#He primarily wears white for a Reason wink wink

[defectivevillain]

bend and break

pairing: jace wayland x masc!reader

author’s note: this is primarily jace/reader, but there’s hints of simon/reader, cause... well. i had to, okay???

there’s some canon divergence here... namely, simon doesn’t get turned into a rat, lmao. 

word count: 3.6k [ao3 version here]

“Jace. Is he really a terrible liar?”

“He’s not a liar at all. Not about important things. He’ll tell you horrible truths, but he won’t lie.” Isabelle paused before she added quietly: “That’s why it’s generally better not to ask him anything unless you know you can stand to hear the answer.”

[city of bones, p153.]

“Wake up!”

You jolt awake, quickly getting up and nearly hitting the person who woke you in the face. Your vision clears and you find yourself staring at Isabelle, who looks incredibly irritated. “Seriously? You almost hit me in the face!”

“Sorry,” you say with a slight eye roll. Isabelle was a few inches from your face when she woke you up—it’s not your fault that you nearly collided with her. You take a deep breath and look at the clock in the corner of the room. It’s getting late—and, subsequently, closer to Magnus Bane’s party. You grimace at the thought. You need to go to this party if you want more information on the block that was placed on your mind. You know that, yet... there's a premonition prickling up your skin. What if you don’t like what you find?

“You need party clothes,” Isabelle remarks, breaking you out of your thoughts. She crosses one leg over the other and levels you with a scrutinizing glance. You look down at your worn T-shirt and jeans, feeling self-conscious.

“I was going to wear this,” you admit, despite knowing that you’ll be practically murdered by Isabelle for the thought. Sure enough, the Shadowhunter lets out a laugh.

“You’re hilarious!” Isabelle smirks mischievously. She grabs your arm and hauls you up to a standing position. You’re beginning to feel overwhelmed, especially when Isabelle swings her closet doors open to reveal an unnecessary amount of clothes. “What? I need to be prepared for any occasion.” She reaches out and grabs a few hangers, before throwing them on the bed for you to see. You turn to look at the clothes.

There’s a crisp white dress shirt with a rather low neckline and satin black pants. Somehow, there are chains that fall from the waistband. On the ground near the bed, there’s a pair of black platform boots. “Izzy, this is…” You break off, unable to find the words.

“Amazing, right?” She grins, before you can say something you’ll likely regret. “Meet in the hallway once you’re done changing.” Isabelle winks at you and she’s gone as quick as she came. You don’t even get a chance to object- which, in hindsight, was likely the reason for her quick departure.

“Well then,” you remark to no one in particular. For a moment, you just stare at the assembled outfit. You’ve never quite worn anything like it before. Taking a deep breath, you begin to change. Thankfully, the sizing is perfect. The shirt isn’t indecently tight or obscenely revealing. Even the boots fit well. You’re a bit impressed with Isabelle’s curation of your outfit—although you’d never tell her that. After a few minutes of psyching yourself up in the mirror, you walk out to the hallway. Unsurprisingly, Simon is lingering outside. He seems to be the only one ready. When you enter, he looks up from the ground and his eyes widen.

“What are you wearing?” You blink at Simon and for several seconds, the two of you stare at each other in silence. It takes you a moment to process his statement.

“Clothes, I think,” you respond sardonically. Simon stares at you in disbelief. His eyes are flitting from your eyes to your face and he seems restless, for some reason. It’s not like you’re wearing anything too crazy. Then again, the outfit was Isabelle’s creation. It was bound to be different from your own style.

“What, do I look bad?” Your heart is racing and you look down at your outfit doubtfully. Who are you kidding? You probably look foolish wearing this.

“No, of course not-” Simon stammers. It seems like he’s having a difficult time getting the words out. Before he can continue stumbling through a justification, another figure joins you in the hall. You turn to the side, only to find Jace leaning against the wall. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and ripped jeans. Jace looks over and regards you with interest, as if he’s seeing you for the first time.

“I think you look good,” Jace remarks. His eyes rove up your figure and it takes every ounce of concentration you have to remain unaffected by his heated gaze. “Great, even. But there’s something missing...” Jace procures a dagger from his jacket and hands it to you. You extend your palm and for a second, the Shadowhunter’s fingers brush against yours and a shiver rolls down your spine.

“I don’t know how to use this,” you admit. The weight of the weapon feels unnatural. The metal glimmers when it catches the light, and there’s something illegible engraved on the hilt. It must be a Rune.

“You will,” Jace asserts, with nothing but confidence in his voice. You’re not sure why he has confidence in you, of all people. You drag your thumb along the dagger and eventually settle for putting it in the conveniently located strap on your boot. “It’s in your blood.”

“Just great,” Simon mutters, but his remark seems to pass unnoticed by Jace. You send Simon a helpless glance, which Simon returns with a strangely irritated one. Is he mad at you? You’re not quite sure what you did, if that is the case.  

“Although…” Jace takes a few steps towards you. You watch in mute confusion as he reaches out, his fingers dragging along the skin of your collarbone. The Shadowhunter is impossibly close to you and his breaths hit your neck. Just as you begin to grow nervous, Jace’s hand falls to the button below your collar and he unbuttons it, revealing even more of your collarbone in the process. “There.” Simon lets out an inexplicably strangled sound. Meanwhile, Jace looks pleased with himself as he stares at your outfit. You’re beginning to grow uncomfortable with all the attention. Thankfully, Isabelle and Alec enter the hallway before long and the group’s attention is diverted. You can feel Jace’s gaze burning into the side of your face, but you pretend not to notice.

The journey towards the listed address is a bit perilous. Navigating New York transportation is hard enough on its own, let alone when you’re with a bunch of super beings that don’t venture into the rest of society often. You’re grateful for Simon’s presence, otherwise you’re certain you would’ve gotten lost already.

After the rather entertaining subway ride, the five of you get up to the street and start walking. The streetlamps are warm, but they flicker out every few seconds.  As you walk, you notice a building up ahead with colorful lights reflecting out onto the sidewalk. Alec points it out and turns to Jace. “Think we’re in the right place?”

“Yes,” Jace responds, freezing in place. Since you’re following him, you just barely avoid bumping into him. The group pauses and Jace stares at something off to the side. You have to squint for a few moments, until you eventually see a sleek black motorcycle. Jace must sense your confusion, because he continues to speak. “Vampires.” Unfortunately, that’s the only explanation you’re given. You shrug and look over to Alec, who seems to be feeling more restless with each passing minute.

“Let’s go,” Alec orders, turning his back and continuing to walk towards the apartment in the distance. Isabelle follows after him, leaving Simon, Jace, and you. Jace not-so-subtly pockets the key to the motorcycle and you raise an eyebrow at him when he isn’t looking. You glance at Simon to see if he noticed, but it seems he missed it. Jace returns to his position at your side and he looks to be radiating smugness; you can’t help but roll your eyes. The three of you walk in an awkward line, with you in the middle and Simon and Jace on either side of you. Fortunately, the awkward and tense walk doesn’t last long, as you soon catch up with Isabelle and Alec on the apartment’s front porch. Isabelle doesn’t hesitate to knock on the door with a few swift raps of her fist.

Within a few moments, the door swings open to reveal Magnus Bane. The warlock is wearing a finely-tailored suit and his eyes glimmer, thanks to the glittery eyeliner accentuating them. His eyes flit about your group, before he eventually throws his hands up in the air and walks away. Izzy seems to take that as an invitation, and she walks in. The rest of you follow behind her, significantly more apprehensive. At least, Simon and you are apprehensive. Jace and Alec seem a little out of their element, too, but they don’t look overwhelmed.  

“You alright?” Simon whispers, once the others split up and go off in different directions. You can hardly hear him over the music that vibrates along your skin and shakes the floor. There are interesting characters everywhere—vampires, faeries, and more. You take a deep breath and try to summon some confidence.

“Yeah,” you nod. You’ll be fine. You’re certainly nervous to speak with Magnus Bane, but right now, you’re feeling okay. “You?”

“Yes,” Simon sighs after a moment. His eyes catch on something and his gaze suddenly sharpens. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, Simon is reaching out to you. He fumbles with your collar and buttons what Jace had unbuttoned. He adjusts your collar and folds it down, before taking a step back to admire his work. “You look really nice; I meant to say that earlier.”

“Thanks,” you smile. Simon looks as if there’s more he wants to say, but he shakes his head and evidently abandons the notion. Meanwhile, you watch with thinly-veiled amusement as Magnus Bane flits about the room, talking to every single person in sight. He’s rather popular, you think to yourself. He also seems pretty familiar. For some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve seen him before. Unfortunately, even after a few minutes of looking at him, you can’t make the connection.

Eventually, Jace and Alec join Simon and you. Isabelle then grabs Simon and practically drags him away, leaving you, Alec, and Jace. Magnus Bane makes his way back to you three and Jace explains everything. Well, he actually doesn’t explain anything—instead deigning to vaguely threaten the warlock if he doesn’t comply. Thankfully, Bane seems to be in a forgiving mood, because he just sighs before leading you to a separate room in the house. Normally, you’d be tempted to look at your rather extravagant surroundings. Now, though, you can only focus on your mother. Nothing else matters.

“You signed my mind,” you blurt out once the three of you are settled and away from prying eyes. You’ve never been the best at beating around the bush. Magnus Bane stares at you as if trying to decide what to say. He then gestures with his hand and a glittery blue signature appears above your head. It shines for a brief moment before fading into nothing.

“Ah, yes, a rather embarrassing moment of hubris...” Bane grimaces. His eyes sparkle in the dim lighting of the room. You bite your lip and try to push down the doubt curdling in your chest. “Alas, it was requested of me.”

“By who?” You’re pretty sure that you already know the answer to that question. You’re hoping that your expectations are wrong. You want nothing more than to be proven wrong. Your heart races out of your chest as you wait for an answer.

“Your mother,” the warlock says softly. He stares at you, clearly expecting a reaction. You stare blankly at him in response. For a moment, there’s a thick tension that settles in the air. It’s gone when Magnus squints at you before continuing to speak. “You don’t seem surprised.” He states.

“Unfortunately, I figured my mother was hiding more from me than I knew,” you remark, clenching your fists at your sides. Truthfully, you’re rather angry. But, you don’t want Magnus Bane or any of the others to know that. Your voice is shaky, but the tears you want to shed aren’t falling down your cheeks. You stare at Jace, who looks troubled. You’re sure he expected this turn of events. It’s likely Alec did too, if the unsurprised look on his face is any indication.

Magnus continues to explain the circumstances behind your mother’s work with him. Eventually, it gets to the point where you can’t handle it. Thinking about your mother’s willing betrayal makes you sick to your stomach. Even the prospect of learning about Runes again through the Grey Book doesn’t lift your spirits.

“I need some air,” you announce, before stepping out into the hallway and following it further down. Luckily, there’s a door at the very end of it that leads to a balcony. You step out onto the balcony and close the door behind you. The night air is cold against your skin, but you rest your arms against the railing and soak it in regardless.

“You okay?” It isn't long before Jace sidles up to your side. You wouldn’t have even noticed his presence unless he made himself known—his approach was entirely soundless. You put a hand to your temple and try to collect your thoughts. “You didn’t really react to Bane’s confession.”

“I know,” you whisper against the wind. You’re almost hoping that Jace doesn’t hear it. “Is it bad that I was expecting it? What would be worse–keeping the naive and foolish belief that my mother didn’t hide anything from me, or distrusting her in her last moments?”

The realization of everything crashes down on you and you bury your head in your hands. Your own mother hid an entire life from you. You could’ve been living a completely different life. The worst part? You wouldn’t have even known, if your mother wasn’t brutally taken from your home. The night air suddenly feels far colder.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jace asserts, staring at an unknown point in the distance. There’s nothing but determination on his face. “I’ll help you find her, I promise.” Jace places a hand on your shoulder. His grip is tight but reassuring all at once. Your doubts slowly diminish at that.

After an immeasurable amount of time spent staring at the sky, the two of you return to the party and find the rest of the group. Isabelle and Simon are red-faced, evidently from all the dancing. Alec was brooding in a corner and he proceeds to talk Jace’s ear off the moment he sees him. You bite your lip and turn to Simon, who motions towards the door. You nod and walk to the front door with him. Everyone else seems to get the hint and they all follow you. You're about to escape without incident when a familiar warlock asks you where you’re going.

“I would say we’ve overstayed our welcome, but I get the feeling we weren’t welcome in the first place,” you remark wryly, shoving your hands in your pockets. Magnus’s eyes light up and a grin overtakes his face.

“Correct, darling!” The warlock exclaims, looking quite eager to get rid of you all. “Hm. Tolerable Nephilim are hard to find these days...” Magnus breaks off, his gaze focusing on Alec, “Charming ones, too. Call me?” Alec sputters and stares at the warlock in disbelief. Jace hauls him off and together, all of you walk away from the apartment. Embarrassingly enough, you nearly fall asleep on the subway ride back. Other than that, though, it’s a rather uneventful trip back to the Institute.

Alec is quick to walk away from the group upon entering the Institute. Isabelle makes a beeline for the kitchen and Simon follows her, clearly still a bit entranced by her. Jace and you are left standing in the entryway, and it doesn’t take long for the Shadowhunter to break the silence between you. “Want to go for a ride?” Jace grins, pulling out the keys he stole earlier.

“Sure,” you respond nonchalantly. Jace stares at you with a scrutinizing expression before he jangles the keys in front of your face again. You try to hit them away, but he reacts quickly and you miss. “What? You weren't exactly subtle about stealing that, Jace.” The Shadowhunter looks mildly impressed that you noticed. He then shrugs casually, before motioning for you to follow behind him.

“I know a shortcut,” Jace remarks without explanation, tugging you to follow behind him. He walks up to one of the walls in the Institute and moves his stele in a strange pattern. The bare wall glows and you’re suddenly standing in front of a Portal. Jace smirks and turns back to you. “Make sure you’re visualizing the apartment from earlier. Then…” The Shadowhunter breaks off and leans backwards, falling into the wall and disappearing from sight. You roll your eyes at his dramatics, before taking a cautionary step into the Portal. You make sure to visualize the apartment as Jace said—the tall trees looming over the sidewalk, the brick laden with ivy and moss.

Your vision spins and you’re suddenly thrown forward. You stumble with the change in momentum and almost fall to the ground; thankfully, Jace grabs you and hauls you up. You don’t have to look at him to know that there’s a devious smirk on his face.

“It wouldn’t have killed you to explain that to me a little better,” you say, looking around at your immediate surroundings. Sure enough, you’re standing on the sidewalk right outside the apartment where the party was held. You spot the motorcycle a few feet away and start walking towards it.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Jace quips, falling in step next to you. His eyes light up when the two of you are close enough to the motorcycle, and he makes an exaggerated jangling sound with the key in his hand. For a moment, the Shadowhunter simply stares at the vehicle—as if taking in all of its glory–before stepping over it and sitting down on the seat. He then looks at you expectantly; you sigh and sit behind him. Jace seems eager to drive the motorcycle, as he revs up the engine dramatically. You roll your eyes again—a gesture you tend to repeat whenever in Jace’s presence. “Hold on, if you don’t want to die.”

Well, that’s only mildly concerning. You grip Jace’s waist tightly, ignoring the smug remark that he makes at that. For a moment, the vehicle stalls, before it roars to life and the two of you are speeding off. You’re going so fast that the buildings around you blur together. Jace lets out an excited whoop and goes even faster. You’re practically melding into him at this point, with how tightly you’re holding onto him. You really don’t want to die by way of a motorcycle. It’s a wonderful sensation, but it’s also extremely disorienting.

An immeasurable amount of time later, Jace is pulling the motorcycle over to a seemingly abandoned spot behind the Institute. Finally, the death machine comes to a stop and you’re free to stand up on solid ground. “Well, that was... crazy,” you choke out, feeling significantly ruffled and off-kilter.

“I should steal things more often,” Jace remarks. You shake your head at him disbelievingly. You’re not quite sure how that’s the lesson he learned from all of this. You place a hand on the motorcycle behind you, feeling the need to keep your balance. Adjusting to a normal speed after that high-speed ride is a bit of a challenge, to say the least. Jace stares at you with a heated gaze and his lips fall into a flat line.

“That mundane…” He sighs, looking askance for a moment before his gaze falls to you once more. Jace’s eyebrows furrow as he glares at something just below your eye level. Before you can ask him to elaborate, the Shadowhunter is leaning impossibly closer. “He’s undoing all of my hard work.” Jace reaches out and unbuttons the top button of your shirt again.

“What are you doing?” Your voice sounds strained, betraying your inner panic and confusion. Thankfully, Jace doesn’t point that out. His hand does, however, linger on your neck. Is he checking for your pulse or something?

“Your heart is racing,” Jace then hums, as casually as if he were talking about the weather. You take a deep breath in.

“You’re standing a little close,” you manage to choke out. Jace only smiles eerily at that, taking another step towards you. You’re forced to sit back on the motorcycle at his sudden proximity. The Shadowhunter stares down at you, golden eyes glimmering with complexity.

“You know…” Jace trails off, his eyes alight with that familiar glow. He pulls up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal a rather old-fashioned watch. You wonder if it was a gift or an artifact of his family. That would make the most sense. Jace squints down at it and you follow his gaze, surprised to find that it’s past midnight. “It’s your birthday, now.”

“How did you know?” You frown, surprised that he knew that. You don’t remember telling him. Maybe he did some investigative work? No, that doesn’t quite sound like something he would do. Your thought process continues to spiral, until Jace breaks through the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” He questions. Answering a question with another question… Typical Jace behavior. You inhale slowly.

“I didn’t want it to be a big deal,” you admit. To be fair, it’s only a few minutes past midnight. You haven’t had the opportunity to tell anyone, save for Jace himself. You’re about to say that when you notice the strange expression on Jace’s face. He looks conflicted.

“Hm,” Jace murmurs, clearly not convinced. “Well, happy birthday.” He remarks, his hand cradling your jaw for the briefest of moments. Just as his hand falls, Jace leans forward and kisses you on the cheek. Before you can contemplate what just happened, he’s walking away and slipping out of sight. You’re left standing outside in complete disbelief, next to a stolen motorcycle under the midnight sky.

sry if the ending was a lil abrupt… hehe oopsie.

Izzy definitely has some badass gender neutral clothing and y’all can't tell me otherwise. 🙏🙏

anyway, thx for reading <3

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

for the ask game! <3

Miraak: 👖 + 👁

Jia: 👖 + 👄 + 🦵

Oh, thank you so much for the ask! 😍

The ask game is this, check it out, y'all! 💖

Miraak:

👖 What type of clothing does your OC generally wear? Why? Do they have any “signature” accessories?

So, in my headcanon, Miraak is a battlemage. He primarily fights with spells as he is a flawless caster, but in close combat, he can utilize one-handed swords, too. That said, his attire in a war would be lightweight clothing (maybe something close to this!) but charged with enchantments that allow his magicka to regenerate faster, as he heavily relies on it. When he is not in battle, his everyday clothes are simple. Maybe a shirt and a pair of trousers, with no cuirass or gloves whatsoever (maybe something close to this but cleaner than Geralt's obviously😂). But I imagine his clothes, both those worn in battle and daily life, in dimmer shades of color, like black or dark blue, or even purple!

👁 What is your OC’s eye color? Do they have any eye-related habits, like winking or rubbing their eyes? Do other people tend to notice their eyes?

Miraak's eyes are, for obvious reasons, quite noticeable.😂 When he steps out of Apocrypha, I think he has canonically pitch-black eyes (iris and sclera alike) because of Hermaeus Mora's taint. But in my headcanon, in Nirn, he gradually becomes cleansed (I won't tell you how😌), and when the ink completely erases from his eyes, their color is a hue of blue; not light blue, but a darker tint of it, more like the color of the ocean. Because of his large magicka pool, his eyes also have some specks of purple, mostly around the irises, so his eye color is blended close to indigo! Miraak sometimes twitches his eyes when awkward! 😝

Jia:

👖 What type of clothing does your OC generally wear? Why? Do they have any “signature” accessories?

As for Jia, she is a spellsword, so her combat style is a mix of spells and bound weapons, or weapons charged with a specific enchantment. For this reason, and because of her low weight and her aptitude for sneaking and moving quickly, she prefers wearing light armor, too, usually made of leather (something very close to this!). She only wears black, and even her dragon-scale armor, which is the heaviest armor she chooses to wear, is dyed grey-black. In her daily life, she may wear dresses, too! And while she only wears black on her adventures, when she is in her house relaxed, she wears lighter colors like light yellow, pale pink, and even white (like this, or like this! And those are very much appreciated from a certain old Dragon Priest!🥰).

👄 What is your OC’s smile like? Is it bright and wide, or thin and reserved? Does your OC wear any lipgloss or lipstick? Do they chew their lips?

Jia's smile is most of the time thin and reserved. Not only because of her depression and her constant prudishness but also because her front teeth have a little gap between them which she dislikes (in the real world, she would definitely choose to wear braces!) She does not usually chew her lips, mostly the inside of her cheek, and she does not wear lipgloss or lipstick––or any kind of makeup, really. The only thing close to it was the warpaint she attempted to smudge on her face when she went to fight Alduin in order to actually look like a Nord, similar to the ancient heroes.

🦵 Are your OC’s arms and legs strong, weak, or average? Why? Do they have any common mannerisms that involve their limbs, such as tapping their foot or fiddling with their fingers?

Jia's limbs may be slim, but they are indeed strong and athletic. First, her arms from the years of brandishing a sword or firing a bow, and then her legs from the endless treading around Skyrim or riding a horse (or a dragon!) Also, maybe the dragon blood she carries makes her stronger and more resilient than the average woman, even though Nord women are pretty strong and hardy themselves. As for her mannerisms, she may tap her foot or fiddle her fingers when anxious or uncomfortable, but these are not so common for her. Her constant mannerism is moving her hands a lot while discussing something that interests her as if trying to express her too many thoughts. 😌

[justreadingfics]

Best Gift Ever - an “It’s a Deal” one-shot

Summary: It’s almost time for your first Christmas with Bucky and he really wants you to open his present for you early.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: one-shot part of a complete series’ universe, smut, 18+, masturbation, use of sex toy, dirty talk, praise kink, the characters celebrate Christmas.

A/N: I miss these two too much, so here’s our first one-shot to see what they’re up to these days… and what they’re up to is a surprise to absolutely no one who knows them, lol. You can read it as a stand-alone story, but this is part of the universe of a series of mine (It’s a Deal). I have no words that can thank @callmeluna​, @addikted-2-dopamine​, @gogolucky13​ and @whisperlullaby​ enough for jumping right in to help me when I asked. You all rock. 

Masterlist on my description. 

 Even with your still half-asleep brain, it is hard to not let the lazy smile curl your lips when you feel the light scratch of his beard brushing your neck before the softness of his mouth touches your cheek. You hum in satisfaction.

“Bucky…” you breathe, stirring as you lay on your stomach, still incapable of opening your eyes at this ungodly hour.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I just wanted to say goodbye, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Goodbye?” You whine. The memory of the reason why he is up so early flashes in your mind. Shooting your eyes open, you turn around to meet his beautiful face above yours while he stands by the bed, uniform on, leaning over with his arms straddling you. Stretching, you curl your arms around him and pull him closer. “No goodbyes…” you mumble, kissing his neck.

Bucky sucks in a breath, looking down at your chest – still bare from the activities of no more than a few hours before. He tilts his head to peck your lips. “Have to go, sweetheart…I’ll be home before you know it, definitely before Christmas.”

“No…” Your hold on his neck tightens while you assault his lips, cheeks, and jaw with sleepy kisses. “Too long… want you here.”

“Alright, then,” he says before swiftly jumping on the bed beside you, already starting to push his boots away from one foot with the other.

“What?” You yelp, holding yourself up with your elbows, shooting him a wide eyed look.

“My baby wants me to stay, I’m staying,” he states, in all seriousness while he tosses a boot across the room. “Screw the bad guys.” He then moves towards you, spreading your legs with a knee to accommodate himself while you promptly put your arms around him, even if your stare at him is of pure astonishment.  “Screw Tony Stark, Nick Fury and by all means-“ He starts kissing your neck down your chest, “-screw Captain America, I’m staying here with my love.” Nuzzling your breasts, he punctuates his resolve by capturing a nipple with his mouth.

The warm sensation makes you gasp and you almost give up on saying what you’re about to say, but you keep yourself strong. “No, baby, no…” You chuckle, pulling his face up and almost melting at the love you find plastered there, “Ugh… no, no you have to go… I was just being silly.” You twist your face in a dismissive way. “And I definitely don’t want Captain America bursting through the door again,” you add, remembering how mortified you were the time Steve and Nat caught the two of you right in the act.

“Screw that jerk,” Bucky spits, tipping his chin up before leaning down to kiss you.  

You laugh but the sound turns into a moan as you meet him halfway to the kiss. “You already said that,” you speak when he once again starts the descent in exploring your body with his mouth. You squirm and giggle once he reaches that ticklish spot of yours right by your clavicle, but pull him up again, cupping his cheeks. “You go on that mission, and I’ll be here, watching Alpine and waiting for you, just like we agreed I would do. Ok?”

He pouts at you and you can’t resist to give his lips a quick peck. “And when you come back, safe and sound, world saved and all, I’ll take good care of you, huh?” You raise your hips against his while one of your hands leaves his face in favor to grab a handful of his ass.  

“Sweetheart,” he groans down at you, “This is not helping your case. Like… at all.”

“Go!” You shout, giving his ass a sharp smack

“Oh, wow, ma’am.” He bites his lip. “Haven’t met this dom side of you yet, and damn… we should explore it…”

“Maybe when you get back.” You wink, before urging him to get up, “Come on, babe, you go Avenge the ass out of this world.”

“Alright, alright…” he relents after pecking your lips, and with a smile plastered on his face, he moves to sit up. “Alpine’s routine is on the fridge,” he says, sitting by the end of the bed with his back to you while he works to put his boots on again.

You chuckle from where you remain laying down and stretch your arms again. He had gone over Alpine’s routine a thousand times the previous day. You're staying at his place to watch over her while he’s away, and you have a guess you’re not the only one he’s having a hard time leaving behind.

“Ok,” he stands up and moves to you for another goodbye kiss, “Will you call me if you need anything?” He asks, his face inches from yours.

“Mhm-hmm,” you nod, laziness invading you again and turning your eyelids heavy, “Love you, come back to me soon.”

“I will,” he promises in a whisper and a kiss on your cheek, “Love you too…Oh, and by the way, I left your Christmas present on the nightstand. I sure hope you open it early.”

You register the mischief in his voice, but sleep wins you over. Snuggling into your pillow, you mumble out just an “ok” and fall into slumber again.

~~~

It’s already night time when you step into Bucky’s place again after quickly dropping by in the afternoon to check in on Alpine. Damn you if you leave her alone for a whole day… But it’s been a hectic day at work, and it doesn’t help that you hit the snooze button of your alarm one too many times this morning. 

“Hey, sweet pea.” You lean down to scratch her ear when Alpine greets you by the door with a meow, brushing her head against your calves. You chuckle, remembering the first encounter with the cat—a white ball of fur and anger hissing at you. 

“How was your day, huh? Did you miss dad?” You ask, her eyes closing with delight from the caress on her neck. “I know I did… come here,” you say, standing up and walking towards her food spot.

After changing her water and food, you leave her there, eating contentedly. Then you move towards the bathroom, longing for a long, hot shower to relax a bit, and then, hopefully, try to reach Bucky on the phone.

Within the first few months of finally setting your feelings for each other straight – well, after you finally set your feelings for him straight, because he was there long before you were – your relationship has been like anyone would expect, filled with overwhelming love and…

Sex…

Lots of sex.

All the time.

Everywhere.

You know it has a lot to do with the fact your relationship is still fresh and new, and it doesn’t mean that’s all you two are about. You love him and he loves you. But that’s how you two got together in the first place and how you’ve been primarily expressing the tremendous love you feel for each other. You’ve been attached to him at the hip and every other little part of his body and, boy, do you love it…

This is the first long mission he’s gone on since the two of you got together, and you know it will be especially hard to be away from him after the amazing goodbye night he gave you. Damn… you swear you can still feel it in your bones and every other part of you he’s touched.  

Finishing up your shower, your muscles relaxed, you grab one of Bucky’s shirts from his closet, relishing in the way his smell envelops you when you put it on.

That’s when something on the nightstand catches your attention.

A rectangular pink box with a golden ribbon. Bucky’s gift for you.

The last words he had said to you before he left for the mission resounds in your mind…I sure hope you open it early…

You cock an eyebrow at the package and next thing you know you’re sitting on the bed, untying the ribbon.

What you find inside the unassuming white box kicks the air out of your lungs. The surprised gasp quickly gives place to a large smile, because…Bucky… of course. His Christmas present for you, the first one you’re spending together, is… a rabbit vibrator.

“Hope it keeps you happy while I’m gone. Love you. Bucky.” You read on the card you find inside the box, and your smile widens even more.

You take it out of the black tulle bag to examine your gift further. The baby blue color of it makes you smile and your eyes widen realizing it’s gotta be the girthiest rabbit you’ve ever had the pleasure to see in person… Ah, Bucky… always thinking of your satisfaction, no matter if it’s provided by him or not. He must have figured you would miss him, all of him, that’s why he was so keen on you opening the gift soon.

A thought crosses your mind and makes you bite your lower lip. Just the fact of Bucky hoping you would use the gift twists your core in a very naughty way and you wonder whether you should give it a try right now… Well, he did tell you to open it early, which means he wanted you to use it… you better not disappoint him.

You’re quick on sanitizing it like the manual told you to. You check on Alpine, spotting her taking a nap on the couch, before shutting the door to Bucky’s room and grabbing the lube on the nightstand. You take off your underwear and, wearing just Bucky’s shirt, you sit comfortably on the bed with your back  against the headboard, lube and rabbit in hands.

You take in a deep breath to figure out how to get started. You sure are a bit excited already just by the thought of doing it, and you know the lube would certainly come in handy. However, considering the remarkably thick toy Bucky has chosen, you figure you should prep yourself better before starting. Grabbing your cell phone, you set the lube and the rabbit aside while you search through some porn videos.

Scrolling through some old favorites of yours, you realize it’s been a while since you’ve watched them. Not that it would be a problem with Bucky – like it would have certainly been with your ex, Eddie- but because you just didn’t have the time, always being too lost in each other to need anything else to excite you. After two or three videos, you notice / realize it’s not bringing the same effect they did before… they’re just not enough. You groan in frustration… has Bucky not only ruined any other man for you, but now also porn, too?

Well, if that’s the case, you might as well appeal to the vivid images right there in your mind. And that’s precisely what you do. Tossing the cell phone somewhere in on the bed and closing your eyes while leaning against the headboard, the little private show in your imagination begins.

The first image that flashes in your mind is his head between your legs on the very first night you two got together. The way he lapped and sucked and kissed, feasting on you like you were the most delicious meal he was ever fed. The image of him jerking himself off while eating you out that night twists the knot in your belly.

Your breathing becomes deeper and the knot twists further when you recall that night in some dark alley of the city after getting out of a rooftop bar. The thrill of the possibility of someone spotting you two while his cock was deep inside you makes you gasp again. The way he talked to you, with filthy praises… God… your hand slides down your body to between your open legs. Hot, soft and now perfectly wet… You hum in delight thinking how he would praise you for feeling so good…

With a finger you circle your clit and moan… you do feel good… with Bucky you’ve learned how to appreciate yourself in that way and damn… that’s one of the hottest things ever.

Feeling as ready as you could be, you open your eyes and retract your hand to grab the toy. You position it between your legs, and it makes you shiver when the velvet sensation of it meets your heat. You still need to lube it up, but you’re wet enough to let it slide between your folds. Your other hand flies to grab a handful of the sheets at the feeling and it stumbles against your phone in the way.

You just leave the toy there for a while, allowing the temperatures and textures to get acquainted. The heat flushes up your core and you experiment with the first of many levels of vibrations.

“Oh…” it slips from your lips and your head falls back against the headboard.

You guide the tip of the toy to your clit and push the button to the next level. And then the next…The sensation of Bucky’s tongue on that very same spot invades your senses, “Oh, yes, fuck... Bucky…” you moan loudly.

“Goddammit, baby, what are you up to?”

You scream and jump on the bed, tossing the rabbit away at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. 

“Bucky?” You call, widened eyes at the door, imagining you would see him there.

“Down here, babe.”

You follow his voice to see the cheeky grin on his face through your phone’s screen, which was tossed on the mattress beside you. You must’ve accidentally video called him at some point.

“Fuck…” you say under your breath while you swiftly work on swiping away the thin coat of sweat off your forehead and attempt to fix your hair a bit before grabbing your phone. “H-hey, Bucky.”

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he says, the grin on his face lingering. He’s still in his uniform, but you notice he’s sitting on an armchair in a bedroom. He must have just arrived in their safe house. “I take it you liked my present. It hasn’t even been a full day, yet,” he adds with amusement and, to your mortification, the buzzing of the still vibrating rabbit resounds in the room.

The embarrassment burns your cheeks, and leaves you speechless, but it doesn’t last long, because you know Bucky too well. You know he’s given you this present with your enjoyment in mind, but you do spot a glint of mischievous interest in his eyes.

Oh… you love that man.

“Yeah… I did love it. You have excellent taste.” Embarrassment completely gone, you decide that if he’s going to be cheeky about it, two can play this game. You slowly lick your lips before you give the lower one a long bite. Bucky’s eyes drop immediately to them, “You did say I should open it earlier,” you add, a tad of innocence in your tone.   

His chest heaves… he notices what you’re doing, “Fuck…” he breathes, eyes on your lips, “Damn me for getting in your way...” The camera of his phone is focused on his upper body, but by the position of his arm, you have an idea on where his hand lays now. You gulp down at the mental image of him rubbing himself through his pants, “Do you mind if I watch you, sweetheart?”

You absolutely love that he asks you that in that way, like he’s so eager to watch you but he would hate to be an intruder in your moment, even though all you’re thinking about in this moment is him. You smile when you hear he’s already working on opening his trousers. Definitely a perv, but your perv.

“You’re the one who gave me the gift… You’re more than welcome to join me.” You wink and move to put the cellphone on the phone holder on the nightstand. You position the camera towards you while you sit on the bed in a way that would give him a privileged view of your body.

His hooded gaze is unyieldingly on you as you place your feet on the mattress and open your legs. Widely. He sure enjoys the generous view as his eyes now drop to your exposed pussy and his jaw goes slack.

“Fucking hell, babe,” he barely whispers, his arms moving slowly on himself, “I love my shirt on you, but why don’t you take it off and let me see all of you babe? Show me those tits, will ya?” He nods towards the shirt you have on.

You promptly obey him, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. The vision of yourself on the phone, completely exposed, makes your cheeks burn and you almost forget the cheeky performance you’ve been putting on so far. But the look he has for you … that look… the one that assures you’re the most beautiful woman in the world keeps you grounded… and hot… so fucking hot. Your fingers move on their own and find your dampened and swollen clit again. Your jaw drops at the sensation of you touching yourself.

Right there on the other side of the screen, Bucky brings his hand to his mouth, and, with his sultry eyes on yours, he draws his tongue out, licks his palm and spits on it before bringing it down again. Fuck… you’re about to come just by that image itself and the touch of your fingers on your pussy. You can’t even see his cock but you know it must look big and hard and damn beautiful in his hand. You gasp while your fingers race up against your clit and you hold yourself by twisting a fist on the sheets.

“Shhhh…. Slow down, babe…” Bucky warns in a restrained groan, “Don’t you have a gift to use?”

At that, your fingers freeze. Catching your breath, you reach for the rabbit. Knowing you’re wet enough to take that toy perfectly, you decide to tease Bucky as you put the length of it in your mouth, giving it a sultry lick before engulfing it with your lips, coating it with your saliva.

“Fuck yeah… suck it, baby, suck it good,” Bucky encourages through a tightened jaw as his arm speeds up on himself.

You twirl your tongue around the toy a few more times before bringing it down. Under his lustful gaze, you slide the rabbit between your folds, sinking it in your wetness before guiding the tip to your clit again and turning the vibration on.

“Oh, Bucky,” your voice is a whisper through the sound of the vibrator buzzing in the room.

“Does that feel good, babe?” Bucky questions and you can tell he’s slowing down his rhythm to prolong his own pleasure

“Oh, yeah… so good,” you moan.

“Then take it, sweetheart, take it good and let me see you. You’re so damn beautiful,” he coos, knowing exactly what a sucker you are for a few praises.

Your cunt clenches at his words and you guide the toy to your entrance. There’s a bit of a sting that hits your senses once you push the tip inside. Your jaw drops as you push it further. The length and girth are almost a challenge, but a delicious one that you’re willing to take.

“That’s it… so fucking sexy…”

With Bucky’s praise you let out a languid and loud moan, having the whole length of the toy deep inside you. Your other hand twists the fabric of the sheet and your head falls back.

Eager and dripping wet, you start pumping in and out, not slowly, not gently, as the knot inside you gets tighter and tighter, longing for a release. The vibrating little rabbit hits your clit every time you push in, and your vision becomes glossy and blurry, your mind lost in the pleasure you’re giving yourself under Bucky’s eyes.

“Baby that feels so good,“ you tell him, not caring about the sloppy sounds of your wetness, knowing that, if he can hear them, he’s losing his fucking mind right now.

“Shit… fuck… I’m so fucking lucky… look at that… look at you… fucking yourself so hard like that,” Bucky speaks in a raspy voice and between heavy breaths, jerking himself in a hasty pace, “God I miss that pussy so much already.”

“Fucking shitballs,” you choke, clenching around the toy. You have your eyes shut so you don’t see it, but you do hear the heavy chuckle Bucky lets out at your favorite curse.

More than willing to put on a show for him – and for your own pleasure, since you have a thing for that position - you remove the toy from you just quick enough to turn on all fours.  

“Oh shit…baby, you’re killing me here with that sexy ass of yours,” Bucky’s voice is a raspy sound from behind you, “You love that, don’t you? You love when I take you from behind, my cock deep in that sweet pussy... fuck.”

You look over your shoulder to spot his arm moving frantically, hypnotized by the vision of you. Hooded eyes focus on your ass as you pump the toy in and out of your pussy from behind. You glance at your own image, too and fuck, yeah, you do look exposed and sexy as hell.

Your eyes shut and your cheek meets the mattress.  You quicken your pace, letting yourself be guided by the increasing spark in your core. … you’re there. You’re almost there.

“Ride it… ride it good baby,” he groans through heavy breathing.

“Fuck… I’m gonna cum.” You pant and, for a moment, you forget all about putting on a show for Bucky. Your mind and body focus solely on fucking yourself, on the toy in your cunt… the thickness of it…the slide through your wetness… the sweet vibrations on your clit…

Your legs start shaking and you let out a loud moan when the tightening pleasure in your core breaks into a powerful orgasm. Your body moves in waves with the sparks of sheer pleasure washing over every little part of you, making your mind nothing but a fog.

With a relieved cry, you let yourself fall flat on the mattress, but still hold the toy inside you, allowing the vibrations on your clit until it’s too much. You yelp as you pull it out and toss it aside. Still trying to catch your breath and your senses, you turn on your side and reach over to grab the phone from the holder and bring it close to your face as you support your head on your straightened arm.

You could come all over again just by the image of Bucky there, face red and sweating, jaw clenched, and arm moving frantically on himself.

“Goddammit, goddammit,” he growls.

In your blissful state, you smirk. You know him too well to know he’s holding himself back, which means the sensation is just too good for him to easily let go, “Let me see…” you whisper before biting your lip.

Bucky promptly moves the camera down to his cock. Big and hard and pulsing in his flesh hand. You draw blood out of your lips at the sight, and can’t help but to press your thighs together to scratch the itch growing back between your legs.

The tingle in your pussy only sprouts once Bucky moans out his finish. and You watch the big spurts of come spilling down his hand and clothed belly, making a mess of his uniform. Pressing your thighs tighter, another orgasm hits you and takes your breath away all over again, prompted by the filthy vision of him and the eager still lodged between your legs. A small, yet greatly satisfying orgasm as you watch your boyfriend come all over himself through the phone screen.

“Shit… that was something… Best gift ever…” Bucky declares when you two manage to breathe properly and his camera is now back to his grinning face.

Your head falls back as you laugh. “I’m glad you liked it, but I thought the present was for me?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

“It is, but I know you’re generous enough to include me sometimes. Aren’t you, beautiful?” He winks that mischievous wink of his.

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” you answer, the smile never leaving your face or his, before turning to lay on your back, holding the phone up as you rest your head on his pillow, “So, how was your day?”.  

Bucky shrugs, “Same old same old, bad guys being assholes, Avengers being awesome… and my hot as fuck girlfriend at the end of the day to make it all worth it.”

The fondness in his voice and face, a complete contrast to him calling you “hot as fuck”, makes your heart jump funny and you can’t help but giggle. It turns out Bucky is, not just a real Sex God, but also the sappiest and sweetest man on earth. A combination that makes him almost irresistible… damn… who are you kidding? There’s is no  “almost”. He’s thoroughly and deliciously irresistible. 

“How’s Alpine?” He then asks, laying back on the chair and placing an arm comfortably behind his head. 

“She’s great. I think she didn’t even notice you’re gone.”  

Hurt falls upon his face as he aims a kicked puppy look at you.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you’re quick to add with a chuckle, “The cat is miserable”, you lie. Now that Alpine has warmed up to you, she’s very comfortable and happy in your presence, even in Bucky’s absence. So when you see the pout on his face, you decide it’s enough for you to not break that man’s heart, which is as soft as cotton, you’ve come to learn. “Come back to her soon, will ya?” As relief shows on his face, you plead, not talking solely about Alpine anymore. It’s been a day and you already miss him like crazy.  

“I will,” he answers with a smile and a meaningful look, before the mischief is back again, “So tell me, how did you prep yourself to try out my present? Just by thinking of me?” The cockiness is obvious in his voice.

“Yeah, actually…” You see no point in hiding that from him, “But don’t get too cocky…” You point a warning finger, “I couldn’t find any good porn.”

Bucky’s laugh lights up the room even miles away and through a tiny screen.  “Well, well, that’s too bad,” he says, nonchalantly, “Maybe we should make our own for next time, then.” He bites his lip and wiggles his eyebrows.

You register the wicked promise in his words and smile, as cheekily as he does.  

You’re so here for that.

 ~~~

[drmedicsgamesurgery]

Danganronpa Kirigiri Volume 2 Full Translation Part 1

Thanks to DJ Shocker, Shenmen, Chilly, LiarieCC, and Blackflirtlarping. This is a fully fixed up and complete translation with no missing bits.

Danganronpa Kirigiri Volume 2: The Norman Hotel Detective Auction

Chapter 1: Daily Life

Couples dressed to the nines for Christmas Eve wined and dined in window booths, but due to the height of the building, no matter how much I craned my neck I couldn’t see them satisfactorily.

I must have gotten a little carried away, bouncing around the hall to eagerly check out the outside scenery from the windows of this high-rise building, as I felt someone tug on the sleeve of my coat; Kyoko Kirigiri. She gazed up at me, wordlessly, with cool eyes. I felt almost as if I was being scolded.

“Thank you for waiting! Please come this way.” Both Kirigiri and I followed a waiter into the interior of the hall. Suddenly, an enormous Christmas Tree came into view. A fir tree that must have been imported from abroad, decked out in dazzling star ornaments that were determined not to lose to the lights of the city in terms of brightness.

We found ourselves being led to a wide individual room.

An antique candle holder stood in the center of a table draped in a white cloth, the candles fully aglow.

Napkins and cutlery for three people were already laid out on the table. And the furthest wall was transparent, giving us a scenic view of the city nightscape.

“Woww! This is amazing!” I dashed over to the glass wall without thinking, and gazed out at the city lights twinkling under the night sky.

“Kirigiri, come here!” I called out to Kirigiri, who stood behind me. She seemed to be hesitating. She looked at me with a slightly concerned expression on her face, then approached the giant window. She looked over the city nightscape with pink tinged cheeks, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the lights of the city.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

Kirigiri nodded.

“Won’t you tell me how you really feel, out loud?”

“…It’s pretty.”

At this point, Suisei Nanamura entered our private room.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, ladies. I see you’re enjoying my Christmas present to you.”

By ‘present’ did he mean this view?

I suddenly felt a little embarrassed at taking the bait so quickly and backed away from the glass wall, flustered.

Suisei pulled out a chair with a gesture that made it seem like this was something he was well accustomed to. I lowered my head to him in a quick bow and took a seat. I really wasn’t used to how to act in a place as fancy as this.

On the other hand, Kirigiri seemed used to it. She lowered herself onto the chair, almost princess-like, and gave Suisei a casual nod as her thanks.

Kirigiri continued to surprise me, but I think she was essentially a refined and well-mannered kid. When it came to being a detective and solving cases she became cool-headed and almost difficult to approach, but I wondered if that had something to do with being raised in a family of detectives.

Suisei placed the Santa hat he’d been wearing on Kirigiri’s head and sat down opposite her. He didn’t offer any explanation as to why he’d given her the Santa hat, and Kirigiri herself didn’t react.

Well, she looked cute like that so I had no complaints…

“Well, I am a happy man! Having the honor of spending Christmas Eve with such beautiful young ladies…”

After sitting down, Suisei propped both elbows onto the table and rested his chin on top of his hands, suddenly observing us intensely.

I was bewildered by the suggestive look in his eyes.

“W-what ?”

I suddenly found myself feeling very shy.

Suisei had a face as handsome as an actor - he was an attractive man. I had absolutely no objections to joining him for Christmas dinner-

‘“2,000, 9,800, 23,000.” Suisei suddenly rattled off a series of mysterious digits.

“Huh?”

“The price of your glasses, the price of your coat, and the price of your boots.”

“W-what…? How did you…?”

He knew?

The numbers were more or less correct.

“There are many ways to observe other people, and one of the most effective ways is to judge them by the value of what they’re wearing. Through knowing the value of their material possessions - in other words, their quality - is not a method to be overlooked.”

“I - I see."

“Yui Samidare-kun - for example, in your case you’re confident about your legs, so your most valuable possession is your boots. However, from the way your boots are worn down, they don’t seem to be specifically designed for sports. And you’ve chosen to walk down the path of becoming a detective. Aiming to become a detective at such a young age is probably due to something that happened in your past-”

“O-okay, I got it.”

I put both hands up in front of me, as if to evade Suisei’s words. I don’t think I wanted to hear anything else he had to say.

Suisei’s lips curled into a grin and he spread out his arms while gesturing at the clear glass wall.

“7,445,000 yen. The price of everything you can see from here. Along with the price of electricity for every building. The true essence of everything is so beautiful.”

Suisei gave me a smug wink.

Detectives were really hard to understand.

Suisei Nanamura was a Double Zero Class detective. According to the DSC (Detective Shelf Collection) at the Detective Library, his number was 900. The number nine indicated that he dealt primarily with murder investigations, and his double zero was proof of his skills.

In the past there was a detective who, due to the successful handling of his cases, moved up as far as rank three, but that took over 20 years of his career. For Nanamura to hold a double zero at the young age of 37 was, quite simply, incredible. It was not an honor you earned with half-hearted skills.

“Well then, let’s continue talking about the job over dinner.”

Suisei snapped his fingers, and from behind him a waiter appeared to fill his glass with red wine. Two more waiters also appeared by his side as if they were servants attending to a prince.

Since Kirigiri and I were still underage, we were passed a soft drink menu. I chose orange juice, and Kirigiri ordered a coffee.

“Let’s toast to our first meeting - is what I’d like to say, but allow me to refrain. After all, in our world a toast doesn’t signify the start of something, but the end.”

Suisei took a sip of his red wine.

The waiters began to lay out plates in front of Suisei. Usually when it came to French cuisine, every dish was served one by one, but for some reason they continued to pile dish after dish in front of him.

“10 hours, 28 minutes and 49 seconds.” Suisei suddenly rattled off another series of digits.

“That is the time that’s passed since I opened the letter challenging me to this Duel Noir. The time limit from when you open such a letter to who is victorious being decided is 168 hours. For my own sake, I opened the letter at exactly 10 am today.”

Suisei said with a serious expression on his face. However, he hadn’t stopped eating. It occurred to me that most of the food had already disappeared from his plate.

When did he…?

One plate each was placed in front of Kirigiri and me. If we tried to match Suisei’s pace, the food would be devoured before we could even enjoy it.

“Mr Nanamura, how many Duel Noir challenges have you participated in up until now?”

“This would be the fifth time.”

“The f-fifth time?”

“I can only call it bad luck. Out of all the detectives I know, there’s some who’ve never even heard of Duel Noirs. In fact, it’s more likely a detective will hear of Duel Noirs.”

Naturally, Kirigiri and I knew what a Duel Noir was.

Just a little earlier, Kirigiri and I had been wrapped up in one. A Duel Noir was a game organized by an organization called The Victims Catharsis Committee. Both a detective and a criminal engage in a deadly duel. After receiving a letter of challenge from a criminal, the detective will attempt to solve a case in real time.

Unlike what their name suggested, The Victims Catharsis Committee wasn’t a charitable organization at all. Under the name of providing catharsis for victims of crime, the committee lured participants into their game. It seemed that when it came to recruiting ‘challengers’, they particularly aimed for those who were driven by a need for revenge. In other words, by using those who were willing to go as far as murder, the game unfolded.

The detectives, on the other hand, were chosen out of the names registered on the Detective Index at the Detective Library.

There were approximately 65,500 detectives registered on the list, and their names were public information. It was assumed that The Victims Catharsis Committee summoned detectives from this list according to the difficulty of each case. For this, a detective’s DSC number was used as reference.

“The further you move up in rank, the amount of detectives decreases. Statistically it becomes more likely for one to be challenged to a Duel Noir.” Nanamura placed his fork on top of his plate, wiped his mouth with a napkin, then suddenly threw them all behind his back. One of the waiters caught the plate while barely moving an inch. With the space he cleared from throwing away his plate, Nanamura placed his two fingers together on top of the table.

Suisei began to stare at Kirigiri and me as if he was observing us.

“I read your file about the case you solved, you two. It was a great case for your induction.”

The Sirius Observatory was our induction case? And yet even now every time I remembered that day I felt a dreadful despair.

“However, the next one doesn’t seem to be so. Looking at the letter of challenge, the culprit seems to not only understand the aim of Duel Noirs far too well, but they also plan to win. That’s a troublesome attitude. Seems almost as if they’re enjoying the game. It’s probably a treat for the spectators as well.”

“Spectators?”

“Oh? You didn’t know? Duel Noirs are broadcast in real time. The spectators watch over them during what’s called a Closed Circuit, whilst eating and drinking together. You could call it a live-viewing.”

Speaking of which, didn’t the mastermind between the previous case say something along those lines?

The Victims Catharsis Committee didn’t just want to play a game - they wanted to offer a show.

“This is all pretty hard to believe. Who on earth would watch a Duel Noir?”

"I can’t tell you exactly who watches them, however there’s no doubt they move in high-class circles. In order to participate in a Closed Circuit, it’s said that the price is equivalent to that of the school fees from a third world country.”

What an incomprehensible and compassionless comparison. We can compare this to the duel in the arenas of Rome. People paid a lot of money to see blood and people killing each other. They want drama. Of course, I don't think I'd like to see that myself, people being killed so brutally. 

“By the way, why are you after the Victims Catharsis Committee?" asked Suisei.

"We can't leave such an organization in the wild! " I said with a cry from the heart.

"A great sense of justice, huh?" smiled Suisei. He then turned to Kirigiri. "What about you?"

Kirigiri hesitated for a moment, "There is no reason. Honestly, I haven’t received another invite to do so. "

“Um, a-ah, w-wait we should really be united on this!” I turned to retort at Kyoko. “Wait, are you telling me you aren’t willing to fight the Victim’s Catharsis Committee!?”

“No, I’m just interested in having my detective skills recognized.”

“...Seriously, you’re only interested in moving up the ranks? Are you really satisfied with that? After being manipulated, aren’t you the least bit offended?”

“...I do.” Now that actually surprised me. Still, she was answering me in that usual expression of hers. She wasn’t quite good at showing off her feelings, or rather she has an incredible poker face.

"It's not right to hide your emotions behind a stone face, you know? So just try to deal with this organization with me! Isn't this a detective's job? That we aren’t just limited to dealing with immediate threats!?" I questioned.

"If Yui-oneesama wants me to help her, then I will."

"You're so childish!"

I chewed my lower lip to control my frustration.

"Don't you have your own opinion? Are you just a doll that we can control as we please?"

Kirigiri simply looked at me with cold eyes. Was she actually angry?

"A detective operating without a client is just fulfilling mere self-satisfaction." Kirigiri said before looking away.

"Maybe, but at least I’m making an effort to find out the truth." I suddenly got up. Weirdly, it reminded me of my childhood, and especially of my sister. 

“Find the truth? What a childish response.”

“Says the actual child!”

After my sudden outburst, a sound echoed in the room. I looked at the source of the sound; Suisei was holding a mini trumpet. My ears began to ring. 

“Alright, no fighting. Honestly, you’re like children. No wait, not even that, but rookies” Even so, from my point of view, he was much worse. He then threw the trumpet with a bitter laugh and a waiter caught it without problem.

"A detective is nothing without an ideology, especially not trustworthy. They’re also nothing if they’re too self-serving. I guess you two have at least one half of what it means to be a proper detective." said Suisei before shrugging.

Kirigiri and I looked at each other for a moment.

"Sorry I got carried away." I said as I sat back down, my face flushed from embarrassment. Kirigiri remained silent with her face being stoic.

"Well, let's go back to our history lesson," Suisei said, “Since my investigation into the Victims Catharsis Committee began, the amount of missing detectives had reached the double digits.”

“D-double digits?”

“Get what I’m saying? It means that the situation is getting increasingly difficult to back out from.”

“Is that what you got from this investigation into such a dangerous organization? If so, then that just means we need to hurry up and eliminate them!”

“Really brave of you, Yui Samidare. The detectives that disappeared would have said the same thing. These detectives were Double Zeroes, yet even they couldn’t shake this organization. It’s proof that this situation can’t be solved so easily. Say, did you know the Victims Catharsis Committee is registered as a non-profit organization? Complete with an office building, people can freely enter and exit.”

“Really? But then… what’s the matter?”

“The matter is that the only information that can be gathered is what they have open to the public. They spread detectives thin with so much useless information, while the real information is carefully concealed. If you want to hide leaves, put them in the forest. That good example is written in ‘Father Brown’. It’s a famous detective novel by G.K. Chesterton.”

“Then...what purpose does this group have? Is it to really treat the vengeance of others as some sort of program to watch?”

"From what I know, those who traced this organization before they disappeared seem to know there was a real purpose to that.”

“There’s a purpose?"

"The detective who told me about it is still missing, so maybe he knew the real purpose of the Victims Catharsis Committee, or..."

"Well, it definitely wasn’t for ‘Catharsis’."

"What is it from you, Yui? You refer to the Victims Catharsis Committee as evil."

"Isn't that natural? They kill innocent people."

"But both parties are often criminals, aren't they? You should know that if you've ever participated in a Duel Noir." Suisei challenged me. "They're trying to get revenge on someone who's made them suffer in the past, often from a crime."

In the past Duel Noir, the culprit of it, was trying to get revenge for his family that was murdered. He wanted to avenge them.

"Life has also taken away the criminal’s common sense." Kirigiri challenged as well. "They have decided to take revenge on the people who stole from them."

"In this world, there are people who live their normal lives without being judged for the mistakes they have made, while others live a miserable life in the depths of society. Life is simply unfair. Don't you think their behavior is normal?" asked Suisei.

"I can understand that feeling... but it's still unacceptable to turn to violence." I spoke back in retort.

“In the end, what you’re saying is only the opinion of one detective. There is only a thin line that separates justice from evil. For many people, the Duel Noir is a relief or a holy war. Some people think that challengers are rewarded only because of a necessary evil that can change the world.."

The Victims Catharsis Committee was a necessary evil?

Is that really the case?

"Even if there was another reason... when you're determined to kill people, and you 

choose this path, I think you should be punished, no matter what the context is."

"You really are someone with a strong sense of justice." Suisei laughed softly. "But if the iron is twisted, it's very difficult to go back once it's done. A child like you can turn out to be the biggest threat."

"A threat..." Didn’t expect him to call me that.

“Don’t get too personally involved if you ever want to be married to an adult.” he said

"Don't let your feelings get in the way of your judgment, Yui-oneesama." warned Kirigiri. Well, I couldn't think of anything else to answer.

For a professional detective or for Kirigiri, hiding their emotions and not bringing their personal ideas into the business is very easy. I also think it is necessary. However, there's no reason to leave the Victims Catharsis Committee alone like that.

"Whatever the circumstances, I don't think it's time to change my mind about an 

organization like this," I stretched my neck slightly, "No matter the context or despair, a normal human being has to control themselves."

“So what they said about youth being both a wound and a sharp knife was correct!” 

“Mr. Nanamura! Do you really think the culprits of these Duel Noirs are innocent victims?” 

"Yep, but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter to me." laughed Suisei as he answered without hesitation. "Innocent or not, as a detective, my true opponent is mystery. My existence is there to solve those that are right in front of me. Say, don’t you think it's more fun solving a mystery solo?"

“And so it turned into this…”

This was expected from a Double Zero. He really trusted his experience. "Do you really think I can forgive criminals? I'm not that naive," he said.

"I'm sorry I doubted you…”

“That’s quite alright!”

“Is there anything else we should know about the Victims Catharsis Committee?"

"I don't know anything else, but I heard another story from a single detective who had been the victim of a Duel Noir."

"Just one?"

"We call him the President, a man... I mean, they could be a woman, who is the brains of it all. Their identity is surrounded by a veil of mystery. One day they founded the Victims Catharsis Committee, a little less than 10 years ago."

"So they are the boss of the organization?"

If we could reveal the identity of the president, we would be able to charge the Victims Catharsis Committee as a criminal organization. The shadow that organization had casted was beginning to mold itself into a human figure.  

"Who could be the president? Could he have been an ex-detective?" Kirigiri said abruptly.

Suisei raised an eyebrow, placing his elbow on the table to support his chin. "Why do you think that?"

"Duel Noir targets must organize an unsolvable crime and become guilty of a false incident. In fact, it means that the organization is able to cover up the real culprit in a case and keep it for a future game. Only a top-notch detective could do that." I spoke, and was rather surprised from what came out of my mouth. Wow, guess I was getting up there in being high level as well... 

"That's right, you're absolutely correct." Kyoko nodded.

"However, if it is a high class detective who could find the real criminal very easily, he can survive their little adventure. As long as the rank is high enough, for example..." said Kirigiri, "The triple zero rank of the detective library counted four people in the past, but one of them disappeared from the records, perhaps they are the President we are after."

"This may be a consideration to be taken into account in order to identify the president of the organization." Applauded Suisei. "I'll skip the explanations, because to us, time is money. Kyoko Kirigiri, you seem to be able to follow me easily. "

"So, which detective was struck off the books?" Kirigiri asked.

"Unfortunately, I don't know." Replied Suisei, extending his arms. "When I registered in the detective library, there was nothing that could designate his identity, like most triple zeroes. All we know is that he's human. He was probably one of the first detectives in the library. If anyone knows anything, it must be a detective who handles gender cases. As far as I know, one of the founders was in this field."

Speaking of the founders, I heard that Kirigiri's grandfather is one of them. It doesn't look like he's registered, but... anyways, I might be thinking too much.

I was watching Kirigiri's reactions from the corner of my eye, but she didn't seem disturbed.

"If you're able to speculate that far, why can't anyone find him?"

Suisei took a knife & fork and raised his arms up. "It's because everything is speculation. If one of the old triple zeros turned out to be the president, it would be a shock."

"Why?" I asked 

"There is a difference between time, money or talent. That's the difference between us and the Triple Zeros. If they turn out to be criminals, it will have a big impact on the rest of us and our reputations. It's not a joke- it's a fact - and it's not an easily by-passable problem. It's an undeniable defeat." Suisei said.

For me to be a Double Zero was already above the clouds, so if someone with a lot of pride like Suisei said that... then maybe I should at least admit that I wanted to fight much harder than I already was.

"There's only one way to get closer to the Victims Catharsis Committee," said Suisei. "It's to capture the challenger, the murderer. They are in direct contact and receive private information. But then again you'll need to know the identity of the murderer. However, if we can do it, it would be a big step. Do you understand?"

"Of course!" I exclaimed. "I wouldn't let a criminal win."

"That's a powerful mantra." Suisei got up from his chair and looked at his watch.                       

"What? Are you planning to leave?"

"We are eating, but time is running out, and time is money." Said Suisei, waving to the waiter. "Even if there wasn't a confirmation, it's still a Duel Noir. Are you sure you want to come?"

"Yes." I said without hesitation. Kyoko saw my face and also nodded.

“Then let’s discuss this Duel Noir, shall we?”

The culprit of the Duel Noir can get funds from the organization in order to purchase Techniques. These Techniques range from tactics to weapons and once their ‘deck’ is assembled what they chose will be on display in the letter to the detective.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Message for the Detective

Heed the Cry of the Noir

Location — Norman Hotel — 80,000,000 yen                         

Weapon — Knife — 5,000,000 yen                        

Weapon — Revolver — 15,000,000 yen 

Weapon — Hammer — 3,000,000 yen

Weapon — Rope — 3,000,000 yen

Weapon — Automobile — 10,000,000 yen                  

Trick — Locked Room — 100,000,000 yen                       

Trick — Disappearing Act — 100,000,000 yen

Other — Cash — 1,000,000,000 yen

Total cost — 1,316,000,000 yen                         

According to the above cost, the following detective is summoned  — Suisei Nanamura.

                --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It seems he's the detective to ask.

I felt a little overwhelmed when my eyes met Kirigiri's. This time, the person had accumulated several weapons and tricks. He could buy this from the organization, the price being marked on the letter.

The higher the price and difficulty, the higher the rank of the detective. "I'll tell you the most important things first," said Suisei, taking the bag a waiter had handed to him. He put the letter back inside and closed it.

"In a Duel Noir, there is a rule that says the criminal cannot kill the detective in charge of investigating. It's because there's no game when the detective's not there. The detective is always asked for through a letter. If you're not the detective, you're just a secondary companion. So it could be that the culprit is one of the victims, even if they're dead. You could die." His voice suddenly resounded. "Me and the others, if you think about it, are jumping into the criminal’s trap. It may indeed be that if we apply ourselves to all this, you won't get out of it unscathed and wind up a victim."

“A...victim?” Those unexpected words made my voice change. 

We would need to think about this carefully….

If we get in the way of the culprit, we could die.

“Are you scared?” said Suisei

"I... think I'll be fine." I lied to myself.

In contrast, Kyoko looked quite calm and gave a nod of her head.

"For the criminal to win, they must kill their enemy to get revenge on them, and last 168 hours without being discovered by the detective. If you win the "Duel Noir." You win the amount of money spent on the game. For a criminal wanting to start a new life, that's a good motivation." He said. 

“That...sounds like such a desperate situation to wind up in.”

"Exactly. They can put everything aside, including their past, and have a normal life if they wish. On the other hand, if the detective manages to find out who the culprit is, they will have to refund the money they spent on the game. If they cannot pay with money, they will have to pay with their life. In tune, I will do the same and fight with my life.” 

In short, it is a game of life and death for our enemy. To stay alive, they're going to do everything they can to not get caught. But I'm not going to be beaten. I became a detective to answer the call for help. If you want to bring justice as a detective, you have to put your life aside. That's the purpose of a detective. As such, I have no qualms about risking it all and even giving up my own life for it all. In contrast, Kyoko was a detective by nature with no sense of purpose outside of the profession. She was involved in this career since she was so young, and is now about to become a detective machine, utterly incapable of feeling death.

But, no matter how much detective work was installed in her, she was still a junior high school girl still starting out. 

"The Duel Noir does not always take place in closed areas. However, as this limits the movement of detectives and drives the police back, these locations are often chosen. The Norman Hotel, which was chosen for this game, is an old abandoned hotel in the mountains. It will be very far from the city. We cannot afford to neglect the preparations. We’ll probably be there for at least 100 hours."

Suisei looked at his watch once again, and raised his hand to say goodbye.

"I have to go." Suisei began to leave, when he suddenly turned around, remembering something. "Oh, and let's confirm the schedules before that. I'll leave for the Norman Hotel the day after tomorrow, because there's something I absolutely have to do tomorrow. I will leave around 7am, and with the transport, I'll probably arrive around 10am. Is that okay for you? It's only one day, but..."

"Isn't there a time limit?"

"With my speed, we shouldn't be late. There's no problem."

“Oh...okay?”

"Let's pray for our victory!"

Suisei then headed for the exit of the private room, before diverting to the windows. He opened one of them. A strong wind rushed into the room. Suisei moved his legs to the other side of the window. "Good luck!" He gave us a thumbs up and jumped out of the window.

"Mr. Nanamura!" I quickly got up from my chair and rushed to the window that was still open. I then saw him slowly descend towards the illuminated city, a parachute deployed. The big sky-blue parachute added something to the beauty of the city. Were the high-ranking detectives all like this? I froze for a moment, watching the man slowly descend. The sound of cutlery made me return to my senses. A waiter came to close the window, blocking the wind.

"Well, let's continue this meal, even if we’re worried. D-day is only the day after tomorrow.”

"Yui-oneesama." said Kirigiri. "This could be our last Christmas."

"Don't say such a thing! Of course we won't be killed so easily! We'll have more Christmases after this!"

And I'll protect you. I couldn't get those words out of my throat. I could only superimpose 

Kirigiri's possible death based on my little sister's... Because of that, I didn't even want to think about it. I didn't really trust Suisei. Moreover, if I let myself be trapped in my little sister's illusion, it could be annoying for the investigation. I forced myself to drop a "I'll do my best for the Duel Noir."

"I guess I don't have a choice if I want to improve my rank."

It's still my little sister's voice....

"Hey, Yui-oneesama." Kirigiri was young, but her voice sounded very adult. "We must survive the Duel Noir, no matter what happens there."

A waiter approached me, and gave me something that looked like a fine notebook. When I opened it, I discovered the dinner bill. 62248 yen. 

“So Mr. Suisei Nanamura didn't pay?” 

The waiter tilted his head and smiled to remind me of his presence. I checked my wallet but I only have two 2,000 yen bills on me. 

“What’ll we do?” I whispered to Kirigiri: “That damn detective! His spectacular exits and entries show he has money, but likes to keep it!"

"Keep calm, Yui-oneesama." Kirigiri replied gently. She then took a card out of her wallet. "Can I pay at once?"

"Certainly." After settling everything, the waiter bowed and then left us alone.

"Kirigiri... you’re so cool..."

Once dinner was over, we left the building. Even if we moved as far away as possible, it was impossible not to see it. Lights that were almost blinding our eyes were emanating powerfully from across the city. I felt like I was in a paradise under the ocean, walking with Kirigiri. The Christmas lights were comforting, and a row of Christmas trees illuminated the faces of passers-by.

"Well, now that we're here... I can walk you home..." I said. Kirigiri remained silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night. She then turned around and started to walk away on her own.

"No need, it's too late anyways. I'll send you a message."

"But, alone at this hour..."

Kirigiri leaned her head and said to me over her shoulder: "Maybe if it was a foreign country, but there is nothing threatening on the roads of this country."

"But, if a man is attracted to young girls like you... he could do... that!"

I tried to attack her from behind, to grab her neck, but the next thing I knew, she was 

gone. She then appeared behind me and put my arms behind my back.

“Ow, this hurts…”

"See? I can defend myself." She released my arm. “You need to be careful, Yui-oneesama. If you tried you could probably beat an older man with a high kick from those legs of yours. 

"Be careful though, because if a man really wanted to attack you, you probably won't be up to it."

"Of course I will."

"Did you take a self-defense course?...And if possible can you teach me that trick too?"

"I'm going now." Kirigiri said as she looked at the street clock.

"Let's just go back together anyways, I want to talk a little more with you. It's quite boring, being alone."

Kirigiri frowned, creating a wrinkle on her forehead. She kept walking without looking at me. I ran up to her.

"We can keep talking about..."

"What, teaching you self-defense?"

"No, about the president of the Victims Catharsis Committee..."

"What's the matter?"

"He's a former detective, and one of the founders of the Detective Library... couldn't it be your grandfather?"

"It's very dramatic, but no, it's not him."

"How can you know that?" I asked.

"My grandfather was never registered in the library. He told me that before. He never became a triple zero, and it's not registered, so it couldn't be deleted."

But did her grandfather tell the truth?

"Are you sure he's not lying to you? A grandfather would never tell his granddaughter that he is the president of such an organization..."

"My grandfather is very proud to be a Kirigiri, more than anyone else in my family... He would never settle for being put in boxes like the library ranks. He was against the whole DSC classification system in the first place."

"Just pride?" I opposed. I've never heard of this family. She came from a detective 

family, there was no doubt about it. She has these abilities at only 13 years old. Maybe she really comes from a big detective family and that blood flows through her veins, but I haven't seen any other detective react to the name 'Kirigiri'. Even Suisei, who was a double zero.

"I know what you're thinking. The Kirigiri family are good detectives, but we don't want to 

be known. We live in the shadows. So the ordinary detectives don't know us. That's why my grandfather didn't register in the library, to protect the Kirigiri pride. We almost never talk about ourselves."

"It's an incredible story... but why did Kyoko-chan register in the library? Isn't that 

against your family's principles? At least, according to your grandfather.”

"First, my grandfather technically lives abroad. So he doesn't fight crime from here. It is 

impossible for him to be the president of a small organization located only in Japan."

"It's true that he's on another level... Sorry for doubting your grandfather, Kirigiri. Even 

adults fight crimes like this anonymously, ignoring the opinion of the public and the government, but maybe he knows the president of the Victims Catharsis Committee? I mean, he was the 'president' of the library."

"I wonder about that, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Maybe if you say your name, an official will recognize him. It's probably easier to sneak in discreetly."

"It doesn't matter. It'll always be the same thing; what do I do after that? How can I sue the president of such a non-profit organization?" Kirigiri looked troubled, and she moved her fingers closer to her face, as if to warm them with her breath.

"Whatever! Everything ends up being discovered! Like how Al Capone ended up being nabbed for tax fraud. There’s probably something that can be put on him. As long as we can stop the Duel Noir"

“Such an extreme line of justice, that’s no different than succumbing to evil.”

“Erk…” 

"Yes, but being around all the time thinking about conspiracy theories will do worse than 

better. For now, we should put the president's case aside. Let's try to clean up what's in front of us." I was really getting told by a girl who was younger than me.

That's right. We have already made good progress. Suisei Nanamura's Duel Noir had already started for 12 hours. We must remain calm. We'll think about how everything will go after we arrest the Duel Noir criminal... If we manage to get out of the hotel alive.

We continued to walk, our minds clouded with questions. Kirigiri suddenly stopped.

"What? What's the matter?"

"We have arrived." I looked up to see a huge traditional house, with a huge door. I had 

trouble closing my mouth. The streetlights continued along the hill, and the white barriers extended far and wide

“Were there any houses like that left?” In this case, it was the largest traditional house I had ever seen. I watched Kirigiri, my eyes full of jealousy. Yes, she was definitely a lady.

"My curfew has already passed." Kirigiri said. "Fortunately you're not a man, because even for a detective, he would have been angry." Kirigiri seemed a little uncomfortable.

"If you had a curfew, you should have told me. We would have left sooner." I said.

"It's because I was talking to you that I'm late," Kirigiri replied, with cold eyes.

"Yes, it's because I've talked too much. I'm sorry, but I had to be absolutely sure what we discussed."

"If you say so."

“I’ll explain the situation, if that works?”

“That would help me quite a deal.” she said with a slightly softer tone than before. I felt rather pleased from it all.

Kirigiri walked to the large gate before stopping. The gate was made of wood, and I could only imagine the splinters that would be caught by touching it. It was still quite warm, but there were no signs, just an intercom.

"Aren't you coming home?”

“Only outsiders go through the front door. Family access is through the back.” She said as she walked along the wall.

“How… formal.”               

The massive trees planted on the other side did not allow me to see behind the gate. It was difficult to see the majestic residence, but it was impossible to see a human presence. For someone who didn't know the place, the residence was a total mystery.

"Do you live with your grandfather or alone?

"It depends, but there are three maids. One person is always there."

“Servants, are you serious?”

Since the school we went to was full of young girls, it was not difficult to hear that some families hired maid servants so that they would not leave their daughter alone. One of these families was Kyoko's. She had neither her father nor her mother. I didn't have the details, so I didn't understand the situation well, but I easily understood that I shouldn't ask more questions.

"By the way, didn't you live abroad for a while?"

"Yes, with my grandfather. I stayed there for 5 years. Then I had to come back to this school, as I was already enrolled here," Kirigiri said. "It had to happen at some point. There's a small portal that allows easy access."

"My life is very different from yours."

"Really?" Kirigiri stoically replied.

We walked along the fence for a while, until Kirigiri pointed to a specific place. There was a small gate to make it easier to get in. She took the key out of her pocket, inserted it and turned the key. The gate opened easily.

“Eh? You had the key for this place on-hand?”

“The problem isn’t about me having the key. The problem is what to do afterwards.”

“Is sneaking to your room not on the table?”

“He’ll definitely catch me.”

"So what should I do?" I asked.

"Wait here, I'll call Grandpa."

"Okay, I'll wait."

"I'll be back soon."

"Oh, wait a minute!"

"What?"

"Wouldn't it be better if you took that hat off your head," I replied, pointing at the Santa's hat that was on her head. She pushed it slightly. I watched it fall at my feet. Kyoko looked rather surprised. 

"What is it?"

"Didn't you notice?!" I picked up the hat and encouraged Kirigiri. "Hey, you better go."

"Oh, yeah." Kirigiri walked towards the door of the house. Once Kirigiri was out of sight, I put my hands in my pockets and leaned against the fence. It's unusual for Kirigiri to panic. Maybe her grandfather was that strict? Or maybe she really loves her grandfather. That must have been it. For her, who didn't have parents, it must have been difficult. I looked up to the sky, looking at the streetlights. 

Suddenly, little white glitter began to fall from the sky. A white Christmas? On Christmas Eve I am often alone, wondering what I will do next year, and my anxiety overwhelms me. This year, I met a girl named Kirigiri Kyoko, whose presence really helped me. I no longer have this feeling of loneliness and emptiness. We're both detectives too. Will she be here again next year? I was imagining our future: two detectives always together. I didn't want a dark future, but wasn't that the fate of a detective?

"Yui-oneesama." I heard a voice. I saw that the large gate was open. I turned around to see Kirigiri, looking at me with concern.

"Where's your grandfather?" I walked away from the white barriers by redoing the button on my coat. I approached Kirigiri looking behind her, but there was no one there.

"You're the man who wants to seduce my Kyoko!”

The voice came from above my head. An old man wearing a kimono was on the wall. I only noticed it now? I stepped back before being pulled forward again, put on the ground. A short time before, I was quietly contemplating the sky. It was disturbing to see an old man jump off a wall that high. The old man's cane kept me on the ground. Was he really that strong?! He lifted it up to try and hit my head.

"Wait, it's not her! She's a woman!"

"What?" He pulled his cane away, lifted me up, and grabbed my chest. "What are you doing!" I shouted, clearing the man's hand. I jumped away.

"It's Yui-oneesama, the detective who goes to the same school as me."

"Oh, is that true?" he said, scratching his white hair. "Sorry, I heard Kyoko was going to eat with a boy, excuse me for the misunderstanding!"

Despite his white hair, he looked pretty young. His hair was shiny, his wrinkles discreet, he stood up straight and his eyes were shiny with life. He had a cane in his right hand, but his legs didn't seem weak. Maybe it was some kind of weapon for him.

"I'm glad to know that Kyoko has made a friend. Was it you who called?" he said with a smile. He looked like another person with that soft smile on his face. “You’re taking care of my granddaughter. I’m so embarrassed. She was always alone, and didn’t seem to be used to life here. I was getting worried. If she has a good partner like you, then I can relax. Right, Kyoko?” “Yes.” 

"I'm sorry for delaying Kyoko and making her miss her curfew. She didn't seem familiar with life here, and I wanted to make sure she didn't get hurt."

Kirigiri was half hidden behind her grandfather's back. She seemed more comfortable than usual.  

"We both talked about the incident, and it took a long time... I didn't know there was a curfew. Please, don’t punish her!"

“Heh, I always wondered who Kyoko would bring back to me. Anyways, don’t worry, there’s an exception to every rule. If it involves a detective case, I'm willing to forgive her. For the Kirigiri family, detective business is very important and comes first. Even death does not deviate from its purpose."

“O-oh, so…”

“If it was detective related, then that curfew crap can wait!” he said with a merry laugh.

Was that what Kirigiri's grandfather taught? It sure explained a lot...still, glad he wasn’t unreasonable. Honestly, when he knocked me down and groped my chest, I was expecting the worst. Still, from what I’m seeing, he’s a pretty agreeable guy. Though, perhaps, that could be just his love for Kyoko, spoiling her?

“Heh, thought I was a grouchy old man? It’s all over your face!”

“Erm, s-so sorry!”

“Like I said, when it comes to being a Kirigiri, being a detective goes past one’s family, even death itself. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

"That’s my girl! If it is for a case and to see Kyoko become a first rate detective, than I suppose it's worth keeping the gate unlocked at night,” 

"Really?" Kyoko asked in wonder. 

"Of course, as long as you’re focused on your duty!”

"I'll do my best to be a good detective," Kirigiri replied, her eyes shining.

"Good girl." said the grandfather as he stroked Kirigiri's head. She and her grandfather seemed quite happy.

I felt a little uncomfortable in front of the stage, but I couldn't help but think it was cute.

"Uh, tomorrow we'll have to solve a Duel Noir case, so Kyoko will be spending the night somewhere else. O-Of course, I’ll also be there with her! Is that alright?” 

"Of course!"

Well, it was easy... but sending his little girl without hesitation into such a case... He 

didn't seem to be afraid of the death of his loved ones. Did he know a lot about the Duel Noirs? He must have heard about the Victims Catharsis Committee, thanks to Kyoko. He at least knows a little. Maybe he even knew more than we did. Such a great detective, who is also the founder of the Detective Library, necessarily knows more. I hesitated for a long time, not knowing if I should ask him or not. The man spoke again.

"Well, it's about time we head inside. You should go home too, Yui. It's cold tonight and you need to prepare to investigate. Shall I call a cab for you?" 

“Oh, no, I’m fine.”

"It was a pleasure to meet you. Kyoko, you can see her off."

I slowly lowered my head, always thinking.

"May I ask you for another cho-..."

There was no old man left in front of me. I was looking around, but nothing... nowhere. He had disappeared. Completely missing.

"Yui-oneesama, maybe you should go home..." said Kirigiri, near the gate.

I hadn't noticed it, but I was tired. The tension and my heavy breath disappeared, and I could feel the fatigue falling on my shoulders.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Yui-oneesama."

"It's okay, I'd let an old man touch my chest if it's for you." I said, removing the dust from my coat. "But I didn't know your grandfather was so... focused on your education. Still, it's great he’s not so uptight. "

"Hey, Yui-oneesama?"

"Yes?"

“It’s weird to choose detective work over family, yes?”

“W-w-well, I w-wouldn’t call it strange, just… well, it does seem to involve a lack of caring about people’s feelings in the matter.“ I said after a good degree of thought.

“People’s feelings?”

“Are you asking because you have doubts over your detective work?”

"No, that’s not it. Anyway, what Grandpa said earlier, that detective work was more important than the death of a family member… don't you think it's strict?"

"Well, I find it stranger than strict, but I guess that's your family's opinion of detectives..."

"No, it's different. For my family, work is really more important than the death of a family member. It's not a suggestion, it's an obligation. A dogma."

"Okay... I think it might be beautiful? It means you're very proud to be a detective, right?"

"Don't you think it's abnormal?" Kirigiri continued.

She had so much pride in her work as a detective that I could hardly see her doubting that. She was raised into it during her childhood, which made the thought of her doubts even harder to fathom. Still....

"What do you think?" I asked her.

"I don't think it's abnormal. I think… I think it's a good mentality," said Kirigiri. I thought for a moment to say that she didn't have to continue, but she opened her mouth before me. "But I feel like I force myself to think like that. Like, I live like a real detective, because I don't want to feel empty."

For her, her life was all about detective work, but even still...

"As long as I'm here, you won't be alone or empty." I hugged her.

"I want it to stay that way," Kirigiri said, looking at me.

"Of course! You're the coolest, most pure detective I know! Let's do our best together! Tomorrow and for as long as possible."

"Ah? ...Well, goodbye." Separating myself from Kirigiri, who walked back with a shyish look on her face, I laid my hand on the gate. I gave her one last look before running to the dormitories, the snow accompanying me. My curfew passed a long time ago! The dormitories were guarded, so I discreetly passed through a window.

Heh, violating the rules on Christmas night.

It felt quite nice!~

Chapter 1: End

https://drmedicsgamesurgery.tumblr.com/GameSurgeryDRTranslations for more!

[poetrusicperry]

the poets and their first summer jobs

i’ve seen some discourse about how rich all the boys/their families are, and of course there would be like very little reason for them to work, but i couldn’t help wondering who would do what for their first jobs (summer jobs bc they couldn’t work while they’re at school). andddd that led me to writing this lol

neil: so neil would have like absolutely zero time for a job between all his normal coursework/extracurriculars and his summer classes (”you know me, always taking on too much”), but i guarantee you he would still take the time to get a job and have his own money to do with whatever he chose. mr. perry wouldn’t care much because it showed neil “taking initiative” or whatever. neil would likely work at a diner as either a bus boy or a waiter. he’s super personable, so he’d always strike up conversations with people sitting at the counter, and he’d get loads of tips bc he’s cute (: he’d bring his summer school work with him to do during lulls in business, which his boss didn’t mind because it’s neil and everyone knows how responsible he is. the poets would come visit him pretty much every day (to eat, see neil, and escape the heat in the air conditioning), likely taking up a whole booth, and making an absolute mess of the area. charlie would be making spitballs, aiming at cameron and knox every time (earning a “charlie, knock it off, i told you three times already! so mature of you, really.” from cameron) and meeks/pitts would try to see how many straws they could connect to make “ultra straw.” todd would come hang out at the counter when neil was closing, admiring his pretty bf as he worked (’: neil would always make todd a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and rainbow jimmies on the house, claiming, “we have to empty out the ice cream machine anyway” (but really he’d take the cost out of his paycheck, just wanting to make todd happy). his boss would hire him back every summer, loving how much business neil drove in (even if the poets made a mess every time they hung out and ate) and absolutely adoring how much effort neil put into what anyone else would seemingly call a “meaningless” job.

todd: you can’t tell me that todd wouldn’t look forward to working. especially during the summers, it would get him out of the house and away from his parents judging his every move. being the shy introvert he is, he’d likely do things like mowing lawns or gardening for people around his neighborhood. minimal interactions, but still decent pay (as all the people in his neighborhood were likely super rich and could afford to pay him well). the poets’ parents would hire him, after much convincing from their sons (”todd’s just trying to make some money, dad. please?”) and todd would appreciate this more than they ever knew. he’d become super familiar with flower types and he’d become a lot more nurturing after taking care of plants and grass for multiple summers. he’d keep a little journal or notebook with drawings or sketches of the flowers he’d taken care of, complete with descriptions and magazine/newspaper clippings from his mom’s better homes and garden subscription (a lot of his poetry would become nature-related as well). it would be his late night project, or something he’d do if he couldn't sleep (which was pretty common for todd). he’d call neil on the phone some nights and just gush about all kinds of flowers or tell neil how he accidentally got stung by a bee and cried about it because he knew the bee would die (all the while, neil would be listening so intently, taking note about which flowers were todd’s favorites for future use (’: the calls would have to be pretty planned, bc if neil wasn’t working, he was doing school work, or his parents were keeping an annoyingly close watch on him. but sometimes neil would call him impromptu and that made todd just the happiest little camper ever). todd’s nails would be really short (he’d cut them really often because he doesn’t like the feeling of dirt under his nails), which means he couldn’t bite his nails anymore, causing him to pick up a new anxious habit of biting the inside of his bottom lip ): overall, though, todd would like his job, and even find pleasure in being surrounded by little flowers all day. also if/when neil ever got the chance, he’d absolutely tag along to see his sweaty boyfriend in action (come on, neil would go absolutely nuts for todd in a cutoff shirt, 5″ inseam shorts, and converse mowing a lawn looking all manly and tough). 

charlie: obviously, charlie wouldn’t need to work because of his financial situation, but his mom would 110% make him get a job just so he wouldn’t be around the house causing trouble/bothering his siblings for fun (”i’m hosting a lot of book club meetings for the country club this summer, i can’t have you putting spiders in the ladies’ hats again, charles”). similar to neil, mr. charlie dalton would work his summers at an ice cream/custard stand. he’d have to wear a white, short sleeve button up, a red and white striped apron, and one of those white, rectangular hats (his least favorite part HAHA, stating, “my hair is one of my best features and this just takes it all away. it’s unfair.”). the poets would visit often, both for ice cream, but primarily to give him a hard time about his uniform (”i’ll give you twenty bucks to wear this on our first day of classes” meeks would tease, completely gobsmacked when charlie showed up to their first chemistry class in his uniform, earning lots of demerits, but also twenty dollars). charlie would hate it at first, but obviously he’d adjust, being the extroverted/personable person, not taking himself too seriously and being one of the best ice cream slingers anyone had ever seen. he’d give the cute girls (and boys) extra scoops of ice cream for free, winking as he handed them their orders. like neil’s boss, charlie’s boss was even more thankful for charlie’s presence because they’d likely be raking in at least triple the income they would in a summer without him. he’d become a sundae expert, spending many dead poets meeting making them for his friends while they read poems and stories. that being said, he’d come to hate eating ice cream, publishing an article in welton’s honor demanding that they remove ice cream from their dessert menu (yes, almost exactly like the “girls at welton” prank, but he’d make the call collect this time. mr. nolan would be fed up to the point where he wouldn’t even punish charlie physically, just suspend him from rowing [which charlie wouldn’t mind at all HAHA]).

meeks & pitts: after their hi-fi success and the fact that they are seemingly inseparable, they both sought out jobs at the local radio station where they were hired as interns/assistants, running errands and picking up coffee or lunch for the station. but sometimes, when they worked pretty late, the night shift dj would let them pick the records and show them how everything worked (: after nights like that, meeks and pitts would go to one of their houses and add modifications to their hi-fi radio, staying up all night modifying and researching (by the end of the summer, they had made another hi-fi (portable) and their og hi-fi would have been morphed into a huge nationally reaching radio that they keep in the cave (since it would be disallowed in their room at welton). another job that the two of them would have would be answering calls for the station about song requests. with this knowledge, charlie and the other poets would hang out at someone’s house, calling and requesting the same songs over and over and over again. their biggest task for the summer would be organizing the shelves with all the records into alphabetical order (”duh, we should go by first name, meeks. which other way would it be” pitts would argue, only to find out that after they had spent about three weeks alphabetizing by first name, they were supposed to go by last name. “now who’s the idiot?” meeks would jeer, beginning to pull the records off the shelves). they’d also learn a lot about music from their night shift coworker, which would help in their quest to woo some ladies the following school year.

cameron: cameron liked spending his summers doing research projects for fun and just reading a whole lot, so you can imagine his displeasure at when his parents asked him to get a job (presumably to help with paying for his schooling). while upset about it, he wouldn’t complain, and took it on the chin, understanding the reasoning. he’d apply to a couple places, but ultimately end up as a grocery store cashier/stock boy. much like charlie, he’d have the same kind of uniform, but with a green apron instead. he’d spend most of his shift ringing people up at the register, being friendly and personable (something no one ever really realized about him !!). the poets’ moms would always see him and choose his register on purpose, using it as a chance to catch up or tell him to tell his parents that “the overstreets say hello!” or “mrs. anderson says hi!” pitts, meeks, and charlie would utilize cameron’s position at the supermarket to buy nudie magazines unembarrassed/slightly illegally HAHA (”come on, cameron! it’s not like you won’t be included in seeing them next year, too. we bring them to the meetings, you know that!” charlie would say, leaving cameron at a loss, reluctantly scanning the magazines and bagging them as pitts and meeks sniggered). charlie would wave, blow him a kiss, and wink as they left, “love you, richardddd.” sure enough, the magazines would make an appearance during the following school year and cameron was glad he had decided to let them buy the magazines lol. 

knox: out of all the poets, i feel like our knoxious would be the least inclined to work (yes, even less inclined than charlie). his parents wouldn’t even make him get a job because he simply didn’t need to, but to everyone’s surprise, he would volunteer at the animal shelter. the poets would later find out that it was a great way to meet girls (which is why he did it lmfao so they endlessly goaded him about it). charlie would visit often, and even took a rescue puppy home, much to charlie’s younger sister’s delight. charlie even wanted to start volunteering at the shelter to also meet girls, but he was too busy at the ice cream stand (plus, he had really grown to like it there so he didn’t want to leave). another effect of volunteering made knox super interested in zoology and animals, which brought out a newer, more nurturing/caring side to him, and who knows, maybe he’d go vegetarian somehow. he’d want to pursue a career in animal science or becoming a veterinarian, but mr. overstreet was hellbent on knox taking over the firm, so it seemed like a pipe dream. knox would continue to volunteer at the animal shelter, well into his career as a lawyer, and would even go to veterinary school in his 30s (when he was a nationally famous, established lawyer) to get certification to work with animals in a broader way (: 

hope you guys liked these. it was pretty fun to write, and i'd pay such good money to see neil, charlie, and cameron in their uniforms (and todd, but that’s neither here nor there). happy thursday !! let me know what you guys think of these <3(:

[myevilmouse]

Do you have a headcanon as to why Luke’s Jedi outfit is all black? Just a personal preference, or do you think there’s some sort of significance?

I kind of love you anon, cause I feel like you just gave me a reason to tumblr spam everyone with Luke in his sexy Jedi blacks

Here’s what I’m talking about...

Ok now that we have the obligatory sexy out of the way, I am ready to answer your question.  I confess I primarily think of these as simply the clear symbolism of the color of temptation.  I don’t mean me being tempted to rip them off, of course, I’m talking about the allure of the Dark Side’s easy power and how our farmboy goes from the innocence of white

To the ambiguity of grey

To the delicious perfect that is his Jedi blacks

Which gives us the threat of oh no he’s gonna be a bad guy (like all Hollywood men dressed in black) until...

Sigh...he was white and pure and good on the inside all along. 

Apart from Lucas’ color symbolism, here is what I think about Luke’s transition from military-esque fatigues to being a sexy Jedi suddenly decked out in incredibly well-tailored and impeccably styled clothes:  White is the best color for the desert, it keeps you cool, etc., so it made sense that Obi-Wan would wear white and his sandy robes could be camouflage--important for someone hiding out.  Luke, after whatever he learned about Jedi clothing traditions, was interested in honoring his master, but clearly understood for the type of gravity-defying acrobatics he excelled at showboating, robes were out.  So he kept the spirit of the outfit, with the tabard and obi (belt), most notably, but wanted tighter (yum) fitting pants and tunic for practical purposes and ease of movement.   He wanted to look intimidating and be taken seriously, and everyone knows badasses wear black, so he probably got Leia or Lando’s recommendation for a good tailor, and had his delicious outfit custom-made.  Essence and elements of the old but adapted and improved for the modern Jedi Knight.  Nnnnnggggghhhhh.  @threadsketchier just wrote a fic where she has Lando gift them to Luke, which is another lovely idea I could totally get on board with, but I hadn’t thought of that option until she wrote it

THANK YOU for giving me this lovely ask as a distraction this evening.  I needed it.  goes back to staring at pix of ROTJ Luke

Oh what’s that?  You want one more before I go? :) Of course!

[thebulletproofbangtanboys]

Cheap Thrills (Yoongi x Reader)

Summary:  It’s Yoongi’s birthday, and the boys decide to take him to a club. What kind of club, though, was never specified.

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Smut

Warnings: alcohol, mentioned drug use, fingering, handjob, dirty talk

All Min Yoongi wanted to do for his birthday was sleep. A day of no responsibilities. A day of sleep. Surely, that wasn’t too difficult of a request. He sent a message out over Facebook, telling everyone to leave him alone on his birthday, that he was going to take it easy that day. He then proceeded to turn off his phone. Before he could comprehend it, he was fast asleep.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up to the sound of pounding on his door.

“Yoongi, wake up!” he heard.

The voice sounded clouded like he was still in a dream. In a way, he still was. It felt like the world was jelly, and he couldn’t feel any of his limbs.

“Yoongi!” he heard once again along with the banging on his door.

This time, Yoongi was truly awake. He stumbled out of bed, grumbling, “I told them to leave me the fuck alone for one day. One fucking day of sleep is all I asked.”

He made his way to his apartment door, looking like an angry little kitten the entire way. His visitors pounded away at the door the entire trek, yelling his name. Yoongi unlocked his door and yanked it open, the banging immediately coming to a stop.

In front on him stood his six friends: Jin, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. The eldest of the bunch had his mouth wide open as if he were about to say, or better yet, yell, something. Yoongi thought back. Of course it was Jin yelling for him. He was the only one brave enough to do it.

Yoongi glared harshly at each and every one of them. “I specifically said that I wanted to be left alone today. What could be SO important as to interrupt my sleeping?”

Little Jimin from the pack spoke up. “Can we at least come in?”

Yoongi glared at him once again before opening the door wider and moving out of the way so the rest of the group could enter his apartment.

“Sorry to wake you, Yoongi,” the little bunny piped up. “But, Jin insisted that we take you out for your birthday.”

“I’m perfectly content on spending my birthday in the luxury of my bed…asleep. Y'know, like I had originally intended,” Yoongi argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Come on, Yoongi. Stop being such a sour puss. You already slept through most of your birthday,” Namjoon stated. “Besides, you don’t even know where we want to take you.”

“Then where is it that you want to take me, Namjoon?” Yoongi raised a brow.

“Just a club,” Namjoon replied with a sly smirk on his face and a shrug of his shoulders.

Yoongi knew there was something more behind that smirk than what was being said, but he wasn’t going to argue it. He sighed before asking, “When do we leave?”

All of the members’ faces lit up at the fact that Yoongi actually decided to go without much retaliation.

“As soon as you get dressed,” Taehyung said with a smile.

Yoongi turned around and shook his head as he went back to his room. He slipped on a white tee and some comfortable pants and some shoes before walking back out to the foyer. He noticed that they all had an odd look about them, and he slightly narrowed his eyes at them.

“Alright, what is going on?” Yoongi asked, analyzing their faces.

“Nothing, Yoongi,” Hoseok said, but his eyes said otherwise. Hoseok could tell that Yoongi knew he was lying. “Let’s just go.” He wanted to avoid the glare and claws of the small kitty man. All the others nodded in agreement, and Hobi was the first out the door.

Yoongi rolled his eyes and followed his friends, locking the door behind himself.

It wasn’t but fifteen minutes later before they pulled up in front of the club. Yoongi took one look at the orange neon sign before whipping around to face Jin who was beside him, driving. “Scarlette’s?! You took me to a strip club?”

Yoongi was more astonished than anything. This was more out-there than his friends have ever been. Some strip club on the seedier side of town? The thought of it was all too real.

“You guys are kidding, right?” he asked, still in a slight state of shell-shock.

“Nope,” Jin said as he parked the car. “Now, let’s go.”

The seven of them got out of the car and headed towards the entrance. They showed their I.D.s to the bouncer and were allowed into the building. The moment they stepped inside, the loud thump of bass filled their ears, and the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat filled their noses. A few of the boys’ eyes immediately went to the stage where skimpily dressed girls danced almost eloquently around on a pole.

One girl was wearing a black sequined outfit and was running a sparkly red scarf between her legs, making her lower lips very prominent to her viewers. Another girl was missing her top and dancing dangerously on the pole, sliding her back down it before wrapping a leg up higher around it and twisting herself upside down, her breasts bouncing with her movements.

Besides the girls dancing so provocatively on the stage, men and some women sat on the floor area at tables. A few were smoking cigars and cigarettes and drinking various alcoholic beverages, chatting up a storm; others were focused primarily on the girls, clearly drunk, and tossing wads of paper money at them; the rest were in semi-dark parts of the building either snorting, shooting up, or smoking various illicit substances.

`“Let’s go grab a table,”  Hobi suggested before having to drag Jimin and Namjoon away from the stage as they were staring relentlessly at the dancing women. Of course, the pervy men barely turned their attention away to walk through the club, weaving in and out of tables. Their full attention was back to the ladies the exact moment they sat down. Pretty soon, the innocent bunny’s eyes were glued to the women as well.

Yoongi slightly shook his head as Jungkook’s eyes widened at the strippers’ moves, his mouth slightly open. The maknae was always scared of women, but apparently he still loved to look at them like any other straight guy. A perky young waitress walked over to their table.

Yoongi glanced up at her. She was pretty, ample breasts, just like the rest of the female workers.

“Hi, I’m Mi-Ja,” she said in a chirpy voice. “What can I get you gentlemen to drink?”

“Um,” Yoongi started out. “Scotch for me, wine for him-” He gestured towards Jimin. “-and soju for the rest of them.”

“Oh! And it’s his birthday!” Jin pointed out, grabbing Yoongi’s shoulders, a large smile on his face.

“Really now? Well, happy birthday! And since it IS your birthday, we’ve got the perfect girl for you tonight. She’s our best girl, and she really only does birthday specials.” Mi-Ja smiled proudly.

“Oh, no. You don’t have to do that,” Yoongi said, waving his hands.

“It’s no problem, really. It’s what she’s here for.” She turned her chin over her shoulder and shouted out, “(Y/N)! We’ve got ourselves a birthday boy!” Mi-Ja turned back to the table of seven and smiled sweetly. “I’ll be back with your drinks.” She then walked away, swishing her hips from side-to-side, obviously flaunting her nicely rounded ass.

Yoongi sighed and laid his head in his arms. “You HAD to do that, didn’t you?”

“Well, Yoongi, that’s why we are here. It’s your birthday! Enjoy it a bit,” Jin laughed, patting the younger’s back.

Yoongi gave a small smile as if to reassure Jin. A few minutes later, Mi-Ja came back over, a platter of drinks in her hand. Beside her was this absolute gem. She was wearing a neon orange bikini top with an attached choker and a bedazzled, stripped bottom with chains on them. She had a thin waist with what seemed to be perfectly sized breasts and equally perfect ass. She was the epitome of beauty, and Yoongi could not take her eyes off of her.

Jin leaned in next to Yoongi, also staring at the woman. “Happy birthday or what?” he whispered.

Yoongi chuckled as Mi-Ja set out the drinks. She stood up straight and said, “This here is (Y/N).”

Yoongi was suddenly the happiest person on the face of the planet and gave his signature gummy smile.

You laughed at how quickly his face lit up when he found out that you were the (Y/N) mentioned. That was one thing you loved most about the job, the delight on the customers’, male or female, faces. Yoongi downed his liquid courage and stood up from his seat.

“Oh, ready to go then, are we?” you asked him.

Yoongi’s gummy smile just widened. You smiled back at him before taking his hand and leading him to the back of the club. You led him past a blackout curtain. Behind it was a long hallway with rooms lining each side. Some had open doors, some didn’t. One does not go into the closed rooms, not unless there is an absolute emergency. The sounds of loud moans floating from behind the doors and into the hallway were the exact reason why entering those rooms was for emergencies only.

You came to a room near the end of the hall that had an open door. This was your room. Not many girls here had their own rooms, but you were (Y/N). The owners and managers would be stupid not to give you your own room. You walked in, the pretty boy still in tow.

Once you were in the room, you closed the door and turned to face him.

“So, what’s birthday boy’s name?” you asked, flashing a caring yet sultry smile.

The boy’s look went from pure desire to one of “wait, she said something.” “Oh, um,” he said. “I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi.” He gave a nervous chuckle.

“Well, Mr. Min Yoongi, have a seat.” You winked, gesturing to the black velvet couch.

He sat down nervously, rubbing the palms of his hands on his pants. You knew that within moments of starting, you would have him forgetting that he was ever nervous, alcohol or not.

“Relax,” you cooed lightly, cutely widening your eyes.

You sauntered over to the Apple speaker you had, bending over and sticking your ass out purposefully, and pressed “play.” Almost instantly, music began to play at a comfortable volume. You strutted back over to where Yoongi was sitting, swinging your hips with every step. You leaned over and placed a hand next his shoulder, showing off your cleavage.

“Comfortable?” The words that left your mouth were laced with seduction, an art you had perfected.

Yoongi swallowed and nodded. You smirked. “Good."You stood back up and started to sway your hips softly to the beat of the music. As the tempo picked up, so did the speed in which you moved your hips. You placed your arms above your head, perking your breasts up just a little bit and exposing your midsection even more. With the hit of the bass, you dropped, your knees almost hitting the floor. You placed your hands on Yoongi’s knees and slowly made your way back up. However, as you made your way back up, your face almost grazed up his legs, over his crotch, stomach, chest, and up to his face where your noses almost touched. You arched your back so when you fully stood up, your breasts came face-to-face with Yoongi’s eyes.

Yoongi could feel his nervousness disappear as he watched you dance along to the music. All blood was leaving his head and heading south. He was now thinking that he would have to thank the guys for bringing him here. This was the best birthday present he could ever ask for. As you kept dancing, your face almost touching his body, his want for putting his hands all over you grew more and more. It was then when you turned around, your ass now facing him, shaking in his face, that he placed his hands reluctantly on your waist.

You smiled to yourself as you felt warm hands grab your waist. You lowered your ass to Yoongi’s crotch and began to grind on him. You could feel his semi-hard cock underneath you, and you smiled to yourself. You loved this power over men, being able to turn them on with hardly a touch.

As you kept grinding down on him, you felt him grow harder. Once you knew he was fully erect, you turned back around to face him. You slowly got down on your knees, and your hands found their way to his belt. You expertly unbuckled his belt as you two stared into each other’s eyes. Eye contact was what sparked the "personal connections” between you and your clients. You saw the want and desire strong in his eyes, the look that said “Keep going.” And keep going you went. Next came the unbuttoning of his pants and pushing his underwear down, only to bring it out his long, hard cock. The man may have been a little short compared to most guys she dealt with, but this was by far one of the biggest dicks she had ever seen.

The sight of the sexy woman in front of him, undoing his pants had Yoongi’s mind rolling. The things he wanted to do with this woman were all over the place. He wanted his dick inside of her so badly. He wanted to feel her warm walls clench around his hard member, making him feel like he was exploding inside of her.

“What’s going on in your mind, you naughty boy?” you asked him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Your hand was currently around the base of his cock, and you gave it a light squeeze, making him moan and lay his head back. You grabbed a bottle of lube from a drawer in a little table beside the couch.

That dirty talk. Now that was something he wasn’t really expecting. And that squeeze. Oh, it sent chills of pleasure down his back. What was the epitome of pleasure was the gentle but satisfying stroke of her hand. She wasn’t even using her mouth, and the lube she was using making it so smooth. Each pump of your hand was getting him closer to the edge of an orgasm. Maybe it was the alcohol swimming in his system and clouding his mind, but pride and desire swelled in his gut. He wanted to let you feel pleasure as well, so he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you up.

You were surprised by the sudden movement of Yoongi pulling you up, and it caused you to lose your grip on his cock. Never had a client showed dominance so early in the game, not even the dominant BDSM ones. It was a slight shock, but you honestly liked it. You could feel yourself growing wet at this man’s actions. However, you knew that you would barely go any further than this tonight. You were the “Birthday Girl,” the the birthday special was just a free handjob, something that would generally go for about  ₩115,000. It was then that you were able to push the clients into paying a much higher price for everything else. That’s why you were the owners’ favorite.

Yoongi’s fingers lightly brushed the skin between the strips in your little shorts. His fingers then lightly traced up to your hips and around your back where he grazed your skin. It was obvious he knew there were nerves there because when he hit those nerves and made you shiver, his gummy smile returned.

“You are an evil boy,” you said seductively, an almost sadistic look glinting in your eyes. You knew you were soaking wet at this point, and when he hit the nerve again, you bucked your hips forward. He trailed his hands back down and to the top of your shorts, looping his fingers underneath the stretchy fabric. You wanted his fingers inside of you. It was rare that someone had you as wound up as this.

“Just plunge your fingers into me, baby,” your voice begged. Within moments, two digits had invaded your wet pussy. You moaned loudly at the pleasure, tipping your head back back and your mouth in an “O” shape. You breathed in heavily, having lost your breath at his sudden move.

Yoongi smirked at your reaction. His cock twitched as a stream of pleasure rode through him. Apparently, you had seen it as you came back to reality, and you grabbed a hold of him once again. You began to pump him as he began to rhythmically thrust his fingers in you. You felt your walls begin to clench around his fingers. It was when he decided to add curling his fingers into the mix that you let an even louder moan than before. This boy knew what he was doing. As you pumped him harder, he did the same to you. Soon, the two of you were panting, moaning messes.

“Y-Yoongi,” you breathed.

“Me, too,” he said, equally out of breath.

A slightly harder squeeze to him and another expertly pair of curled fingers to you sent you two over the edge, you a little before him. Your juices eagerly leaked onto his fingers as his cock let out spurts of his warm, sticky, white substance all over your fingers. You pumped his as best you could until he finished. Your shaking limbs made that a little difficult however.

After you both rode out your orgasms, you both panted heavily as if your lives depended on it. You looked into each others’ eyes and gave small chuckles. The moment your legs began to regain feeling and stop shaking, you raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“Round two?”

[anotherhawk]

Family by Association - Good Omens fanfiction

Left to his own devices there was no particular reason for Warlock Dowling to be in any way supernaturally remarkable. Genetically he came from the Youngs, a perfectly innocuous lineage, and he had been raised as the only child of the US ambassador and his philanthropic wife, which might have predisposed him to be an entitled little shit, but still didn’t convey any inherent magical power. The problem was that Warlock had very much not been left to his own devices. No, Warlock had been primarily raised by two supernaturally remarkable beings who had expected him to possess the power to bend reality to his every whim, and, as has been amply demonstrated elsewhere, the expectations of such beings has a power of its own.

Read it on AO3 here or below the cut

Left to his own devices there was no particular reason for Warlock Dowling to be in any way supernaturally remarkable. Genetically he came from the Youngs, a perfectly innocuous lineage, and he had been raised as the only child of the US ambassador and his philanthropic wife, which might have predisposed him to be an entitled little shit, but still didn’t convey any inherent magical power.1 The problem was that Warlock had very much not been left to his own devices. No, Warlock had been primarily raised by two supernaturally remarkable beings who had expected him to possess the power to bend reality to his every whim, and, as has been amply demonstrated elsewhere, the expectations of such beings has a power of its own.

Warlock Dowling was not the antichrist. But he had grown up soaked in angelic and demonic power and to put it plainly, some of it had stuck. And that was how at the age of eleven years old Warlock was fully capable of walking straight past the two secret service agents who were supposedly guarding him, his bickering parents who were supposed to notice him, and the new au pair that was supposed to be taking care of him, hailing a cab to Dulles International airport, flashing the black Amex card he’d borrowed from his father2 getting on a flight to London Heathrow, and spending the next eight hours sitting in first class, playing Fortnite and being brought glasses of Coke by flight attendants who kept forgetting to ask if he was an unaccompanied minor.

Having established the ‘how’ of this situation, let’s take a step back and consider the ‘why’. Warlock had been having a very weird couple of months, even by his own admittedly broad standards. Having been born in the UK and lived all his life there he had, shortly after his birthday party, been dragged by his parents first to some boring ruins where a man with weird eyes (properly weird-weird, not just cool-weird like his Nanny’s) had taken an uncomfortable interest in him and the dog he didn’t have, and then to Washington DC, because his father didn’t have a job anymore…or maybe did, but no-one knew what it was? It was all very confusing. None of the adults seemed to know what was going on anymore than he did, and Mom and Dad were shouting at each other a lot, and these were the sort of times when Nanny Ash would take him outside to the orchard and let him yell at the trees, and make him that hot chocolate that had little glowing stars bubbled through it, and just listen to him, but he didn’t have a nanny anymore. When he’d asked Mom what had happened to her she’d just looked at him blankly and then a couple of days later he’d had an au pair named Sherry. And Sherry was nice enough, but she didn’t know how to make hot chocolate properly, and she’d screamed when he tried to introduce her to the garden snails.

He wanted to go home. Back where his friends were. Back where Nanny Ash was and Brother Francis the gardener. They’d always been there, as long as he could remember. His first memory was of Nanny Ash giving him an ice lolly on a hot day. He’d eaten it too slowly, trying to save it, and the last little bit had fallen off the stick and onto the ground, and he’d been about to cry when suddenly the lolly had been whole again, like he’d never even given it a lick, and he’d looked up into Nanny Ash’s warm golden eyes and she’d given him a slow wink.3 Nanny had been the one to take him to and from his first day of school, and she’d been the one who’d calmed everything down after he’d thrown a tantrum at his kindergarten teacher for labelling the picture he’d drawn of himself holding hands with a tall, thin dark blob and a smaller, rounder white blob as ‘Mummy and Daddy’. She and Brother Francis had been the ones to teach him how to ride a bike, she’d been the one who’d nursed him through the chicken pox while Brother Francis fretted and brought horrible soup. When he’d been playing at Spiderman and he’d fallen off the roof of the house it had been Nanny Ash who had caught him, despite having been at the other end of the garden at the time. That had also been one of the only times she’d raised her voice at him. It had certainly been the only time he’d seen her shaking like that.

He knew what being home felt like, and he was quite happy to follow that feeling all the way across the Atlantic and onto a bus driven by a man who had previously been going to Oxford but who was now following a satnav that was confused to find itself giving directions to a vague and mobile point in a stern Scottish voice.

In that way Warlock found his way to Tadfield, only a couple of miles from the place he’d been born.

This was also the point where he first started considering what he was doing. So far this had all been an excellent adventure but now, fourteen hours and around forty unanswered calls later, he had to admit to himself he wasn’t quite sure how this was going to end. He’d wanted to Get Away and to Go Home, but now he was in a place he’d never been before, he was tired and fed up, he had no idea where he was going to sleep tonight, and Mom was going to be furious when he finally got around to answering his phone.

He stared at the tiny house across the street. Jasmine Cottage, it said. It looked like the sort of place his nanny wouldn’t be caught dead in. But the Feeling he was following was all he had to go on, so he walked through the gate and stopped as he heard voices and shrieks coming from around the back. Not sure what to expect, he sneaked around the side of the house – he was good at sneaking, he could get past the secret service, after all – and peeked around the corner into the back yard.

There was a whole group of people there. There were four kids, three boys and a girl, all running around with ice cream cones and water balloons while a small dog barked madly, jumping around at their ankles. And then there were six adults, sitting in deckchairs with wine glasses, talking quietly. He looked them over – there were only two women and neither of them were his nanny, one being too old, and the other too young. But that Feeling was still there…he Looked closer, his brow creased and there were four men, two of whom he ignored immediately, but the other two…one was shiny and soft like Brother Francis was, and the other one….oh, the other one…

As he watched one of the kids stumbled and dropped his ice cream, and in an instant it was in the man-who-was-his-nanny’s hand, and he was handing it back with a smirk and – even though Warlock couldn’t hope to see his eyes behind those sunglasses he was sure – a wink.

Angry tears sprung to his eyes and he pressed his hands over his mouth. Nanny Ash was a man, well, he’d seen Mrs Doubtfire, he could cope with that. But Nanny Ash had abandoned him and found other kids to take care of without even giving him a second thought…he ran.

If Warlock had waited for even a moment longer he would have seen her head snap up and round to look directly at him, before jumping to her feet and snapping her fingers. A moment after that a water balloon burst exactly where her head had just been.

From Warlock's point of view though what happened was that when he ran around the corner Nanny Ash was standing by the front gate. Sort of, anyway. Her hair was long again, pulled up into a severe bun, and she was wearing red lipstick, but she was still wearing the tight trousers and suit jacket she had been before, and she was leaning against the wall in a way that he’d thought she never would.

He stopped and stared. She stared right back.

“Warlock,” she said at last, abandoning her nonchalance to lead down in front of him, her hand gripping his shoulder. “What the blessed hell are you doing here? Where are your parents?”

“Like you care,” he muttered sulkily, pulling away and marching straight past her. His eyes were burning and he had no idea where he was going, he just wanted to get away.

“What…?” He could hear her footsteps clacking just behind him. “Of course I care, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He didn’t want her to see him anymore, and he tried to make himself unnoticed the way he had before, tried to wrap himself in the way his parents' eyes glazed over whenever they were forced to spend some time with him, but Nanny Ash was in front of him again, kneeling down on the pavement, holding her hand out towards him.

“Hey. No. None of that,” she said fiercely. “That’s not going to work, I will always see you.”

“Then why did you leave?” he demanded, his voice cracked. “You weren’t even at my birthday. You just let them take me away, and it sucks and I hate it.”

He was pulled into a familiar, bony hug. “Oh, Warlock,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. Things got very odd after the last time I saw you, and by the time they were sorted you were safe in America with your parents. I thought you’d be better off without me mucking you about.”

“But you didn’t ask,” he said furiously, even as he leaned in against her shoulder. “No one ever asks.”

There was a long pause. She held him tighter. “You’re right. That was stupid of me.”

“And I saw you with those other kids,” he went on, through the lump in his throat. “You were being nice to them. You fixed the ice cream.”

“Oh, Warlock.” She sighed, produced a handkerchief out of nowhere, and dabbed the tears away from his eyes. “I've cared for a lot of children in my life, and none of that changes the way I feel about you.”

He swallowed hard. “Do you….do you not want to be my nanny anymore?”

“Do you even want a nanny anymore?” she asked, pulling back a little to look at him. “You’re getting older, darling child.”

He was. None of his friends had nannies anymore, and he’d taken to calling her ‘Old Ash’ and laughing about it when he was talking to them, but that didn’t mean he wanted her gone. It wasn’t good when she was gone. “You don’t need to be my nanny! You could just be like…a friend. A friend who takes care of me.”

There was another moment of silence and she looked at him , her lips pursed. “Alright then.” She reached up to her glasses and, frightened, he held his hand out to stop her. She froze. “Sorry.”

“There are people around,” he hissed, looking around the street. No-one was looking at them right at that moment, but he knew Nanny didn’t like anyone knowing about her eyes. “They’ll see.”

“Oh.” She smiled at him. “They can’t see us right now. It’s like what you did, only broader.” She reached up again and this time he let her take the glasses off and looked straight into the yellow eyes he’d only ever seen a few times in his life. “Now. Warlock Dowling, I swear to you on my own name that I will always be your friend, and I will always care for you as long as you live and as long as you want me in your life.”

He felt something. A sort of hissing or sizzling in the back of his brain, not unpleasant, but like something was settling in there. “Oh,” he said, echoing her. “Should I swear too?”

“You can say ‘fuck’ if you like,” she told him comfortably. “But no, I don’t need any vow from you and it’s not legally binding on kids anyway.”

“Fuck,” he said, just to see her smile. “You said you swore on your name…is Ashtoreth your name?”

“No…well, sort of, but my real name, the name I chose is Anthony J. Crowley. You can still call me Ash if you like though. Or Nanny. Both are fine.”

“Anthony is a boys name,” he told her, which was sort of close to the question he wanted to ask but couldn’t quite pluck up the nerve.

“No, it’s my name,” she said patiently, and before he could say anything else went on,” Sometimes I’m a man, sometimes I’m a woman, sometimes I’m both, sometimes I’m neither. Sometimes I’m a snake.”

That…was a lot. He wasn’t quite sure what to feel about it. “I always thought you had to be one thing and stick to it.”

She shrugged. “A lot of people think that. It’s not true though. You can always change who you are if you really want to, and if you’re ready to really work at it. It’s part of being alive. Brother Francis would say it’s ineffable.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “And then I’d have to throw something at him.”

He laughed a little. “I saw him in the garden. Does he have another name too?”

“Aziraphale,” she told him, smiling.

“Aziraphale,” he repeated slowly, giving it a couple of tries before he was sure of the pronunciation. “When you’re a snake are you a boy snake or a girl snake?”

She opened her mouth and then frowned. “Do you know, I’m not that sure? I’ve never thought about it before. I’m just sort of a snake. Snakes don’t spend a lot of time thinking about their identities.”

“Can you teach me how to be a snake?” he asked, suppressing a yawn.

“Maybe. We’ll see,” she said, which was as good as a promise, really. “Now, you’ve had a very long day, haven’t you, so why don’t we go back to see Aziraphale and his friends and we’ll get you a snack and something to drink and I’ll phone your mother while you have a nap.”

He pulled a face. “So you’re still going to be a bit my nanny then?”

“You asked me to take care of you,” she said serenely, standing up, putting her sunglasses back on and brushing a hand through his hair. Immediately he felt relaxed and refreshed and he swayed, leaning into her as they walked back towards the house he’d run from. “Oh, you are tired,” she murmured.

He didn’t bother replying and before he knew it they were back in the garden, and the kids were staring at him curiously, and the two men he didn’t know were making confused noises at Nanny…Crowley…Ash.

“Crowley!” Francis – Aziraphale – said, sounding cross. “You can’t just stop time whenever you want to change your hair – although it does look lovely, dear – “

“ – Angel,” Crowley interrupted, her hand firmly on Warlock’s shoulder. “You remember Warlock. He’s just popped over from America to see us. And we’re very pleased to see him, aren’t we?”

Aziraphale blinked at Crowley for a bit and then made that face that grown-ups made when they wanted private time4 and turned his attention to Warlock. “Well,” he beamed. “It is lovely to see you again. Are you, erm, staying long?”

“Dunno,” he said with a shrug.

“I’m going to call his mother and figure some things out,” she said, running a soothing finger across the back of Warlock’s collar. “Could you get Warlock a drink and something to eat?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale held out a hand towards him in the way that Brother Francis always had when he was young. “There’s some lovely strawberry cake left, I think. You don’t mind, do you, Anathema?”

The younger woman spread her hands helplessly. “No, go ahead. I guess I need to get used to surprises. Crowley, has anyone ever told you you’re too tall for those heels?”

Crowley glanced back. “No.”

She nodded. “Good.”

There was indeed strawberry cake. It was indeed lovely. As he was eating it the four kids and the dog came marching up, staring at him like he was a particularly interesting looking snail.

“I’m Adam Young,” the blond curly one said, his head cocked to one side. “I reckon we’ve met before, a long time ago.”

He hesitated for a second, listening to his Feelings. “I’m Warlock Dowling,” he said, holding out his hand. “And yeah, I think we did.”

    1Riches and magic are functionally very different although to the disinterested observer the effects appear identical insofar as that their possessor doesn’t appear to be beholden to the same rules as the rest of us.

2He had indeed borrowed the card, rather than stealing it, in that he’d waited until his father was on a call with the president before saying “Dad, can I have this?” and taking the dismissive hand wave and slammed door as a ‘yes’. He had been raised by an angel, so he knew that Stealing Is Wrong. He had also been raised by a demon, so he knew that if people who should be paying attention aren’t paying attention then it’s really their own look out.

3Warlock had read plenty of improving children’s literature recommended by Brother Francis. He was well aware that nanny’s were supposed to be magical. Since that fit in perfectly with his own experience he had never bothered giving it a second thought. There were many things that young Warlock hadn’t bothered giving a second thought. He wasn’t stupid, simply self-involved.

4Warlock thought this meant arguing. The reader may make up their own mind.

[mightymorphingayagenda]

Nessian assassin au???? X

Much like a circle, or the opinions of men on women’s reproductive rights; this date was pointless.

The reasons for this inescapable fact were listless, but included the following:

1. In Nesta Archeron’s line of work, dating, was like trying to watch the news without getting pissed of. An admiral thing to attempt, but equally misguided and inevitably unsuccessful.

2. Nesta’s suitor was Rhysand brother; meaning he would no doubt be an arrogant, preening idiot with indecently good looks and a whole lot of nothing else going for him by blood.

3. Nesta was already hopelessly and disastrously in love.

Of course Nesta hadn’t been able to use any of these as valid excuses to get out of the date. “Hey Feyre, just calling to say that I know you want me to go on this blind date, but I actually can’t because you see, I’m a gun for hire, which as you can imagine makes dating rather tricky. Also I’m absolutely gone for my latest target’s bodyguard, who I’ve never actually spoken to but in the month and a half I’ve been stalking him has somehow managed to make me fall head over heels for him. Anyway, we still on for brunch on Thursday?”

It truly was a tragic set of circumstances.

Nesta thanked the door-man as he slipped her coat from her frame. Carefully and expertly folding the garment over his forearm and heading to the cloakroom. She’d made sure to give him a considerable tip, knowing her coat was probably worth more than what he made in a month.

Nesta wasn’t ashamed of her money, as far as she was concerned all currency was blood money. Every dollar in America was built on colonialism and funded by a corrupt economic system, she didn’t see why her cash was any dirtier just because she earned it by putting bullets in the backs of people’s heads. But she’d made it practice to always leave generous tips where she could.

Nesta would always remember Friday nights spent counting pennies on a dirty windowsill because it meant they could use the light of the street lamps when their own electricity had been cut off. Her hollow stomach ringing out along side the metallic song of coins with an ache like she’d been punched in the gut.

Now she was rolling in it.

“Comfortable” as Feyre would say.

The Archeron sisters had made good; Feyre having married into the richest family in the west of the globe, Elain with a clientele of elitists gagging to throw their wealth at the most extravagant weddings her sister could plan and Nesta cashing in a six figure transaction ever time she pulled a trigger.

But she wasn’t flashy. Nesta found something grossly immature in wearing wealth obtusely and without taste. This evening she’d opted for a simple dress, a dark emerald thing that reached her mid thigh and hugged her full form with a lethal softness. Bare of any jewellery and hair like dark chocolate loose and softly curled, her makeup had been applied minimally save for her mouth which she had painted a red like cracking blood, leaving her lips like a brutal bruise against her soft complexion.

It was the perfect ensemble for Le Divinità, tastefully expensive so that she did not look out of place in the architecturally exquisite building, the warm glow of the soaring room warming her bare arms and gold detailing and chandeliers with dripping, diamonte glass offset against the kenia cream marble.

While Nesta was set on finding fault in her date, his taste was undeniable. Le Divinità had never prioritised fad-like trend and a costly ambience over good food and a legendary bar.

Heels clipping quietly against the stone floor, Nesta made her way over to said bar, fingers already restless for a cigarette to still her agitated dread at what was to come. She ordered a gin, straight, and checked her phone for the time. She’d made sure to arrive early, primarily to ensure she had time to neck back some liquor before her date arrived, but also because she’d find some small joy in making him uncomfortable having seemingly left her waiting.

Slinking into a bar stool, she tucked her ankle behind the another and taking a long sip of her gin, she couldn’t help where her mind wondered like a cheated lover back to their betrayer. Sickened with her own besotted crush as though it were a thick spoon of honey she were gagging on, Nesta still couldn’t help but think of him.

She’d spent this afternoon atop a rooftop, tortured by the unfolding Friday ritual she could now confirm went unaltered each week.

From noon till four in the afternoon Helion Day would work out in his private gym, located on the top floor of his more frequented office building, with his oh so gorgeous bodyguard.

The soaring glass windows meant Nesta had been entirely unobstructed as the only audience member to a truly delicious show of both men’s physiques. Her binoculars trembling slightly in her hands as she’d watched the CEO’s companion begin completing a gruelling regime of pull ups, bench pressing and combat instruction, all without a shirt. The expanse of his powerfully built upper body was the stuff of Nesta’s dreams. Tan flesh slick with sweat and dusted with fine hair over the broad panes of his defined chest and running in a darkening trail down his chiselled abdomen to disappear beneath the low slung waistband of his sweatpants that made a profuse Adonis belt visible to Nesta. With his thick hair tied back in a bun, intricate tattoos mapping his left pectoral and creeping over his arms and an obvious stubble creeping up his jaw, Nesta hadn’t known where to keep her eyes for longer than a hot moment of agonising appreciation. She knew where her eyes were should have been, but while her client also had his own physical appeal, Nesta only had eyes for one man.

He was so impossibly broad and large it gave Nesta a primal thrill to think of how he could use that brute strength to fuck her as hard and rough as she craved. The impression of his cock through those sweat pants had left Nesta staring at one of her largest vibrators once she’d got home and telling herself that there was no way he could have been bigger, despite what she’d seen implied.

She’d closed her eyes and pictured him beneath her as she’d then rode the pink toy, her cunt throbbing with wet arousal from the hours of visual foreplay. She burned to know what his voice sounded like. Whether he would groan as he fucked her throat with his thick cock, or if he’d murmur filthy words or encouragement and praise. She’d almost given herself a headache trying to fabricate in her mind the noises escaping his mouth as he’d worked out. That rugged jaw clenching in moments of intense exertion and handsome face often appearing as though he were grunting through a movement that Nesta swore would snap any other man in half.

“Nesta?”

A purely male and deep voice sounded from beside her.

She turned, and almost shattered the half empty glass in her hand.

Had it been spiked?

The gin has to have been laced with some hallucinogenic- that was literally the only reality that she would accept being any part of. Because standing before her, was Helion Day’s body guard.

Fuck.

“Do I know you?” she drawled boredly.

He wore a crisp, white dress shirt which hugged his upper body in a way that was doing things for Nesta, and a simple pair of slacks that had clearly been tailored to his powerfully built legs.

She was utterly, truly and absolutely fucked.

What the hell was she meant to do? She’d been made, she’d been fucking made. Three years and Nesta had never made one mistake, hadn’t slipped up once, she hadn’t just done everything by the book she’d all but written the new bloody testament on assassination, so how the fuck had this guy caught her?

“Well you know of me, Sweetheart” his smile was like watching chocolate melt, warm, rich and decadent. A five o’clock shadow was cast across his jaw and an entirely unfair dimple kissed the corner of his mouth as he smirked with a dangerous combination of pure male arrogance and sincere attention.

She played at looking him up and down with a dismissive flick of her eyes. “Unlikely,” she said absently, taking a sip of her gin, her lashes fluttering shut as though she were physically pained by the boredom this interaction caused her. Should she smash the glass and get a deep swipe at his gut, going for the face as he’d lunge at her and then try and make a break for the door? He was at least six foot, and Nesta knew exactly how toned he was, but she was quick.

He clutched a hand to his chest playfully, his eyes still dangerously assured “you wound me” he said, before leaning in ever so slightly so that Nesta swore she could taste the echo of an aged cigar on his breath. “And to think I was arrogant enough to believe it was me you’d got all dolled up for this evening” he winked, plucking a cube of brown sugar from a tiny dish on the bar and popping it between his perfect teeth, a smooth and swoon-worthy smugness set in his jaw that Nesta couldn’t work out if she wanted to punch or kiss off of his stupidly gorgeous face.

“And to think,” she purred sweetly, “I was naïve enough to think I would be able to get all dolled up this evening without an entitled asshole bothering me” Nesta’s glare was cool as the ice that swirled in glossy cubes at the bottom of her glass.

He was toying with her, like she were some amusing doll he’d found and watching her try to wriggle out of this with nothing but a sharp tongue was his new favourite game.

“Well thank god I’m not an entitled asshole, just the very good looking one your sister set you up with. However, if any such individuals approach you, let me know and I will defend both your honour and right to look as lovely as you do without the unsolicited advances of men”

Nesta felt like a party popper had gone off in her rib cage and she was choking on the streams of confetti in her throat, heartbeat off kilter.

There was no way.

Nesta’s life had taught her that the universe did not have a sense of humour, and the only way that her bodyguard heart-throb also happened to be Rhysand’s brother, was if she were the metaphorical punchline of some cosmic joke. An assassin and a bodyguard walk into a bar… god it even sounded like a shitty joke.

“Cassian Velarys” he extended a large hand to her, which Nesta took, slightly entranced by the unfolding madness. He pressed a brief kiss to the back of her palm which Nesta had not been expecting.

“You look nothing like Rhysand” she said.

A light chuckle escaped him and Nesta thought he might need to hold her upright if he kept being so damned sexy.

Rhysand was what Nesta would describe as pretty, with piercing eyes that she refused to admit we’re actually violet, and sharp features cut with classical beauty, while Cassian was a far more devastating kind of handsome where Nesta was concerned. Wilder, throbbing with power and unrefined, rough charm. And older as well she’d guess, but not by much. They couldn’t be related, this could not be happening.

“I’m adopted” he explained.

Nesta could not believe the absolute insanity of this. It was a coincidence of Shakespearean plot; throw in some inadvertent incest or cannibalism and it would have been a Greek bloody myth.

She took a sweeping swig of her gin, chin tossed back delicately enough but still allowing the rest of the liquor to empty into her system.

The most infuriating part of this entire bullshit scenario was that it made total sense. Feyre has told her that Rhysand’s brother ran a security firm, but that at the moment he was doing some private hire work for a friend. Hell she’d even mentioned in passing a few months ago how Helion was an old friend of the Velarys brothers.

Okay, okay so this was happening.

The bartender had appeared again to take Cassian’s order and Nesta couldn’t help but take the opportunity to fawn over that handsome face up close at last. A doe like softness to her eyes that the bartender definitely noticed even if Cassian didn’t, his attention on the wine list as he asked about a Portuguese red. At work he’d always worn black Ts and trousers, the fitted fabric hugging at his chiselled upper body. The man cleaned up nice. Which was saying a lot when his comparatively unkept state was enough to have Nesta worried she might literally be drooling as she observed him. With her cheek propped on her curled fist, elbow against the bar, Nesta couldn’t have dragged her gaze away if she’d had a gun to her head as she watched him finish up his order and added, “And vodka” flicking her eyes to the man behind the bar. “Lots, and lots or vodka”.

[psychosistr]

Pride

Summary: Domino and Steelbeak are sent to eliminate a target at a rather colorful event, leading Steelbeak to question his past attitude and learn a few things about a community he never thought he’d be a part of.

Notes: This is the result of having no power at work for eight hours, having typing programs on my phone, and remembering it’s pride month. So, enjoy this one shot of @thefriendlyfour‘s OC Domino and Steelbeak experiencing his first pride festival and learning more about himself x3

Another day, another mission, Dominic thought to himself as he and his partner, Steelbeak, made their way through the streets of Saint Canard.

Today’s assignment was fairly simple: F.O.W.L. High Command had plans involving a local company with rumors circulating around them regarding the possible production of portable thermonuclear generators with the same power output as an entire factory. If the rumors proved to be true, then such powerful devices could do the world a lot of good…or a lot harm, in the wrong hands. (Hence why F.O.W.L. had taken an interest in the company.) While the idea of a portable thermonuclear generator was certainly enticing, High Command was nothing if not thorough in their research & planning and needed more information on the validity of these rumors as well as information regarding the stability of the generators.

That was where the chief officer and his partner came into play- the two had been tasked with tracking down the head of security while he was away from the premises and “relieving him of duty” so that a similar looking agent could go in undercover to gather information and ultimately make any actual plans to breaking in easier when they were ready to make their move. Due to the nature of the lab’s research, it was hardly a surprise that they’d been assigned a security detail comprised primarily of military-grade personnel, with the head of security himself being a retired brigadier general. Needless to say, challenging him head-on in a location where there could be possible cameras- not to mention armed reinforcements- would be a very bad idea, meaning they had to get to him when he was as far away from the company as possible.

Luckily, F.O.W.L.’s sources had it on good authority that he was a regular presence at a certain event that took place downtown every June…

While the deadly duo would typically arrive at their destination in one of the agents’ cars, the streets were currently closed to vehicle traffic, so they’d been dropped off on a rooftop a few blocks from the target’s location via helicopter. After making their way down to the streets and navigating a few back alleys, the fowls found a side street leading them right to the middle of the festivities that had claimed downtown Saint Canard.

“You sure these outfits are gonna cut it, Deedee?” Steelbeak questioned as they prepared to enter the bright and colorful crowd in front of them.

“For the hundredth time, yes.” Dominic replied for what certainly felt like the hundredth time he’d repeated himself. Stepping out onto the sidewalk and revealing himself to the light of day, the loon was dressed in an outfit that was a far cry from what he normally wore. His usual iconic coat and hat had been exchanged for a sweater with large horizontal stripes in three main colors- purple on the bottom, white in the middle, and gray at the top with a black turtleneck collar- and a pair of square purple sunglasses. “Now come on, we’re already behind schedule.”

“I dunno, Dee..” Steelbeak mumbled as he stepped out to join the loon. Like his partner, he had also left his usual suit behind and was now dressed in a pair of vibrantly deep blue colored jeans with a plain black belt, a form-fitting light purple sleeveless muscle shirt, and a faded pink bandana around his neck. “How the heck is this-” He gestured broadly to his outfit with one hand, starting at the white ankle boots on his feet and moving upwards to his usual metallic prosthesis. “-not gonna get any looks?”

His answer was the frustrated rolling of a pair of red eyes and a shake of the loon’s head, his colored glasses briefly being removed to make the action more apparent. “I did what I could with what you had in your wardrobe, though it still would have been better if you’d taken my advice on the shoes-”

“I ain’t wearin’ sandals anywhere ‘cept the pool an’ the beach.” The taller bird rolled his own eyes while repeating his earlier opinion regarding his partner’s insistence on wearing a pair of ocean blue sandals that had been in the back of his walk-in closet. “An’ I still don’t get how walkin’ around dressed like a friggin’ unblended berry smoothie stands out less then my suit.”

“Trust me- I know more about this sort of thing than you do.” Not wanting to waste anymore time debating the matter, Dominic put his sunglasses back on and ventured out towards the colorful crowd of people in front of them. “The more you stand out here, the more you fit in.”

“If you say so, red eyes..” A look of uncertainty made the chief officer’s feelings on the matter clear, but he reluctantly followed his partner into the vibrant and noisy spectacle that was the annual Saint Canard Pride Festival.

Steelbeak’s general discomfort with his current clothes was quickly forgotten as he took in the various outlandish and far more insane outfits of the festival goers around him. The looks that passed over his face when he saw spectacles such as a female tiger walking around in nothing more than a bikini to properly show off how each of her normally orange stripes had been dyed a different color of the rainbow or a peacock with with an obviously fake set of oversized tail feathers alternating in pink, white, and blue were all truly priceless expressions that made Dominic wish he had a camera handy to capture the moments for posterity.

Unlike his partner, Dominic was mostly unfazed by the vibrantly energetic crowd. Although it had certainly been a while since he’d attended one of these events, it was most definitely not his first time going to a pride parade or festival. There were many reasons for him to avoid such gatherings (huge crowds, a general sense of chaos & disorder, and a unsettlingly large number of people who seemed to have trouble remembering things such as personal boundaries after a few drinks, to name a few), but, despite those irritations, there was still something comforting about being surrounded by such a generally cheerful atmosphere full of people who, to at least some capacity, all shared something in common. It definitely brought about a sense of pride and community to everyone in attendance-

“Burn in hell!”

-well, almost everyone…

The cursing followed by a loud crash drew the duo’s attention to the one unplanned yet ever present part of pride festivities that was universally despised by all attendees: Protestors.

The crash had come from one of the booth’s that had been set up along the side of the street selling pins and other small accessories. The short border collie in a frilled red, pink, and white sundress (the poor girl couldn’t have been older than twenty) who had been working at the now overturned table was currently cowering in fear from the intimidatingly tall grey and white goshawk dressed in dark jeans and a green button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows who was giving her an intimidating red-eyed glare while looming over her.

“Geez, what’s his problem?” Steelbeak watched the goshawk shout curses and obscenities at the cowering collie with a mild look of annoyance.

“A religious protestor, apparently.” Dominic replied with a scowl. “They’re usually lurking around these events somewhere, graciously taking time out of their day to make sure we all know how ‘immoral’ and ‘sinful’ we are.” The sarcasm and general feeling of disgust in his voice were nearly tangible.

“Sounds like someone’s got too much free time..” His partner commented with an appropriately matching amount of sarcasm. “..Wait a minute…” Dark eyes narrowed as Steelbeak looked the predatory bird over. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. After opening it up to take a look at the paper’s contents, a pleased and devious smirk found its way to the fowl’s deadly beak. “Oh-ho, Dom, you are gonna love this.”

Curiosity piqued, the loon moved closer to the chief officer so he could see the information as well. “…?” As he read the description and took in the blurry photograph printed on the crumpled paper, Dominic found a similar smirk spreading across his own beak. “My, my, that IS quite the coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Almost feels like we’re doin’ a public service on this one.” The taller bird put the paper back in his pocket before winking at his partner and doing a sweeping gesture with one hand towards the altercation across the street. “After you.”

“What a gentleman.” The darker fowl winked back with a quiet chuckle before weaving his way through the crowd. Along the way, he smoothly swiped a half-full plastic cup from a blue jay’s slack hand without being noticed. “Sir,” He began once he was close enough, earning the goshawk’s less-than-pleased attention. “All that screaming is bad for your throat. You should have a drink- my treat.”

Right on cue the taller bird opened his beak wide, likely to shout something derogatory, but whatever he had been about to say turned into muffled gargling and choking when he suddenly found the cup in Dominic’s hand shoved firmly towards the back of his mouth before he had time to finish drawing in a single breath. The unsuspecting goshawk was so preoccupied trying to cough up the liquid in his windpipe and dislodge the mass of plastic in his mouth that he didn’t even notice the equally large man drawing up behind him until a fist slammed into the back of his neck, sending him crashing to the ground. The attack served the dual purpose of (ironically) dislodging the cup from his beak and knocking the gray bird out cold.

There was a beat of silence from the festival goers around them before the crowd erupted into whistles and cheers. “Woooooh!”, “Nice!”, “Way to go!”, and “This is why we don’t need cops!” were just a few of the words and phrases that accompanied the applause.

“Ha..” Steelbeak grinned as he hefted the unconscious bird’s body up onto his shoulder. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard people cheerin’ just for doin’ our job.”

His voice had been just loud enough that only his partner had heard it over the loud clapping and excited hollering around them, so Dominic matched the tone with a grin of his own and a shrug. “They’d probably be less enthusiastic if they knew more about us.”

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

Nobody questioned where the pair of fowls were taking the knocked-out protestor (odds were high that they all wanted him as far away from them as possible and would more than likely play dumb if anyone came looking for him), making their job of bringing him into a back alley for disposal much easier. The noise from the festival goers further aided them- after all, with so much cheering, loud music, and general merry-making going on, no one noticed the sound of a silencer-equipped pistol being fired and the resulting blood splatter would be washed away by the rain later that night.

Taking a few twists and turns to be absolutely sure they weren’t followed, the agents finally spotted a dumpster behind a currently closed restaurant.

An efficient, if unpleasant, place to throw away their man-sized load of garbage.

Dominic, luckily, won the coin toss they’d used to assign tasks for the disposal process, meaning he got to search the body for its wallet, keys, and anything else necessary for their impostor’s charade to be a success while Steelbeak, much to his chagrin, was forced to rifle through the trash bags filling the dumpster and try to find enough nearly-empty ones to hide the remains in.

“Ugh, I’m seriously gonna hurl…” The rooster grumbled for the twelfth time since he’d started, the sound soon followed by a louder one when a bag dripped an unidentified black substance (hopefully just soda) onto his pant leg. “Ack! Well ain’t that just great?!”

Grabbing the last of the former head of security’s personal belongings, Dominic stood with a roll of his eyes. “If you stopped complaining, we’d be done by now.” He could feel the brief glare cast in his general direction, but chose not to acknowledge it as he pulled out his guns. Taking aim at the body on the ground in front of him, he fired out a burst of flames from one pistol, making sure to thoroughly scorch the remains.

“Hmph, easy t’ say when you’ve got the easy part..” Despite his complaints and protests, Steelbeak finished his job and managed to open the bags with minimal retching (though at this point he was likely just playing it up to be annoying). “Alright, short fuse, we’re good t’ go.”

“It’s about time.” The darker bird replied while pointing his other gun at the body, this one firing out freezing rounds of ice that encased the charred carcass in seconds.

There was a lull in the conversation for a while as the duo worked to break apart and hide the evidence of their crime. With Steelbeak’s exceptional strength, breaking apart the frozen-solid corpse was as easy as snapping a popsicle in half, making quick work of the body and handing the pieces off to Dominic so the other man could put them in the appropriately sized trash bags before they were chucked back into the dumpster. It was simple, monotonous work that they were able to do effectively without a word needing to be spoken between them to get the job done.

Comfortable silences were, surprisingly, a common thing for the chief officer and his partner, especially when they were on the clock. They could go back and forth between bantering, arguing, flirting, silence, and everyday chatter in equal measures and had gotten to a point where they were generally comfortable in one another’s presence with or without words…but this was not one of those comfortable or busy types of quiet- this was a “something needs to be said but hasn’t come out yet” type of quiet that generally brought the mood down until the issue was addressed.

By the time they’d finished throwing everything into the dumpster, Steelbeak had a look on his face that Dominic knew all too well: It was the one he wore when he wanted to say something but was doing his mental back-and-forth debate about if it would be “the wrong thing”. The taller bird was normally so cocky, so brimming with self-confidence to an almost insufferable degree, that sometimes it still took the loon by surprise to see him looking so unsure of himself.

Depending on his mood, Dominic could find it either endearing or frustrating. At the moment, though, after doing so much physical labor, he was leaning more towards the latter. Unfortunately, he knew how bad Steelbeak was about admitting what was bothering him, so it would likely fall on him to break the silence and-

“Hey..” Red eyes regarded the lighter bird curiously. So Steelbeak was going to bring it up on his own without any prompting this time? Good. Dominic would count that as some form of progress. “Was I…y’know…” The rooster was avoiding eye contact and moving one of his hands towards the dumpster in indication, an uncomfortable frown on his beak. “Was I…that bad before……?”

Even though he trailed off at the end, Dominic knew perfectly well what he meant. “No.” The answer came without hesitation, a small smile on the loon’s beak as he looked up at his partner’s still uncertain expression. “You were rude, callous, ignorant, insensitive, clueless-”

“Alright, alright, I get it- I was a jerk.” There was a bit of red under the off-white feathers of the other bird’s cheeks, making his attempt at a scowl fall hopelessly flat.

A quiet laugh rumbled in the loon’s chest as he reached up towards the rooster’s face. “You’re still a jerk. But-” A single black feathered fingertip lightly touched the other man’s deadly prosthesis without a shred of fear and began lightly running back & forth along the metal, a wider smile coming over his own dark beak when the tension quickly left his partner’s body and the familiar trilling sound filled the alleyway. “-you’re a tolerable one.”

He might never say it out loud, but Dominic REALLY enjoyed touching Steelbeak’s namesake in such a tender way. The lack of natural keratin didn’t set off the usual discomfort he felt when making physical contact with another person. Plus the reactions it elicited from his partner- that instant relaxation, contentedly happy trilling, and blissful half-lidded smile- were always gratifying to see. He still wasn’t 100% sure how much Steelbeak could ACTUALLY feel from the light touch, but he certainly felt something, even if it was mostly psychological. Ultimately, it was an intimate gesture that both of them found enjoyment in.

Did Dominic play dirty and use it to his advantage sometimes when Steelbeak was in a bad mood, arguing with him too much, or flat-out refusing to talk to him? Yes- a minute or so of the gentle contact was enough to turn the chief officer into putty in his hands and make him far more agreeable and willing to go along with whatever Dominic asked of him.

Did Steelbeak realize it was happening? Definitely- he’d sometimes grumble out a muttered curse at how manipulative the darker bird was but he’d still smile through his cursing and do what his partner wanted.

Did he ever try to stop it? Surprisingly, no- even in the middle of an argument when he noticed those fingers heading towards his beak (sometimes Dominic was subtle about it, sometimes he was direct- either way, Steelbeak noticed the approaching hand eventually) he’d never once tried to move away or avoid the other’s touch, meaning whatever sort of enjoyment he got out of the contact far outweighed his usual pride and dislike of admitting defeat to the point that he’d submit to whatever the loon demanded of him just for a simple touch to his prosthesis.

“Hmmm…ya make a convincin’ argument, Dee.” Steelbeak gave a pleased sigh once Dominic’s fingers finally left his beak. He looked far less stressed than he had a moment ago, that blissful smile still on his face. “But..are ya REALLY sure I wasn’t as bad? I know I wasn’t exactly ‘Mr.Tolerant’ back then.” The tone of his voice made it clear that he wasn’t doubting the validity of Dominic’s earlier claim, he just wanted confirmation now that he wasn’t so worked up over it.

The loon rolled his eyes, but it was with a good-natured, fond smile on his face. “Yes, I’m sure.” Red eyes looked back up into the other’s dark ones, his tone conveying the sincerity and certainty of his words. “You were confused and uncomfortable because you were dealing with something that you weren’t familiar with, but, while you were rude, you weren’t hateful. Most of your problems were because you were in denial, not because you wanted me to ‘burn in hell’ and, take it from me, the ones who haven’t figured themselves out yet are MUCH better than the fire and brimstone zealots.” He gave the tip of the taller fowl’s beak a quick tap before heading back down the alleyway they arrived through, winking up at him with a more alluring smile. “Besides, you get a one-time pass for being more attractive than him.”

Within seconds he heard that particular laugh that he was growing more fond of every day accompanied by quick footsteps that soon drew even with his own. “Good t’ know this mug of mine’s still good for somethin’.”

The pair of fowls shared a smile and a quiet laugh as they made their way back towards the main streets, knowing that was probably the closest thing the taller man would give in terms of a “thank you”.

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

Getting to a point where they could be picked up and brought back to HQ by their designated vehicle and driver meant once again navigating their way through the throngs of colorful animals and many booths of the festival, something the deadly duo had to be more careful about given the crowd’s growing numbers as the day progressed and Dominic’s aversion to them. To avoid any accidental contact, the pair of fowls did their best to stick to the sidewalks near the walls of the surrounding buildings or behind the stalls when possible. Thankfully, they’d made it through without incident-

“Hey! You two!”

“!!” Dominic and Steelbeak instantly stiffened at the call clearly directed at them. They both instinctively reached for their hidden guns but didn’t draw them just yet- the streets were too crowded and it wouldn’t be a good idea to cause a scene.

When the pair turned to see their potential enemy, however, they were surprised to see the small border collie that had been the victim of their target’s earlier aggression standing at her now right-side-up table. She waved to them with a bright smile on her face as her tail wagged happily behind her. “Was hopin’ you’d come this way!” Deciding for the moment that the dog wasn’t a threat (and even if she was, they could easily take her hand-to-hand if it came down to it), the fowls relaxed their previously tense stances and walked closer so they wouldn’t have to strain to hear the energetic young girl. “I wanted to thank you for helpin’ me out earlier. That guy was a real pain.”

“Don’t mention it, doll.” Steelbeak told the grateful collie with a quiet chuckle, clearly amused at the idea of being THANKED for such a thing (if she knew what they’d actually done and why they did it, she probably wouldn’t be thanking them).

“We just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Though he held back any sounds of his own, Dominic was equally amused by the situation. “There’s really no need to thank us.”

“Aw, come on, don’t talk like that- it’d eat me up if I didn’t repay you guys somehow! Here,” She grabbed a display box from the other side of the table and dragged it closer, showing off a wide and colorful array of different pins shaped like waving flags. “I know it’s not much, but take a couple in your colors!”

“Our colors?” The taller bird asked while looking down at the pins in confusion. “Ya mean the ones we like best or..?”

“No, I mean the colors for your pride flags.” The girl at the counter explained with a giggle. “Go ahead and help yourselves!”

Picking up the rainbow striped flag hard-enamel pin with a golden butterfly clutch on the back, Dominic examined it carefully to make sure there wasn’t anything dangerous hidden in or on the unassuming pin (tracking devices, mini explosives, microphones- they had to be careful in their line of work, after all). “These are very well made.” Finding nothing off about the small accessory, he pinned the colorful flag to his chest and contemplated grabbing the one for his other colors-

“Hey, stripes, I’m lost here.” His partner was still looking down at the pins curiously. “I thought the pride flag was supposed t’ be a rainbow? What’s with the rest??”

“You’re joking, right?” The quiet laugh that had started in the loon’s chest died the moment he actually looked at the rooster’s face. He saw no traces of sarcasm or teasing anywhere in Steelbeak’s eyes as he looked down at the colorful flags- only honest confusion and curiosity. “…You’re serious..” Dominic looked at the other bird in disbelief, feeling honestly bewildered by the whole thing. “You can’t REALLY be this clueless, can you?”

Dark eyes rolled slightly before looking back down at the shorter bird. “Hate t’ burst whatever bubble ya got ‘bout me, red eyes, but I didn’t exactly get a full education on this sorta thing with how I grew up.”

Oh..right…

With how clever the chief officer was, it often slipped Dominic’s mind that Steelbeak never received any sort of official education growing up. Everything the other man knew, he’d learned on his own or through experience later in life. Growing up alone on the streets, it stood to reason that he never received any reliable information on the subject, and it was highly unlikely that his initial training and education with F.O.W.L. included a comprehensive high school-level sex-ed course for the fifteen year old rookie.

“……” After deliberating on it all for a moment, Dominic looked back up at Steelbeak with a soft, understanding smile. “Would you like me to teach you?” After receiving a nod from his partner, he started his explanation by tapping the rainbow flag already pinned to his shirt. “The rainbow is the most well-known pride flag- it’s typically known for representing homosexuality. There are a few variants, as well as the lesbian flag for gay women.”

“That’s my flag.” The girl running the stand told them while happily pointing to the multi-striped flag pin that matched her colorful dress. “That’s the original version with all the pinks and reds, but there’s another version now with fewer shades of pink and red and a couple of orange stripes.”

 Moving his fingers down to the rest of the pins in their box, Dominic pointed to the first one in the upper left corner. “This one with the magenta, lavender, and dark blue stripes is for bisexuality- it traditionally means being attracted to both men and women, but many people have expanded that definition over time to include other genders. Other variations have popped up as well, including pansexual-” A black feathered fingertip moved to the brightly colored pink, yellow, and blue striped flag nearby. “-which means attraction to all genders, and polysexual-” The finger moved to a darker pink, green, and blue striped flag. “-which means attraction to many different genders, but not necessarily all of them.”

“Hold it, back up a sec- ‘other genders’?” Steelbeak seemed fully invested in the loon’s explanation, giving him the same look he often used when the darker bird was laying out their strategy for a mission. “What does that mean?”

“Ah, right, we should probably cover that, too.” Dominic said quietly to himself before addressing Steelbeak again. “Aside from male and female, there are a variety of genders and labels in between the two.” He pointed to a pair of flags with light blue, light pink, and white stripes. “Transgender, for instance, is used for people who are assigned one gender at birth, but identify as a different one. Some of these people get surgery if possible to physically match what they view themselves as, but it’s different for each person. There’s also intersex-” He indicated a yellow flag with a purple circle in the middle. “-which is for people physically born as more than one gender, and agender-” His finger moved to a symmetrical flag with black, grey, and white stripes surrounding a single light green one in the middle. “-for people who don’t identify as any gender.” The next pins he pointed to were one that was a light purple, white, and green flag and another right next to it that was yellow, white, purple, and black. “Many of the others fall under the label of genderqueer or non-binary, meaning that they don’t exclusively identify as male or female; one of my ‘coworkers’ up north preferred using gender plural pronouns like ‘they’ and ‘them’.” The loon’s mind wandered for a brief moment- it had been a while since he’d spoken to Wildcard and the others, he hoped they were all doing alright…

“What about this one?” The taller man’s voice brought him out of his thoughts to see him pointing at a pin with pink, white, purple, black, and dark blue stripes.

A small smile reappeared on Dominic’s beak. It seemed Steelbeak was thoroughly absorbed in his lesson and genuinely wanted to learn more. “Oh, that’s gender-fluid- it’s for people whose gender and pronouns change frequently. Some of them also identify as bi- or tri-gender, meaning that they identify as more than one gender, but not everyone who’s bi- or tri-gender identifies as gender-fluid.”

“Wait…” Steelbeak looked back to his partner in surprise. “That’s a real thing?” When his answer was a nod of the loon’s head, he groaned and brought a large hand up to smack himself in the forehead. “Think I need t’ call up one of my ex-partner’s an’ apologize for bein’ such a jerk…”

“I’m guessing you didn’t use their pronouns correctly?” Dominic tried not to laugh at the guilt-ridden frown on the lighter fowl’s face, but it grew harder when an embarrassed flush became visible on his cheeks.

“I thought the guy was gay an’ just liked cross-dressin’ or somethin’! I mean, sure, he told me felt like a girl sometimes, but I didn’t think he MEANT it!” The rooster hid his face behind his hand, clearly trying to avoid the immensely amused look in his partner’s eyes. “Great, now I feel stupid..”

“You are not stupid.” There was a hint of a laugh in the loon’s voice and an amused smile on his face. “You’re just…uneducated.”

Oh, that annoyed glare he received when the other man removed his hand was truly priceless. “Wooooow, you always know just what t’ say, don’t ya?”

“I try.” The laugh that followed Dominic’s words was quiet, but it seemed to be enough to ease the glare in the other’s dark eyes until they were both snickering.

With his mood improved and a smile returned to his gleaming beak, Steelbeak looked back down at the pins and saw a particular color combination that caught his eye. “Hey, this one looks like you.” He looked back down at the darker bird’s sweater for emphasis.

“That’s because it’s my other flag.” Taking the small black, gray, white, and purple striped flag that he’d considered grabbing earlier, Dominic smiled as he pinned it to the other side of his chest. “This is the asexual flag: It’s for people like me who don’t really experience sexual attraction to others.”

Steelbeak gave his partner and the new pin on his chest a curious look. “So, what, they just don’t like sex or somethin’?”

“Not necessarily.” That was a pretty common question that Dominic was more than used to by now. “Being ace isn’t the same as being celibate or disliking sex. It means not being sexually attracted to other people, but it’s a fairly large umbrella that covers a wide variety of people: Some don’t have any interest in sex at all. Others like the way it feels, but don’t really get ‘turned on’ by any specific gender. There’s also demisexual-” He pointed down to a flag with similar colors to the ace flag, but with a white stripe on top, a purple one in the middle, and a gray one on the bottom with a black triangle on the left side of the flag. “-which is for people who can develop sexual attraction for someone they have a very strong emotional connection with.” Spotting a nearby pin with stripes in dark green, light green, white, gray, and black, he tapped the area near it to draw the rooster’s gaze. “Asexuality can also sometimes go hand-in-hand with aromanticism, but the two can also be separate cases. Similar to asexuals with sexual attraction, aromantics don’t typically experience romantic attraction. There’s even a demi version-” His finger moved to a flag that looked identical to the demisexual pin, but with a green stripe instead of a purple one. “-for people who usually only develop romantic attraction after they begin to feel a strong connection with another person.”

“Huh..guess the whole ace thing makes sense with you an’ your ‘quirk’.” Steelbeak was back to looking intrigued by all of this new information. “So, these flags can tell people what you’re not interested in, too?”

“Of course. Pride is about knowing who you are and not being ashamed for things like how you identify yourself or who you are or are not attracted to.” Feeling he had properly covered every pride flag in the box, red eyes looked back up at the lighter fowl inquisitively. “Any questions?”

“Nah, that was pretty thorough, Dee.” Off-white fingers reached down to the box of pins and picked out exactly the one that Dominic knew he would go for. “Least now I get why ya had me walkin’ around dressed like a fruity-cereal mascot.”

Dominic watched the other bird pin the bisexual pride flag to the right side of his chest with an amused smile and a shrug. “I figured it would be accurate.” Preparing to bid the girl behind the table farewell and continue on their way, the loon paused when he saw the lighter fowl reach back down to the box and grab one of the less colorful pins as well. “..Demiromantic? Really?” He asked with genuine curiosity at the other’s choice.

“Yeah. It’s just…I dunno..the way ya described it…it just felt like me, y’know?” Steelbeak looked down at the black, white, green, and gray pin held between his thumb and forefinger. “ ‘Love’ don’t exactly come easy t’ me. I could probably count the number of times a ‘relationship’ actually meant somethin’ t’ me on one hand an’ still have a finger or two left over.” Dark eyes glanced down at the aquatic fowl beside him, the corner of his mouth turned up in the slightest of smirks. “Present company included.”

“Noted.” The wink sent his way made Dominic smirk right back before his expression softened, watching how the previously playful gleam in those dark eyes faded into something else. Something almost…sad..

Looking down at his hands while pinning the demiromantic pride flag to the left side of his chest, Steelbeak kept an unreadable smile on his face but the look in his eyes contradicted his beak. “Started thinkin’ maybe that sorta thing just wasn’t for me..that maybe…I was too messed up for it or somethin’…” As he finished setting the pin in place, the expression on his face changed from its previous state of sad, indifferent neutrality to a small but far more genuine smile. “Knowin’ I’m not the only one like that..that it ain’t just me bein’ too cold……it’s..kinda nice..” He looked back down at Dominic, that same smile still on his face.

If Dominic ever made a list of things about his loud-mouthed, arrogant, cocky partner that made him fall for the over-confident egomaniac, that look would be within the top three. That soft, unguarded, completely open and sincere look in those dark gray eyes combined with that small smile which was so different from his usual smug grins and smirks that it was almost like looking at a completely different person- like he was seeing the man beneath the suave bravado and flashy showmanship. It never lasted long, but Dominic mentally filed away each and every moment he was treated to the sight to make sure he NEVER forgot that look.

“……” With a softer smile on his own dark beak, Dominic reached up to the pin on the left side of the rooster’s chest and carefully straightened it. “It suits you.” Red eyes met dark gray and the smile on both agents’ beaks grew a little more.

Not everything in life needed a label, but sometimes it was nice for a person to know they weren’t alone in how they viewed themselves or others. Having something as simple as a flag to show others a part of who they were could make a world of difference to a person. It showed them that there were others out there going through similar experiences and let them know that their differences were something to be proud of.

For all the issues that he’d had growing up, one positive takeaway that Dominic had from his youth was that he had a decent education and grew up in an environment where he was free to express his own romantic preferences. His mother knew he was gay before he’d ever even heard of the word and wasn’t surprised at all when he came out to her as a preteen. Thinking about it as they thanked the border collie for the free pins and continued their walk towards the extraction point, Dominic supposed he was at least a little lucky in that regard.

Despite how clever and outspoken he was, Steelbeak grew up without access to information that should have been common knowledge to many people and had no one he truly felt safe talking to about things deemed “outside the norm”. While that didn’t excuse his previous behavior towards Dominic (and others, given what he’d said about one of his former partners), it was easy to understand where his ignorance stemmed from. Now, at least, he was at a point where he was willing to learn…and had apparently decided that he was comfortable enough with his partner to admit he didn’t know something and ask for information.

For Steelbeak, Dominic decided, that was remarkable progress compared to how he was when they first started working together. He took a small measure of pride in being both a witness and a major part of what helped foster that growth and looked forward to seeing how his partner would continue to grow over the course of their partnership.

End Notes: This may have been unplanned, but it was fun to write ^.^ Sorry if I missed any flags, I was really just running through a mental check-list and did a  quick double-check when I got home to make sure I got all of the colors correct ^^”

[mhevarujta]

Camilla Macaulay is such a fascinating female character

Some readers have claimed that she is a badly written female character; one-dimensional, weak, barely there and overshadowed by the male characters even though she could have been developed more as the only girl in the group.

Others see her as a wicked, deceptive woman who uses her sexuality to pull strings and to manipulate the male characters.

The unreliable manner in which the book is narrated and Richard’s obsessive and biased view of Camilla that is rooted in denial even when he glimpses the darkest parts of her does not allow the reader to have a full picture of the character.

This elusiveness makes this young woman a fictional character that cannot be ignored. Who is Camilla Macaulay? My answer always changed. I have theories that contradict each other and that constantly reshape. Each time I think I’ve settled a conclusive interpretation seems to slip away from me. So in this post I wanted to focus on how I think of Camilla today.

Camilla was raised by women with horsed and rivers; an image really reminiscent to the Amazons who were placed on the Thermodon river, riding horses and hunting. Hunting connects them to Artemis/Diana, the worship of whom the Amazons were connected. Apollo, Diana’s twin brother was named Amazonius and Charles, the only man around, is described in several occasions in a way that brings in mind the depictions of Apollo. Moreover, Bunny parallels Camilla to Diana. Artemis/Diana was the product of rape and as a newborn she helped her mother give birth to her brother. She is the goddess of hunting among other things and one of her requests from Zeus was her eternal innocence and the maintenance of her virginal status. And she is an unforgiving goddess. In fact, Tartt’s idea for Camilla’s name came from Virgil’s Aeneid. Camilla was the daughter of King Metabus who promised his daughter to Diana –to be a virgin warrior in service of the goddess- in order to save her.

Tartt’s Camilla lost her virginal status. She lost her innocence. In fact she was manipulated and abused by the only male she grew up with. What I find interesting is the way she is introduced in Julian’s lecture, by reciting a passage that is memorable to her (at which point Henry winks at her):

Thus he died, and all the life struggled out of him;

and as he died he spattered me with the dark red

and violent-driven rain of bitter-savored blood

to make me glad, as gardens stand among the showers

of God in glory at the birthtime of the buds.

 Camilla is undeniably tied to the image of Klytemnestra murdering Agamemnon. Another thing I’ve noticed is her deepest desire:

“And if beauty is terror,” said Julian, “then what is desire? We think we have many desires, but in fact we have only one. What is it?”

“To live,” said Camilla.

Unlike Bunny ‘s ‘to live forever’ Camilla’s answer can be interpreted as living in the sense of experiencing life freely and it makes sense in a way. She is a female character who has been trapped between all these male characters. She is formidable as any of them but she is being suffocated by Charles who is free to do as he pleases but does not allow her to have the life she chooses without getting out of control; who is passive-aggressive when he feels their ‘arrangement’ is threatened in any way. It is interesting how Bunny compares potentially being with Camilla to marrying Charles/a female version of him. It is a testament to how much his presence is affecting the façade that Camilla wears for the rest of the world. It’s also interesting that despite both of them growing up with women SHE is the one who’s dressed in a way that men do not relate to women.

The first lesson is also the first time that Richard glimpses the mind behind the lovely face:

I looked at Camilla, her face bright in the sun, and thought of that line from the Iliad I love so much, about Pallas Athene and the terrible eyes shining.

 And these glimpses of a sharp and darker mind allow us to make more sense of her more intimate connection to Henry. After the aforementioned wink, a really significant moment is when Henry helps her after she has cut her artery. Henry is the one who takes action to help and Camilla is concerned that she’ll bleed all over him and that she’s too heavy for him. He doesn’t mind. When Charles appears he is the one who’s asked to take the glass out, to release her from the pain, but he just can’t do it. It’s Henry who takes action yet again and he recognized her bravery. To me, the entire situation foreshadows Camilla moving on from Charles to Henry and it established the reason she got attached to him –his ability to accept her for who she is with no judgment, to carry her, to let her bleed on him and to remove what hurts her even if that hurts her in some ways- which is something that Tartt never shows us directly.

Do I believe that Camilla and Henry conspired to kill Charles? I think I do. I think Charles’ death might have even been planned for the Bacchanalia and gone wrong or that at the very least that that was when the idea of his murder really took root. Let’s see some facts: All the participants are high. Henry is the one who murdered the farmer in the frenzy of that night and yet Camilla had SO much blood on her:

“I suppose we’ll never know what really happened,” he said. “We didn’t find her until a good bit later. She was sitting quietly on the bank of a stream with her feet in the water, her robe perfectly white, and no blood anywhere except for her hair. It was dark and clotted, completely soaked. As if she’d tried to dye it red.”

This image gives me the impression of Camilla trying to reclaim her lost innocence by going back to the river, to the sight where she grew up as a child, but her head, her mind, is still tainted and cannot be cleansed.

The way Charles appears is as fascinating:

Charles had a bloody bite-mark on his arm that he had no idea how he’d got, but it wasn’t a human bite. Too big. And strange puncture marks instead of teeth. Camilla said that during part of it, she’d believed she was a deer; and that was odd, too, because the rest of us remember chasing a deer through the woods, for miles it seemed.

[…]

Really, I do not know how that happened. There was a dreadful mess. I was drenched in blood and there was even blood on my glasses. Charles tells a different story. He remembers seeing me by the body. But he says he also has a memory of struggling with something, pulling as hard as he could, and all of a sudden becoming aware that what he was pulling at was a man’s arm, with his foot braced in the armpit. Francis—well, I can’t say. Every time you talk to him, he remembers something different.”

[…]

“And that bite.”

“You’ve never seen anything like it,” said Francis. “Four inches around and the teeth marks just gouged in. Remember what Bunny said?”

Henry laughed. “Yes,” he said. “Tell him.”

“Well, there we all were, and Charles was turning to get the soap— I didn’t even know Bunny was there, I suppose he was looking in the door—when all of a sudden I heard him say, in this weird businesslike way, ‘Looks like that deer took a plug out of your arm, Charles.’ ”

It seems that Camilla tried to get her innocence back, what was stolen from her, by hurting Charles. This also throws us back to the passage of Clytemnestra killing Agamemnon to avenge what was manipulatively stolen from her (her daughter). I also love how the boys see themselves as wolves but Camilla, who was ahead of them, saw them as ‘a pack of dogs’. The way they are painted differently depending on the perspective is genius.

There is also a connection between the deer, the Meanads and the kind of living –the freedom- which Camilla seeks that has been textually established:

And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves?

Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, ‘more like deer than human being.’ To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst.

 This is even more essential if one considers that the Maenads are tied to mythological events in which they tend to kill or tear apart men and animals in a state of frenzy. Moreover, some of the epithets that were traditionally attributed to them are connected to wool-spinning; the kind of imagery that can easily be connected to the Fate Clotho who span the thread of life and who decided in some occasions when mortals or gods should be saved or should die. If this theory is correct this is quite fitting for Camilla.

 Then there is Richard’s comparison of Henry and Camilla to Pluto and Persephone:

It was shocking to hear him speak of her with such intimacy. Pluto and Persephone. I looked at his back, prim as a parson’s, tried to imagine the two of them together. 

 This is a significant choice on Tartt’s part. In the different sources Pluto and Hades are both names used for the ruler of the underworld but Hades is portrayed as violent and his abduction of Persephone is usually equated to rape, while Pluto in the Eleusinian Mysteries is seen as a loving husband to her.

 Here’s my interpretation of Henry and Camilla possibly going after Charles. I see them as two people who have accepted each other but who can’t accept their own situation. Henry feels too detached from people and from the world. Out of the characters he only loves Julian all-consumingly and Camilla in a tamer way. When it comes to Richard, I think that his interest primarily lies with the fact that he sees him as someone who could finally be experiencing the same detachment. Henry is brought into the situation because his lack of empathy would make killing Charles easier in case Camilla had cold feet. The death of the farmer is an accident during the confusion that the drugs were causing. 

But that night changed a lot. I think that after that night Camilla started regretting her decision, which eventually led her to staying with Henry in her attempt to break out of her situation in a way that wouldn’t involve getting her brother out of the way.

On the other hand Henry does not see beauty in living; this is something that he only glimpses during that night of ecstasy and which he tried to find again ever since. Henry, pristine and controlled, saw in that moment of total freedom that came with killing as the consequence of being in a state that did not allow him to be burdened by consciousness and by thinking a possible meaning in life. And this fact along with his preexisting lack of empathy made murder all the more easy for him.

Camilla’s unwillingness to go through with killing Charles –like Persephone she’s not always tied to the darkness of the underworld and of death- certainly changed her and Henry’s relationship but they still danced around it. The point of not going back was when Camilla showed that she herself was afraid of Henry. Killing had become part of Henry’s definition of living and Camilla showed that despite herself she saw that as a threat; as something to be weary and fearful of.

 Henry bit his lip. He went to the window and looked out the corner of the shade. Then he turned around. He still had the pistol. 

“Come here,” he said to Camilla.

She looked at him in horror. So did Francis and I. He beckoned to her with his gun arm. “Come here,” he said. “Quick.”

[…]

Camilla took a step away from him. Her gaze was terrified. “No, Henry,” she said, “don’t …”

To my surprise, he smiled at her. “You think I’d hurt you?” he said. “Come here.”

She went to him. He kissed her between the eyes, then whispered something—what, I’ve always wondered—in her ear.

“I’ve got a key,” the innkeeper yelled, pounding away at the door. “I’ll use it.”

The room was swimming. Idiot, I thought wildly, just try the knob. Henry kissed Camilla again. “I love you,” he said. Then he said, out loud: “Come in.”

 I think that Camilla’s reaction sealed Henry’s fate. He had lost Julian, whom he loved more than anyone else, Richard did not understand him as he had hoped and Camilla, the one person who had at least fully accepted him showed that there was a part of her that could not fully embrace who he was. Henry ‘s predicament here comes down to this: Aristotle wrote that an individual who is naturally unsocial is either a beast or a god. Henry is conflicted between wanting to be accepted by few other human beings while being in this unsocial situation that tiptoes between the beastly and divine, unchallenged, power. Camilla was the last person left who might have accepted him as such and when he realizes that these are unrecognizable he ends his life, which ends up being a catalyst for Camilla’s character who has shattered her bond with Charles, whom she cares for despite herself, by investing in the understanding they had.

At the end of the book Camilla is partly hanging on the kind of living she could have had with Henry and partly mourning everything she’s lost.

“You should see the way I live now, Richard,” she said. “My Nana’s in bad shape. It’s all I can do to take care of her, and that big house, too. I don’t have a single friend my own age. I can’t even remember the last time I read a book.”

 Camilla is back at her grandmother’s, back at the service of Diana, at a place that will always keep reminding her her irrevocably lost innocence. It’s not the situation itself that is dreadful. What makes it so is that it is a distorted version of Camilla’s childhood; one that comes with responsibility, with loss and with sacrificing ‘living’ and by extent beauty in service of others.

Finally, the tell-tale hint that Camilla’s dismay with her life is genuine and not a lie she employs to keep Richard at bay is her confession about being unable to read anymore. Being unable to be free and to live even on a spiritual level is part of her punishment.

[quentinblack]

Smoke and Mirrors 

Word Count: 5K words

Chapter 14 - Harry IV: The Camden Raid (link to full story on FF.net)

Featuring: Harry Potter, Ernie MacMillian, Savage, OC 

Warnings: Racism, Slightly graphic violence

The relatively busy tube almost entirely emptied as it stopped at Tottenham Court Road station, with the eclectic carriage of muggle tourists of all colours and creeds emptying out to enjoy the shopping opportunities on offer.

The commercial London street had much darker connotations for Harry himself.  He vividly recalled the destruction that had been caused when they had encountered Antonin Dolohov and Thorfinn Rowle in that dingy café during the aftermath of Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

Sometimes he wondered how many deaths that the two dark wizards had been personally responsible for after they were defeated that night.

He knew deep down that the three of them had made the right moral choice to show the men mercy, that to kill them would have sunk Harry, Ron and Hermione to the Death Eater’s level – but that didn’t stop him from playing devil’s advocate in his mind.

Dolohov and Rowle were both stone-cold killers and the three of them had inadvertently let them go on to wreak more havoc on the wizarding world. It killed Harry to think that this may have led to the deaths of Tonks, Remus, George or any of the others that ultimately lost their lives.

The former and possibly more dangerous of the duo was at least now safely behind bars, but the erratic Thorfinn Rowle was still at large and possibly in cahoots with the other five missing Death Eaters.

It was two of those missing Death Eaters, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, that had led Harry and the eight other magical passengers onto the Northern Line service that evening. As the scattering of muggle passengers alighted the carriage Harry could once again see the other two groups of three Ministry staff huddled together throughout the train.

The furthest to Harry’s group at the rear of the carriage were Femi Wakanda, dressed in a flamboyant, yet still quite practical purple gown and Neville, in a comfortable looking grey hoodie, both gripping a hand onto the bars above their head, whilst the considerably shorter Conrad Proudfoot could only reach a bar that was many inches lower below his colleagues. Wakanda and Proudfoot seemed to be having a hushed conversation, as Neville remained silent, with a deep and thoughtful look in his eyes.

Harry had at first thought his pureblood friend had just felt a bit uncomfortable on what would possibly be his maiden muggle tube voyage, but then he remembered the obvious connection and extra investment that the sole son and heir of Frank and Alice Longbottom would have in this mission.

The closer trio, at the front-facing side of the carriage, was the attractive young muggle-born witch Farzana Badwal, alongside the foreboding figure of Robert Williamson and his flustered young protégé, Ernie MacMillan, who certainly was feeling quite uncomfortable on his first trip on the London Underground. He had not at first grasped the concept of holding onto the bars to keep your balance, so as soon as the train had departed Charing Cross he had been violently flung into Farzana -  who had wasted no time in giving him a stern telling off, with many muggle strangers quietly laughing nearby.

Rhea Savage and Josh Morris, who Harry was grouped up with, had both also laughed at Ernie’s mishap, much to his horror. Savage and Morris were both muggle-borns themselves so were no doubt more up to speed with using non-wizarding transport – and indeed, also wearing non-wizarding clothes, as they both blended in fairly well with their respective leather and denim jackets.

Josh Morris looked particularly sharp as he wore his faux-wool collars up, with a low cut white t-shirt underneath it that showed off his muscly frame. His fingers were adorned with several eye-catching rings, the most noteworthy of which was in the shape of a golden eagle. Harry had even noticed a couple of the young female muggle tourists eyeing him up, although Josh himself had been completely oblivious to them.

“So… since we have a few more stops and some time to kill, tell me, did you see much action in New York?” Rhea probed, as she shot her brawny colleague a slight wink as they each sat down in the now vacated seats.

Harry recalled in his mind the time that Ron had commented on the wacky designs and patterns on muggle public transport – and his horrified reaction when Hermione had said that it was primarily only to help hide the dust and the dirt.

“Erm… well there was the odd bit of bother here and there… but nothing massively exciting, I spent most of the time floating between the Transport and the Magi-… the Creatures department,” he quickly corrected, as he remembered they were still in the presence of a few muggles scattered about the carriage.

Harry was pretty sure though that even with Josh’s belated amendment that there was no such equivalent department for ‘creatures’ in the muggle government.

“Guessing they thought I’d want to avoid too much action given I’d transferred from Britain,” Josh continued. “Still, it could’ve been much worse if Kingsley stuck to his original plan to send me home to Manila. It would’ve been nice to see my parents a bit more, but man, way too many…”

He silently mouthed ‘dragons’ to the two of them.

“…causing all kinds of shit all of the time. It’s crazy how lapse the Filipino Ministry are about them, it’s a different world out there, man!” he said as he enthusiastically gestured his hands about whilst talking.

Rhea scoffed slightly, as the train briefly stopped at Goodge Street, as the last of the muggle passengers remaining on the carriage left the train.

“That’s great Josh, but I wasn’t talking about that kind of action…” she replied, rolling her eyes at him as the doors slammed shut and they began moving again.

Josh burst out laughing as soon as he realized what she had meant.

“For fuck sake Rhea!” Josh jeered.

“What?!” she replied in a mock incredulous tone. “An attractive fashionable bloke like you with a nice British accent and those muscles, you must have had all of the American witches queuing up for a go like you were Harry Potter or something!”

Harry laughed awkwardly as Josh sniggered slightly at Rhea’s remark, with the muggles now all off the train it seemed that they could now speak more freely.

Rhea crossed her legs, putting her right over her left, as Harry caught the outline of a brightly coloured Holyhead Harpies tattoo that was partially on display through her ripped black jeans, which were tucked into a well-worn pair of purple doc martens boots.

“Well, there was this one girl…” Josh began, as Rhea smiled enthusiastically.  

“Details! I need details, Josh,” Rhea snapped back quickly. “Do you know how many lesbian or bisexual witches there were in Paris? Nil-pwa, mon amie!”    

“Alright… alright, keep your hair on… so on this one assignment when I was in the Department of Transport I got chatting to this one chick, Kimberley, she was from Texas…”    

“Ooh, Kimberley from Texaaas!” Rhea ribbed in a mock Southern accent, which caused Josh to laugh involuntarily.

“Well you know me, I have a soft-spot for blondes, so we kinda hit it off from the get go and yes… she did love the British accent… we were seeing each other almost every other day after work at her place for well over a month and then one night…” he stopped mid-sentence, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“And then what?!” Rhea demanded, on the edge of her seat in anticipation.

“… and then one night her husband came home! Of course, she never told me about him now, did she?”

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered.

“You can say that again!” Rhea added.

“And it’s not what you think. She wasn’t that sort of girl… well, not really. It was a pureblood arranged marriage type deal that their parents had set up, or rather, her parents had set up with him. He was this rich potion-maker, much older than her, almost old enough to be her dad…”

“Jesus…” Rhea mumbled with a disgusted look on her face.

“I felt a bit bad for her… but as you can imagine it went down like a sack of shit with him. It turned out he was reasonably influential at the MACUSA too… he was one of their biggest suppliers of potions in the entire country and he winded up being the main reason why I got transferred to the Creatures department outpost in Arkansas.”  

“Tough break, mate,” Rhea sympathised. “We’ve all been there.”

“You’ve been caught sleeping with a married woman too?” Josh quizzed back, with a look of real intrigue on his face.

“A lady never tells,” Rhea said in a faux-posh accent, as the train pulled into Warren Street and a group of three muggle-men, all armed with beers cans in hand, stumbled on board their carriage and started arguing among themselves.

“I’m fucking tellin’ ya Trevva, Hoddle ain’t got a clue. He ain’t got a bloody clue! How’s he not gonna take Gazza to the World Cup?”

said the shortest of the three men, before downing the rest of his can and belching loudly, which drew a rather disgusted groan from Farzana Badwal on the other side of the carriage. The man, who had a buzz cut and a poorly kept beard, did not notice her, nor did either of his friends..

“Don’t worry Mark bruv,” replied the tallest of the three, who was wearing a black baseball cap and slurring his words quite considerably. “He knows what he’s doing. It’s coming home!” he cheered, as he took a large swig of his own can of beer.  

“Ere chuck us anuvva Stella then Tel,” the short man with the buzz cut light-heartedly ordered the man in the middle, who had spiked up hair and was wearing a creased black shirt that was much too big for him.

‘Tel’ obliged and passed Mark, the shortest man, another beer, as the baseball cap wearing muggle, Trevva, began eyeing up Rhea, before his eyes eventually fell on Harry.

“What’d you reckon four-eyes?” he asked, before briefly stumbling as the tube hit a bit of a bump. “You think it’s comin’ home?”

“Oh yes… definitely,” Harry replied, as he attempted to not rise to the jibe about his glasses. He had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. Besides, they were on an important mission and the last thing they needed was any trouble with a group of rowdy drunk muggles, so he gave him the answer that he thought he would want to hear.  

“See it’s fuckin’ comin’ home lads!” Tel announced triumphantly to his two cronies, as he enthusiastically poured a large amount of lager into his mouth, spilling some over both himself and the floor of the train in the process.  

“What do you think sweet cheeks?” Mark said to Rhea, as he too started to eye her up.

Harry noticed that Josh no longer seemed to be in the jovial mood he had been in before. It was almost as if he was anticipating and preparing for some kind of trouble. The look on Savage’s face certainly suggested that there may well be some on the cards, although Harry was sure that the Head Auror would keep her cool.

“I don’t care much for football… and I certainly don’t care much for men who call me sweet cheeks,” she hissed, whilst giving the three of them a cold stare, before suddenly rising to her feet. Josh jumped to his feet too, with Harry following his lead.  

“HA! She’d be so lucky ehh lads?” Mark said, addressing both of his friends. “Ugly fucking greebo anyway. Off to go slit your wrists at the rock show are you, love?” he goaded, as Trevva and Tel laughed along, eyeing up both Harry and Josh as they did so.

Josh initially looked like he might rise to their attempts at provoking them – but Rhea shot him a fierce glare which kept him at bay.

“Aww, you not gonna defend your girlfriend? Must have a tiny pair of bollocks to go with that tiny little cock of yours!” Tel jested, daring Josh to react. Harry ran his fingers along the shaft of his wand through his jacket pocket, ready to use it as discreetly as he could should the time come.  

“Is there a problem here?” Williamson demanded, as the tall wizard came to their aide, presumably having noticed the commotion.

The large Auror towered over the drunk trio, even Trevva, the tallest of the three troublesome muggles, but they showed no sign of backing down – in-fact, Williamson’s arrival to the scene, with Ernie and Farzana in tow, only seemed to increase their desire for some kind of conflict.

“Who’d you think you’re talking to? Long haired cunt. Only problem here is your fucking barnet!” Trevva joked, which caused Tel and Mark to laugh too, although Harry thought the shortest of the three, Mark, did seem at least a little intimidated by the comparatively giant Williamson.

“Well, I say,” Ernie uttered in a dubious manner. “That is quite the insult from a man so insecure about his own haircut that he conceals it beneath a hat.”

“Ernie!” Robert berated under his breath, although Harry thought that for a moment Williamson had shown a slight smile and possibly even a fondness for Ernie at coming to his defence so quickly.

Harry thought he even caught a momentary grin from Farzana Badwal at Ernie’s albeit quite passé retaliation at the muggle.  

“You’ll be insecure about having no teeth in your fucking mouth in a minute you fucking toff,” Tel raged at Ernie, as he threw his now empty beer can aside and raised his fists for a fight.  

“Don’t worry about it Robert, they’ll be getting off at the next stop,” Rhea calmly instructed, as she saw the pony-tailed Auror losing his patience, with both Ernie and Josh also clearly ready for some kind of altercation, should it come to that. Harry felt more confident about Josh’s chances than Ernie’s and even his own should it wind up being one without wands.  

“Oh yeah, so who’s gonna make us get off then, you dirty goth slut?” Trevva asked incredulously, as his two friends stared the rest of them down in a quite antagonistic manner, as Josh and Williamson exchanged a quick knowing glance.  

“We’ll be at Euston soon,” Farzana said quickly, with a tone of frustration and impatience in her voice. “Let’s just confundus them now and be done with it.”

“You won’t do nuffink you blimmin’ paki!” Tel spat – and that was when it suddenly all kicked off.

Ernie MacMillan directed a punch at the much taller Tel as soon as the racist slur had left the muggle’s mouth. He stumbled slightly, but his friend Trevva soon got a strike of his own away, right into the former Hufflepuff prefect’s prim and proper face, sending him hurtling to the ground in a heap.

“You stay out of this,” Rhea ordered under her breath to Harry, as Williamson instantly jumped in to Ernie’s defence, as he sent a thundering right hand into Trevva’s nose, knocking him back a few steps, but surprisingly not down to the floor.

Morris laid a punch and a kick into Mark, who retaliated instantly by hurtling his half-empty beer can at Josh, splashing beer all over the muggle-born auror’s denim-jacket, whilst Rhea landed a heavy kick on Tel, who felt the full force of the half-French witch’s boot to his shin before she whacked him in the chin.

Farzana fought her way through and hit Tel with a vicious slap of her own as a receipt for his insult to her, before Willamson connected with another right hook to Trevva that did finally floor the tall baseball cap wearing muggle.

Harry jumped in to stop Tel from hitting Rhea, with the muggle’s knuckles slightly knocking into Harry’s head in the process. He felt momentarily dazed for a moment, before he heard a still-on-the-floor Ernie MacMillan yell “STUPEFY!” at the top of his lungs, soon after upon which a jet of red light hurtled into Tel, causing him to crash into the carriage door and down onto the floor.

Morris had a clearly defeated Mark pinned to the door, as the short man with the buzz cut looked absolutely horrified and in fear for his life having just witnessed his friend be knocked unconscious by magic.

The next station is Euston

“What in Merlin’s name has happened here?!” Femi Wakanda demanded, as she marched over with a concerned looking Neville and Conrad Proudfoot, who had rushed over from the other side of the carriage.  

Harry gave Williamson a hand pulling a slightly bloodied and dazed Ernie MacMillan back to his feet, as Williamson told Ernie off for using magic, before checking that his young trainee was alright and fussing over his injuries.  

“The muggles started it. Couldn’t be helped,” Williamson said quickly in Ernie’s defence, as an embarrassed looking Rhea pulled out her wand and started obliviating Trevva and Tel, as Morris did the same to Mark.

“All the same we’re on a tight schedule that doesn’t factor in fights with muggles or breaking the international statute of secrecy,” Wakanda grumbled, clearly unimpressed with the events that had transpired.

The train pulled into Euston and between Josh, Rhea and Harry they quickly managed to jostle the three muggles off of the train and onto the platform, as Williamson and Farzana began patching up Ernie’s face.

Wakanda used a voiceless spell to shut the carriage door as soon as the drunken muggles were off the train. Harry was not sure what type of magic she had used, but the electronic doors stayed shut even when several bewildered would-be passengers pressed the button on the door to get on.

“Luckily for us they don’t have any security cameras on these wretched things,” Wakanda muttered under her breath in a condescending fashion, as she shot Rhea a deeply unimpressed look.

Savage led the way as they made their way through the Camden Town underground station exit and into the night.

“BUY OR SELL FEEDER! FEEDER BUY OR SELL!” shouted a tall middle-aged white man in a thick black coat.

“FEEDER TICKETS BUY OR SELL!” bellowed another similarly dressed dark skinned muggle.

“There must be a gig on tonight,” Rhea noted to Harry and Josh as she guided them past without looking at the muggles. “They’re ticket touts. When a gig is sold out they sell tickets for it at double the price,” she added, with the sound of disdain and loathing in her voice.

“But how do they get the tickets if it’s already sold out?” Josh asked.

“They purposely buy a load when they go on sale specifically just to sell them on at a profit closer to the time,” Rhea replied.

“Is that even legal? To sell them on like that, just for a profit?” Harry enquired.

“No, not strictly speaking, but the muggle police don’t really bother enforcing it,” Rhea said. “I’m sure in the future when you can just buy and sell tickets on the internet it will cut these scummy touts right out of the equation though,” she added in a hopeful tone, as she checked behind to ensure that the other two groups were just behind them – they were, as Harry spotted a now blood-free Ernie MacMillan, with Williamson and Badwal making their way through the crowded Camden street.  

“BUY OR SELL FEEDER TICKETS! BUY OR SELL-

Harry spotted the next ticket tout abruptly stop his hollering, as he noticed a pair of muggle police officers dressed in the customary fluorescent yellow night-time wear. The muggle man calmly put his hands in his pockets and casually strolled off in the hope they hadn’t spotted him – and he was in luck, as they hadn’t.

The first two touts they had initially walked past at the station were not as fortunate though, as Harry looked behind and could see that they hadn’t notice the two coppers walking towards them.

“See look at that,” Josh began incredulously. “It’s so much easier for the muggle police. Those three drunk blokes would’ve never started on us if we were coppers.”

“Yes… quite,” Rhea added slightly absent-mindedly, seemingly caught in a deep-thought.

“BUY OR SELL TICKETS!” yelled a tall man with a deep voice directly ahead of them. “FALMOUTH FALCONS BUY OR SELL!”

The large figure stepped into the light and Harry instantly recognized him as Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“Minister,” Rhea uttered formally, as Kingsley shot Harry a quick wink. They formed a semi-circle in-front of the Minster for Magic, with Williamson, Ernie and Badwal quickly joining, before Wakanda, Neville and Proudfoot formed in behind them too.

Harry saw Kingsley mutter something under his breath, but it was so quiet it was barely audible. His wand hand was still in his jacket pocket, so Harry guessed it must’ve been some kind of enchantment to stop passing muggles hearing what he was about to say to them.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware from your venture on the muggle underground,” Kingsley began, speaking quickly. “We’ve got an anti-apparation barrier secured in the area a mile wide in all directions. We can’t get in or out, but neither can they – and that’s all that matters. The Floo-network is on lockdown. Peasegood and Podmore are acting as air support, just in-case they have brooms and attempt to fly out.”

“Minister, surely you’re not going to be-

Kingsley interrupted the Head Auror with a heavy sigh of frustration.

“You will be pleased to know that I have heeded the Head of Magical Law Enforcement’s concerns that as Minister for Magic I should not be taking part in raids,” he said in an annoyed tone.

“Gawain is waiting for you not far from here, just keep walking straight ahead until you reach the phone box at the end of the road,” Kingsley said, before he gave Rhea a stern look. “I’ll be in the Mexican restaurant just across the street. If anything serious goes down you will send your patronus for me immediately… and that’s an order.”

“Yes Minister, sir,” Rhea replied swiftly, as Kingsley smiled a little, possibly still not used to being addressed as Minister or sir.

“I wish you all the best of luck,” Shacklebolt said, as he began to slowly stroll off in the opposite direction.

“And Rhea…” Kingsley barked, turning his head back round to face them all.

“Yes?” she replied confidently, although Harry sensed some nerves in her voice.

“Try not to take too long, girl! They’ve got 2 for 1 mojitos all night at this place. I can’t be duelling drunk at my age,” he sniggered.

“Just make sure you save some for us!” Josh shot back hopefully.

“You guys lock up those damned Lestrange brothers tonight – I’ll get you all so many mojitos that Proudfoot there will end the night puking up on another pair of Robards’ loafers!”

They followed the path that the pavement took them on for a few minutes in relative silence, until they reached the phone box and Robards revealed himself.

“Quickly! Behind me, single file,” he ordered, as Rhea formed a line behind their boss. Robards weaved through a back alley at a frantic pace that was as close to a sprint as he could manage, then led them out to a large opening by the lock.

“It’s that house over there,” he said quietly, pointing in the direction of a very derelict looking property about fifty metres away.

Harry thought it was quite generous to even call it a house. It looked more like a shack, not all that unlike the hut on the rock that Vernon had ferried them off to all those years ago.

“Took us a while to uncover it and make it visible to the naked eye. The muggles still can’t see it though,” Robards said. “It had some damn good protective charms on it. We’ve not breached the inner defences yet, so if they are in there they won’t know that we’ve found them yet.”

“Willamson,” he commanded.

“Yes, boss?” Williamson replied.

“Take MacMillan and Longbottom and secure the perimeter. You join them too, Proudfoot.”

Williamson and Proudfoot did as they were told without hesitation, ushering the two young apprentice Aurors along with them as they started casting protective enchantments around the nearby area as an additional defence.

“We’ll need heavy firepower to break the house’s defences,” he continued. “Savage. Wakanda. You’ll join me at the front. Badwal and Morris, you’ll act as cover.”

“Potter,” Robards muttered, as he put his hands into his worn-out woven woolly jacket.

“Yes,” Harry replied, eagerly anticipating his own orders from the Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

“You’re on air support with Peasegood and Podmore,” he said sternly, pulling out what looked like a Cleansweep Eleven from an enchanted bag in his pocket.

Harry tried to hide his disappointment at what he felt was Robards trying to keep him out of harm’s way, but his boss seemed to have an innate ability to spot what he was thinking.

“You’re the best flyer we’ve got, son. Podmore’s not bad on a broom, but he’s no Harry Potter. Now get up there and sit tight,” he added, before giving Harry a firm pat on the back and heading over to the house with Savage, Wakanda, Morris and Badwal.

Harry did as he was told and got onto the broom and quickly ascended into the cloudy sky.

He saw what looked like Sturgis Podmore directly ahead of him, with another figure who he guessed must be Arnold Peasegood to his left.

The warm spring wind brushed against his exposed face as he flew up to meet them, before he banked left and turned to watch over the house like the other two were doing. Podmore gave him a nod of acknowledgement and Peasegood winked at him.

From where they were positioned they really did have a perfect bird’s eye view of the proceedings on the ground, as Harry could see Robards, Savage and Wakanda all armed with their wands slowly approaching the front of the house, with Morris and Badwal close behind them on either flank.

In the distance he could just make out Williamson and MacMillan setting up additional shield charms on one side, with Neville and Proudfoot doing the same on the other.

“You reckon those bastards are in there?” Peasegood pondered to nobody in particular.

Podmore didn’t respond, instead rolling his eyes slightly as he appeared to want to silently focus on the mission at hand.

“Life in prison’s not good enough for those scumbags,” Peasegood continued. “Sooner we catch ‘em, the sooner they can go the way of their master.”

Suddenly there was movement on the ground.

“EXCINDO TUTELA!” came the distant cries of Robards, Savage and Wakanda, as blinding bolts of blue came flying out of their wands and crashed into the front of the house.

Harry could not tell if they had broken the inner defences of the property, but Robards sent a probing bolt of yellow sparks, which seemed to go straight through the front door unopposed.

Gawain raised his arm and ushered the others to follow him onto the porch, before he stopped abruptly just outside the door, with his wand pointed out cautiously.

Harry heard an odd flickering type noise.

It almost sounded like the noise a golden snitch would make when it was fluttering around in the nearby vicinity.

He adjusted his ear slightly and thought that it rather sounded like a ticking kind of sound, like the one a muggle alarm clock might make.

It looked as though Savage and Robards were having a heated discussion about something on the ground, with Robards waving away whatever it was that Rhea was saying to him.

“Anyone else hear that weird ticking sound?” Peasegood enquired. “Almost sounds like a bomb or something-

“OH FUCK!” Podmore yelled, as Harry saw Josh Morris suddenly barge past both Savage and Robards, thrust them out of the way and loudly cast “PROTEGO!” at the top of his lungs.

The initial explosion of the bomb almost threw Harry off of his broom.

He scrambled to cling onto it as shards of debris and smoke came flying up into the sky at random.

Harry ducked and dived on instinct alone as his glasses became fogged up and he lost all of his senses.

His ears had been deafened by the great sound that came from the detonation and all he could hear now was a migraine inducing ringing noise piercing into his ear-drums.

As he slowly gained his composure he flew out of the now thick, black smoke and plummeted to the ground as quickly as he could.

He could just make out the figures of Podmore and Peasegood who had just landed themselves.

Harry pulled up alongside them as they rushed to survey the damage.

The derelict house that had once stood in-front of where they were standing was now nothing more than a pile of fiery rubble.

Harry saw an uncharacteristically weary looking Gawain Robards in a heap on the floor.

He was covered in black smoke and debris, but he was still breathing and alongside Peasegood and Williamson who had now rushed onto the scene they helped pull him up.

Robards coughed heavily, possibly having inhaled a lot of smoke.

“Don’t fucking worry about me,” he wheezed, taking a deep breath before coughing again. “Where are the others?!”

To their right Badwal and Ernie had spotted Wakanda and were slowly helping her rise to her feet. She looked like she’d injured her left leg when she’d fallen to the ground, but other than that she did not look too bad, although her once vibrant violet dress was now a shade of dusty, dirty brown.

“Savage!” Podmore cried loudly, as Neville and Proudfoot helped him magically elevate a large pile of wooden debris which looked like it was once the front door.

The door had shattered into several pieces and seemingly crashed straight into the Head Auror, striking and then trapping her onto the ground, although aside from a few cuts and bruises on her face she looked relatively unharmed in the grand scheme of things.

“Where’s Josh?” was all she could muster, as she too coughed heavily, having probably also inhaled a lot of smoke in the blast.

Harry helped the others as they used wingardium leviosa and other charms to quickly lift the fallen remains of the property to try and find Josh Morris amongst the wreckage.

It took a few minutes to find him, but Harry knew they must have located Josh when he heard Rhea cry out in horror.

Morris lay flat out on his back in a huge pile of blood, eyes closed, with his left arm laying prone and clearly broken.

Yet, it was his right arm that had taken the most damage in the explosion – as it lay five feet away from him, no longer attached to his body.

The flamboyant golden rings still sat on the fingers of his severed and crimson-soaked right hand, with the golden eagle staring directly up at Harry.

Podmore was the quickest to reach his fallen colleague, as a distressed Savage froze up in fear for her friend.

Sturgis put his hand out and reached down towards Josh’s neck, softly feeling around for a pulse.

“He’s still alive…just… but we need to get him to St Mungo’s… now!”

[apprenticepetrus]

A Fool’s Errand: Chapter 1

Pairing: Asra/Apprentice/Julian Rating: M for eventual smut Description: Petrus owns a magic and healing shop in the center of Vesuvia. His life with his partner Asra and their familiars is a happy one, filled with laughter and love. Soon, however, they find there's red in the water. All good things must come to an end. AO3: Link

Note: Written with @abbeysnail! Started as an RP and now it’s a monster I’m not sure we can control.

-----

Petrus sits on a stool on the shop’s ground floor, wearing only the pants he slept in and his hair up in a large frizzy bun. Eyes aching and bleary, he grinds the contents of his mortar into a fine powder. With the brand new batch of incense selling out, he isn’t about to miss out on using extra ingredients.

Out of the corner of his vision, he notices a near-ginger doe poke her head through the window from the outside, disturbing the sheer curtains. When he turns his attention to her, she makes a show of blinking her large black eyes - a clear plea for attention. Forage today? she asks in his mind. 

With a beleaguered sigh, Petrus puts his supplies down and goes to the window. His fingers reach behind her ear and give it a thorough scratch. Her ear flaps happily. “I think so, Sadaf. I’ll get your breakfast and your bag when I’m done here.”

Sadaf doesn’t need to be told twice. Breakfast! Her head shoots back behind the curtains and she’s gone.

Petrus hears a soft rustling coming from upstairs. He imagines a tuft of white cloud floating above the ever-formless pile of his pillows and blankets. The wood floor above creaks. With a grin, he turns toward the stairs to see Asra’s blinking violet eyes and equally half-naked form.

Asra yawns softly, giving him a half-lidded smile. “G’morning.”

“Morning.” The sight of Asra disturbed from all that softness reminds him how heavy he feels, the muscles in his face included. “She didn’t wake you, did she? I was planning to let you sleep.” He swallows the urge to make some clever innuendo about his grinding.

Asra shakes his head. “Not at all. I was in and out. When I realized you were awake, well,” he pauses to stretch, slow and lazy. “I wanted to be awake with you.” While he combs his fingers through his bangs, Petrus scans Asra’s body and notices how his pants just barely cling to his slender hips. He puts a rather tempting thought out of his mind. It’s too early in the day.

“Shall I brew us some tea?” Asra asks.

Petrus hums. “Whatever we have that’ll wake me up. I’m dragging already.” Reluctantly he returns to his stool and sits back down. “If I’d known this blend would be so popular, I’d have made more to start.”

Asra laughs softly. “You’re always overexerting yourself, Petrus.” Leisurely he heads back upstairs. Again the floorboards creak, this time in the kitchen. “Life is about living,” he calls down to him. Even from a staircase away, the scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and cardamom permeate the air. Metal scrapes against metal and the stove salamander’s flame puffs to life. “You don’t have to work so hard all the time.”

“But I do if I’m to keep up with your extravagant lifestyle,” he calls back, smirking at his pestle. The shop was doing well years before Petrus was even old enough to take the reins, and that showed no sign of slowing down. “Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

After a momentary pause, Asra’s laughter carries through the shop. “I am sure we would manage.” Asra descends the stairs with two mugs, one glazed mulberry and rose, the other deep emerald and turquoise. He sets the steaming emerald mug down in front of Petrus before sitting down on a stool beside him. “We could give this all up and live off the land. See the world.” His eyes stare deep, penetrating into Petrus’s sea green ones.

Petrus toys with the handle of his mug, returning Asra’s gaze. “You know very well I couldn’t. But,” he concedes, “my parents and I have left the shop before. I wouldn’t mind leaving it again, though I don’t think the Frozen Sea would agree with you.”

A sly smile spreads across Asra’s face. “No?” He leans closer, eyes flickering with mischief. “Why not?”

Petrus would have the presence of mind to be flustered if it weren’t for how many moments the two of them have spent exactly like this. Poised at the edge of seduction, with Asra always seeming to be one pushing him over. Instead, he takes a sip of his tea. “Because you were made to be in the sun, and to be around things that grow more than three months out of a year.”

Asra’s smile stays in place, though Petrus swears he feels a subtle warming. “Hm. While I do enjoy nature and all its blessings, I was hoping you’d say I belong on a solid foundation. Like a rock, perhaps.” He winks, taking a sip from his own mug.

A chuckle catches in Petrus’ throat before he can stop it. “Are rocks not part of nature? Here I was trying to be delicate.” He mirrors Asra’s sip with a few seconds delay. “Besides, you’ve lived here long enough, I thought the belonging was implied.”

Asra nods. “It’s nice to hear, still.” The two have liked to say they met at just the right time. Petrus’s parents had just retired from the shopkeeping life and moved out. Asra was looking for some much-needed stability. Their bond was instant, kept at a steady simmer over several visits while they traded stories and bargains. Petrus became one of the few people Asra could rely on - for coin and companionship. One day, Asra showed up again and just never left.

He sets his drink down on the table and lets his gaze wander in Petrus’s eyes. A subtle lean bends him forward, inviting Petrus closer. Petrus only waits a moment before taking the invitation. His lips press soft and chaste against Asra’s, lingering before letting it break. He stays close, extending an invitation of his own, but Asra pulls back with a gentle sigh.

“Didn’t you promise Sadaf breakfast?” A coy smile graces his lips, bringing the mug up to them once again.

Petrus sits back with a disappointed expression. “I did, and if I don’t stop her, she’ll eat our stock.” He takes one last sip of his tea before setting it down and dipping upstairs at a trot to the magic-controlled icebox. Just under the lid he finds a swaddled bundle of her favorite berries. He brings them downstairs at the same pace. “But she’s foraging today, so she’ll be bloated by sunset.”

Asra’s flirtatious gaze follows Petrus to the window. “Give her a pet for me.” About this time, Faust slings herself around Petrus’s ankle, hitching a ride along with him. He seems not to even notice her, though he does flinch at the chill.

“She would kick down our door if I didn’t.” Petrus opens the curtains and sets the bundle on the wide sill. Sadaf arrives before the berries are even unwrapped. He pets behind Sadaf’s ear again as requested, telling her who it’s from. 

At the mention of Asra’s name, she looks up. Her eyes fix on him over Petrus’ shoulder and she copies Faust’s favorite word. Friend! She blinks at him, fanning her long lashes. While she seems to smile, her snout is occupied by her meal in the next moment. 

“So, what are your plans today?” he asks Asra, stepping away from the window to grab Sadaf’s foraging sack. Were it not for the length of the handle, it might look like a feed bag for a horse.

Asra waves toward Sadaf. “I thought I might go into town and pick up some blue tongue skink. What about you?”

Petrus places the bag next to Sadaf’s breakfast, letting her put it on at her own leisure. Finally, he turns his attention to Faust, still clinging to his leg. He pulls her from his ankle and lets her coil herself around his arm. He holds her close to his chest, cradling her. “I haven’t decided, honestly.” He crosses the room and sits back down next to Asra, warming the mug in his hands with barely a thought. “There are a few things I want to finish, but I might keep the shop closed otherwise.” While the idea primarily came from Asra’s prodding, he chooses not to say so outright.

Asra finishes his tea and stretches out on his stomach across the table. “In that case, maybe we should go on a walk?”

Petrus downs the rest of his drink and sets his mug on the table. His newly free hand begins to rub under Faust’s chin. She leans into the affectionate touch, her tongue flicking. “That would be nice. Maybe I can teach you a bit more green magic.”

Asra replies with a soft smile. “I would like that, Petrus.”

With another languid stretch, he pulls himself to standing. The two go upstairs together where Asra begins to get dressed. Petrus, however, interrupts him. He approaches him from behind, using his rubbing hand to slip underneath Asra’s shirt and trace the skin there. “Meet me back here after shopping?”

Asra stops what he’s doing, gently taking Petrus’s hand and turning to face him. “Or you could come with me,” he offers. His voice drops to a whisper as he leans into the crook of Petrus’s neck. “Selasi likely has a fresh loaf of bread with our names on it.”

Petrus should know better than to play the temptation game with him. He wins every time. Still, that’s never stopped Petrus before. A small shiver makes its way down his spine at the feel of Asra’s breath on his neck. “Keep talking like that and we won’t even make it there.” He pauses to hold Faust up near their faces. “Not in front of her, though.”

Asra chuckles as he pulls away. “Well, you are more than welcome to follow, if you’d like.” He slides on his long vest and glances outside. The sun, still low in the air, has already warmed the nighttime chill, and the sky is clear. He already knows today is going to be beautiful.

Petrus passes Faust to and across Asra’s shoulders. “Well, I’m not a changed man yet, and I do have a few things that can’t wait. Though I’ll never refuse Selasi’s bread.” Reluctantly, he begins to get dressed himself, if for no other reason than to force himself to start the day. He remains without a shirt just long enough to loose his hair and comb some oil through it with his fingers. At least then might make it cooperate later.

Asra nods, watching him. “Then I’ll bring it back for you,” he offered. “Will you be alright here alone?”

Once fully dressed, Petrus throws his hair back up into a slightly neater bun. “I’ll be fine, Asra. Balms and incense aren’t explosive.” He approaches and tilts his head back, offering him a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll be on our walk soon enough.”

With a nod, they see each other to the door, and Asra begins his trek. With him gone, Petrus settles into his work. The new incense in his mortar eventually forms little cones. The rest of his work he completes with journals open and strewn all over his working table. Most of the pages lately he’s filled with care notes for the garden and recipes he hasn’t yet memorized. With any luck, he’ll be done by the time Asra returns.

------

In the midst of a delicate special order, there’s a quick rapping at the door. It has a strange, playful sort of rhythm which Petrus doesn’t recognize. “One moment!” he calls, pouring the last of his order into a bottle and sealing it. He rushes to close the journal and tidy up. Before even fully approaching the door, he reaches for the handle and opens it. Without thinking, he looks up at whoever could be there – a byproduct of being shorter than most. “Can I help you?”

A very tall, lanky man with a shock of curly auburn hair stands before him. Petrus should have looked a little higher. "Ah, yes! I'm--hello there. I, uh, I was asking around town, you see, and I was told the shopkeeper here may have some very specific medicinal herbs I was looking for. Erm. Am I at the right place? " he asks, voice jumbled in several kinds of nervous energy.

It takes Petrus a moment to adjust, and a few more once he got a good look at him. His thoughts freeze, and for a moment he wonders how stupid he must look. After a blink or two, his mind rights itself. “Hello! I’m the shopkeeper. Unfortunately, I wasn’t planning to open the shop today. My partner insisted I take a day off. But since you know what you’re looking for, I might be able to make an exception.”

Julian blinks and his hands shake wildly. "Oh--erm--no, I don't want to trouble you." He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I, ah, should have realized when I came upon a shut door. Most of the other shops here in Vesuvia had their doors wide open. "

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Perhaps if you tell me, I can just fetch them for you? Our herbs are usually in stock. I grow most of them myself.” He can already hear Asra chiding him in the back of his mind, but he isn’t about to turn someone away for medicine. Maybe he also wants to continue staring, a little.

"Ah, well, if it's not a trouble then. Mugwort, witch hazel, and feverfew? " His storm grey eyes already begin to wander and peer inside the shop.

Petrus steps aside for him to enter. “Have a look around, if you like. It won't be a moment." He heads further into the shop, his feet carrying him toward his stock through muscle memory alone. On a typical day, it’s filled to the brim with wooden displays carrying herbs of all types. Trinkets and knick knacks litter any free space there might be. No matter how crowded it looks, he always seems to find what he needs.

Barely any rummaging and he’s already found small bundles of all three, tied with fine twine. Moving to the main display case only waist high, he wraps the bundles in thin parchment. “Oh, and I apologize. I’m usually better about introductions. May I ask your name?”

Julian has taken to staring at a collection of glass figures on a nearby shelf, obviously impressed. "Dr. Julian Devorak, at your service!" He makes a wide sweeping motion with his hand as he bows. The words sound rehearsed at best, and he offers a sharp smile which looks more devious than debonair. 

Petrus manages to hold back the rather unflattering snort that threatens his composure, but the skepticism in his gaze shows through. “Petrus de Boer. Not a doctor, but a healer all the same.” He finishes packaging the items and holds them out for him to take. “Anything else I can do for you, Julian?”

He shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, tugging out a handful of gold doubloons. "Ah, will that cover the cost?" His expression is sheepish.

Petrus looks at the doubloons with a keen eye. In his travels back to the taiga, he saw and even used a few doubloons. Something about the ones Julian held felt off. He assumes, perhaps unfairly, that the man got stiffed on his way over. Petrus could say with absolute certainty he would remember seeing him before. If he were honest, a few herb bundles weren’t worth the effort of finding out the coins’ legitimacy for himself.  “Don’t worry about it,” he says, holding the packages further toward Julian. “A gift for the inconvenience.”

Julian frowns. "Ah, but I feel as though it is I who have inconvenienced you! D-do Vesuvians not accept doubloons? " He asks with a touch of worry.

Petrus shakes his head. “I was already here working. Truly, it was no trouble.” 

Again he silently offers the packages. “We do, but not usually on this side of town. Most people in this district have never seen doubloons. If I may, I hope you’ve checked that those are real. There are some unsavory people down south.” The last sentence carries a bit of playfulness. Whether or not he already knows that little fact, the sentiment is the same.

Julian smiles and nods. "Yes, you have a point. Pirates aren't typically known for being trustworthy." He notes the second thought under his breath. "You are very generous, erm. What's your name now?" he asks.

“A bit too generous, some might say,” he adds with a small chuckle, finally, gently, shoving the items into Julian’s grasp. “Petrus de Boer.”

Julian's laughs and takes the herbs sheepishly. "Ah, yes. Right. You did say that." With a gracious nod, he began to walk backwards out of the shop. "Thank you again! Come by-Oof!" He bumps into a bookshelf as he made his way out. "Er- come by anytime if you need a doctor's aid. It- it'll be on the house. " He stands just outside the door and nods once more. "Erm, right. Thank you, Petrus." With that, he closes the door behind him.

Once Julian makes his departure, Petrus breathes deep and exhales at full force. Even though he didn’t mind helping, interacting with a man made of nothing but limbs and nerves drained far more energy than he planned to expend that day. At least he was nice to look at. With rounded shoulders, he mills about putting the rest of his things away, and righting whatever Julian disturbed on the bookshelf. Suddenly, he feels a little more grateful for the coming walk.

[maybeshelives]

gay things up

We should acklowledge more often the importance of queer represantation in mainstream media. (For the right reasons)

Sure, I can binge watch all six seasons of the L Word - and, trust me, I have - but I still have this undying thirst to gay things up a little. I feel unbalanced occasionally, as if there are still parts of my sexuality I haven’t really addressed, understood and embraced, which consequently urges me to focus more on my gay side rather than my sexuality as a whole: my preferrences in the type of people I sleep with, the type of sexual relationships I form, the things I (dis)like in bed, you know, the list is endless. It makes me think that all these years of repressing my sexuality have made me keep it in a box and just narrow it down to the gender I’d rather have sexual encounters with, which is a rabbit hole itself, all things (gender norms and stereotypes, personal beliefs etc) considered, and just get elated even by the implication that two men or women on TV are queer; neither examining if I like them as people, nor caring about their chemstry or the quality of their relationship, no. 

Just keep my standards to the lowest point possible and MAKE IT GAY AS FUUUUUCK.

Being queer in a world of heteronormativity is sometimes a double-edged knife; even your best LGBTQ+ allies are ignorant of your reality. 

Yeah well, my straight friends support me on my same sex relationships. But they also don’t really get them most of the time. “What are you talking about?” you will asked surprised, “romantic relationships don’t differ based on the gender of the people involved. It’s the personalitites that matter”. 

Well, yes. But also no. 

My straight friends can’t really understand the consequenses of being closeted for years, the fear of stigma, the fact that even in 2019 there are still people wishing all of us “degenerates” a slow and painful death (just watch Ellen Page’s amazing show called “Gaycation”; during the Brazil episode, the two hosts interview a serial killer who specifically targets gay people, because he believes that they’re worse than animals and the world should be cleansed by their filthy presense).

There are several bagages following us around, issues that straight people (thankfully) never had to face, like the fear of flirting with the wrong person (especially while being closeted), the fact that our sexual orientation is often times not being taken seriously, the fact that for ages there was a very small amount of LGBTQ+ representation in media, and sometimes it was played out for laughs, or even blatantly killed off (lately, there’s also the issue of “queercoding”or “queerbating”, which is rather complex itself), the fear of violence used against us on the street just for holding hands with someone; being marginalized at any level, a minority, ANY KIND of minority, sucks. Because the majority doesn’t even see you, at times.

But we exist. This should be written in enormous neon letters, and not in 8-sized Arial Narrow ones, as it very often is right now. 

No, J. K. Rowlling, I don’t want to have to wear rainbow-coloured strap-ons covered in glitter (wink wink, Sense8) and do my YMCA dance in order to have the revelation that Albus Dumbledore is fucking gay back in 2007. It’s not on print, it’s only a few words said during a sold-out book reading. You had your moment of gay-friendly glory and inclusiveness, but that’s it. During an entire franchise with dosens of presumably heterosexual characters, the single outed person (and one of the most important for plot progression purposes, too) doesn’t even get to have their own moment of gayness. Not even in the prequel, apparently (if you’re new to this, please watch the videos on queercoding I’ve linked above and you’ll be right on track). And you have the audacity to keep on doing it.

No, I don’t want to fucking speculate if Captain Marvel is queer either. No, I don’t want to wonder if Thor: Ragnarok’s Valkyrie is indeed bisexual. (Fun fact: It is being speculated that the two aforementioned characters will hit it off in the new Avengers: Endgame movie). Or the two Teen Wolf guys. Or Dean and Michael from Supernatural. Or several characters from Riverdale. Ugh, it’s exhausting. 

And even though it might come off as just another lesbian who’s trying to make it all about her sexuality, shoving it in straight people’s faces, I have to say that heterosexual people are pretty ignorant regarding even their own sexuality from time to time. And that’s problematic for everyone. 

Please, let me explain.

Not fully exploring and “owning” one’s sexuality primarily means that they’re missing out experiences they could, in fact, enjoy A LOT. From having sexual partners of all genders to being the proud owner of the best buttplug collection in an entire city, a good sexual experience that never takes place is a missed opportunity. I personally wouldn’t like to miss out on that, like the dirty, dirty hedonist I am. 

This missing-outness, self-deception and ignorance can go on for years, decades even. Just simply ask popular YouTubers or my (formerly gold star lesbian) ex-girlfriend (yes, the opposite is also possible). 

But, such a personal issue becomes public when queerness and gender & sexuality spectrums are not even seen as something that can be part of anyone’s psyche, especially in the majority of the population. Hence the marginalizing. LGBTQ+ substance, accodring to many people, is something out of this world. 

That’s what makes queercoding so annoying. Because it sends off the message that LGBTQ+ characters, romances and storylines are not important enough to be portrayed as openly and clearly as their heteronormative counterparts; they’re pictured as something that will never fully grow and be explored, since it isn’t as significant. 

So,why does mainstream representation matter?

In a world soaked in and based onto heteronormativity and whiteness, being LGBTQ+ inclusive has been mislabeled as “pushing an agenda”, where even childhood is being used as a deterrent, a queerness-repellant, which can also breed internalized homophobia.

“Don’t publicly show pictures of faggots kissing, children might see them”. “Dykes shouldn’t be allowed to adopt children, because they [the children] won’t have the right role-models, I mean, who will be the mom and who will be the dad? Plus they will also be bullied by other children”.

I was watching an Ellen Page interview on Stephen Colbert that took place almost two months ago, and I couldn’t help but notice how emotional she still gets every time she talks about LGBTQ+ problems (she has been very vocal about them since she came out as gay in 2014). “This needs to fucking stop” she says. 

And, goodness, it does. When the, among others, argument that equality for everyone shouldn’t be debatable still is seen as “cringey activism” by some, it becomes more than apparent why representation of any minority in the mainstream media matters.

Pop culture is like a huge educator. We tend to internalize images shown to us from an early age, we learn to normalize toxic behaviors and worldviews in the exact same way, and even if we can’t really control anyone’s parenting (and homophobia and lack of understanding and acceptance, unless it becomes abusive for the minor, and this abuse is apparent to other adults), there’s still hope that pop culture can bring the bigger picture, all the vieriety of human identity and experience, into our homes. 

As I’m thinking about it, I realize that I had never seen a (happy) lesbian couple on television or movies until I was about fourteen or sixteen. Ever. Like, ever. Needless to say, I have my fair share of images depicting straight couples in multiple situations.

So, if you’re not a queer person, a trans person or a person of colour or someone with special needs or mentally ill, and you’re also not convinced by my long-ass rant, consider this: What if you had never ever seen someone like you in a film before until you were fifteen? Or what if you had only seen stereotypical images and expectations of people like you, as a side story to someone else’s bigger and more “important” story? A side story as seen and perceived by the heteronormative gaze?

Or maybe as a joke? A joke that wasn’t made by people like you, people who truly understand what it’s like being you and the actually funny aspects of your own identity and struggles.

Wouldn’t you grow up thinking that you’re a little bit of a monster?

"Like when someone says he wants to watch the world burn. You only get to watch when you have the privilege of not being on fire. It's edgy, but it's not The Darkness. The Darkness is finding a way to laugh about being on fire".  - Natalie Wynn

---------------------------------

PS: I know that I’ve used too many embeded referrences, but if you’re interested in this topic, please take your time to examine them. They have broadened my horizons a lot, and gave me comfort and the validation that I’m not insane for feeling and seeing life that way.

[barbedbetty]

Wanna Play Pool? Part 3

Negan and I didn't speak the rest of the drive to the Sanctuary.

Stupid name.

Negan parked and walked around to my side to open the door.

"Welcome to the Sanctuary." Negan grinned and held his hand out to help me.

I ignored his hand and jumped out of the truck.

"Darlin'," he came up and wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. "Let me show you to your room."

I flinched at his touch and started to take in as much as I could about my surroundings.

Double set of chainlink fence with walkers staked and chained all around. Open courtyard with several people walking around the fence line. If I could cut the fence, itd be a very narrow window of time. I'd need to learn their patrol pattern.

Inside the Industrial building, the first floor was made primarily of a marketplace -

"Watch this." Negan whispered as he approached the guardrail.

Everyone dropped to their knees.

Negan looked back towards me and winked.

He made some little speech to everyone but I didn't listen. Everyone that kneeled didn't look scared. Some looked pissed off, including the blonde man with the scars across his face. Nobody seemed to kneel in fear though. For some reason thats what stuck out to me.

When he was finished, he continued to show me around. As much as I hated to even think it: I was impressed with the set up.

You could easily tell the workers from the Saviors. The Saviors carried themselves with authority, like football players in high school. The rest of the workers reminded me of band geeks, constantly snapping at each other but letting the Saviors bully them.

We started to walk down a hallway that turned into a labyrinth, i had a hard time keeping track of the turns and stairs. Finally we stopped in front of a door with the number 8 on it. Negan opened the door and grinned as he cocked his head toward the door.

"This is your room."

There was a bed with a dresser, a small kitchenette, a dining table, and a few other amenities. It felt almost normal, reminded me a bit of my first apartment in Raleigh.

"Why?"

"Pardon?" He raised his eyebrow at me and leaned back.

"Why are you giving me, the prisoner, this room?" I crossed my arms.

This room felt like a bribe and it made me uncomfortable.

"Well, I didn't think I'd need to throw you in a cell. You came so willingly." He smirked a little and clicked his tongue. "Plus I'm right next door."

"So it's a cell with decoration." I mumbled to myself.

"Careful how your talking to me, doll." He sang out as he smiled at me and put Lucille on his shoulder.

"I'll be back in an hour." He started walking backwards towards the door. "You and I are going to do a little rematch and have a little dinner and see where it goes from there." He winked as he turned to walk away.

He closed the door behind him and thats when I felt the room start to close in.

I started breathing heavy and my heart started beating ten times faster. I sat on the bed and took a few deep breaths, trying to take some control over my situation. That when I heard a soft noise that I would have missed if I wasn't paying attention.

'Click'

My head snapped up and thats when I noticed the door knob had been reversed. Someone locked it from the outside and the only way I could get out would be with a key.

I stood up and tried the door, it wouldnt turn. I kicked the door as hard as I could and ignored the pain that shot up my leg. I grabbed a vase off a shelf and threw it as hard as I could against a wall. Hearing it shatter made me feel a bit better.

I looked around to see if there was something I could use as a weapon. There were butter knives and a candlestick, but not really anything that I could conceal or carry easily.

I sat back on the bed, defeated.

"What have I done?" I put my head in my hands and started to cry.

To save a life, I gave up my own.

That was just now truly sinking in.

I had no idea what Negan planned to do with me.

He didn't take me just because I beat him at pool, I saw his eyes constantly scanning my body.

I shivered to think about what might happen tonight. Would he try something? Could I fight him? Or....would he just threaten me with someone elses life again?

I started pacing and trying to think.

Reviewing the information I had been collecting from our tour, I tried thinking of an escape route. I needed more information though; guard schedules, weapons, etc. It would be pointless to come up with a plan without as much data as possible.

Before I knew it, there was another 'click' and a knock.

"Ready, Hustler?" I heard Negan ask.

"Do I have a choice?" I snapped out of frustration.

The door slowly opened and Negan glared at me. It'd be easier to hate him if he wasn't so damn good looking. He was wearing his leather jacket, white t-shirt, and jeans. No Lucille. He leaned against the door frame and looked me up and down before locking eyes with me.

"You're getting dangerously close to a punishment, doll." He said, clicking his tongue at the end for emphasis.

I crossed my arms and shut my mouth. And tried to shut the part of my brain down that got aroused from him saying that phrase.

"Let's play pool, honey." He almost growled as one side of his mouth twisted into a smirk and he gestured with his arm towards the hall.

[livingthroughchoices-blog]

The Marshmallow Chronicles (Ch. 7: Fire and Ice)

Prev | Next

Author’s notes: This is another long one. It’s also pretty harsh to Olivia. I actually love her but this is Drake’s PoV so /: it will definitely soften over time, though! As always, thanks for reading and special thanks to @starstruckzonkoperatorbat and @notoriouscs for asking me to tag them! Please don’t feel any obligation to read though!

Rating: T

Pairing: Drake x MC

Words: 5931

Drake got in the limo with Liam and Bastien and immediately crossed his arms, directing his brooding stare out the window.

“Drake? What’s wrong?” Liam’s voice was laced with real concern, which only further irritated Drake.

“Oh, I don’t know, I had to wake up at an ungodly hour to go to Olivia’s estate, so everything’s just peachy, Liam.”

“Come on, Drake, she’s not that–”

“Do not say bad. Just don’t. You know what she’s like with me.”

“... Fair enough. I still think it’s a mistake to be acting like this, though.”

“Why?” Drake finally turned to look at Liam, his eyes sparkling with misplaced anger. “You scared I’ll ‘embarrass’ you in front of your suitors?”

“That’s enough.” Liam’s voice was not angry, but firm. “Stop being a child.”

Drake’s mouth dropped indignantly.

“I understand why you don’t like Olivia, but you will make an effort to be civil, because I know you can be the bigger person. As for earlier, I merely meant that you shouldn’t let someone you dislike ruin your day. Try to have fun, at least.”

Drake recovered his composure. “Fine. I–I will.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Besides, there is just one Olivia. You can choose to spend time with Maxwell, Hana and Riley instead.”

“Lady Kiara will be there too,” jumped in Bastien with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“Shut up, Bastien. But yeah, I guess it could be fun,” said Drake with a grudging smile. He returned to looking at the window with a more relaxed posture.

“A child...” he grumbled, “I’m not a child.”

“Sure you’re not,” sniggered Bastien. “And before you ask, no, we’re not there yet.”

Drake – very maturely, in his opinion – resisted the urge to mimic Bastien mockingly and contented himself with pulling a face at him.

One long car ride later, Drake and Liam were woken up by Bastien, who had barely blinked the entire journey. 

“Bastien,” said Liam, “now that we’re here, you should get some rest.”

“Your Highness, I can’t–”

“Assign one of your men to me and go rest. I am serious.”

Bastien sighed in defeat. “I will, Your Highness.”

Drake clapped him on the shoulder sympathetically. “Quit worrying, old man, he’ll be fine. I’ll be there.”

Bastien looked severely unimpressed.

Drake’s hand went to his chest, feigning outrage. “Your skepticism wounds me, but your man will be there too, anyway. So go rest.” He made a shooing motion and Bastien finally walked away, talking into his earpiece.

“I must go greet Olivia and thank her for her hospitality. I take it you’d rather stay and wait for the others?”

“You take it right,” replied Drake grumpily. “Say hi to annoying-ass Ronald McDonald for me.”

Liam shot him a look and shook his head with a reluctant smile.

As Liam walked away, Drake took in his surroundings. He was standing at the foot of an imposing mountain range. Their pristine white surfaces interrupted by snow-covered pine trees standing in small clusters. There was a frozen lake in the distance and the sounds of laughter and shouts of joy reached him through the crisp air. He breathed in deeply.

Despite his temper, he couldn’t deny it was beautiful here. The type of place he wouldn’t mind spending some time in with friends... or a girl. 

Whoa, where did that come from? 

He did not often think that way. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wished to have a relationship. He was by no means inexperienced, but he preferred to keep things casual. At court, with so much gossip going around and reputations to maintain, this didn’t exactly make him popular with the ladies. 

Is it because I’m not a noble? Huh. 

Or maybe it’s all those walls you put up, asshole... 

Yep, that sounds more likely.  

He let his thoughts wander freely, curious about where they’d take him. He found himself daydreaming of skiing with this mystery girl and then cuddling next to a fire. He shook his head in surprise. 

Do I really want that? Something so... domestic? Or am I just being weird ‘cause Liam’s getting married?

His brain wasn’t done, though; he and the girl had started making out. 

Wait, why haven’t I thought of her face? 

He turned his attention to the girl, trying to picture what she looked like...

“Here we are...” said a loud, excited voice behind him. “Welcome to Lythikos! Land of ice, snow, and mountains.”

Drake wheeled around to find Maxwell, Riley and Hana approaching. He felt his face grow warm for no apparent reason and smiled sheepishly at them, feeling like a kid caught red-handed. 

What the hell, dude? Chill.

Fortunately, all three of them were too busy taking in the magnificent landscape to pay much attention to him. 

“This is where Olivia lives?” Riley said, her mouth open in awe.

“Some of the time, yeah,” replied Maxwell. “She’s primarily at Lythikos Hall, which is further south, but she’ll host us up here for the social season, so we can take advantage of the snowy festivities...” 

He mimicked skating, skiing and a snowball fight. Hana let out her tinkling laugh while Riley smiled and made eye contact with Drake, her eyes saying something like, “This guy.” Drake smiled back and rolled his eyes at Maxwell. 

Riley’s face suddenly became serious,“And so she can take advantage of the Prince?”

Drake resisted the urge to say something harsh. Of course she’ll take the advantage of being in her home turf! She’d be a fool not to; and Olivia was a lot of nasty things, in Drake’s opinion, but a fool was not one of them. 

Why does she even care? Liam is clearly gonna choose her... God, how naive can you get?!

“She does have the edge here, but that’s no reason to admit defeat!” Hana said, chipper. She put a hand on Riley’s shoulder.

“That’s the spirit,” Maxwell put his hand on Riley’s other shoulder.

Drake looked around and realized something was missing. “What happened to your brother, Maxwell? I notice he’s not around lecturing Addams.” Riley nodded thoughtfully. Drake continued, “I thought he hated to miss out on the chance to eat fancy food and rub elbows with the royals...”

Maxwell fidgeted uncomfortably, then passed it off as a shiver. “Bertrand was called away for some business having to do with our estate.”

Drake narrowed his eyes at Maxwell suspiciously, while the latter pretended not to notice, bending down to form a snowball.

“Bertrand is gone?” 

Drake could swear Riley’s smile took up half her face; it would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so... endearing? 

Huh. At least I didn’t think cute first. 

“This is starting to sound like a real vacation after all.” Riley had a mischievous glint in her eyes as she said this.

“That’s one way to put it,” Maxwell conceded. “Now we can really enjoy ourselves.”

“Well, it is beautiful out here...” Hana said, still looking around admiringly. “Even if it is so very cold!” She shivered violently in her thin dress.

He turned to look at Riley and noticed she too was wearing inadequate clothing. 

This is crazy! Addams is gonna get hypothermia! Er, they both will! 

He looked at them disapprovingly. 

“Didn’t you pack anything warmer?” he directed his question at Hana, who seemed to be shaking more than Riley.

She grimaced. She even did that prettily. “...Not exactly. I didn’t realize it’d be snowing quite this much... but I’ll survive.” Drake privately doubted that, but it didn’t seem like saying it out loud would be any help. “What say we check out the inside of the chateau?” Hana pointed in the direction of the chateau, whose roof poked out among the trees.

Maxwell, who had been building an indiscernible snow creature, came back to them. “Good idea. Riley, let’s go! I can show you where your room is...”

They walked towards the imposing chateau. The enormous double doors were opened for them by guards and they entered. The chateau was opulent and intimidating, all marble with purple details here and there. He noticed most of the decor had sharp points. 

Very Nevrakis. 

“All right, I’m taking Riley to her room. Should we meet at the frozen lake for skating in 20 minutes?”

Drake snorted. “I won’t be skating, but sure.”

Maxwell shrugged and started towards the stairs.

“Why, Drake? You scared?” teased Riley.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “I could skate circles around you.”

“Oh? How about that triple or nothing, then?”

“Well, uh, I’d rather ski, actually.”

“Fine. I can beat you at anything, Drake, no worries,” she gave him a cheerful smile and winked before catching up to Maxwell.

Drake turned to go and caught a glimpse of Hana looking curiously at him. It made him uneasy but he decided not to dwell on it.

After a quick nap, Drake put on a scarf and went out to meet the others. He really didn’t plan on skating and he was, in fact, scared. He’d never skated before and it seemed like the kind of activity that required the kind of grace he lacked. 

He was sure Maxwell would be decent at it, being a noble, or at least would have the enthusiasm to make up for any clumsiness. Hana would be incredible at it, obviously. And Riley... Riley would approach it as she had done everything else, so far: fearlessly. He smiled involuntarily. He had to hand it to her, she was so much more than he’d thought.

After a few minutes of walking, he came to the clearing where the lake was. Like everywhere else around here, the ground sparkled with blue-white snow where it hadn’t been disturbed; around the shores of the lake, however, the snow was muddy and messy.

Everyone else was already there. He spotted Liam skating with Olivia and Maxwell skating with Riley, who had changed into something warmer. A weight he hadn’t realized had been on his chest this whole time, lifted. 

Okay, so I’m glad she’s not getting hypothermia, that doesn’t mean anything. I wouldn’t even want Olivia to get hypothermia... I don’t think.

Quite apart from being a better outfit for this weather, her new ensemble really suited her. She looked cozy and cute. 

Damn it, I thought it that time. 

He searched for a distraction and saw Hana sitting by the shore. She looked melancholy.

Here we go again.

He sat next to her, this time not waiting for her invitation. Hana didn’t even seem to notice, her eyes were so far away. Drake followed her gaze and found himself looking directly at Riley, who was now happily skating with Liam. They looked perfect together.

His staring in the same direction as Hana seemed to shake her from her trance and she turned to look at Drake, but her eyes still looked wistful. A moment of understanding passed between them. Drake just nodded and she shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?” She then surprised him by resting her head on his shoulder. Drake froze up for a second, then relaxed into it.

He noticed Liam skating off to join Olivia again and nudged Hana’s head with his shoulder. “Liam’s gone. You should go skate.”

“Oh! He is... but I’m not sure I–”

“Hana, go.”

“...You’re right. Thank you, Drake!”

Drake watched Hana skate perfectly – I knew it – towards Riley, who received her with a huge smile. Drake smiled slightly. 

So, Hana has a crush on Addams, huh? Can’t say I blame her. I mean, not that I see it, but whatever.

Just then, he heard Lady Kiara cry out after falling on her butt. Drake restrained his laughter as best as he could and waved her over. She slowly got up and made her uncharacteristically inelegant way off the ice towards him.

“Hello, Drake.”

“Hi, Lady Kiara. I hope you’re well.”

“Well, aside from a few bruises, I’m doing great. Et toi?”

“Yeah, you should be more careful. You’ll definitely be sore tomorrow.”

“Peut-être. But I plan on taking a bubble bath tonight, so that might help...”

She looked him directly in the eyes as she said this, a small, coy smile on her lips. Drake gulped. 

“Uh, y-yeah, that should, um, do the trick. I’m gonna go on the lift now but enjoy your bath!” He practically yelled that last part. 

Goddamn, I’m out of practice. 

He shuddered at his ineptitude. Why was he acting like this? Sure, he’d never exactly been Don Juan, but he used to be able to talk to girls, damn it!

I don’t know. I guess I’m not sure about Lady Kiara.

He quickly got fitted for his boots and skis, then went on the lift by himself, not feeling up for company. Once at the top of the mountain, he reveled in the deep silence; a silence so complete it was almost palpable, like a heavy blanket. He sensed all his negative thoughts tip toeing out of his mind while he breathed in deeply, sitting down sideways with his skis already on.

A few minutes later, he heard voices slowly coming up the mountain. He looked up and say the whole party approaching the top on the lift. Two by two, they skied off their chairs. He got up with difficulty and got out of their way. Suddenly, his vision was obscured by snow and his clothes splattered with it; he heard a loud, clear laugh. 

Of course she had to spray me. 

He scowled at Riley jokingly. She laughed harder, undeterred by his glare. He couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“So, Addams, you finally made it to the slopes.”

“What’s wrong, Drake?” She put her hand on her hip. “Were you starting to miss me?”

Drake rolled her eyes at her. 

Someone thinks highly of herself. 

“Hardly. I was just getting bored.”

“You didn’t go skating?” Riley asked.

Cool, so she didn’t even notice I wasn’t there. Yeah, that’s fine. 

“Figure skating isn’t really my thing,” he grumbled.

“Really? I think you’d look good in a tutu,” she poked him playfully and giggled.

“Some mental images aren’t worth the effort,” replied Drake, mock horrified.

“I suppose skiing is manly enough for you,” Riley said, gesturing toward the slope nearest them – a blue one – with her pole.

“I’d hardly call what’s going on here skiing,” Drake said scathingly, nodding towards Penelope, who was trying – and failing – to put on her second ski and looked to be seconds away from losing her balance. “But I’m looking to change that. How about a race?”

“What makes you think I can ski?” Riley smirked.

I’ve been so hard on her, how is she even talking to me? She’s actually doing better than any other suitor. 

He decided to go for honesty, “Maybe I’m starting to have faith in you, Addams.”

Riley looked shocked for a second, then a delighted smile spread across her face. “Drake, you’re scaring me with your... niceness.” She eyed him suspiciously.

Drake gave a short laugh. “I’m scaring myself. Anyway, I’m going to start skiing down this slope in a minute, and if I get to the bottom before you... Well, let’s just say I’m calling that a win, and I might never let you hear the end of it.” He turned his back on her and faced the somewhat steep slope in front of them.

He turned his head to look at Riley, who was still struggling with her poles’ straps, which had gotten tangled and winked. “Ready... set... Don’t wipe out!”

He took off with a push of his poles. Faintly, he heard Riley yell, “Hey!” indignantly. He laughed to himself and savored the cool air whipping at his face and the speed he was picking up by the second. 

He heard Riley getting closer behind him and he bent his knees and leaned forward more, trying to gain on her.

“I’m gonna catch you, Drake! You’re gonna eat my dust... er, snow!” she squealed gleefully.

“You talk a lot of game for someone who’s losing, Addams!” he called back to her. When he turned his head back, he barely had time to swerve over a fallen log. He regained control and shouted, ”Watch yourself, Addams!”

He pivoted completely so he could watch her, worried. 

Shit, if something happens to her... Liam’s gonna be pissed.

He needn’t have worried. Riley swerved the log more gracefully than he did, thanks to his heads up, and continued skiing down seamlessly.

“Uh oh,” Drake muttered. Having lost his momentum, he pushed himself off with his poles again, but his speed was nowhere near hers; it was all he could do to keep up with her. They got to the bottom at roughly the same time.

“Not bad, Addams, we’ll call that a draw,” he offered his hand.

“A draw?” Riley slapped his hand away. “You had a head start.”

Drake gave her a smug smile, “I think you meant to say that you had a late start.”

“You just don’t want to admit you lost.” Riley crossed her arms.

“I’m being generous. I had at least a nose or two on you.”

Riley laughed and pushed him playfully. Drake grabbed her arms so she couldn’t push him anymore. They smiled goofily.

“Are you gonna attack me?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On you recognizing that I was the clear winner.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Then yeah, I’m gonna attack you.”

“Okay, how about this, I will admit your skiing skills took me by surprise.”

“In how superior they are to yours?”

“Don’t push it, Addams.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

Drake let go of her hands and breathed in the clean mountain air. “This trip hasn’t been half bad so far. Shame that tomorrow it’s back to waltzing and bowing and all that,” he grimaced.

Riley nodded in agreement, “At least I can ski better than I can waltz... which is barely at all.”

Drake’s eyes widened, “Wait... You can’t waltz? I thought you danced with Liam...”

“Yeah, but he did a lot of the work... Why? Is it important?” she looked like a deer caught in the headlights, her eyes huge and worried. It took everything Drake had not to laugh.

“Oh, Addams, Addams, Addams...” he shook his head with each “Addams”. “What would you do without me? There’s a ball tomorrow. All of the ladies are expected to dance the Cordonian Waltz in front of everyone.”

“Oh...” she tried to shrug nonchalantly; it came off as a nervous tic. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”

Drake finally broke down and sniggered. “It’s very complicated.”

Riley glared at him and then shrugged again, more successfully. “No biggie. I’ve survived this far.”

Drake smiled and raised his eyebrows at her. “Whatever you say, Addams.”

“But let’s say I’m curious... How does one dance the Cordonian Waltz?”

She looked so helpless that Drake wished he could learn the dance then and there just so he could teach her. 

Who knew years of ignoring everything the nobles do would bite me in the ass one day? 

“Sadly, I can’t help you there. I don’t know the steps.” He had an idea that would harvest two apples in one go, “You should ask Hana. If anyone knows everything forwards and backwards, it’s that one.”

“Yeah... maybe,” Riley said dubiously. She probably didn’t want to inconvenience Hana... 

Little does she know.

At that moment, the shrill voice Drake had successfully avoided all day broke through the stillness of the mountain. “It’s time to head over to the lodge. I’ve had enough snow for today.” Olivia didn’t seem too thrilled with how her day was going, which only further cheered Drake up. 

He turned to look at Riley and gave her an open smile. “Thanks for the race. I actually had fun.”

“Maybe you’re not as bad as you seem,” she replied teasingly.

Drake rolled his eyes, privately pleased. “You’re going soft on me, Addams.”

“So where does this race leave us? With our bet, I mean,” she asked.

“I guess we’re still on triple or nothing. That is, if you’re up for it.”

“That’s not even a question. I’m not that soft,” she smirked.

They all returned their boots and skis and walked back to the chateau, exhausted.

Olivia directed them into a plush drawing room, where tea and hot chocolate were being served. Drake slumped gratefully on one of the fancy sofas and his friends all followed suit. They were each handed a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows floating in it. Drake sipped it happily. Today had been a good day.

As if echoing his thoughts, Maxwell asked, “Did you have fun today, Riley?”

Drake turned to look at her, trying no to be too conspicuous.

Riley smiled widely, “Today was super fun!” Drake couldn’t be sure but he thought she’d glanced at him when she said that. She probably means with Liam. “And now we have hot chocolate,” she said, drinking some.

“This is wonderful. Look, little marshmallows shaped like hearts!” Hana said excitedly.

Drake was momentarily distracted by Riley, who was licking off her chocolate mustache. He said the first thing that came into his head, “Just... just adorable.”

Before Drake had time to puzzle over what he’d just said, they heard footsteps and Maxwell said, “Watch yourself... We’ve got incoming.”

Olivia came into the room, wearing her signature arrogant smile. “Well, hello, my dear guests. I hope you’re enjoying my spectacular hosting.”

“I always enjoy my time here with you, Olivia...” Maxwell replied diplomatically.

“It’s...” Drake was about to end his sentence with “slightly better than being dead” when he remembered he’d promised Liam he’d be polite, “something.”

Olivia’s smile grew, “Did you see that we have eclairs, Drake? They always remind me of dear, darling little Savannah. She’d gobble them down like a sow at the trough.”

Drake felt the back of his neck grow hot, “Don’t talk about my sister.”

“Why ever not?” said Olivia, a shocked look on her face. “She was such a fixture at court, and then she just up and disappeared. You never told us what happened, and usually gossip is quick to spread.”

Drake balled up his fists, “She left because of people like you.”

Olivia tsk-ed. “She always was the sensitive sort. Ladies like that don’t last long here.”

She kept smiling at him gloatingly and he clenched his jaw. He needed to do something or he would absolutely explode and then Liam would be upset. 

Why did she have to talk about– Wait, that’s it! 

He looked at his phone and, sure enough, he was right on time. He relaxed and got up. 

“You know what? I just remembered, I’ve got somewhere I need to be. If you’ll excuse me...” he bowed at everyone in the room and turned to leave.

“Wait, Drake, dear! Come back! I wasn’t finished with you!” Olivia yelled at his back.

To his utter bewilderment, he heard Riley say angrily – angrier than he’d ever heard her sound, “Olivia, leave Drake alone before I slap that smile off your face.”

She’s... she’s defending me? 

Nobody had ever stood up to Olivia for Drake, at least not to her face. Sure, Liam acknowledged the way she treated him was shitty, but he never really said much to her. He hesitated at the doorway, wanting to say something. But what, thanks? It felt like too much and too little at the same time. He left.

He walked the darkening grounds on his own, thinking about Riley and Savannah. Two women in a similar situation and yet such different approaches. Where Savannah had been sweet and trusting, Riley was... still sweet, but shrewd at the same time. He couldn’t picture her falling for fake friendships or relationships. She knew where she stood.

And here he’d been acting like an asshole, thinking she couldn’t protect herself. He almost laughed out loud at the thought. Oh, he’d still keep an eye out for her – these nobles were not to be underestimated – but he figured he could be less of a dick to her now. Maybe even be friends...

His feet had been taking him almost automatically to a clearing he’d noticed earlier while everyone skated. The wind was picking up more and more, but the storm was still some time away. He stood there, waiting for the sky to clear, when he heard footsteps behind him, followed by a decidedly unspooky, “Oooooooo...”

“Who’s there?” Drake asked, although he had a suspicion he knew who it might be.

Riley jumped out from behind a tree with her arms up and yelled, “A GHOST!”

“Riley?” He wasn’t surprised it was her, as he’d recognized her voice, but he was dumbfounded she was there at all. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Riley put her arms down disappointedly. “You don’t scare easily, huh?”

Drake smirked at her. “You’ll have to do better than that. Now answer the question.”

Riley twiddled her thumbs and looked down at her feet. “I saw you going off on your own, close to dark with a storm coming, and... I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She looked up from her feet and made eye contact with Drake. The look in her eyes was so sincere. “After what Olivia said to you... I could see that it struck something inside you.” She stepped forward with an arm outstretched, as if to comfort Drake.

He couldn’t believe his ears. She was looking out for him now? No. She needed to concentrate, to think about the competition and be on her guard with the other suitors. 

Shit, I’m distracting her. She needs to stop wasting her time on me.

“No offense, but you’re the last person I need looking out for me.” 

So much for being less of a dick. 

As per usual, what he said was a lot harsher than he intended.

Riley seemed to agree. She said, “Thanks,” then turned to leave, her face red with embarrassment and anger.

It was Drake’s turn to stretch out his arm, to stop her. He let it fall loosely to his side. “That’s not what I... Oh hell.” He rubbed his face, trying to come up with the words. She didn’t deserve this. “I’m not trying to be a jerk, Addams,” He looked at her earnestly. “I only meant that you shouldn’t have to worry about me. You should only be looking out for yourself.”

Riley’s face returned to its natural expression, though she didn’t seem too happy yet. “What did you come out here to do, exactly?”

Drake thought about explaining and unexpectedly found that he was too tired. It had been a long day for him, emotionally. “If you really want to know... you’ll have to trust me,” he gave her a small smile.

Riley arched an eyebrow. “Trust you? I’d trust you about as far as I can throw you. And you look pretty heavy to me.” She was smiling now, and Drake’s smile mirrored hers.

“Heh. Well, you’re out here alone with me at night, so you must think I’m at least not some kind of murderer.”

She replied, “The thought crossed my mind.”

“Here, I’ll make this easy for you...” Drake walked towards her and gave her a gentle yet firm push. Riley fought valiantly to keep her footing, but she did end up falling on her butt. She looked so offended as he looked up at him and said, “Hey!” that he could barely restrain his laughter.

Without a word he laid down beside her and looked up towards the sky. She noticed and did the same. Drake then decided he’d rather see her face when she saw it; it did not disappoint. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped, she looked absolutely amazed. Her reaction was everything he could have hoped for. She whispered, “Drake...” and turned to look at him.

“Yes, my lady?”

The look of awe on her face was replaced with a radiant smile, “This is absolutely gorgeous.”

Drake looked back up at the luminescent sky, shooting stars streaking past every few seconds. “Nothing beats a clear view of the sky during a meteor shower.”

Riley turned towards him. “I’m glad I didn’t miss this.”

“Really?” said Drake, still looking up. He gathered his courage to ask the next question, “Would’ve figured you’d rather eat bon-bons and dress up tiny dogs, or whatever Olivia had planned for the night.” It was a mocking question, true, but underneath it was real doubt.

Riley shook her head easily. “Not exactly my scene.” He turned to look at her and it seemed like she was being honest. She really would rather be out here with him, than inside playing princess. “Looks like we were just in time to see this before the storm comes.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to miss it.” Before he knew it, the words were spilling out of his mouth, “I used to do this with my younger sister, Savannah, every year.” He looked up with a sad smile. “We grew up around the royals. My dad used to do security for Liam and his brother, and my sister and I were allowed to hang out with them. Liam and I ended up getting close, even though I didn’t have the lineage to merit it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Riley shake her head, but he couldn’t be certain. 

He continued, “Savannah, on the other hand, got along with everyone, and they were all friendly with her. She loved living at the palace when we were kids, being around all the pretty dresses and jewelry...” He smiled fondly, remembering the girl she’d been. He swallowed against the knot in his throat. “But it got harder when she was older.”

Riley was still turned towards him, giving him her full attention, “What happened?”

“She... It was hard on her. She couldn’t take it, I guess.” He struggled to find the words to encompass what Savannah meant to him, how painful it was that she didn’t trust him, how guilty he felt that he hadn’t been there for her... 

“After what happened with...” He didn’t even know what had happened to his own sister, nor who was responsible either! “I... I failed her. I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t protect her from this place... or these people.” That about sums it up. 

He dragged his hand across his face, trying to erase everything, feeling shocked at his outburst. Even more shocking was that he didn’t feel embarrassed about it. She was a good listener.

“Sorry, it’s... I guess I’m still not ready to talk about it. This is more than I’ve talked about it with anyone in the last year, actually.”

“Really?” Riley touched his arm. He finally turned sideways to look at her and found her eyes filled with worry. He smiled at her, letting her know he was okay. She smiled back hesitantly. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”

Friends? He didn’t know what to say. Like before, the word seemed to involve too much and too little at the same time. He barely knew her, for one. For another, however, he’d just opened up to her in a way he rarely did to anyone else; maybe Liam sometimes, but not lately.

“Friends... I wouldn’t go that far, Addams,” he kept smiling while he said this, hoping to transmit a bit of what he was thinking.

She seemed to understand. “Should we just call it not-enemies, then?”

“I guess I can’t really stop you, can I?”

“Nope,” she replied and pushed him onto his back.

“Hey!”

“Are you kidding? After the way you pushed me before, you owed me!” she said between giggles.

“...Okay, true.”

Their laughs subsided and Riley spoke softly, “You know, I get it.”

“Get what?”

“What it’s like to lose somebody, and feel like you could’ve done more...” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. 

Drake sat up next to her and waited to hear more. When she didn’t speak for a minute or two, Drake cleared his throat. “Do you want to, uh, talk about it?”

She seemed to come back from far away and then turned to look at him. “Not now, but it’s enough that you’re here, listening.” 

She leaned her head on his shoulder just like Hana had done earlier. For some reason this felt... different. Although he was just as – if not more – surprised as when Hana did it, Drake’s body never froze, as if it expected her to do that; hell, as if she belonged there. 

Okay, stop, the cold is definitely getting to you.

He nudged her gently. “We better get back. It’d be quite the scandal if I let one of the Prince’s suitors freeze to death out here on my watch.”

Her playfulness was back in a second and it felt like it was somebody else who had been thinking that she belonged there, sitting with him. 

This is Addams we’re talking about. Annoying a good 90% of the time. 

“I’d hate for my untimely demise to cause you any difficulty,” she said with horror.

“Not to mention that Maxwell would never let me hear the end of it,” he chuckled.

“I’m sure even Bertrand would be upset, in his own way.”

“Bertrand? He’d only be upset if he couldn’t turn it into some kind of press event.” 

She laughed loudly; it was incredibly contagious. He joined her and found that he didn’t feel as cold anymore. She grabbed his arm for support, still laughing. She finally stopped and took a step back. They shared an amused look that went on for too long. Drake cleared his throat. “Now, let’s go.”

He started walking, leading the way. He’d only taken a few steps when he felt a small, startlingly warm hand in his. He almost ran into a tree. Riley must have noticed his momentary clumsiness because she blushed and said, “For... y’know, safety.”

Drake gulped and nodded. “It’s really slippery out here.”

“Yeah.”

They shared another long look. “We should both be careful,” Drake said, not breaking eye contact. 

In more ways than one.

The smile she gave him didn’t make it clear whether she understood what he meant. “Exactly.”

The journey back seemed to Drake too short altogether. 

I enjoy her company, so what? 

He didn’t know why he was suddenly mad at himself. 

They reached the chateau, still hand in hand.

“Well...” Riley said when they reached the main hall. “This was...”

“Yeah. Addams, I–”

“There you are!” Hana had come in from an adjacent room, looking relieved. They immediately dropped each other’s hand. Drake’s hand felt cold as soon as they did.

Riley turned towards Hana, delighted to see her. “You’re up late.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Her forehead creased with worry. “With you and Drake out there in the storm...”

“I’m sorry we kept you up.” Riley went towards her and hugged her.

Hana patted her back, looking stricken, but pleased. “Oh, I’m just glad you got back before it really started coming down out there!” She turned to look at Drake and he thought there was a question in that gaze, which he decided to ignore. “But you must be freezing, Drake, dressed in just that.”

Drake realized he was, indeed, very cold. He waved goodbye reluctantly. “Yeah. I’m going to go get changed. G’night, ladies.”

It could have been his imagination, but he thought he saw Riley’s face fall a little before they both bid him good night.