#choices april challenge

[inlocusmads]

sitting at a park bench ~ trystan x nora (crimes of passion)

wc: 740 | no warnings, general audiences

a/n: Nora and Trystan bid a permanent farewell. That's it. That's the story. Takes place canonically - book 1, ch 18

written for @choicesaprilchallenge24 prompt - 'keep quiet'. It's more of a general theme in the story. the title is based off a simon and garfunkel song - 'old friends'.

___

The area near the taxiway was eerily quiet that day. Ruby and Luke had offered their goodbyes earlier; perhaps to give Nora some time alone with Trystan or maybe it was just really a kind gesture, as everyone knew Nora made the grandest of speeches about fifteen minutes before the flight could take off. They saw a few of Trystan’s luggages enter the plane; mostly suitcases. Nora could see the flicker of anxiety he had. He kept playing with a ring on his finger, counting the amount of times he spun it. 

They didn’t need to exchange a lot of words. 

Nora asked him if he’d been attending his physio appointments. Trystan responded with a hum back, saying he’d been much better. The scar to his stomach was still bandaged.

Trystan asked her if she’d been taking her medications. Rib fractures were no joke. Nora corrected him by saying the worst of her injuries had passed and it wasn’t a fracture at all, in the first place. She carried painkillers in her coat pocket.

They talked some more. Mostly about Trystan readjusting back to his old life. He joked about how everyone would line up to avail the agency’s services, and yet refused to take any of the credit. “Isn’t like me.” he’d said, to which Nora retorted, “Good, there might be some humility left in you after all.”

Both of them had the same thing stuck in their throat. Only difference was Nora used her silence to say the quiet part out loud and Trystan bluntly stated it without any hesitation.

“I wish I didn’t have to go sooner,” he said. “The city has been good to me.”

“Right. Yeah. It isn’t going to go anywhere.”

Trystan chuckled.

“I hope I didn’t say anything wrong.”

“No - no it’s -- it’s a very reassuring thing to say - very grounded. There is a phrase in my language that means something like that. It isn’t going anywhere.”

“What is it?”

Trystan peered at a distance. “Funny.” - he shrugged, scratching his chin. “Must have forgotten it. It is okay. I will remember it when it strikes me.”

Nora asked him how he’d feel about the scar becoming permanent. Trystan gave her a similar shrug. In a while he’d forget how it even happened. Just some sort of a memory somewhere, bit foggy to put it into a picture. He might remember a few things. A dog, a park bench, the distinct taste of an avocado bagel. Nothing much. Likewise you could count on Nora to remember a pasta recipe or a familiar taste of white wine. She’d start telling a story, somewhere to a couple of friends who were willing to keep her company - “I remember when-” and trail off, because she wouldn’t really remember much of it. Fickle was the nature of the human memory and greater was the urge to suppress anything vaguely distressing.

Trystan’s personal assistant gave him a tap on the shoulder. He gave her a firm nod, turning back to Nora. A gust of wind combed through his hair that he didn’t bother retouching.

He hugged her goodbye. She gave him a curt nod on his way up to the plane.

They had plenty of opportunities to say goodbye. Some could have involved the other holding them in their arms; trying to breathe life back into them. This was a better way to say their thank-yous and byes. More constructive. Felt more real. Trystan could go home now; scrub off the blood from his fingernails. Nora could do the same. Their little painkillers and physiotherapy appointments might just work out.

Neither of them wanted to say the real, quiet part out loud, but they didn’t need to. There was a mutual understanding. They could truly say goodbye now.

“Nora!” he turned around, “Let’s keep in touch, okay?”

Both of them knew it was a lie anyway. They’d talk for a while, give up and move on. And yet, she nodded. “Perhaps -- we will see each other sometime soon.”

A small smile danced on Trystan’s lips. “See you, then.”

Both of them knew it was a lie. Just to make it a little better for the other.

Nora stepped away from the tarmac, watching the plane taxi down the runway until it reached the busy, cloudy skies. Hands in her pockets, she walked back once again, melting into a more crowded airport - taking comfort in a familiar commotion of noises.

____

a/n: is this a cheap shot at an april fool's joke? probably lmao, but i am so tempted to make this canon.

tagging some people! if you want to be removed from the drabble tag list, please let me know <3

perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam @stars-are-within-me @thosehallowedhalls

crimes: @trappedinfanfiction @ao719 @cassie-thorne @peonierose @moominofthevalley @jerzwriter @dutifullynuttywitch

[tessa-liam]

Marabelle

Marabelle 

-4- The Beaumont Bash 

Book: Choices – The Royal Romance, an AU series 

Series Premise: An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobles, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret? 

Catch up: Masterlist 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Sophia (Sophie) 

Other Pairing: Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC) 

                           Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson 

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except Sophia Taylor, Bethany Beaumont, Melanie Smithson, Tyler Gregson (Liam’s assistant), Elena (dress shop attendant) 

Rating: M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, crude language. Not Beta’d: Please excuse all errors. 

Category: Alternate Universe/on-going series/angst/fluff 

Words: 2173

-4- The Beaumont Bash 

Chapter Summary: Sophie prepares for her first Beaumont Bash and is introduced to Bertrand’s love interest/Drake’s sister/future ally, Savannah Walker. 

Music Inspiration: Just the Way You Are, Bruno Mars 

   Love Story, Taylor Swift 

 A/N1: This is my submission for Choices April Challenge @choicesmonthlychallenge @lovealexhunt @aprilchallenge prompts, love is in the air, dinner, flower crown #april challenge 

A/N2: This is my submission for @choicesflashfics Week#30, Prompt3-  “That’s how the story goes.” 

A/N3: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the US: is Barthelemy Beaumont’s 2nd wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) was Bertrand’s mother. 

A/N4: Social Season in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in balls, dinner parties and charity events. 

A/N5: Thank you @peonierose for the inspirational quote!

Cordonian Capital...

It was a cloudy Tuesday morning in the Capital, which meant it was a good day to spend shopping. Keeping her promise to take her niece to the shopping district, Bethany smiled watching Sophie's excitement as the driver turned the Escalade SUV into the parking lot of an upscale formal wear boutique and parked alongside the floor to ceiling display window. 

“Duchess Bethany, good morning,” the elegant shop owner walked up to Sophie’s aunt in greeting as they entered the building. “This must be Lady Sophia, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”  

Gazing at the display mannequins, Sophie turned and smiled, greeting the well-dressed woman. 

“Hello, good morning; your dresses are gorgeous!” 

“Thank you, I have taken the liberty of pre-selecting a sampling of the latest trending styles for you and placed them in the dressing room. My assistant is at your service this morning for whatever you need. I am sure that you will find the perfect dress for the occasion.”  

A petite woman appeared alongside a Sophie. “Please follow me, my lady,” the shop tailer smiled. “My name is Elena.” 

*** 

After trying on several styles and colors, the dress she fell in love with was a deep burgundy red, an A-line V-neck asymmetrical satin dress. 

Standing on the pedestal inside the dressing room of the boutique, Sophie looked at her reflection in the three-way full length mirror, critically. 

“Auntie, I found my dress! What do you think?” 

Sophie took a selfie and sent it off to Daniel for his opinion. 

“Oh, my dear, it’s lovely! That color flatters your complexion and hair color perfectly.” 

“It is a pleasure fitting such a lovely figure...ahhh to be young again.” Elena tittered as she handed her a pair of gold heels to try. 

“Lady Sophia, these stilettos will give you some added height.”   

‘I feel like Cinderella!’ Sophie thought to herself as she slipped on the heels and stood up straight. Sending another picture to her best friend, she made sure to include the shoes. 

Sophie’s phone instantly pinged with Daniel’s return message:  

‘Girl, look at your killer legs! GET IT! 🔥🔥🔥’ 

Sophie giggled at his response, texting back, ‘OK, OK, don’t hold anything back, now🫡😁!'

Sophie clicked off her phone before reading Daniel's reply, 'can't wait to see you this weekend! 😘 '

*** 

The Beaumont Estate...

Maxwell browsed through the endless list of Netflix movies on his phone, looking for a movie line-up for tonight’s viewing. Tonight, being a Tuesday, was the weekly ‘Maxwell Movie Marathon’. Max was excited to introduce his cousin to her inaugural movie night, complete with New York style deep dish pizza and his infamous ‘Beaumont Brew’. 

“Hey Maxxy,” Savannah Walker walked into the theatre room giving her friend a hug.  

“Hi, Sav. What do you think of these movies for tonight?” 

Glancing at his phone, “Oooooo, I love ‘Dirty Dancing’! Are you sure your brother will approve?”  

Maxwell gave her a lopsided grin, “I’ve been telling him about my plans since my cousin arrived. You should have seen how much fun we had watching ‘Titanic’ together last Tuesday night.” 

Savannah, Drake’s little sister, has a crush on Bertrand, still unbeknownst to Bertrand. Maxwell knew, however. 

“Well, you are my guest tonight, so I will let you pick the second movie.” 

Without hesitating, “‘Pretty Woman’”, Savannah announced. 

“Ha, I see where you are going with that,” Maxwell cheekily replied. 

She laughed as she pulled out a chair next to Maxwell, who had taken a seat on the sofa.  

“You know what your brother is like. If he sees it being played out before him, he will see for himself, and then he will realize, 'that's how the story goes.’ Or at the very least, I hope so.” 

Maxwell looked at Savannah, shaking his head. "Ahhh, 'love is in the air.' You are getting desperate Sav. I hope he gets the hint....maybe you should wear a flower crown.” 

"Ha ha, Maxxy!" Savannah sighed, shaking her head.

*** 

Sophie walked through the estate doors, returning with her aunt, after spending the day shopping. Feeling the excitement building up within her, she went up the grand staircase quickly, turned to the right and sprinted to her bedroom, depositing her parcels on top of her bed. 

After putting away her new shoes, and hanging the garment bag into her walk-in closet, Sophie looked at the gift she selected for Liam. The Swarovski crystal paperweight, with a gold inlay, was a miniature statue of liberty. Sophie thought back to the conversation she shared with him the day she was introduced to Marabelle. Liam was fascinated with the fact that Sophie had visited the monument many times. Even though the prince had visited New York City a handful of times, his advisors dictated that visiting the tourist attraction was a safety risk. With his security detail constantly ghosting his movements, this symbol of freedom was elusive for him.  

Similar to Liam, Sophie shared a love of history and described her visits to the statue and to Ellis Island. Liam was entranced with her insights and her knowledge of the backstory and meaning of the monument. 

The gold inlay was engraved with the inscription, ‘your breath of freedom.’ A moniker, Liam gave to Sophie that day. 

*** 

Walking into the theatre room, the smell of pizza wafting through the air, Sophie spotted Maxwell sitting comfortably on the sofa. He waved her over to sit beside him, handing her a tall cocktail glass of a blue liquid. 

“Okay, Max, I give up.” 

Sophie smirked at her cousin, taking a whiff of the drink. 

“Ohhh, this smells so good. What’s in it?” 

“Rum, vodka, blue curacao, pineapple juice, lime juice and ice.” 

“Don’t forget your secret ingredient.” Savannah giggled. 

“Hence. Secret. Ingredient!” Maxwell retorted. 

“Hi, it’s Sophie, right?” Savannah smiled at Sophie, and swatted Maxwell. 

As Maxwell feigned an injury, his eyes went wide when he realized that he didn’t introduce his cousin. 

“Yeah, Maxwell!” Sophie extended her hand in greeting and then poked Maxwell in the ribs. 

“What would Bertrand think?” Sophie teased. 

“I am certainly not impressed Maxwell.” Bertrand huffed and walked past his brother sitting on the wingback across from the sofa. 

Maxwell felt his cheeks redden. “What’s wrong with me?” Maxwell asked. “I’m always nice to people.” 

“You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?” Sophie raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes, yes I am.” Maxwell challenged his brother, staring him down. 

Savannah stood up and motioned to Sophie to come with her to get pizza. 

“Yes, I am starving, good idea.” Sophie stood up to also get pizza with Savannah. 

“Wait! You didn’t select the movie you want to watch, Soph.” Maxwell bounded up following Sophie to the pizza.  

“Umm, let’s see...I know! “How about...’The Conjuring’?” Sophie answered. 

“Ooaa, scary! Love it!” Maxwell pulled out his phone to add it to the movie queue. 

*** 

After the first movie ended, Savannah moved over to sit beside Sophie and grabbed a handful of jelly beans from the candy bowl. 

“So how did you like the first movie?”  

Sophie smiled. “Honestly? I have seen it now for the fourth time.” Savannah laughed, “for me, it’s the third time; I really wish they had that type of dance in the clubs here in Cordonia.” 

“Savannah is originally from Texas and is still getting used to the slower pace of courtly life here.” Maxwell sighed. 

“Really, now I am curious. What should I expect at the Bash on Saturday?” Sophie looked puzzled at Savannah and Maxwell. 

“It’s a pretty informal event, but there’s also going to be formal dancing after dinner. It’s a tradition here, especially with both princes attending.” Maxwell explained. 

“Prince Leo has a reputation for being a bit of a ladies' man, even though he is betrothed to Madeleine. So, I imagine you might see some interesting things happening.” Savannah added. 

“Interesting how?” Sophie wondered aloud. 

“Well, the last time he attended, one of the guests was Princess Marguerite. She was dressed in a very revealing outfit, and Prince Leo was seen dancing with her quite a few times throughout the evening,” Savannah explained. 

“Madeleine was livid and threw her drink in his face.” Maxwell chuckled. 

“It is very unbecoming to gossip about members of court.” Bertrand interjected. “Sophia, don’t let these comments discolor your opinion of the noble life here in Cordonia.” 

Changing the subject, Savannah asked, “What types of music do you like to dance to, Sophie?” 

“Oh, I love dancing! But I never went to any clubs; only at parties or school events.” 

“What types of music will be played after dinner this Saturday?” 

“Mostly current pop music with the exception of the first dance. That is the one dance you can count on to be played by the orchestra. The Cordonian Waltz.” 

“It’s a tradition for the King to dance with the senior noble of the house to open the dance floor for the guests.” 

“For this Beaumont Bash, Crown Prince Leo will dance with my mother,” Maxwell added. 

“Which reminds me, Sophie, I need to teach you how to dance this waltz.” 

“Me? Why me?” Sophie challenged her cousin. 

Without giving anything away to Sophie about Saturday and the planned surprise birthday celebration, he explained, “just in case you are asked to dance by Prince Liam.” 

*** 

As the evening winded down, Savannah prepared to go home.  

“Hey Savvy,” Sophie called out to her new friend.  

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” Savannah smiled. 

“Do you have any advice for me about how to fix my hair for the Bash?” 

“Why are you asking me this? I mean, you have such beautiful hair!” 

“Yeah, well...I was thinking of wearing a half up-do and I need someone to help me pin it. Auntie Beth will be busy preparing for the dinner.” 

“I would love to, I will get Drake to drop me off here an hour early on Saturday.” 

*** 

It was the evening of the Beaumont Bash and Sophie was brushing her long, auburn hair. Sophie stared at her reflection in the mirror of the bathroom vanity. 

Savannah was coming upstairs to help with her hair in a few minutes, and she had just finished applying her makeup. 

‘Okay, Soph... tonight is the Bash...why are you so nervous?’ 

After dabbing her perfume on her neck and wrists, she slid the gold upper arm bracelet cuff into place, followed by her mother’s gold locket necklace around her neck.  

Savannah knocked lightly on her bedroom door and opened it slowly. 

“Are you ready for me?” 

“Almost, come in, Savannah,” Sophie called. 

***

Bertrand walked toward Sophie as she stepped off the grand staircase.

Taking her hand, he moved her toward the ornate double doors of the ballroom.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

Taking a deep breath Sophie replied, "yes".

Offering his arm, she slipped her hand around his arm and together they moved forward.

"Presenting his grace, Duke Bertrand Beaumont of Ramsford escorting Lady Sophia Taylor of House Beaumont."

📌Tagging in the comments...

⚜️Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from tags ⚜️

[potionsprefect]

Time With The Twins

Victoria spends a day with Luke and Lily

For @aprilchallenge “breakfast” and “bubbles”

Just some wholesome Luke and Lily content to brighten up your day ☺️

Tagging in reblog

[aprilchallenge]

Fics of the Week

Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Jane Fletcher

Common Ground 🌸 @inlocusmads

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey McTavish

Crash - Part 1 🌸 @jerzwriter

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Cassie Valentine (F!MC)

Breaking News 🌸 @liaromancewriter

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Meera Bose

Love Again 🌸 @headoverheelsforramsey

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Tatum Erikson-Ramsey

The Easter Magic 🌸 @txemrn

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley

Unspoken 🌸 @storyofmychoices

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey McTavish

Learning Curve 🌸 @jerzwriter

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey McTavish

A Carrick Family Easter 🌸 @jerzwriter

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee

Sweet Reaction: An Ethan and Kaycee Easter fic 🌸 @jerzwriter

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Cassie Valentine

Begin Again 🌸 @liaromancewriter

TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 9 - Edge of the Night 🌸 @karahalloway - mature

Blades of Light and Shadow

Tyril Starfury x Arwen (f!elf!MC)

Nothing is impossible with you 🌸 @missameliep

The Red Carpet Diaries

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer (F!OC)

Happy Easter 🌸 @theartoflovingthomashunt

Artwork / Edits:

Open Heart

Featuring: Tobias Carrick

Happy April Fool‘s Day 🌸 @beyondsimsreality

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Spring Flowers 🌸 @potionsprefect

Pairing: Soraya Auclair (F!OC) x Meilani Leahi (F!OC)

Viva Las Vegas 🌸 @peonierose

Featuring: Sadie Oakley

Sadie’s Self Care Sunday #26 🌸 @peonyblossom

Featuring: Sadie Oakley

Sadie’s Self Care Sunday #27 🌸 @peonyblossom

Featuring: Tobias Carrick, Casey McTavish and Aurora Emery

Enchanted 🌸 @jerzwriter

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Meera Bose

Wrong Number 🌸 @headoverheelsforramsey

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey McTavish (F!MC)

Homecoming 🌸 @jerzwriter

Featuring: Olivia Hadley

Sunshine Pediatrics 🌸 @storyofmychoices

Featuring: Olivia Hadley

Barbie 🌸 @storyofmychoices

Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Max Valentine (M!OC); Cassie Valentine (F!MC); OH Gang

Wedding Traditions 🌸 @liaromancewriter

Blades of Light and Shadow

Geometric Tyril Starfury 🌸 @storyofmychoices

The Red Carpet

Featuring: The Hunt Family

Happy Easter from the Hunt Family 🌸 @theartoflovingthomashunt

Headcannons

Open Heart

Featuring: Dr. Melissa Cabrera

The Hopkins Girls 🌸 @headoverheelsforramsey

Nightbound

Featuring: Alex Fontaine x Nik Ryder

Beautiful Dress 🌸 @ladylamrian

[snackugaki]

.... no forreal, how late am i actually to this?

it’s not gonna stop me but I like knowing how late I am to art challenges, ‘cuz there’s late and then there’s necromancy reanimation-late

[littleragondin]

15 Day BL Challenge

Sooo... I decided to do @negrowhat's 15 days BL challenge, because it sounds fun and I like looking back on what I watch. The full challenge can be found here! Disclaimer, I am not good at picking only one favorite of anything, so every day is going to be a selection (and an excuse for me to babble about the things I love ❤❤).

☆*:.｡. Day 1 - Fave OG actor pairing .｡.:*☆

A little unsure where we draw the line for OG, year-wise, so I will go pre-2019 (sorry OhmFluke my most beloved u.u).

So, truth be told, in most of the OG Thai pairing, my love is unbalanced and I have one I really like and one that leaves me more… neutral. That said, back then, I was obsessed with Copter and Kimmon from 2Moons (2017), who seemed so effortlessly charming on screen and worked the prickly pursued senior/puppy younger student pusuer delightfully.

But the ones that, for me, really stood the test of time (aka I am still ridiculously attached to them seven big year later) have to be Tak Woo Suk and Yeon Seung Ho from Long Time No See. I love them so much, I remember buying the show on vimeo just so I could watch it again and again in the best quality available.

And I need an obligatory shout out to where I started, ages ago: Japanese BL movies, and especially Tokuyama Hidenori and Saito Yasuka in Ai no Kotodama.

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 9 - Edge of the Night

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: Drake locates Christian... but that doesn't mean his night's over.

Word Count: 6,600

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Apologies this took sooo long to get out! I started working on this chapter back in November, but I got stuck several times, then I went to chase the shiny butterfly that was Polo!, and then I was busy collaborating on the Mardi Gras Mayhem fic. But... after much ado, here is the (long-awaited!) chapter! Hope it meets expectations!

A/N2: A day early, but this is also my submission for the Choices April Challenge. This chapter would fall under the ‘Just want to be with you’.

Chapter 9 - Edge of the Night

Ten minutes later, I'm standing at the St. George Ferry Terminal on Staten Island, wearing a standard-issue NYPD leather jacket (courtesy of O'Sullivan), scanning the disembarking passengers, on the lookout for Chris.

I chew the inside of my mouth nervously as I feel my foot tap against the polished concrete floor.

Time is everything right now, and unfortunately, I don’t have much of it in the bank.

I can only hope that Hayley hasn’t had a chance to post the photo yet. Because if she has, then it’s only a matter of time before someone recognises Chris and blows up the carefully faked narrative of his whereabouts.

And then all bets are off...

Because even if we manage to make it back to Cordonia without any nasty surprises, chances are good that the paps will twist even the most innocent selfie into some kind of dig about Chris and his fitness to rule. While a snap of him getting kissed by an American girl days before the start of the social season where he is supposed to choose a wife...? There’s only one way that’s gonna end. With him smack bang in the middle of a scandal that we definitely don’t need right now.

And hence my one rule for this trip — no fuckin' photos.

Not that anyone ever listens to me...

Thankfully, I don't have to wait long. At this time of night, the ferry is basically empty and the terminal deserted.

The automatic doors in front of me whoosh open and I catch sight of Chris, holding hands with Hayley, laughing at something she'd just said.

My gut tightens.

I've never seen him happier.

But unfortunately for my best friend, this impromptu escapade's about to get shut down.

"Pleasant trip?" I ask, striding up to them.

Chris throws his head up in surprise. "Drake?"

"You're a cop?" gasps Hayley in disbelief.

I follow her gaze to the NYPD insignia patched onto the jacket's sleeve. "Heh. No. This ain't mine."

"Then how did y—?"

"Put two-and-two together?" I ask dryly, deliberately sidestepping the question she’s actually asking. "Simple maths."

Chris' shoulders drop as he lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. "I guess I am rather predictable..."

"Good thing, too," I drawl. "Otherwise I'd've had to call in the cavalry, and then we'd be having a very different kind of conversation."

Hayley's widen. "The caval—? You mean the FBI? Is that what you are?"

I suppress a snort. Seriously? The second time in just as many nights? Maybe I should drop my resumé off at Quantico...

"No," I reply simply before shifting my focus back to Chris.

"I am sorry," he sighs, catching fully onto my meaning. "I didn't intend to cause a ruckus. I honestly thought we could get here and back before anyone noticed."

"You know you could've just said the word, and we would've made this happen, right?" I ask. "There was no need for you to cut and run like that."

"To be fair, this was all quite spur of the moment, wasn't it?" he admits, sneaking a glance at Hayley, who blushes in response. "We were just talking back at the club, and I happened to mention that we never got to see the Statue of Liberty this morning... To which Hayley admitted to always having wanted to take a night-time ferry tour... And all of a sudden, one thing led to another, and—"

"Yeah, I get it," I interject. "And I don't blame you for doing it. But next time, leave your phone on. Regardless of whatever kind of BS Leo tries to sell you." I fix him with a pointed look.

Chris has the good graces to flush embarrassedly. "Duly noted."

Hayley shakes her head. "But his phone was—"

"And speaking of phones..." adds O'Sullivan, strolling up with a half-eaten Boston Cream donut in his hand, "I'm going to have to ask you to hand yours over, ma'am."

Hayley's mouth drops open. "My phone?"

"Yes, ma'am," O'Sullivan affirms, popping the rest of the donut into his mouth.

"What is the meaning of this, officer?" demands Chris, moving in front of a shocked Hayley.

"Chris..." I warn in a low voice. "Back off."

He throws me a disbelieving look. "But—"

"We have reason to believe that the device contains information pertinent to a matter under investigation," O'Sullivan clarifies.

Chris reels back. "What investigation?"

"A joint investigation," comes the stone-faced reply.

Hayley's face drains of colour.

I shake my head. Christ, O'Sullivan can be a bastard when he wants to be.

But the situation can’t be helped.

There are sensitive pictures of Chris and Hayley on that device that cannot be allowed to see the light of day. And despite the fact that O'Sullivan’s skirting a very dangerous line right now, we have to sacrifice one form of privacy to protect another.

Because even though O'Sullivan’s an NYPD officer, sworn to uphold the laws of the Empire State, he’s also duty bound to look out for his principle. So, he offered to play bad cop. In part because he actually is a cop.

He turns back to Hayley. "Were you aboard the recently docked Staten Island Ferry?"

Chris heaves an exasperated sigh. "How is that—?"

O'Sullivan ignores him. "Answer the question, ma'am."

"Yes," squeaks Hayley.

"Damn it, Drake!" snaps Chris. "Do something!"

"Can't, buddy..." I inform him flatly. "Don't have jurisdiction here, remember?"

"So, you're just going to let him—?"

"Impeding a police officer from carrying out their public duties is a criminal offence," I point out, folding my arms. "So, I suggest you let the man do his job."

Chris glares at me.

But he’s gonna have to suck it up.

Because he got himself into this avoidable mess as a result of his impulsiveness and complete disregard for our standard security protocols. So, now it’s my job to clean up after him.

Regardless of how it makes him — or Hayley — feel.

"While onboard, did you take photographs with a cellular device?" continues O'Sullivan.

Hayley's basically quaking in her boots. "Yes, but—"

"And in the course of taking such photographs, did you—?"

"—but, I didn't use my phone!"

The intensity of Hayley's outburst catches everyone off guard.

I shake my head. "Then what—?"

"She used my phone," explains Chris tersely. "To take a picture of me with the Statue of Liberty in the background... so I could commemorate the once-in-a-lifetime experience."

"But she—"

"—may have taken a few additional pictures as well," admits Chris with a self-conscious smile, as his eyes finds Hayley again. "Somewhat spontaneously, I'll admit, but—"

"None on hers?" I press.

Chris lifts his eyes to mine steadfastly. "No. Her phone stayed in her purse the whole time. So, whatever it is that you are accusing her of, she did at my behest and therefore should be relieved of any and all responsibility."

I feel the tension in my shoulders unwind slightly. Some goddamn common sense, at last!

But Chris isn’t off the hook yet...

"Did you share any pictures with her?" I ask.

"He tried," Hayley admits. "But for some reason, there was no signal on the ferry."

I let out an explosive breath. Thank Christ for that signal jammer!

Never thought I'd actually be thanking Leo for anything. But here we are...

Hayley is still glaring at us. "Well, aren't you going to ask to see his phone, then? Seeing as you're so concerned about... whatever it is that you're concerned about?"

I glance at Chris. She's got a point...

He pulls out his phone with a nod of acknowledgment, knowing we have to continue playing this game for the sake of his cover. "Here you are, officer."

Taking it, O'Sullivan makes a bit of a show of flipping through Chris' camera roll before handing the device back. "Thank you, sir. Looks like we got bad intel. None of the images contain anything pertinent to our investigation." He throws me a dirty look.

I shrug. Shit happens.

But the important thing is that we’re in the clear... and my ass is no longer on the line.

"So... that's it? asks Hayley cautiously. "We're free to go?"

"Not quite," I admit, meeting Chris' eye.

He drops his gaze in resignation before turning to Hayley. "As delightful as this spontaneous outing has been, I am afraid we must call it a night."

Her mouth falls open. "Just like that?"

"Unfortunately so," he confirms, lifting her hand gently to his lips. "But believe me when I say that you made my night, Hayley."

A blush rises to her cheeks. "I don't know about that..."

"Truly," he asserts, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. "I am forever grateful..."

"Jesus, I'm about to get diabetes..." huffs O'Sullivan under his breath.

I elbow him in the ribs.

"...and as a small token of my appreciation, I hope you would allow us to escort you home," finishes Chris with a meaningful look in my direction.

I can't help but scoff. Well played, buddy. Well played.

But I guess I owe him one after gatecrashing his date the way I have. And let's face it — we can’t exactly leave the girl stranded on the wrong side of the Hudson without a safe way to get home. So, we might as well kill two birds with one stone.

"Sure," I concede. "She can ride back with us."

"In your drea—"

O'Sullivan grunts as I nail him in the side again.

"Oh, you really don't have t—" demurs Hayley.

"But I want to," insists Chris, turning the full force of his emerald gaze on her.

She wilts under his sincerity with a blush. "Well, in that case..."

"What the hell, Walker?" hisses O'Sullivan under his breath as Chris offers his arm to Hayley to lead her from the ferry terminal. "Finding your missing prince is one thing, but you can't just go around handing out free rides to civilians like—"

"Trust me," I reply quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I'll make it worth your while."

He snorts. "I already paid for the donuts."

"This is a bit more substantial than some Dunkin's," I assure him.

"Better be," he declares. "Kerosene ain't cheap, Lieutenant."

I throw my head up. "You've done your homework."

"What can I say?" he shrugs with a smirk. "I'm good at my job."

"And if you've read my file," I reply, recovering quickly, "you'll know that I am too."

"Seeing is believing, Walker," O'Sullivan reminds me as we exit the terminal hot on Chris and Hayley's heels.

I roll my eyes. "Hardass..."

But, I can understand his scepticism. This is the first time the two of us have officially worked together, and in this job, trust doesn’t come easy, or cheap.

So, I’m gonna let his attitude slide.

Hayley stumbles to a stop in front of us. "Why is there a—?"

"Had to get here somehow..."

Her jaw drops as she turns to gape at me. "So, you flew in a helicopter?"

"Faster than swimming," I tell her with a shrug.

Hayley stares at me like I was insane.

"And it's not waiting for stragglers, so if you want a lift, you'd better move it," prompts O'Sullivan, striding past her towards the idling chopper.

"Hold on. He's coming with us?" asks Hayley in disbelief.

"It's his bird," I shout over the roar of the rotor blades. "So, yeah."

"His—?" Her eyes widen. "Wait. Are you guys... arresting us?"

I fix her with a pointed look. "See any handcuffs?"

"Then why are we getting into a helicopter with a cop!" she demands, stubbornly throwing the breaks on a few feet from the aircraft.

"Because he's doing us a favour," I explain with a sigh. "So if you—"

"No!" she protests. "Not until you tell me who the hell you are! Because if you're not cops and you're not FBI then—"

Chris steps assuringly up to her. "Hayley. There is nothing nefarious underfoot. I promise. We are simply—"

"Diplomats," I interject quickly, not 100% confident that Chris won't choose this moment to come clean about who he really is. "From Europe."

"Diplomats?" queries Hayley, eyeing the two of us uncertainly.

"Here on an unofficial, turn-and-burn visit," I confirm. It’s basically the truth. The best lies always are.

"Unofficial?" she frowns. "You mean secret?"

"You make it sound much more suspenseful than it in fact is," chuckles Chris, holding a hand out to help her into the ‘copter.

"But we are trying to keep a low profile," I remind them.

She mulls over our responses. "So, that cop—?"

"Doing us a favour, like I said."

"What's the holdup, boys?" shouts O'Sullivan from the cockpit.

"Nothing!" I holler back over my shoulder as Hayley finally climbs in...

...while simultaneously throwing a hand out to intercept Chris as he's about to follow suit.

He meets my eye quizzically.

"Not with that kit in your pocket, buddy," I tell him. "I've had more than enough excitement for one night."

His brows furrow. "Isn't it just—?"

"It can down the chopper," I reply flatly, holding out my hand.

Chris pales. Reaching into his trouser pocket, he quickly palms me the signal jammer without further protest.

Killing the power to the device, I pocket it and hop in after Chris.

"'Bout time, Walker," observes O'Sullivan dryly as I pull the door closed.

Securing the hatch, I flick my middle finger 'round, giving O'Sullivan the go to take off while simultaneously flipping him off.

He throws his head back with a laugh as he relays the instructions to Hendricks.

The pilot revs the throttle, and we start to lift into the air.

Dropping into the seat across from Chris, I pull the seatbelt on as I fire off a quick text to Schweitzer to let him know that we were inbound back to the hotel. Stowing the device, I pull the headset on just in time to hear Hayley's gasp over the intercom.

Glancing up, I see her latched onto Chris, eyeing the rapid retreat of the terra firma with a confused mix of emotions on her face.

Chris's voice crackles over the intercom. "Exciting, isn't it?"

She swallows hard, tightening her hold on his arm. "You... you could say that..."

His face clouds with concern. "Do you... suffer from acrophobia by any chance?"

"W-what?" she stammers, glancing back at him nervously.

"Acrophobia," he repeats. "Fear of heights."

She shakes her head. "I... I've just never flown before."

"Ah," nods Chris in understanding. "Some trepidation is perfectly understandable, then. But, as someone who has been flying since infancy, I can assure you that it is quite safe."

"Promise?"

"Solemnly," he assures her, covering her hand in his. "I wouldn't dream of putting you in harm's way. And, if it helps at all, you are welcome to focus your attention on me."

I scoff under my breath as Hayley lifts her gaze to Chris' like clockwork.

Guy’s slicker'n a greased pig on ice...

But I can’t really blame him. It’s his last shot at freedom before the start of the season, so he’s entitled to bring his A-game...

...even if his play had cost me mine.

I give myself a mental kick.

Quit it, you ass.

This is Chris' time. Not mine.

And I’m not gonna let some misplaced sense of resentment fuck up what’s left of this trip.

Especially since I only have myself to blame.

For dragging my feet around Gale. For second-guessing myself... and her. And for letting myself fall for her in the first place.

I heave a breath as I stare out of the cockpit.

I fucked up. Big time.

Don't get hooked.

That’s my number one rule.

Because I have no time and zero interest in anything resembling a serious relationship. It’s too distracting, too much work and I probably wouldn't be able to sustain it anyway. At least not without a level of disclosure that’s way higher than what I’m prepared to give after just a handful of dates. And even then there’s no guarantee that all the late nights, erratic schedules and constant jet-setting won’t drive a massive wedge between whatever promises we make to each other.

Hell, this life literally destroyed my family.

Yet, here I am, despite everything, wishing it’s Harper that I’m sat next to right now, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against mine, smelling the honey scent of her hair as we whip over the city.

Would she be clutching my hand nervously, like Hayley is Chris'? Or would she be pressed up against the window, hazel-green eyes sparkling with excitement as she sought out each famous landmark? Or would she be on my lap, taking me for a very different kind of ride 2,000 feet over the city, the view outside forgotten?

I swallow a groan as I shift uncomfortably in the hard seat.

Christ, I’m in trouble...

Not only had I torpedoed my own rules like a bull in a china shop, but I've decided that it'd be a great fuckin’ idea to fall for a girl who lives literally on the other side of the world, and who I have no chance of ever seeing again.

Because the social season is starting in a few short days, and it’s going to eat up literally all of my time. In part because the season’s a mess of high-profile public engagements across disparate venues around the country, and in part because Chris is now the Heir Apparent and that means that I’m going to have to be even more on the ball when it comes to security arrangements.

So, there’s no way in hell that — even if I want to — I’m going to be able to hop back over the Pond and find Gale, much less spend any kind of meaningful time with her.

And I want to. Desperately. Beyond the fact that I have an incurable itch in my pants from having failed to close the deal.

Because no girl has ever had such a lightning bolt effect on me. And I can’t ignore the lodestone-like attraction that went beyond anything I've ever felt before.

But life obviously has a malicious sense of humour when it comes to throwing curve balls, because short of giving Bast — and Chris — the finger and resigning, I literally have no cards to play.

And I’m not gonna leave my brother or my commanding officer (who’s also my uncle in all but name) in the lurch during one of the busiest periods of the royal calendar, just so I can chase after a girl who may or may not actually want to see me again.

Especially after the way I walked out on her earlier...

I shake my head morosely as we begin our descent onto the hotel roof.

There’s no two ways about it. Because regardless of what’s happened — and didn't — I’m going to have to accept that I've been dealt a shit hand and the only available option is to cut my losses and fold.

Because me and her? Not gonna happen. On any level.

So, if I’m to have any hope of extricating myself from this irrational infatuation that I've inadvertently thrown myself into, I know that I’m just gonna have to pretend that the past two nights never happened...

...and maybe that way I can salvage some semblance of sanity before I lose my mind completely.

The chopper touches down.

Yanking my headset and seatbelt off, I immediately set about throwing the door open and helping Chris and Hayley disembark.

Because if there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that I have two options for pulling myself out of my ass: getting physical, or getting shit-faced drunk. And since alcohol’s not a possibility right now — at least not until Chris is safely back in his hotel room and the door has been locked for the night — I’m going to have to keep moving and keep myself busy.

"Get her inside," I shout to Chris. "I'll be over in a sec."

With a nod, he wraps his arm around Hayley to help shield her from the worst of the down draft as he begins leading her towards the hotel-access door on the other side of the roof.

Turning back towards the chopper, I yell up O'Sullivan, "Thanks for the assist!"

"Any time, Lieutenant," he winks back at me as I shrug out of the loaner jacket. "You Cordonians sure know how to make a guy's night interesting!"

"Yeah," I scoff, tossing the heavy leather up to him. "A little too interesting..."

"Beats sitting at a desk all night," he grins, deftly snapping the jacket out of the air... until his expression changes as he clocks the added weight. "You leave your Tic-Tac's in here, or something, Walker?"

"Nope," I reply. "That lil' keepsake's for you, Deputy Inspector."

O'Sullivan frowns as he reaches into the inner-left pocket... and blanches as he pulls out the signal jammer. "You've got to be shitting me!"

I catch his eye with a level look. “Told you I'd make this trip worth your while..."

"Yeah, when you said that, I thought you were talking about a case of Bud, or something," he admits dryly, inspecting the jammer. Looking back up, he adds, "You realise this isn't some rookie tech off Amazon, right?"

I nod. "It's why I figured you'd want it off the streets."

Leo'd probably filched it from the Guard armoury, the sneaky bastard. Which means it’s military-grade and has no place in a civilian setting.

O'Sullivan chuckles. "You figured right. This bad boy could've landed your Prince Charming with a hefty fine... or some serious jail time if he'd been caught with it."

"Trust me, I know," I grunt. "But at least this way you have a plausible story for commandeering the chopper."

"Not to mention a shit load of paperwork," he grumbles with a sour look. But I can see that he's not that begrudging of the situation.

"Yeah, well," I shrug, "no pain, no gain, O'Sullivan. And speaking of, I should get going before Chris blows up all our hard work by disappearing again."

"No sweat, Walker," grins O'Sullivan. "Like I said, it's been interesting."

"Glad to’ve been of service," I smirk in reply as I yank the chopper door closed again.

From behind the cockpit window, O'Sullivan lifts two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute before turning back Hendricks.

As the rotors start to pick up speed again, I quickly vacate the landing circle. Loping across the roof, I catch up with Chris and Hayley just before the stairwell door slams shut behind them.

"Everything alright?" queries Chris as the motion-sensitive lights flicker on overhead in the tight space.

"Yup," I confirm, quickly moving to the front. I’m not expecting any nasty surprises on our way down, but you can never be too careful. "Just had to square a few lose ends."

"What happened to your shirt?" exclaims Hayley, suddenly catching sight of my bare chest.

"Functional breakdown," I mutter, yanking the wayward front panels together as I start making my way down the steps.

"He means it ripped," clarifies Chris wryly in response to Hayley's confused silence.

"Yeah, I can see that, but—"

"It ain't important," I cut in gruffly, picking up the pace.

It’s bad enough that I can’t get Gale out of my head. I don’t need the remnants of my unfulfilled night with her turning into a conversation piece.

Because the last thing I feel like doing — after everything that’s gone wrong tonight — is talking. About any of it. As it sure as hell isn’t gonna change anything, and it’s definitely not anyone’s business but mine and Gale's.

Reaching the landing, I divert towards the nondescript door that’s our gateway back into the hotel proper. Cracking it open, I do a quick visual sweep for potential threats before opening it more fully to let Chris and Hayley through as well.

Hayley frowns as she surveys our surroundings. "You brought us to... a gym?"

"It's the fastest way to the elevators," I tell her, striding past the glass-encased room that houses the top-of-the-line fitness equipment. "Unless you want to tackle a dozen flight of stairs in those heels?"

"No, thanks."

"Yeah. Didn't think so."

"Is he always so grumpy?" whispers Hayley to Chris... loud enough for me to hear.

"Only on Thursdays and Fridays," replies Chris in equally (un)hushed tones.

Hayley snorts in response.

I feel my jaw clench.

But we’re two yards from the elevators and the end of this fucked up night.

So, I don't let myself rise to the needling, and focus instead on the task at hand, which is making sure that Chris got back to his room without incident.

Arriving at the metal doors, I press the button to call the lift. One arrives almost instantaneously and we file in, Chris and Hayley trying and failing to hide their conspiratorial sniggers as they cast me sidelong glances.

I roll my eyes, but otherwise remain silent.

Just have to drop Chris off, and then escort Hayley down to the lobby and into a cab.

Then I’m done.

Luckily, the well-greased elevator ride is mercifully short, and we arrive on our booked-out floor within seconds.

The doors ping open.

I open my mouth...

...but Chris is faster.

"Could I tempt you with a nightcap?" he asks Hayley, extending his hand hopefully down towards the end of the hallway. "My room has quite an impressive selection of refreshments."

"Sounds like being a diplomat comes with perks," she observes with a smile.

"Absolutely," agrees Chris, placing a hand in the small of her back to guide her towards his room. “Especially when you have a beautiful companion to share them with.”

I slam my mouth shut as I step out of the lift after them.

So much for that plan...

Chris obviously isn’t ready to call it a night. But who can blame him? He has a hot girl hanging on his every word and gesture, who just agreed to come back to his hotel room. He'd be a fool not to take full advantage of the opportunity.

And honestly? With the way they’re looking at each other, I'll be surprised if they even made it to the mini bar (let alone to the bed) before they jump each other like a pair of horny jackrabbits...

...Christ knew Gale and I hadn't.

I shake my head. 

Put a sock in it, Walker!

Yanking my phone out of my pocket to distract myself from the relentlessly graphic memories, I send a quick sit-rep to Schweitzer to let him know that we've made it safely back to the hotel, and everyone can finally unclench their sphincters.

That said, I have no idea what Leo, Max and Tariq are up to… or where the hell they even are. But they’re not my priority. If they got themselves lost, locked up, or killed, that’s their problem. Not mine.

I've had enough of running around the greater New York metropolitan area for one night, praying and hoping while chasing down partial leads and best-guesses. And I’m not gettin' paid to stress about nobody but Chris, so everyone else can fall down an open man-hole and break their neck for all I care.

I’m fuckin' done with this night.

"Care to join us?"

Chris’ voice jars me from my thoughts. Glancing up, I can see him standing in the doorway of the Carnegie Suite, looking at me expectantly.

"Huh?"

"For a drink," he clarifies, no doubt catching the dumbass expression on my face. "Seeing as I ended up pulling you away from... whatever you were doing—" his gaze flicks pointedly to the ripped buttons of my shirt, "—I feel I should offer you at least some recompense. Even if it is just a late-night libation."

"Nah," I say with a shake of my head, slotting my phone away. "I'm beat. I'm calling it a night."

"Well, if you change your mind..."

I scoff. "Trust me, I won't. You don't need me crashing that particular party."

I nod my chin towards the inside of the room where Hayley is already in the process of shrugging out of her sparkly jacket as she stands silhouetted by the glow emanating from the Manhattan nightscape behind her.

Chris glances briefly over his shoulder with a wry grin. "No, I suppose not. Rain check?"

"Rain check," I agree, bumping my fist against his. "On the condition your ass stays in that room 'til departure time. And you don’t take or share any photos with her. Including the ones from the ferry. Otherwise you'll be owing me a helluva lot more than a fancy, overpriced drink.”

Chris cracks a laugh as he pulls the door around. "Duly noted! 'Night, mate! I owe you one!”

"Damn right you do!”I reply with a smirk, pulling my own keycard out. "Play safe."

"I always do," winks Chris, reaching around to slip the 'Do Not Disturb' placard onto the door handle.

A low exhale escapes me as the door — at last — clicks softly closed.

Christ, what a clusterfuck...!

Had I known that this day’s going to devolve into a never-abating conflagration of wildfires, I'd've probably got myself hammered before breakfast.

Because getting though the past 24 hours even partially sober has tested every one of my nerves. And given the fact that I've gotten basically no sleep the night before, I’m near about past going.

Which is probably why I can’t think one straight thought without tripping over Gale.

I clench my eyes shut. Definitely time to clock out...

Opening my eye, I slide the keycard into the reader with a chirp. Pushing the door handle down, I step into the darkened room.

Not bothering with the lights — given that the curtains were still open and the background glare of the nearby buildings provided plenty of illumination — I punt the door shut behind me, and head straight for the mini bar.

I may have turned down Chris's offer for a late-night drink, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna crash out sober. If anything, after the way this trip has snowballed into the definition of 'fucked up beyond all recognition', I’m in half a mind to straight up kill my liver...

...I just don’t want to do it while playing awkward third-wheel in the other room.

Arriving at the fridge, I yank the door open and survey the cop-out offerings of water, soda, beer and champagne.

I heave a breath. Well, ain’t nobody getting drunk off of this shit...

Still. It’s better than nothing.

Grabbing two bottles of beer out — because no way am I touching the champagne... even if it's Krug; the last thing I need right now on top of everything else is a motherfuckin' migraine — I pop the cap off one and take a hard swallow.

The cool malt hits the back of my throat, and I chug the rest of it down greedily, suddenly realising how parched I am.

Dropping the empty bottle back on the bar top, I’m reaching for the second when I catch sight of my reflection in the large mirror sitting behind the shelving in front of me.

Sweet Jesus, I look like death warmed up...

My hair looks like it's been chewed up and spat out by a yak, my skin’s ashen, my eyes tired and bloodshot, and I have a large, blueish welt on my jaw from where Tattoos had decked me, in addition to the claw marks that the asshole’s girlfriend left on my face.

I pull a face as I untwist the second cap.

I haven’t looked this much like buzzard bait since the literal beating I received during — and after — the one and only polo match I ever subjected myself to.

And it was clear that — just like then — I’m in desperate need of a shower.

Draining the second beer, I quickly draw the curtains before resignedly turning back the way I'd come.

Dropping my keycard into the holder on the wall to turn the lights on, I kick my boots off by the door and trudge into the bathroom.

Grabbing some towels, I throw them onto the floor and shove the faucet of the glass-panelled shower onto the hottest setting.

While waiting for the water to warm up, I bend down to pull off the ankle holsters that held the Sig P365 and tactical knife that I never go anywhere without.

Placing them carefully on the vanity, so they remained within reach, I proceed to strip off the rest of my clothes. The ruined shirt ends up on the floor, followed by the clang of my belt buckle as my jeans and boxers hit the ground.

Pulling my socks off and throwing them on top of the pile, I step into the now rapidly rising steam. A low hiss escapes me as the scalding water hits my chest. But rather than flinching away, or turning the temperature down, I lean into the spray, letting the hot water beat down onto me, like a hammer on an anvil, working the tension out of my muscles.

I have no clue how long I stand there for, head hanging down, hands braced against the wall, just soaking.

But eventually, I force myself to blink my eyes open. Because the hour’s already late, and even though I can probably stay under the spray all night, I know I need to catch some shut eye before the inevitable morning scramble to get everyone back home in time for the Masquerade Ball.

So, reaching for the travel-sized bottle of three-in-one wash that I brought with me, I proceed to lather myself from head to toe. Once done, I rinse myself off, letting the water pummel me for a few more minutes before reluctantly turning the spray off.

Unfurling one of the towels, I drop it on the marble floor so I can step out of the shower without breaking my neck. Grabbing the other towel, I run it over myself to get the worst of the moisture off before wrapping it around my waist.

Moving over to the vanity, I lift a hand to wipe the condensation off the oversized mirror and note that the hot soak has managed to bring some colour back to my face... albeit at the expense of my bruise, which has grown more pronounced as a result of the prolonged heat treatment.

Oh, well. Shit happens...

It's not like I’m a stranger to bruises. Growing up, I collected plenty of them from all the stupid shit I got up to, climbing up rickety ladders, falling out of trees, off my bike, not to mention off horses that were unquestionably too big for me.

And the hits only intensified as I got older and tried my hand at pretty much every type of sport imaginable — most of them in the contact category. Soccer, basketball, rugby, water polo, judo... I've done it all. Including American football, which Dad had begun indoctrinating me into since before I could even walk, and which I actually got a chance to play at uni as a running back.

So, a black-and-blue shiner on my face isn’t gonna faze me.

Badge of a battle well-fought, Dad always used to say.

Plus it's not like I’m reliant on my looks to get me through life. I’m not constantly in the limelight, being forced to present some kind of idealised image to the world. That’s Chris' lot. Not mine.

Thank fuck...

Though if I actually want to be able to eat anything tomorrow that’s more substantial than a milkshake, I probably should ice the bastarding thing down.

I feel a wry smirk pull at my mouth as I reach for my wash bag. 

That bottle of Krug might get a lease on life, after all...

Quickly brushing and flossing my teeth — wincing a bit at the growing tightness in my jaw — I gather up my discarded clothes (as well as my holsters) and make my way back into the room.

Placing the weapons on the bedside table — contrary to what pop culture may have you believe, it ain't a good idea to sleep with a loaded gun beneath your pillow — along with my phone and wallet, I set about sorting out my threads.

A quick once-over reveals that after all the literal running around I ended up doing, the jeans probably could do with a wash. But I only brought the one pair, so they’re going to have to do for tomorrow. The socks and boxers are unquestionably dead, so I roll them up to stow away in my duffle.

That leaves the shirt.

Grabbing either end of the split yolk, I bring the busted button-down up to eye-level to determine it's fate.

All in all, four buttons are missing, so the damage isn’t as bad as I—

From beneath the lingering hum of stale sweat, old leather and jet fuel, I suddenly catch a whiff of her honey-camomile scent, soft and sweet, like a half-remembered dream... and I nearly choke.

Goddammit...

I launch the cotton across the room with a growl of frustration.

As much as I like the shirt — it’s one of the few dressier ones that I own — there’s no way I’m gonna be able to salvage it.

Because even if it hadn't still smelled like her, the mere sight of it had been enough to throw me back into that cramped apartment... and the litany of missed opportunities that had preceded it.

And, even if I do fix it back up, I'll never be able to wear the damn thing without a stark reminder of the cold, hard fact that that's all Gale is now — a memory.

So, the sooner I burn it, the better.

Along with the shirt.

But, since I don’t have a blowtorch with me — and, in any event, setting fire to the highly flammable material in the hotel room would definitely cause a building-wide evacuation — I’m going to have to make do with simply stuffing the rag in the trash.

Heaving a beleaguered breath, I force myself to march around to the other side of the bed and pick up the shirt again. Balling it up, I dump it in the bin next to the desk.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Dropping the towel from my waist, I shuffle over to my duffle to stow my dirty clothes away and grab a fresh pair of boxers out.

Pulling the underwear on, I do a final sweep of the room before hitting the lights, grabbing the Krug to serve as an impromptu ice pack, and crawl beneath the cool sheets.

But instead of passing out as soon as my head hits the pillow, I find myself lying awake, staring into the darkness.

...fuck's sake.

The story continues in Chapter 10 - Darkfall

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@bebepac

Picture Credits

Staten Island Terminal - Shower - Drake - Statue of Liberty - Hayley & Chris - NYPD - Helicopter - Night

[paladin-panoply-of-pax]

“Use your gifts and your talents to greatest possible effect while you can. Spread joy wherever possible. Laugh at jokes. Tell jokes. Make puns and bugger the embuggerances. Read books. Read my books. You might like them. You might find something else you like even more than them. Look for these things in life.

Question authority. Champion good causes. Speak out against injustice. Do not tolerate bullies or bigots or racists or anti-intellectuals or the narrow-minded. Use your education to challenge them. Broaden their perspectives. Make the world you interface with a happier place.

These are your choices. Choices you have been fortunate to have been given, so don’t waste them while you have them. Don’t look back in years to come and wish you had grasped a fleeting opportunity. Grasp it now with both hands, Live. Strive. Love.”

from A Little Advice for Life taken from ‘Terry Pratchett: from birth to death, a writer.’

—Sir Terry Pratchett; April 28, 1948 – March 12, 2015

One of the greatest compliments I've ever received is that I resemble Sam Vimes.

Mind how you go.

[artist-ellen]

Young Rhaenyra

It's happening! At least a year after Season 1 is relevant I'm finally starting the House of the Dragon series. Like before I'm probably going to just do the ladies, men's fashion in the show has it's weird moments but it isn't my field of interest/expertise so I'll burn out pretty fast if I have to draw that many pants.

We're starting from the beginning with Rhaenyra's yellow dress. The idea of the dress is fine... but the choice of fabric and finishings really undercut her status and character. Supposedly there was a fabric shortage when the show was starting which affected the costuming decisions but I am going to have opinions on how the final product looks. It's understandable for example if a student ran into technical difficulties, but it doesn't mean a lower quality end result wouldn't affect their grade. Anyway there are a LOT of costumes in the series that bewilder me. Especially with the amount of costumes that resemble Spirit Halloween purchases, the fabric often looks too thin or cheap, the appliqués are sometimes painful... and the world-building through clothing makes no sense (watch Sumalee Eaton on clock app for a professional's review with more detail).

Speaking of world building one of the reasons I put this design challenge off for so long was that in my first ASOIAF redesigns I referenced clothing and fashion across different time periods. So when HotD is set ~200 years before ASOIAF... the answer of when/what to base things off of gets real complicated. While keeping up with the reactions to HotD as it aired I came across Sumalee Eaton’s review of the costumes and they recommended that the show lean into its Byzantine inspiration. Every once in the a while the show will have a costume that references a sort of kokoshnik or mantle...but then sabotages itself with either unlined fabric or some haute couture thing.

This is getting too ramble-y, sorry. This is her yellow dress if it leaned into Byzantine fashion, if it reveled in the wealth of the Targaryens with gems and jewelry that are worn with their everyday wear. It's casual, the shape feels appropriately young and unserious but royal all the same. (And before anyone worries this is not an April fools joke, I really am doing a Season 1 redesign series)

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /

https://linktr.ee/ellen.artistic

[drvscarlett]

Let Him Cook pt5

Charles Leclerc x MasterChef! reader

A/N: I'm really so happy with all the love that you have given to this fic. I enjoy writing about it, let me know if you have any blurbs or scenarios that you wanna see. This series will continue on and on

Let Him Cook Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

taglist: @bookstore-of-dreams @barcelonaloverf1life @ririyulife @minseok-smaus @mehrmonga @sltwins @charlesgirl16 @six-call @spideybv28 @casperlikej @weekendlusting @janeholt3 @evie-119 @leilanixx @randomgirlnumber-13 @itsjustkhaos

lec lerc challenge

"As you all know by now, Charles is planning to launch his own ice cream store"you started talking to the camera "And you know what funny story, he didn't even tell me"

Charles, who was by your side, was laughing like a hyena. He actually wanted it to be discovered on the the first day of April so everyone might think its a prank but then he will announce that he is very serious about it. It was an elaborate prank on top of prank. However, the news sites got a hold of it earlier.

"That's another story time. We have to get down to business" Charles reeled the topic back to the video that you two are making.

"Okay so in order to test Charlie's knowledge about ice cream, I have here ice creams that I made myself" you explained.

In front of the two of you were 10 paper cups. They have been covered on top so that Charles won't get a hint about the color.

"So my main task is to identify what's the flavor of the ice cream"Charles confirms "Easy"

"I made some unconventional flavors to throw you off" you informed him.

You can't help but giggle as you remember how you made some weird flavors for the ice cream. But hey, this was supposed to be a challenge to see if Charles' taste buds are working so it doesn't necessarily have to be a delicious ice cream.

"Okay, I am ready to scream for ice cream"

The first five cups were easy peasy. It's common flavors such as chocolate, vanilla, cookies and cream, caramel, and pistachio.

"I'm good at this mon amour"

Charles is pretty confident now. Time to throw the curveballs.

"I'm excited for you to try this"you excitedly give him the cup.

Since Charles is blindfolded as he does this challenge, the first thing he does is smell it. He is usually confident upon spelling but the frown lines forming on his face suggest that he might be confused about the flavor profile.

"This feels strange. I smelled this before but I can't put my name on it"Charles notes.

He takes a scoop from the cup and tasted it. It was evident to his face that he didn't enjoy this ice cream a lot.

"That's so sour, mon amour there are definitely strawberries in that"Charles complained.

"Strawberries and?"

There was a string of italian and french word from Charles as he tries his best to identify it. Finally, he had a lightbulb moment where he remembered the taste of it.

"BALSAMICO" Charles screamed "That is not a flavor I will put in my store, definitely"

Y/NCooks posted a photo.

Y/NCooks turns out Charles is pretty good with his taste buds. Watch me test Charles with his ice cream skills [link]

User1 Atleast we know that Charles is committed to being an ice cream man

User2 Charles_Leclerc you should definitely try the bourbon and corn flakes in the menu

User 3 Highly agree, I would love to try that User4 were all acting like were so close to milan. Babes we live across the world.

LandoNorris do you have some plain ice cream left for me

Y/NCooks i have some but its good to try other flavors every now and then Lan LandoNorris mmm, i'll try that black sesame one. that seems like a good flavor Y/NCooks brilliant. message me when i can see you Charles_Leclerc im amazed how Y/N managed to convince you of different food choices

MasterChefAU is this Charles' entry to master chef blind taste test challenge?

Charles_Leclerc MasterChef Monaco soon??? User4 I'm laughing at the number of sidequest Charles has. SIR you are an f1 driver!!!

Charles the baker

Charles_Leclerc posted a photo.

Charles_Leclerc okay i did all the measurements right. WHY DID THEY EXPAND

User1 I can hear Charles screaming with the caption

User2 Charles is such a mood when I try to bake things

User3 But is it edible tho?

Charles_Leclerc it is but its not as pretty User4 this is an internet highlight wherein Charles is sulking and asking the internet where he went wrong

maxverstappen1 recipe reveal?

Charles_Leclerc no ✨✨ maxverstappen1 don't want it anyways. i just wanted to know what you did so i won't end up like that User5 MAX!!!!! User6 your honor we love the lestappen crumbs

Y/NCooks honey maybe you should consider giving it some space, bread do expand when they get baked.

Charles_Leclerc they do?? Y/NCooks Yes they do. But in all honesty they look so cute, its alright honey Charles_Leclerc love you mon amour!

SebastianVettel maybe we should have a baking session one of these days, I can teach you a lot about baking breads

Charles_Leclerc sounds good, miss you already Seb User7 oh to be Charles Leclerc having the Sebastian Vettel teaching him bread and MasterChef Y/N encouraging him

tiktok pasta challenge

It was a fairly simple tiktok viral recipe and in your mind its something that Charles will be able to follow instructions with. So you set up your camera and told Charles about a cooking challenge that he has to do.

"Today's challenge, Charles will be using his listening skills. Lets see how well he listens to me"you greeted the camera "Are you ready mon amour?"

"More than ever, I look good in an apron"

You stayed behind the camera as Charles stayed in front of the kitchen counter. He was tying up his apron and grabbing your chef hat from one of the drawers.

"First of all, I need you to quarter an onion"you instructed.

Charles was immediately grabbing the onion and you immediately face palmed yourself when Charles started quartering the onion without even peeling it.

"Honey, you are supposed to peel it" you sigh

"Honey, you didn't say anything about peeling it. We have three cameras set up and editors should replay that you said quarter it and not peel it" Charles argued

You raised your hand in defeat, you should have been more clearer.

"Okay, I'm not gonna be vague. I'll make it clear"

The whole cooking went along smoothly until its time for Charles to cook the pasta. He has been heavily stressing to get the texture right this time or else it will further the allegations that he can't cook pasta.

"Calm down Charlie"

"I am very very very calm, I'm just checking" he lifted the lid for the fifth time "They have to be perfect"

"Charles is very honored to be taught by Gordon on a 1 on 1 session"you informed the camera.

The two have exchanged numbers and Charles will often ask his culinary questions to Gordon when you were not available to answer them right away. Gordon seems to enjoy the new friendship with the driver since he often send Charles link for cooking recipe to try.

"I don't wanna be an idiot sandwhich" Charles muttered, stirring the pot of pasta.

Charles got a perfect al dente to his pasta. He pulls out the baked feta and tomatoes out of the oven then mixed it with the pasta. It seems as if the dish looks pretty especially with the garnishes that Charles insisted.

"Plating is also everything"he says to the camera as he grates some lemon zest to the plate "Whatever this taste like, just remember that Y/N was instructing me so if there is anyone to blame then its Y/N"

"Way to throw me under the bus Charles"

Y/NCooks just posted a photo

Y/NCooks The dish vs the chef. I think they are equally yummy [link]

User1 CHARLES CAN COOK!!!!

User2 alternative title charles stressing 10 minutes straight if the pasta is al dente or not

User3 The girlfriend effect on Charles is that he is now able to cook pasta

User4 I really want to try that pasta

Arthur_Leclerc i hope you never get tired of the pasta, its the only thing he will cook from now on

Charles_Leclerc i mean she loves it!!!! Y/NCooks its pretty good arthur, you should try it!! Arthur_Leclerc next family dinner? Charles_Leclerc im on it! User24 oh to be a fly at the Leclerc family dinner

User5 I think everyone ignored the caption, miss maam thirsting over her boyfriend

User6 if i was Y/N i would too Y/NCooks facts only!!! User6 Mother replied to us!!!

scuderiaferrari so charles is approved for a cooking challenge in the channel soon?

Y/NCooks he is born ready User8 kind of missed the c2 cooking challenges

everything i cooked

Charles_Leclerc posted a reel

here is everything that I did to celebrate Y/N's birthday. This isn't a common day, its really special so I have to run at 5 to get the flowers I ordered for her. Then next I cooked up breakfast which is some pancakes, thank you Carlos for the recipe. And then I surprised her with a little bit of breakfast in bed

and then I started making our lunch after clearing the table. Y/N had been craving butter chicken and I purposely did not take her so I could make some at home. Its a fairly easy recipe, I just had to mix some spices, cook the onions then you have the tomato paste and then cream. thanks Gordon I owe you one. She loved it so much.

and then I started early on the dessert for dinner. I didn't do the ladyfingers from scratch, I don't have a lot of time so yes here we are. The tiramisu is in the fridge. And then since Y/N loved the Lady and the Tramp spaghetti meatballs scene. I did my own take on it. Needless to say she loved it. So yes happy birthday once more mon amour, I love you so so much.

User10 I know we have been making fun of Charles but the man can actually cook.

User11 My boyfriend be forgetting my birthday but Charles here is slaving in the kitchen for Y/N's birthday

User12 CHARLES IS THE STANDARD!!! User14 Imagine cooking a whole breakfast, lunch, dinner, with a birthday dessert???!!! GOD I SEE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE FOR OTHERS

MasterChefAU Im glad to hear you are treating our girl well, happy birthday Y/NCooks

User13 OUR GIRL??!!!! Y/NCooks he is treating me well, thank you for all the greetings

Gordongram That's a beautiful dish and effort Charles!

Charles_Leclerc Thank you !!! Y/NCooks he is screaming btw Gordongram

PierreGasly when will you cook for me

CarlosSainz55 and me?? i think there is some former teammate privileges out here LewisHamilton the current teammate is also wondering SebastianVettel you boys are not Y/N. Y/N is special. Charles_Leclerc what seb said!!!

Y/NCooks one of the sweetest gesture anyone did for me. Thank you honey for making this day extra special. I don't need any five star restaurants when I have you in the kitchen.

Charles_Leclerc I love you. You deserve the world User21 Them your honor. User22 Happy Birthday Y/N, you two are excellent for each other

[inlocusmads]

Post-Retirement Plans ~ Killian, Kade (Blades of Light and Shadow)

WC: 1.6k | Teen and Up Audiences

Summary: Kade has a new hobby. Killian's eager for a business venture.

A/N: Big thanks to @choicesmc for the prompts - "time's up" & "mushrooms"! Tagging @choicesaprilchallenge24

____

“In the beginning of cultivating blistertongue flax mushrooms, it is important for the Keepers to take turns watering it every twenty five minutes for the roots to absorb most of it during its period of growth. Twenty five minutes is an average duration but one may take anywhere between twenty to thirty minutes. Note that blistertongue flax mushrooms are not from the family of fungi rather related to a subset of flowering plants.”

Kade closed his book - On Beginning Your Own Herbal Garden - a copy he’d gotten from the Whitetower library. He’d thought he might pick up a decent hobby for a change. The book was however, severely outdated. Kade had required equipment from the First Age to even think about growing Glad’ine; a supposed medicinal plant whose leaves could cure even the toughest of wounds. However he was happy to settle for some blistertongue flax mushrooms as he’d studied at length about their preservative properties used extensively to prevent contamination. It was instructed to be rubbed like salt around the lids of a pot to seal fermented vegetables inside or melted from their granules into liquid to coat metals - although that process was rather exhausting.

Kade decided he could go for a long-term fermentation project.

“I am not watching a plant for twenty minutes, whatever may be the reason.”

“Killian, you have the patience of a grobtar. It is the easiest thing!”

“It’s - it’s like — your hobby, Kade. Your thing.”

“So? Nowhere in the law does it say I can’t get any help.”

“Do I get anything out of it?”

“Good — food?” Kade guessed. “You could also use it for preserving mead - so— that too. Besides, you aren’t going to accomplish anything in twenty minutes.”

“I do have things to do.”

“Yes, scraps of metal to glue it together to create — a useless piece of something. Right. Yes. That hobby of yours. Or is it going to be whittling?”

Kade gave his sister an exasperated sigh and handed her a brass pitcher of water and a sandclock as carefully as he could.

“This is the least you can do for me. I almost died. Remember - twenty minutes and I promise it will be over before you come back yelling ‘Time’s up!’. Don’t pour water in excess; ensure it is all diverted to the roots. This is the distilled one, all right? Precious stuff. And ensure you monitor the sandclock.” - Kade pointed at it as the granules of sand slowly descended - gathering in a small heap in the bottom. “The moment the sandclock stops running, you turn it upside down, pour in the water. Not the other way around! Upside down and the water, all right?”

“Yes, yes - you have repeated yourself enough like a singing witch who wouldn’t stop singing - thank you very much.”

“Also no magic. Something about it disrupts the natural ecosystem.”

“Yeah yeah - okay-”

“No magic, Killian, I mean it.”

Kade had his concerns about his sister readjusting to a normal life after adventuring for far too long. Something about the hard and fast life was pulled back to a fierce stop when Killian came back home and getting used to what life was like before, was a bit of an uphill climb. She’d written herself plenty of notes - telling herself to “take it easy” (Kade was more surprised at how she’d picked up so many different ways of speech so quickly. He’d caught her writing in Dwarven in a sleep-induced spree, before switching over to Common Elvish - what they spoke in the markets in Undermount.) when in reality she was chipping her life away.

It didn’t surprise Kade all that much when he saw his sister spring up a thread of magic while watering the box of plants.

“Seriously?”

“It’s not magic, I swear.”

“Yeah, no of course. The sun’s shining, the birds are singing and that is definitely not magic.”

“It’s - not as life-draining as you think. Besides, Elves have a longer lifespan.”

“I cannot believe it took you this long to come to that conclusion.”

“Kade, I’ll live.”

“I would much prefer the plant to live, honestly.” Kade sat down on the cobblestoned floor, watching as Killian withdrew her magic to do a more honest job.

“Why can’t I use magic though? You said something about it being disruptive?”

“It’s funny that way. Right? You would expect vegetation from the Shadow Realm to coil due to Light, but this one - this species of plant is actually from the Light Realm. Light deflecting Light. Prolonged exposure to Light magic causes it to decay.” Kade recited from his findings. “It renders it completely useless. In fact, it spoils it. Almost as if the blistertongue flax mushroom turns into poison under the mere presence of Light.”

“I hope I haven’t ruined this completely.”

“Depends on the exposure. It’s so hard to find a good place to grow it. You’re — surrounded by Light magic everywhere. The priests from the Temple walk these streets, carrying the Light with them.” Kade shrugged. “This is just a test. If this batch doesn’t come out spoiled, I might be encouraged to give it a second chance.”

“Fascinating, honestly.” Killian set the pitcher down, staring at the sandclock. “It’s got a -- like a-- mage’s consciousness trapped inside it or something. Too much Light renders it useless.”

“I would say it is a lot less like a mage and lot more like - an ordinary flowering plant. Probably why people cared so much for it. You require very less tools, but a lot of time and commitment to ensure it grows properly. Kind of like - potatoes. Things we eat, probably. I find its simplicity very comforting.” he admitted, nonchalantly. “It’s - like — there seems to be so much travesty, people with big words, big spellcasting abilities and — bloodlust alike - you find a plant that is so repulsed to grow under the Light, you just feel better it shares the same sentiment as you do.”

“Are you repulsed to "grow" under the Light?”

“Yeah - it’s - it’s the worst, honestly. All just a war of words and who sheds the most blood, with important things getting caught in the crossfire; makes no sense to me. Is it all right if it doesn’t make sense?”

“I don’t get it either.” Killian shrugged. “They were wrong to call me - a hero. They just needed someone, I guess, to fill up a chair.”

“Oh absolutely.” Kade agreed. “A lousy job isn’t taken, it’s given. Made that up on the spot. Y’know I’ll use it for a story somewhere.”

“To hell with the Light.”

“You know - I am forced to agree. As much as it — uh — physically wounds me to say.”

“Come on. If we were at a pub, we’d be drinking, agreeing and complaining solidly about the state of affairs. Only difference is we’re inhaling a ton of — whatever this is—”

“It isn’t the psychadelic kind. At least that neither requires nor disregards the need for Light. Grows everywhere, which is a little interesting, right? Maybe that’s why the grobtars or the drakna or - whatever that is populating the Deadwood, has this sleepless, bloodshot energy to it.”

“What do we do with the mushrooms after?”

“They are not mushrooms or part of the fungus family--"

"Yeah, yeah right but what do you do with them?"

"Powder them, as the instructions say."

“Right.”

“Why — why is that, why are you saying it like th— no, we actually powder them.”

“Yes. Okay. Whatever gets this green thumb of a hobby of yours moving, Kade.”

“Not the psychadelic kind, for the last time. We make it into a powder and coat it around the pot or pan or whatever cutlery we’re using for preservation- and then we light it - not enough to catch fire, but - burn, like incense. Smoke, right?”

Before Killian could speak, Kade inhaled sharply.

“Don’t.”

“Sure. It’s a preservative agent.”

“Knock it off.”

“You know what this is? We might actually have — grown — psychadelics in our backyard. It’s really good business opportunity.”

“The Hero of Morella deals psychadelic substances. Good business opportunity. You’re ending up dead in a swamp in two days.” Kade searched through his copy of On Beginning Your Own Herbal Garden to see if he’d somehow accidentally missed a fact about the blistertongue flax mushrooms being psychotropic. It was a kind of placebo that messed with Kade’s mind. The more Killian repeated a fact in a variety of convincing tones, the more he was convinced he might have missed something royally vital.

“Hero of Morella and Co. It’s more honourable than ‘eternal servitude for the Light’, I’ll say that.” Killian mocked. “No - it’s - it’s - Clawthorne and Co would fit, right? Kade - hey, Kade, we have actual gold here - you know market conditions and all that.”

“What do you **know about market conditions?” he asked, still turning the pages furiously.

“Everything in uh — one convenient box of powder.”

“It says nothing about the mushrooms having any other properties. I suppose the market has to look someplace else.” Kade shut his book. “Just because you don’t have a hobby doesn’t mean you can just — take mine.”

“I’m not taking anything. You asked me to help, by the way. Also - the blistertongue? It’s a flowering plant. Right?”

“Right. Okay. What about it?”

“Pollen.” Killian answered, as matter-of-factly. “Pollen. Powder. Pollen’s powdery. Therefore-?”

“I don’t know if you are messing with me.”

“I am of course —” Killian took a deep breath, fighting the urge to break into laughter. “Not messing with you. Listen to this, pollen is powdery, right? And-”

“No. I am done. You can take your business ideas elsewhere. Go fill up a chair.”

Kade dragged his sister by the arm, knowing she might retaliate with magic - knowing she had Elven perception and could forestall attacks, knowing it through and through and yet he gathered a phenomenal strength and pushed her backwards into the street.

____

A/N: This was inspired by an episode of the sitcom, The Middle where one of the main characters and his brother end up opening a barbecue sauce business only for it to flop horribly. I found it funnier to lead Killian and Kade to think they might have been growing drugs in their backyard all this time lmao. Still probably a lot better than getting meddled up in Light/Shadow politics.

I wrote this in a sleep-deprived frenzy. Please forgive any mistakes (and the premise and the plot and the everything lmao; and also I fucked up Kade's pronouns a bit so if you spot a 'her sister' somewhere.. no you didn't)

Tagging:

Perma: @stars-are-within-me @quixoticdreamer16 @thosehallowedhalls @tessa-liam @dutifullynuttywitch

Blades only: @starlight-starfury @trappedinfanfiction @noesapphic

[punkshort]

The Stranger

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: An unexpected visitor barges into your new apartment, turning your whole life upside down, then disappears just as quickly. Or does he?

Warnings: infidelity is mentioned (reader gets cheated on by OC), language, threats of violence, heavy making out and some sexy situations but no smut

WC: 3K

A/N: When I wrote this, I had still yet to see The Equalizer 2 but I wanted to write an assassin fic and Dave was just right there. So, for the sake of this story, Dave doesn't have a family and he has a cover job. K bye.

Written for @undercoverpena April Showers Challenge

Sunday Night

The apartment was small and a little dirty, but it would do. It would have to. The choices were limited on such short notice, and beggars can't be choosers.

The last thing you thought you would be doing the night before you started your new job was unpacking what little belongings you had in the middle of a goddamn thunderstorm. In an ideal world, you would have waited to move in when the weather was expected to clear, but when you walked in on your boyfriend of four years naked in your bed with his ex-girlfriend only a week ago, you would have moved in the middle of a blizzard if you had to.

That was how you found yourself late Sunday night drenched in a mix of your own sweat and rain, unpacking the last of your clothes from wet cardboard boxes. Making your bedroom the priority was a must. The last thing you needed on top of everything else was wrinkled clothes and a bad night's sleep for your first day of work.

If only you knew what your night had in store.

You were just starting to unpack the boxes for your bathroom, cursing under your breath when you noticed the towels at the very top and bottom of said box were soaked in rain water, when you heard a pounding on your door so loud, you almost screamed.

Nobody even had your address yet. Too embarrassed to tell your friends what your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - did, the only people who knew you were moving were your parents, and they certainly wouldn't be blessing you with a surprise visit on this side of town after dark.

Tip-toeing out of your bedroom, your hair a half-dry and tangled mess, you slowly crept towards your door. Just as you were about to peek through the peephole, you heard the deadbolt unlock and the door swung open, only to be stopped by a laughably weak, eight link chain.

"Alvarez, it's me, open up," a gruff voice said through the crack in the door. He sounded panicked, but at least it wasn't a home invasion. This man just didn't realize Mr. Alvarez was no longer here and he must have had a key.

Combing your hair back from your face, you tentatively stepped into the beam of light that stretched into your living room from the hallway. When you locked eyes with your stranger, all dark and mysterious, your throat constricted. You could only see part of his face, just one eye and half of his soft looking mouth, but your heart still fluttered a bit in your chest.

"Who are you?" he frowned, eyeing you up and down, and suddenly you felt incredibly self-conscious standing in your own apartment only wearing your white tank top and sleep shorts.

"Excuse me? I live here. Who are you?" you countered, crossing your arms defensively. The man scoffed and tried to get a better glimpse of your apartment, as if he were expecting another person to emerge.

"Where's Alvarez?"

At that point, you felt a little bad. If this man knew Mr. Alvarez well enough to have a key, what you were about to tell him would be devastating, so you sighed and motioned for him to step back.

"Let me undo the chain," you explained, and he paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on your chest before taking a step back and allowing you to close the door and slide the chain off. When you reopened it, you finally saw all of your mystery man. He was decked out in black: black ski cap, black leather gloves, black jeans and jacket, and he dripped rainwater from each article of clothing, creating a small puddle in the thin carpet right outside your door.

"I'm so sorry, but Mr. Alvarez passed away a few weeks ago," you said sympathetically, and while, in your experience, men tended to be less emotional, you didn't expect his response.

"Well that's just fucking great," he muttered, and for the first time you realized he was out of breath. Red flags began to pop up everywhere: the dark clothes, the indifferent response to a friend's death, the fucking hand hidden behind his back. How didn't you notice that before?

You went to quickly shut your door but his hand shot out and stopped you.

"I'm sorry, but I'm gonna need to come in," he said, and your eyes went wide. Your parents warned you this side of town was bad, but the very first night?

"No!" you protested, putting all your weight into pushing on your door, but he wedged himself so you couldn't close it.

"I left something in here and I need it," he explained through gritted teeth.

"Nothing was here when I moved in," you said, still pushing on the door, "I have my phone and I'm calling the police!"

It was a lie. You didn't have your phone. It was still charging on your bed, but you had hoped that would make the man leave. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

The door shoved open and you flew backwards, falling onto your back with a yelp, a sharp pain shooting up your spine.

The man entered your apartment and quickly shut the door behind him before glancing around.

"Are we alone?"

You scowled at him, about to lie, but you realized there was no point so you didn't say anything. He sighed and reached out an arm.

"I'm sorry," he said, and for the first time in your brief interaction, you heard some emotion in his voice. You stared hesitantly at his still wet, gloved hand before grabbing it and allowing him to pull you back up as you rubbed the back of your head with a wince. "You okay?" he asked, his brows furrowed and when you realized both his hands were visible, you relaxed a fraction.

"I think so. What the hell? Who are you?"

"I'm-"

He was about to explain when you both heard heavy footsteps running towards your door. In the blink of an eye, he reached forward and slid the chain back into the lock and deadbolted the door. There wasn't a second to spare because two fists began pounding heavily on the door from the other side.

You gasped softly and stepped backwards, eyes wide and filled with fear. That was when your mystery man pulled out the handgun from the back of his pants, silencer already attached, and your mind went blank.

This was how you were going to die.

"Open up!" a man's voice shouted from the other side as he began to kick at the door, making you jump. The intruder turned to you just as a rumble of thunder shook your building.

"You gotta make them leave."

"Me?" you whispered in a panic, "how do you expect me to do that?"

"They want me, and if they know I'm here, they'll kill me. Do you understand?" he asked, matching the volume of your voice while grabbing your shoulders.

Your lower lip began to tremble and he noticed.

"You can do this," he assured you, walking you backwards towards your bedroom as the shouting and pounding got louder. And as you stared into his deep brown eyes, you started to believe him. "I'm gonna hide and then you gotta tell them I'm not here. Can you do that?"

"If they just want you, why don't I just let them have you?" you asked as he continued to walk you backwards.

"Because they'll kill you, too," he said, his gaze never wavering. "These guys don't leave loose ends."

Fear shot through your body like the bolt of lightning outside your window.

Once he got to your bedroom, he released his grip on your shoulders and headed for your closet. He opened the accordion doors and pushed your clothes aside before sliding in against the wall.

"Just convince them I'm not here. You just moved in, you have no idea what they're talking about, okay?" he said, holding your gaze until you slowly nodded. Then he snapped the doors shut and shuffled your clothes around, leaving you all alone.

As you walked back towards your front door, you snagged a towel from the open box of bathroom stuff and wrapped it around your hair. You could do this. You had to.

You took a deep breath, your hand curling around the brass doorknob, and yanked it open, the chain still holding the door in place so you only saw a glimpse of the men in the hall, but you could see at least four.

"Can I help you?" you asked, trying your best to sound annoyed and not scared for your life. "You interrupted my shower," you added, pointing to your wrapped hair.

"Where is he?" the first man asked. His head was bald but you could see some stubble coming through, indicating he must shave his head.

"Who?" you asked innocently, and the man sneered.

"You know who."

"Actually, no I don't," you said, crossing your arms. "This is my apartment and I was enjoying a quiet night in before you arrived."

"Oh, yeah? You wear a men's shoe, size eleven?" the beefy looking guy asked, quirking an eyebrow as he stared down at the floor. Your eyes slowly drifted down and noticed a wet and dirty outline of your stranger's boot pressed firmly into the ancient beige carpet.

"No," you said, meeting his eye again. "But my boyfriend does. And he's out getting us dinner. We just moved in tonight," you told him confidently, squaring your shoulders and fucking praying the chain would hold if push came to shove.

You saw the men behind him exchange glances and shift their weight as they mulled over what you said. It was working. All you could hear was your own heart pounding loudly in your chest, the rain beating heavily against the glass windows of your living room, and in the distance, another soft rumble of thunder.

The bald man shot one more cursory glance into your apartment before meeting your eye.

"Must have the wrong unit."

You smirked.

"Honest mistake," you said, bravely holding his gaze as the group of them slowly ambled back towards the stairs. Once they were out of sight, you shut the door and twisted the lock, letting out a shaky breath. Your arms and legs were weak, head fuzzy from the adrenaline when you remembered a stranger was stuffed inside your closet.

Stumbling back towards your bedroom, you swung open the closet door, breath shallow and fast just to find him leaning up against the wall, a floorboard in your closet removed, revealing a now empty cash box, and holding up a piece of lingerie.

"For your boyfriend?" he questioned, and your fear quickly transformed into anger when you snatched it from his hand and tossed it on the floor next to his feet.

"Get the hell out of here," you told him, voice trembling.

He gave you a cocky smirk and pushed himself off the wall.

Gazing down at you, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes, he lowly asked "got a towel I could use?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced your feet to move towards the open box in the middle of your room, snatching up a clean towel and tossing it to him before pulling your own towel from your head and dropping it by your feet.

You watched for a moment as he plucked the ski cap off his head, revealing a thicket of dark brown, wet hair and used the towel to help flick away the moisture. Then your eyes landed on his gun, now tucked into the front of his jeans.

His gaze followed yours and smirked, thinking you were looking at something else.

"See something you like?" he asked, making you blush.

You swallowed roughly and took a step back. "Are you going to kill me, now?"

His gaze softened and he dropped his towel next to yours.

"No."

You eyed him wearily, still not believing him until he took the gun from his pants and tossed it on your bed, a good five feet away, leaving you both defenseless.

"Better?" he asked, and you raked your eyes up and down his body.

"How do I know you don't have any other weapons on you?"

He grinned and took another step forward, his eyes darkening. "You wanna frisk me?"

Your cheeks flushed with heat and you looked away, but he pinched your chin, the leather soft against your skin, and tilted your head back in his direction.

"Tell me something," he murmured, his eyes boring into yours, "you really got a boyfriend coming back here?"

He could see your face fall and he instantly felt regret.

"No," you said softly, your eyes now pinned to the floor with shame, "we broke up. It's why I just moved in here."

He frowned as he studied your face. "Why did you break up?" he asked, his fingers still gripping your chin.

"Caught him cheating on me," you told him. Why could you tell this perfect stranger your deepest shame but you couldn't tell your best friends?

He tsked and inched a little closer. "He's a fucking idiot."

Your eyes snapped up to his in surprise, only to find desire and need reflected right back.

Before either of you could overthink it, your mouths crashed together, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck and his hands pulling at your waist, dragging you against him as you devoured one another. Your fingers raked through his still damp hair, his skin smelling like the rain and sweat and gunpowder, the combination intoxicating. His tongue slipped past your lips with a groan, his exhale coming in quick, hot puffs against your cheek as he walked you back toward your bedroom wall. Once your body made contact with the chipped paint, he reached down and snagged the backs of your thighs, wrapping your legs around him while his tongue swirled aggressively around yours.

When he ground his hips into you, his hardening length rubbing against the ache between your legs, you gasped and tipped your head back.

"I don't even know your name," you whispered as his lips traveled down your neck, nipping and biting playfully as he went, the rain sounding like little musical notes against your singular bedroom window. He just moaned against your skin, his teeth dragging lightly over your collarbone while you rolled your hips against him, desperately some seeking relief for the fire he started between your legs.

He yanked you from the wall, a small squeak of surprise slipping past your lips, fingers digging into his broad shoulders as he carried you to your bed and dropped you down next to his gun. His assault on your neck never stopped. You arched your back, wishing he would take off those damn gloves so you could feel him when his phone suddenly trilled in his pocket. His lips stalled and you held your breath, each of you frozen in the moment wondering how you managed to find yourselves in such a compromising position so quickly.

"Shit," he whispered, reaching into his pants pocket, and you knew right then and there it was over.

He glanced at the screen and gave you an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," he said, pushing himself away from you and snatching up his gun and hat. "I gotta go."

You sat up on your bed and pressed your legs together, hoping your face didn't look as red as it felt.

Before he left, he glanced back at you, his eyes falling to your mouth, watching as your teeth sunk anxiously into your lower lip, chin bright red from the burn of his five o'clock shadow.

"Thank you," he said, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching at his side. And before you could respond, he disappeared with just a soft click of your door, making you wonder by morning if you had dreamed him up.

Monday

As expected, you hardly slept. Sleeping in a new place all on its own had its challenges, but after almost dying a handful of times within an hour, a good nights sleep was pretty much out of the question.

You don't know why you did it, but as you were getting ready for work, after a lukewarm shower, you foolishly grabbed the piece of lingerie your stranger discovered in your closet and put it on under your clothes. Maybe you wanted a reminder of him, or maybe you just wanted to feel more confident.

Arriving ten minutes early, the rain drying on the sidewalk but the smell still thick and heavy in the air, you strode up to the front doors of the financial consulting firm, hoping that the amount of coffee you poured down your throat that morning would be enough to keep you at your best.

The perky blonde from HR was showing you around the impressive building as she led you back to the department you would be working with. You were longingly eyeing the fresh fruit in the break room when you turned around and nearly ran smack dab into her back, stumbling a bit in the process.

An apology died on your lips when you found yourself looking past her, gaze falling onto an all too familiar looking man inside an office less than ten feet away, his phone cradled between his shoulder and ear as he typed into his computer, a concentrated look painting his impossibly handsome face. His dark, soft hair was neatly combed, his plush lips twitching into the receiver as his muscular shoulders stretched the fabric of his light blue button down, and when he reached for a file, his eye suddenly catching yours.

Neither of you looked away while he continued to give one word answers over the phone and you barely recognized that the HR girl was showing you your new desk. A desk right outside his office. All you could think about was what his hair felt like between your fingers, what his mouth felt like when he left those marks on your neck you had to cover that morning with makeup.

How he left you, needy and aching for more.

Then your eyes flicked to the shiny name plaque next to his door frame: Dave York.

Part two

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[potionsprefect]

Spring Flowers

Spring has arrived in Boston

For @aprilchallenge “lilacs”

My poor Victoria still has morning sickness, luckily she has her amazing husband looking out for her

As this is lilacs I guess I can dedicate this to my favourite Lilac too lol, Lilac Allende @jamespotterthefirst

Tagging in reblog

[aprilchallenge]

Just a quick PSA

The list for the fics of the week will be up later today. Due to personal issues I wasn’t able to post it sooner. Hope you guys understand.

Thank you for everyone who goes out of their way to create and write something beautiful for all of us to enjoy 💚

[imagining-in-the-margins]

🎀 CM KidFic Challenge 🧸

Hey everyone, I’m back with another monthly challenge! For the months of March AND April, I am formally challenging any willing writer to take a stab at writing fanfiction including children, babies, or pregnancy (biological, adoptive, animal, etc.) using their choice of Criminal Minds characters! Reader, Original Character, Character/Character ships, Gen/Platonic fics are allowed! Please check out the Rules below the Keep Reading.

(**This is NOT a request list for me—this is a prompt list of other writers! Feel free to request from someone else, and be sure to let them know about the challenge!)

Prompts

Child says their first word(s)

Child becomes an older sibling

Character stands up for their child

The couple enjoys trying for a baby

Characters are fantastic platonic co-parents

Child is starting to act a lot like their parent(s)

The couple announces their pregnancy to everyone

The couple fosters a teenager preparing for college

The couple takes their child to college/their own place

The couple thinks they’re having twins… but it’s triplets

Character runs into their ex who has a child that looks just like them

The couple realizes how different things are the second, third, etc. time

Character needs reassurance about the fact they don’t enjoy being pregnant

Character finds that being around Child helps them heal their own inner child

The couple babysits together, which leads to a conversation about their future

Character struggles with the fact that their teenage kid has their first partner

Character is very attentive to their pregnant partner... almost irritatingly so

Character witnesses a quiet moment with their partner and their baby during a night feeding

Character, chronically single, asks their best friend if they’d be open to having a child with them

Child realizes that not every kid has two moms/two dads and they have a lot of questions about it

The couple takes Child to daycare for the first time but they can’t make themselves leave the parking lot

Child is having a hard time at school, so Character picks them up from school for a day of quality time together

Pregnancy cravings lead to a very dramatic late-night grocery store trip that makes Character fall more in love

Anything else you can imagine!

Childfree/Pregnancy-Free prompts below + Create your own!

Childfree/Pregnancy-Free Prompts

Character is the fun uncle/aunt

The couple adopts a pet together

Character gets to meet their partner’s (judgmental) pet

Character reveals that they don't want to have children and their partner's reaction surprises them

A child the BAU saved comes back years later to thank them and show what they’ve done with their life

The couple decides to give up on becoming parents and they learn how to have a fulfilled life without a child

Rules

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check.Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

Have fun!

The Masterlist of fics will be posted around May 1. If you finish after that, no problem - just send me the fic once you’re done and I’ll add it after-the-fact!

Feel free to message me if you want help developing a plot, have any questions, or just want to gush about your fic. I’m happy to help, and I’m happy you’re here ❤️

Happy Writing!

[unorthodoxx-page]

A Tale of Spirits Status and Other Updates (Long Post)

I've gotten a lot of questions about A Tale of Spirits and its hiatus status over the past few days (months lol). I've been mulling over this post for a while now, avoiding it if I'm honest, but I've gotten to a point where even I can't avoid the writing on the wall.

So, let's start with what's holding me up. Over the last ten-eleven months, I've been dealing with a nerve issue in my wrists and hands (both, if you can believe it). Now it's nothing super serious (we haven't had any surgery talks, thank God), but it bothers me constantly throughout the day, and having an office job doesn't really help. It's crazy to go through some of these older Tumblr posts because my hands were bothering me even then, but I didn't want to admit it.

Long story short, I feel like I'm caught in this...loop of trying to heal. I'll have really good, consecutive days, and when I think I'm on the right track, something happens, and I'm pulled right back into it. It's frustrating, demoralizing, and terrifying all at once. I try not to spiral into worst-case scenarios with this whole thing, but my hands are numbing while I'm typing this. So....yeah, it's slowed my writing practically to a halt. I can bang out a couple hundred words here and there and focus on one-offs since they don't feel so...daunting, but chaptered anything mentally makes my hands twitch. My long sessions are gone at the moment and this leads me to that writing on the wall I mentioned earlier.

I don't know when A Tale of Spirit will return.

Man, that hurts to type. ATOS has been a part of my life for almost two years now. I've grown so much from this story, and my writing has evolved so much from this story. I have so much fun with ATOS. I mean, that's the point of fanfic, but I have fun with ATOS. I go back and reread parts, and I laminate past narrative choices as if those words are written in stone. I snicker while working out dialogue and really (and I mean really) let loose with action choices and experiment.

Hell, I have AUs of this AU on my drive lol. I owe a lot of my growth and confidence to ATOS. I mean, I read every comment and every Tumblr message (and I mean every comment). The support and love this story has received makes me believe that I'm not as terrible of a writer as I thought, that I might actually hack it in the literary world, so it's devastating that I can't put all my energy into this or my personal work.

To be honest, I'm still halfway in denial. I know I'm going to finish this story eventually. I love it too much, but I can finally admit that I'm not sure when that 'eventually' will be. Geez, I should've written this a while ago, but denial is a blinding thing.

I tackle writing when I can, but the nerve thing has thoroughly pulled me into a slump.

I'm going to update ATOS to say indefinite hiatus and put this same message on AO3.

I'm not saying goodbye to ATOS. I was deep in my unposted arcs before all of...this reached a peak even I couldn't ignore. I was really doing something with April, Zuko, and Suki (fun dynamic, by the way). Azula's been fun to play with, and angry, fed-up turtles have been a challenge in a half, so I want you guys to see that one day.

So, there it is. I know this is closure for some of you, and you all deserve to know what's going on with ATOS. I know this update will be a relief for some of you because now, there's no more guessing. The dreaded 'indefinite' has been typed and sealed in digital ink (dramatic, I know).

I'm going to leave it here because I don't know how to end this post. I'll be around, lurking in possible (short) one-shots and slowly chipping away at ATOS. So, until then, rest, rehabilitation, and copious amounts of books and music to listen to.

See you soon.