or zig-zaged. But on the left, only a crescent line mark.”

Woody says with amazement. “Woah! You're right. Anybody would just assume it was just a break in with all of those cracks and totally missed THAT particular one.”

The Countess was excited. “Oooh! It's like one of those Nancy Drew books I read back in my private school for lecture classes!”

The chief looked at me with annoyance. “Continue, Please.” he replied.

I resumed. “Now speaking of which, I believed that there was where our second fellow waited for that diversion.”

“Wait a second, you telling us it's just a distraction?” Woody questioned and the chief followed. “And for what reason? Unless he's furious enough that he couldn't enter the same way as his partner did so he forced in the window-.”

I gave them my score. “One point for Woody, nil for our chief.” My chief raised an eye brow out of confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

Here's why: “My friend here was correct about that diversion of making us think it was a 'forced' robbery, but more of a cunning strategy for a clean getaway. As for the second , it wasn't that his partner wanted to enter the room, as I explained.”

Now he's baffled. “Then HOW did our thief entered this room, then? The windows were locked from the insides and the only entry was from that door. There was only two keys. The manager's and the Lady herself. Both had it on them when the time it took place.”

I bet you never did any field work at my age... “Is that so? I asked the owner of this establishment and he confirmed the was three keys. Both are exactly where you described and the third one is with the cleaning maid on duty tonight.”

Woody spoke. “So it's the-” “No, she's innocent. Our female police officers were in charge of rummaging woman’s personal for privacy. They detected no jewelry and she had an alibi. Our thieving character was using their staff's cleaning schedule for his and his partner’s advantage. Earlier that day, the lady opened the key to this room for cleaning in the afternoon. Our thief was hiding close to her and when she when inside, he snuck in and quietly wait for her to finish her duties and locked the door.” I clarified.

Our Countess was having fun, despite the situation.  “Astounding! How did he do it without being noticed?”

My chief sighed. “I'd say it's impossible. Even if he was small and an acrobatic, no human can do it without being detected!”

Heh! I think he hit the jackpot for once! “Perfect score, because he's NOT a human.”

Woody stared at me like I said something stupid. “Say what?” “Like the chief said, no human can accomplish this task even he's as small as a child. Unless-”

“A... monkey? Maybe?” Our countess thought. “Bravo, Countess. Your thief is indeed a trained monkey, to be more precised, a golden lion tamarin from Central America.” Thank God for those trips at the zoo. But the chief glared at me and said. “Preposterous! Is there any evidence to support your theory?”

I can do that only better. “There is and there's his long orange hair behind that flower pot in the corner over there. If my theory is corrected, our friend was hiding there until the evening. His accomplice gave him the signal, a high frequency whistle alerted him and at the same time, your dog. While he was cutting out the glass case that contained the necklace, the dog was alerting at the door. Once he attained the necklace the attempted to go out the window, but the accomplice thought other wise. He whistle again and this time,the thief hid on top of the chandelier, as suggested, there a couple of missing candles, is there not?”

We look up to the decoration, for conformation. “Then, our accomplice bust through the window without entering. Giving the impression it was a 'break in' and as the staff arrived, it was during the confusion that our agile little thief makes a quick getaway through the door that was locked.”

The Chief questioned still. “But Felix, how DID anyone, let alone in Chicago, gets a trained monkey?”

I turned to the Countess for the answer. “Milady, did you visit a Chinese circus during your stay? And was there cute animals?”  “Why yes!” she exclaimed with delight. “ There was a fascinating show with animals, including the darling monkeys. Some of them with an orange fur on their back with cute little vests.” Woody then smack a fist on his hand, indicating he's got the point. “So our culprit at that circus! Shall we have an arrest warrant, Sir?” The chief admitted his defeat. “I still doubt it's possible, but I'll have my trusted men to look with you. As for Felix, I think you might needed some rest. I did promised you off tomorrow until this incident occurred. You wanted to see your nephews right?”

I nodded. “That is correct. I did promised to attend their soccer practice in the afternoon, and I hardly have any time for them. I'd really like to spend time with them.” He nodded in return. “I understand. We'll take things from here and I'll call you when something's up.” “Thank you, chief and don't worry milady, we shall do our very best to find your necklace.”

“I am pleased and despite the event, I feel much better.” She said. Afterwards, I exited the room.

While I walk out from the Grande Hotel Riche to report at the police station, let me introduce myself. My name is Felix, Felix Lockheart. I'm a detective here in Chicago. My mission is to put a end to this endless mafia crime spree for the innocence and victims. Ha! I sounded like a superhero there, right? Anyways.....

This is the third robbery that involves necklaces.  

Just to recap from my notebook; The first was the case of the Emerald Snake. It was one of those streets where the new wealthy people rent their luxurious homes. That place looks like a small version of a mansion. That a bit unusual to me because the scene of the crime is much too tidy and there was no sign of force or pick-lock entry, even on the glass case itself, no sign of any kind. The robbed victim was Mr. Julian Vermelho. A well, successful business man who deals in the fresh fruits and vegetables, including transports of exotic plants, several flowers and herbs shops on the public image. The man was from a south American continent that I forgot the name to. He had the Latin gentlemen look: A boater hat, with a green ribbon. A forest green buttoned shirt underneath a lime green shirt and a very dark green pants. His skin was tan and he had slick, wavy black hair, a small mustache, brown eyes and boy oh boy did I ever see so many green than a whole vegetable chart in my life. Apart for Mr. Vermelho, there was only the butler, the housemaid, and the rottweiler whom was chained in his corner,  both are telling the truth of where they were in the kitchen at the time of the crime....

The second case is the Snowflake Diamonds. It didn't took long to find his address, considering it was only a few houses away. It was a very white mansion and it looked like a castle from those fairy tale except the garden was a bit neglected. This time it was a forced entry with an entrance that looked like someone ram a car through and judging by the glass case, it has seen  better days. The second Business man who was a CEO from that big company, the WHITE A.C.M.E,. is Mr. Blancheur. He had partially bald head which he keep underneath a white wig, and like the others, he had white all over his clothes and his house. THAT guy is a real piece of work! That 67 year old cotton swab was one of those cranky grandpas who over react on a tiny spec of common mistakes. He wasn't co-operating, he's very stingy of how we should investigate without touching. Obviously, did anyone mention him at least once that white things can easily be stained? This time it was a forced entry and judging by the glass case, it has seen  better days. There was no glass left untouched and presumably by a very large thug and he might have been in a hurry. Afterwards, he demanded to speak to the chief for the money.  Anyone care to guess who was the 'lucky' soul that had to deal with him and my chief? That right, THIS unlucky black cat! It was a nightmare to defused those two. The only thanks I got was from his white little poodle, Marcel.

But apart from the theft, they all had similar ties to that special exhibition for that jewelry show Kitiana, my girlfriend, really wanted to see at the end of the month.

Next to that, all three were competing at the dog show held in next weekend. I really don't think there's something worth noting but just in case, I marked it down if something comes up. I yawned after I finished writing that note. I should really get home otherwise I might accidentally take a cat nap in the middle of the game.

It was a bright day for a good soccer game at the school. I was in the good upper part of the spectators area that I can see my nephews. It's a bit of a long story, but I'm their guardian uncle who's taking care of them after a tragic accident that happened to my father. I wish I can tell you more of that but now is not the time. OH THERE IT GOES- “GOOOOOAL!!!” I can't believe it! My nephews won the game! Inky was the good player and Winky was the goalie. I guess they take it after me when I was at their age. I used to be a pretty darn good soccer player back in middle school and high school. At least until that faithful day... No no, Felix there was nothing you can do at that time. I need to be there for my nephews. I was very proud until something just had to show up of all days. A fancy black Cadillac pulled up from the parking lot indicates it's for a very special guest with whom I can guess from this familiar chauffeur.... Bendy De Mon himself with Boris Wolfenstein.  All my happy thoughts were gone in the thrash can whenever that demon shows up. Why? Cause I know he's the king of the Chicago mafias! I can't even lay a finger on him when he's out in public. According to my observation, he announced and giving out a donation support to the principle for the soccer team's upcoming tournament next month. 'It's just a facade for covering his “main” business.' My thoughts told me. Luckily for me, he was only there for a few minutes until he had to leave for his appointment with his animators.  My nephews came up to me and says:

“Uncle! Uncle! Did ya heard? We're getting new uniforms!” Inky exclaimed. “I can't wait for our next soccer game! Can you teach us more, please?” Winky begged me.

I sighed in defeat, but at least these two tried to lift my spirit. “Alright, but don't forget to do your homework once we're home, and help me dry the dishes.” “OK!” They both replied.

“TOP OF THE AFTERNOON! How's my favorite jazz cats doing?” Woody surprised us from behind he. “Uncle Woody!” They said in fusion.

I turned and glanced at my colleague and friend, Woody McPecker. He was my first friend when I started working at the police force. I can always count on him to keep a close eye on things when I'm working long hours. How he and I met well... That a story for another day... “So how's my favorite rascals doing? Staying out of trouble?” He asked them. “Uncle Woody! I did two goal!” Inky did a kicking pose. “And I blocked three!” Winky did a cross pose.

He chuckled a bit. “Sounds like yer uncle taught you well. If it was me, yall'd act like cows and be eatin' greens” We all laughed and played a bit. It was a great time for me to unwind until I go to work tomorrow....

And for good reason too.... The next day, Kitty barged in from my door and shoved this in my face----->>>

//// MISSING!!! FAMOUS SAPPHIRE COLLAR DISSAPERED OVERNIGHT!  /////

It was highly printed on the front line of this morning newspaper in. Kitty was upset. “I can't believe anyone can steal such a lovely necklace!Not only that, but the others famous jewels too! I wanted to go there for our girls only date but now, the show will get cancelled!” I tried to sugar coat it. “Calm down, I'm pretty sure we can figure something else we can do.”

“But it's the second time we had to take a rain check! First it's the creeps at the docks for suspects in an investigation now this! Normally, I'd say let's leave this to someone else who's better suited for this field but now this time, I'm not letting this one slide! I told our chief we'd both go as soon as you start so I'll be waiting in the car. Wait too long and I'll put spicy onion sardines and hot peppers in your next lunch.” Saying so, she left the building in a furious yet determined attitude. I really can't win an argument with her... That was Kitiana Katarina, Kitty Kat for shorts. She's my girlfriend since high school. You can tell she's quite a gal! I hardly knew any other girl who can wear cute dresses and beat up five jocks when they couldn't stop hitting on her friends. Despite her tomboyish and headstrong attitude, she's actually a sweet, bubbly, caring person who's been there when I'm having a tough time. She's also staying with me and my nephews cause she doesn't have a place but I made sure she has a spare room at mine cause 1. I wanted to respect her privacy. 2. I want to set an good example and 3. I'm a gentlemen at heart. YES, GO AHEAD AND LAUGH ALL YOU WANT! Just because chivalry's on the life line, it doesn't mean it's dead. Without further delay, I REALLY need to get going...

We've arrived at the Chicago Art Gallery, where that jewelry exhibition was supposed to be held. My first thing to do was to investigate at the huge main room where all the historical and new sellers would display their goods along with a built-in stage for the show. Once there, Kitty told me she'll be gathering some information for others, so that will leaves me with the main famous necklace itself; The Sapphire Collar.

I started with the rectangular case itself. There was a large, well-shaped hole at the top which tell me that either it was a very large piece of jewelry or our robber has large hands. I saw a thrash can and something's fishy in that bin. I reached in and grabbed what appeared to be a red cloth with some substance. There's also a familiar mark at the bottom corner but I can't place my fingers where I've seen it before... I've decided to put it in my evidence bag for analysis later. I've examined the other cases that were opened but... To be honest, I've ruled out for a large-handed culprit... some has small holes and some are just for show. Either way, this guy likes to play a game for us! Next on my agenda was to talk to the owner of this gallery, Mr. William Babera, who was with Kitty. He looks like he's in his 60's, has grey hair slicked back, a short beard and mustache.  He is almost the same height as I.

“Mr. William Babera, I assume?” I asked.

“Mr. Felix, I've heard a lot about your well known accomplishment. You make a fine example of a honest cop and ease our minds in this corrupted times.” He complimented me on our first impression? Hmmm...

“I thank you for the compliments but I cannot accomplish without help from my colleagues and friends. Tell me, can you describe me the night of the robbery? At the time from beginning to the end.” I might be over thinking it.

“From what I can get from the security cameras, there was a black out at 1 o'clock in the morning. There was no suspicious character around the building. I've only had my two security guards and a few of your own guarding inside and out for this special exhibition. I had both mine in the security office, one in the main hall, two for paroling the rest of the museum and two for outside. I believed that during the black out, the inside where all knocked out by sleeping gas that were cleverly disguised as toys. As there's proof in your lovely assistance possession.” He gestured at the unusual toys in a large bag. “Somehow, there were no sign of force entry or easy access. We locked them in and we only have tree keys to this place which only my Janitor, one of the officers, and myself.” He explained.

I put on my thinking cap. “Unusual, so during the black out, the toys released the knock out gas, and the culprit took his or her sweet time to take most of the jewelries, leaving a few and added some. Some of these holes are just for show.” “Your observation is quite correct.” He nodded.

“Mr. Babera, there's a question I wanted to ask. Why did they leave a few behind? Were they fake or they didn't like them?”  That's a good question, Kitty. “Ah, it's a bit humiliating but the remaining pieces are actually fakes or copies. They are just for show and our 'visitor' might knew about them if they were still here.” He replied honestly.

Odd. Did our suspect knew in advance or can detect the authentic? I asked. “May I asked who are sponsoring this show?”

“That would be the famous Disney Inc. They wished to display their first new collection along with a variety of famous treasures like the Sapphire collar. I'm pretty sure the recent news of other famous necklaces that were robbed has reached to your ears.”

“My friend actually DID investigate these cases! How did you know?” She asked.  “I read the newspapers, and his deduction were quite spot on even if it's a bit of talented ridiculousness solution.” He joked. I was not amused at the last part...

Kitty Giggles a bit. “So tell us, is there something special about the stolen necklaces or the Sapphire itself?”

“Ah, they all have a bit of history behind each stones which they will take a long time to tell all about them.” He said.

I decided to go with the main subject. “How about you tell us a bit about the Sapphire collar's history. I wanted to know more about it and why was it infamous.”

He then tells us. “The Sapphire was actually lend to us by China's representative. As for it's story, They told us that it was one of the archaeologist fellows who found it in a secret tomb during an excavation. It was just an unusual but a lovely piece of jewelry made for an empress, until it changes color when it was day or night. It's stones looked like any other ordinary sapphires in daylight, but it changes into a crimson red in the moonlight. Historians are still not sure it's origins, but it was such a discovery, even just the change of colors, it draws attention to anybody. To this day, no other jewelry or gemstones  can out shine nor came close to this unique piece even after a decade has passed. But now it is lost to a scoundrel. I believed that the necklace was worth at least five hundred thousands US dollars. Maybe it was the usual greed motive.” He then sighed.

“No need to be so glum, we shall do our best to find this missing Sapphire and plausibly the others.” I tried to assured.

“I do hope so, the exhibition will be delayed until at least the sapphire collar and most of the missing jewels are found.” He told us.

“Please rest assured that we will find them!” She added with a thumb up and the most cutest wink and tong out face. I so wanna cuddle her right now! No. Not now Felix, you're at work. I cleared my throat and say our goodbyes.

As we walked out of the place, I staggered a bit and Kitty replied “Felix! Are you alright? You looked pale.”

Yikes! “Please don't worry. I just feel light headed a bit from being-”

“FEEEEEEEEEELIX! KIIIIIIIIIITY! I GOT AN EMERGENCY FROM THE CHIEF!!!” We glanced in surprised when Woody was ridding his bicycle at full speed. It was fortunate he didn't tear up the road at that speed. “What's wrong?” Kitty asked, worried.

GAAAAAAASP! “DOG!” BREATHE “COUNTESS!” BREATHE “CHICKEN!”

My mind drew blank at the last one “.....what?”

Woody addressed himself once he catch his breath and said: “That Beagle dog of Count Violette gone missing!”

TO BE CONTINUED>>>> Chapter 2

This is my first FanFiction. 

I was inspired by Marini4′s Doushinji of Bendy before the Ink machine.

I wanted to write a parallel universe with Felix as the protagonist about a story before the ‘main’ one begins.

There will be cross overs here and there so I hope you’ll enjoy a little story.

BBTIM characters belongs to Marini4

#be #bendy before the ink machine #Bendy and the Ink Machine #bendy #Felix The Cat #Felix #humanized #marini4

[hail-andfarewell]

based on @latinalightwood‘s tags on this post, here’s the untold story of the psychic that lived beside the hunter’s moon, and how that particular character witnessed some parts of malec’s epic love story unfold from a distance.

the sound of the busy street outside of the hunter’s moon echoed through her ears as she made her way back to her quiet and modest home. she held on to her bags of supplies as she walked amongst the loud crowd of gleeful people, whom she noticed were a bit tipsy from the alcohol they must’ve consumed that night. it was no surprise to her to see such people along the street—her dwelling place was beside a bar, after all. she was cautious as she walked past them, and she stared quietly as the group disintegrated towards their own respective routes, a few ‘goodbye’s’ and ‘good night’s’ were thrown into the cold air of the night. 

when all of those people were gone, she slipped past the metal gate towards the dark alleyway filled with discarded boxes and a few trash bags on the ground. the sound of her boots splashing on the wet pavement was somewhat comforting, but also made her slightly miserable, since it meant that she’ll be back to her empty apartment, left alone to her thoughts. as she moved forward to the depths of the alley, the neon lights of her ‘psychic’ sign—as she noticed—was hard to miss, yet there were only a few people who would come to her to ask for readings. business wasn’t as big as she would’ve imagined, but it was enough for her to survive—for now. she sighed heavily as she reached for her door and slipped in the keys, turning the knob and pushing herself inside. 

she dropped her bags heedlessly on the nearby table, her other hand reaching up at her neck and  started rubbing the tension away from them, making her eyes close for a bit. when she opened them up again, she took a moment to look at her surrounding, and the emptiness of her house made her let out another tired breath. 

i need a drink, she thought to herself. 

______ 

the atmosphere of the hunter’s moon was in its usual state, with people chattering away and laughing with their peers by the tables, and a handful of others were by the bar, either drinking quietly or making their conversations with other strangers who found solace in their company. as she made her way around the bar, she looked around for maia, the beautiful bartender that she usually talked with whenever she comes in to drink. she remembers thinking how easy it was to talk to that girl, and how quickly it was for them to hit it off and become friends. she needed that same warm feeling that maia brings with her, but that night, she realized that her favorite bartender was nowhere in sight.

“whiskey on the rocks, please.” she said to the other available bartender, who nodded as they tried to serve countless others who were also requesting their own drinks. 

while waiting for her drink, she tried her best to distract the aching feeling that’s been tugging on her chest that night. she scanned the place for anything particularly interesting to look at, and her eyes caught on two figures laughing and teasing by the pool table. she frowned as she noticed one of them was a tall man with a large tattoo on his neck, who took a break from the game to sip on what appears to be APA. curiously, she let her gaze fall towards the other figure with him, and she saw another man, very well-dressed, with a spiked-up hair and a few rings that graced his fingers. the two men looked to be enjoying a competitive game of pool against each other, and their laughter and radiant energy somehow drew her full attention, only to be interrupted with the arrival of her drink. she turned her eyes back towards the amused bartender and mumbled a low ‘thank you’ as she handed them her payment and tip. the bartender replied with a smile and a nod, then they left her alone again to her enjoy lonely night. 

the night went on without much excitement to distract her, except for the drinks she ordered and that time she overheard a few drunk people arguing over something ridiculous that made her chuckle for a bit. however, every now and again, she finds herself glancing back to the two men she saw earlier, who eventually left the pool table and migrated to the other side of the bar. they seemed to be deep in a hushed conversation, with their earlier fun and cheerful aura replaced with something else—tension, nervousness, doubt, and little bit of awkwardness. these things were all too familiar for her, and it was then when she realized that it might’ve been the pair’s first date. the realization made her smile to herself as she reminisced her very first date with her girlfriend, although the happy memories didn’t last long as her heart started to crumble on her chest as thoughts of her lingered at the back of her mind. 

with a sigh, she chugged down the remainder of her drink and decided to leave. when she stood up, the bartender glanced to her immediately, to which she said, “can you tell maia that i dropped by?” with an expectant look on her face. the bartender nodded, and she flashed them a smile before she turned around and walked away towards the back of the bar that leads to her home. she walked past the two men on her way there, and she unintentionally overhead the spiky-haired man say, “—but right now i’m here, with you,” in a reassuring voice as the tattooed guy appeared to be stunned with whatever he heard from his date earlier. 

i hope things work out between the two of you, she found herself thinking, subtly glancing back to them  and silently wishing them the best before she disappeared behind the back doors of the bar, into the shadows of the night. 

______ 

“i heard you came in here last week,” maia said with a smile that could light up the entire room. “i’m sorry i wasn’t here when you did. something came up with luke that day and i—” 

“maia, it’s fine.” she reassured her, finding herself smiling brightly at the woman in front of her. 

that night, she found herself slipping back inside the hunter’s moon again after a tiring day of working on another job she recently got. when she came in, she was glad to see her favorite bartender back at the bar, and maia immediately greeted her when they locked eyes in the always-crowded room. after giving each other a tight hug, both of them settled in their usual spot, and found themselves lost in their stories as they tried to catch up with each other. at some point during their conversation, she brought up about maia’s gorgeous outfit, and teased her about having a date. to her slight surprised, maia blushed shyly, before quickly mentioning that she’ll be hanging out with a guy named simon later that night. she chuckled at maia’s adorable reaction to her teasing, and she genuinely wished her luck, silently praying that this simon guy will be nice and treat her right. 

just as they were laughing about a funny story that happened to her a few days ago, she noticed maia’s attention flew past her for a moment as a man came through the front door. she followed her gaze and watched as the man approached the bar and gracefully sat at one of the seats beside her. he looks oddly familiar, she thought, looking at his face closely. the man had a spiked-up hair and black eyeliner around his eyes, and was sporting a goatee. his fingers were full of rings, and his wrist had a few bracelets around them. a few seconds later, she realized that she might’ve stared too long and glanced away as quickly as she could. she turned and saw maia giving the man a welcoming smile, then the bartender excused herself from their conversation, to which she just nodded. she sipped on her whiskey rocks and tried to look around the place, but somehow her attention was drawn back to him. she felt frustrated—she saw him before, but where?—but she tried to not let it bother her too much. the man beside her quietly thanked maia as he slipped a hundred dollar bill on the table, and she watched as maia tried to tell him, “on the house for my best tipper,” while pouring the martini on the glass. she tried to tune out the rest of their conversation, but bits and pieces of it still made its way to her ears—“what do you got there?” “a gift.” “is it from someone special?” “i think so.” 

it was after processing everything when it all finally clicked on her mind. this is that guy, she thought with a smile as she remembered seeing him with the tattooed man last week. the man stood up with his martini and went ahead towards the other side of the room, and she finally looked up and saw maia coming back to her. 

“i assume he’s frequent around here,” she said, nodding towards the man’s retreating figure. maia smiled, and nodded. 

“yeah, magnus is one of the best customers i’ve ever encountered here,” maia replied, holding up a beer mug as she looked for any spots she might’ve missed while cleaning it. “he’s a really generous guy, and a great friend—it’s always nice to see him around here.” 

not knowing what to say to that, she quietly hummed in response while also taking note of the man’s name. she thought about how magnus responded to maia’s inquiries earlier, and she smiled as she realized that the special someone is most likely the man he was with last week. with a deep sigh, she shook her head lightly and quietly chuckled at how ridiculous she is from speculating a bunch of strangers’ romantic endeavors. get yourself together. you don’t even know them, she reminded herself. after gathering her thoughts properly, she took a sip of her drink and quickly slipped back into another conversation with maia, which the bartender gladly entertained with a laugh. 

______ 

the rain finally stopped that night, yet the brisk wind that came with it stayed around for a while, much to her annoyance and dismay. she hated the cold weather—no, she despises it—and she felt utterly helpless as there is no other thing she could do about it. with a defeated sigh, she wrapped the large blanket around her shivering frame, and she shuffled towards her kitchen to make herself some nice warm tea to battle the cool temperature. 

she could’ve went to the hunter’s moon again that night, but as she was about to enter earlier, she stopped dead on her track as she saw the words closed: private party in bold letters plastered on the front doors of the bar. utterly confused and curious as she always was, she sneaked a peek at the windows and saw a few familiar faces mixed with unfamiliar ones. she spotted luke at the middle of the crowded room, holding out a bottle of champagne as everyone laughed and cheered along with him. she also saw simon standing at the side with a glass in hand, and she could make out maia’s curly locks as she stood with her back facing the door. they all seemed pretty busy celebrating, and after thinking that she probably looked bizarre standing there, she decided to head back home just as the rain started pouring down on the pavement.

she stood at her kitchen, leaning back at the counter as she waited for the kettle to boil. while waiting, she tried to distract herself by picking on her nails—a nervous habit she acquired through the years. after a while, the silence became quite deafening for her, and it reminded her more of the happier times when it didn’t. she looked up from her hands and her eyes directly stared at the chair she used to sit on, and the knowledge of not seeing her there still pains her, even after a year of living without her.   

before her thoughts wandered into deeper territory, the kettle whistled—signaling her that her tea was ready.

she grabbed her tea and made her way towards her little office, where she left some of her paperwork for the other job she had that day. a frown settled onto her face as she realized that her neon lights sign was turned off, and she huffed out a tired sigh as she made her way to the other end of the room where the switch was. with a simple flick of her finger, the lights outside buzzed to life, showing a mix of pink, purple, and blue glow that illuminated some parts of the dark alleyway. she stared fondly at her sign from the window, and a proud smirk found itself on her lips at the sight of the brilliant color choices she’d made. before she went back to her table, she saw something moved from outside. 

she went near the window and noticed someone emerging from the back door of the hunter’s moon. as the light hit the figure’s appearance, she was surprised to see the familiar face of the neck-tattooed guy—alec was his name, as maia pointed out to her before. from her view, alec appeared to be anxious as he started shaking away his nerves from his arms. she watched as he turned back around just as another figure emerged from the shadows of the door, and she instantly recognized the other person—it was magnus. 

the two men stood a few feet apart, rocking on their heels as they waited there silently, soaking in each other’s presence like they haven’t been together for a while. from where she stood, she could tell that the air surrounding them was tensed, with both of them looking worried—and dare she say, terrified—as they try to find their composure. a tight-lipped smile from magnus was all it took for alec to dig up his courage to speak up, and she wondered what he said that made magnus cross his arms on his chest—as if he was trying to hold himself together. she sensed the vulnerability of the two as they bared their souls to each other, but there was also this strong want—this urgent need—to be together, to crash into each other’s arms, to say fuck, i don’t think i would want to live without you. she could tell these things from alec’s determined yet gentle expression as his eyes shined under the neon lights, and it was also evident in the way magnus glanced up with this mix of surprise and fondness as the realization hit him hard on his chest. 

these two love each other so much, she concluded, taking another sip of her tea as the scene outside her home began to slowly unfold before her eyes. these two reminded her so much of the love she once had, and it warms her heart to watch them experience this—this once in a lifetime kind of love that left you breathless, but also full of passion and life. 

inch by inch, the two lovers moved closer as a few more words escaped their lips. she assumed their exchange was a good one, and it was confirmed later on as she saw both of them finally relaxed as the space between them slowly grew smaller and smaller. she felt that the earlier tension between them got swept off with the cold wind, and was replaced with a lighter tone as she saw them share a quiet laugh. not long after that, she smiled into her cup as the lovers melt into each other when their lips crashed into a soft and sweet kiss, and their connected bodies were drenched with the colors of the neon lights as well as the illuminated lanterns that graced the top of the alley. her smile grew bigger as she saw the two decided to leave the celebration early with their arms around each other, and she quietly wished them luck and happiness as they went farther away into the night.   

yup, i think i’m good for tonight, she hummed, taking another sip of her now cold tea before going back to her table with a huge contented smile on her lips.

A/N: this is unbeta’d, so apologies for any mistakes made. also, sorry for not using proper capitalization and all that shizz.

#my fic #malec fanfic #kinda???? #latinalightwood #howisalexander #gayndsoft #s0ftmalec #nanf1c #justalexanderlightwood #msalexiscriss #magnusragnor #dearestalec #belovedbane #usersteph #our loft in brooklyn #hello ana i hope this is ok!! #i've been a little rusty with my writing since i haven't written anything in so long #but i really hope this is ok #thanks for the idea!! #i might expand on this later on #but idk let's see #also this is just my interpretation #the psychic could definitely be someone else #anyway i should probably shut up now #ok bye see yaaa

[angstmongertina]

42- “Are you okay?”... for Suhee/Jumin. I really love your blog. You are amazing 💕

Oh, thank you so much, nonny darling! I’m glad you’re enjoying all of this! :D

(And sorry for the delay in getting this out! I’m getting through all of these prompts. Just very slowly lol.)

Also, yay, outsider POV fics!

AO3 Link because it’s nearly 2k words how did that happen?

If she were to be entirely perfectly with herself, Yunseo Ahn was not expecting to be invited to the C&R Christmas gala. It was no slight to herself; typically, only those highest ranking in the company received invitations at all, with the only exceptions being the Chairman’s and Director’s assistants. Except…

Except rumor had it that Director Han’s new wife, whose sudden appearance as one of the most influential women in high society was rife with speculation in it of itself, had softened the man considerably, as evidenced by Yunseo’s pressed and gilded invitation. At the very least, his assistant seemed much more relaxed and, for that alone, she was willing to give this Ms. Suhee Jung the benefit of the doubt.

That was, of course, why she found herself that weekend dressed in finery and feeling extremely out of place amongst the elite of Korean society. She shifted slightly in her seat, casting her eyes about the room even as she took a sip of her wine, which no doubt cost nearly as much as, if not more than, her entire outfit.

It was certainly an extravagant affair, decked with all due opulence for the occasion, from the chandeliers dripping with crystalline snowflakes to the tree whose top nearly brushed the 25-foot high ceiling. And yet, there was a simple elegance to it, the normally garish decorations adorning the tree and hung throughout the room artfully arranged and so unassumingly displayed that they seemed sophisticated, almost natural.

Whether or not it was a testament to Ms. Jung’s careful eye remained to be seen.

In the center of the room, surrounded by a not-insignificant crowd of what appeared to be fellow businessmen, Director Han stood, nearly a head taller than some of his companions. His face remained an impassive mask, though he would occasionally reply to whatever was being said. Yunseo contemplated moving closer, if only to catch a glimpse of his wife, but before she could so much as make up her mind, someone dropped into the seat beside her and she obediently turned her attention over.

“Good evening.”

When she realized who it was, she nearly regretted her civility. Joonho Yim grinned at her, his eyes appraising her with an interest that set her teeth on edge. “Well, well, fancy seeing you here, Yunseo! I thought I saw you from across the room but I almost thought it was wishful thinking. I didn’t think you were one for parties.”

“I’m not.”

The curtness of her reply clearly did nothing to dissuade her conversation partner, who cast a conspiratorial look towards the center of the room before leaning nearer, not quite uncomfortably close but approaching it. “Between you and me, I’m not either, but I figured it would be a good opportunity to meet people, as it were. They say Director Han’s young wife is quite the looker too. A pity she’s stuck with such a cold man.”

At that, she blinked, directing her full attention towards the man sitting next to her. “Didn’t he declare himself before her at an exclusive party after snubbing Glam Choi and her sister, as well as revealing their deception?”

The smile she received in reply was positively condescending. “It must have been a ruse. He’s been well-known to have absolutely no interest in women of any sort for years now. Personally, I expect it’s an arranged marriage and she’s a secret daughter of foreign businessman or something. I…”

Before he could say anymore, she rose to her feet, a motion made considerably more dramatic by the swish of her skirts about her, and nodded at him, as stately as she could. “I thank you for your conversation, Mr. Yim, but I believe I will get something to eat.”

Once she had moved beyond earshot, she breathed a sigh of relief. Certainly, the man was a fool to speak so in company, but she’d be an ever bigger one to remain in his presence as he spouted such nonsense, even if it did go unnoticed.

She was distracted enough by her thoughts that she nearly ran into someone, and leapt back with a barely muffled cry. The other woman, barely reaching her height even in three inch heels, only took a step back, somehow managing to avoid tripping over her gown. “My apologies.”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I admit I was a bit distracted by the delectable-looking desserts. No harm done.” Bright brown eyes met hers, warm and instantly putting her at ease. “How are you enjoying this party?”

She shrugged without thinking. “It’s going well enough, I think. The decorations are quite elegant and the food is, admittedly unsurprisingly, excellent. I haven’t been to any before so I can’t say I can compare this to others, though. And you?”

A faint look of mischief quirked the woman’s lips before they settled back into serenity. “I believe it’s going well, though it remains to be seen whether it will end as well as it started.”

“I suppose so.”

In the silence, she couldn’t help but notice that the woman’s dress, though simple compared to some at the gala, was incredibly intricate, the green matching the holly woven into her hair and setting off the gems that sparkled, gleaming, from her earrings, necklace, and ring. A quite well-to-do woman then, likely the wife of a businessman, though displaying none of the airs she might have expected.

Perhaps she had underestimated some of them.

Before she could fully take the time to process that thought, she was interrupted by the arrival of two men, both of whom offered extravagant bows to her companion. “My dear Ms. Jung, I must say that you are looking more radiant than ever tonight. Might it be on account of your successful gala?”

With a winsome grin, the speaker pressed a lingering kiss to the lady’s hand, even as the woman who could only be Director Han’s wife offered a demure smile, though Yunseo thought she saw a glint of amusement in her bright eyes. “You flatter me, Mr. Shin. I am only your humble hostess, I’m afraid. All credit for tonight must go to my husband’s assistant, Miss Kang. I cannot imagine the amount of time and effort she has put into ensuring this great success. I’m certain she’ll be quite delighted to hear your compliments…”

To her mild disappointment, the trio, Ms. Jung now openly grinning while the two men looked somewhat less enthusiastic, moved out of earshot in search for Miss Kang. While she deliberated whether or not to follow, however, a small commotion from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned to find a plate upturned on the floor and what looked strangely like Director Han apologizing to one of the secretaries at C&R.

On the other hand, judging from the poor woman’s red face, said apology might have seemed considerably more realistic if his expression looked less like he were contemplating the best way to avoid murdering whichever soul was foolish enough to cross him.

Yunseo was moving before she even realized it, striding across the floor without any idea of what she planned to do once she was close enough. All she saw was the sharp displeasure on Director Han’s face, though thankfully, apparently not directed towards the secretary before him.

His wife seemed to have the same idea; by the time she drew near, Ms. Jung had already hurried over, laying a placating hand on her husband’s arm and speaking to the other woman in such low tones that she couldn’t make out the words. Nonetheless, whatever it was must have been successful; with a bow, the secretary disappeared into the crowd, leaving the couple behind.

“Are you okay?” Ms. Jung murmured.

As Director Han looked about, Yunseo hastily bent to collect the plate, ears straining to catch his reply.

“I’m fine.”

“Then that was…?”

“An accident.”

In spite of herself, Yunseo raised her eyebrows at his curt tone, but his wife seemed hardly concerned, only chuckling under her breath. “You may be able to dissuade others from asking with that tone, Jumin, but it has never worked on me and you know it. What was that about?”

When the only response to the question was a pause, followed by Ms. Jung’s merry laughter, she chanced an upward glance and nearly found herself staring. The director’s face was what could only be called sheepish and—she blinked to make sure she wasn’t imagining things—oddly flushed.

“If you were concerned about Mr. Shin, he was being friendly, Jumin, as he always is. We have seen him enough times that surely you know this.”

Yunseo ducked her head and coughed to hide her amusement; Director Han’s reply was nearly inaudible in its mumbling, but she thought she caught something about being irrational and not liking the attentions other men paid to her. Judging from his wife’s long sigh, she was likely not far off the mark.

“As exciting as some may think possessiveness is, jealousy does not become you, Jumin,” Ms. Jung chided, thought there was affection in her voice too. “I am yours and you are mine, as I’m sure you well know. No amount of attention, flirtatious or not, from any other man will change how I feel for you.”

When the pause stretched longer, Yunseo chanced a glance up to find Ms. Jung, a hand on her husband’s arm for balance, stretching up to leave a brief, chaste kiss on his cheek. As she looked back down, she thought she saw familiar brown eyes dance at her, but the next second, they were focused back on the Director, and she wondered whether she had imagined the whole thing.

“Now, you go apologize again to Miss Seong, properly this time, and then calm down and behave yourself for the rest of the evening.”

“Your wish is my command, my queen.” Her eyes nearly popped out of her head as Director Han, a teasing smirk clear in his voice, pressed a kiss of his own to his wife’s hand before strolling off in the direction of the secretary, leaving his wife staring off after him with a small, private smile and her kneeling on the floor, still pretending to be absorbed in the task of cleaning up the mess.

A few heartbeats passed in silence as she truly focused on tidying up, before soft, thoughtful words caught her attention.

“I am not so oblivious as to be ignorant to the rumors that circulate about the nature of my relationship with my husband.” Yunseo raised her head to find Ms. Jung looking forward and away from her, something strangely melancholic in her eyes, but the words were quiet enough that only she could possibly be meant to hear them. “Even members of the RFA, as much as they are family, have questioned my decision, although they do have personal biases of their own, ones that I am not privy to. Nonetheless, though I concede that it may not always seem like it, he is a good man and a loving husband. I could ask for nobody better to love and share my life with.”

There was a pause, during which time she was not sure whether she was meant to respond, but instead, Ms. Jung turned her head, catching her gaze. “I must admit I am glad to have someone bear witness to the man that he truly is.”

Before she could so much as begin formulating a response to that quiet confession, the woman all but glided away, leaving her alone with her thoughts and a grin that would not leave her lips for the rest of the night.

#Anonymous #Jumin Han #Jumin Han/MC #Mystic Messenger #MysMes #Tina writes stuff. #Tina plays MysMes. #director of my heart #otp: my heart will always be with you #Suhee Jung

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube