#I need to get my arse in gear and finish that story | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sanjoongie · 2 years

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Bestie

ღPairing: Yunho x Reader (f)

ღGenre: non-idol au, Yunho and reader are besties

ღWarnings: male dom/female reader sub, choking, spitting, clit rubbing, pantie gag, rough angry unsafe sex, male orgasm, female orgasm, dirty talk, degradation kink, spanking, male receiving oral, cum swallowing

ღWord count: 3,575

ღRated: 18+, smut, angst if you squint

ღSummery: Yunho is tired of being your best friend and is looking for something more. Luckily, he's got something you want too

ღDedicated to my sunshine @mejuii because without her I would not be writing this {Sorry Yunho, my bestie, she made me do it} Happy Birthday Yunho~

Today was Yunho’s birthday and you were especially excited to be celebrating it with your best friend. Yunho, being the nice guy and social butterfly that he was, usually needed to rent out an air bnb to house all the partygoers when he threw his birthday parties. So, you as the loyal hoe you were, went out to get Yunho’s cake, the one he forgot to order for his own damn self. You had just pushed the large sheet cake on top of the marble countertop, after fighting with the backdoor on this particularly stormy day.

Yunho bursts through the doorway separating the posh kitchen from the large entry way. “Hey Bestie, how’s the birthday go……...ing?” Your mouth drops a bit and you almost forget to finish your question as Yunho walks into the room.

Normally, your bff was sporting casual gear and fluffy hair, but today was a completely different story. He was dressed to the nines in a suit and tie, with his hair pushed back just so. That alone would have been enough to mess with you. But it was the angry look on his face that shook you to your core. You and Yunho had been friends for a long time and had never fought, not to that extent. By the look on Yunho’s face, he was about to make the thunderclouds envious of his fury.

Yunho is curt with you and every bit accusatory. “Where have you been? And could you please call me by my name today? It is my birthday after all.”

Your eyes widen and you're starting to feel a bit hurt. Where was all this reserved rage coming from and why was it being directed to you? So, you go on the defensive. “Where have I been? Oh, I don’t know, maybe picking up the world’s biggest cake so that you can faceplant into it later when you’re beyond drunk and enjoying the attention. And I always call you Bestie, what’s up your arse today, geez.”

Yunho took all of two strides with his long legs to plant himself directly in front of you. The anger was practically vibrating through every fiber of his being. And it was still directed towards you. “I am sick and tired of you putting me in that damn box. Today I have decided to give myself a birthday gift.” His eyes softened for a millisecond. That was all the warning you got before he bent down and kissed you.

His lips touch yours and you freeze. You were expecting soft and shy, because Yunho at his core is a soft, shy guy. But instead what you got from him was a ravenous hunger for your lips and a hand gripping the back of your neck.

You push him away with all your might, which is nothing compared to the tall, broad-shouldered boy who was kissing you, but you did it nonetheless. Now, the best friend that you knew and loved would have totally pulled away, laughing and telling you that it had just been a dare from San. But this Yunho, whoever he was, was not laughing. In fact, Yunho gently bit down on your lip and pulled it a bit before letting go. His eyes focused on you, dark and secretive, unlike anything you had ever experienced.

“What the hell was that, Yunho?” You yell, pushing at his chest even more.

“That was the past ten years of built up frustration,” Yunho sighs heavily but doesn’t budge.

You did not like the sound of that. “Well great, is that what you do to Wooyoung when he pisses you off too?”

Yunho runs a hand through his hair. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

"What is there to get?" You demand angrily.

Yunho speaks in a low tone as he slowly backs you into the cupboards. "I don't want to kiss Wooyoung, I want to kiss you. I want every single one of my friends to stop mocking me because you literally act like my girlfriend and yet you don't even see me as a man. Must I always be the puppy to you? Can't I be angry instead of always cheering you up? What if I want to be pissed and drunk? Can't I, just on my birthday? Then I can go back to being your golden bestie."

Except, even though everything Yunho had just said was about him saying fuck you to you, his hands had found their way along your collarbones. His palms were flush against your chest, the fingers splayed out and curling, looking to move up to your neck. And you couldn't move a damn muscle.

"Or," Yunho locks eyes with you and you have never dropped your gaze so quickly in your entire life. There was something about being able to see into his eyes that physically hurt. "You could let me show you what I've been wanting to do since high school when you said Mingi was such a sloppy eater."

It took you a moment for you to realize that Yunho was referring to the time you had complained about Mingi eating you out and not being able to find your clit. He had been like a dog munching down at his bowl. It had been an interesting first sexual encounter. You hadn't actually intended to tell Yunho about it, you didn’t exactly feel right talking to a male about about how his best friend ate you out. BUT you had been drunk one night, and loud, and Yunho had clearly overheard you complaining to your female best friend. That was embarrassing.

“You heard that? Oh god, forget you heard that. Better yet, let’s just put this all behind us, and celebrate your birthday. I promise I’ll call you Yunho all night, just like the birthday boy requested.” You smile but it was strained because Yunho still hadn't backed the fuck off yet.

Yunho’s fingers move up, loosely fitting around your neck, and he uses his thumbs to lift your head up so that you look at him. “If you’re taking requests, I have something else in mind.”

Your eyes settle on his right ear instead, to stay away from his eyes. “What are you doing?” You can’t help but whisper.

“Please, just look into my eyes.”

“Don’t do this, Yunho,” You beg.

“If I don’t do this right now, I’ll never do it, and I think I’m going to regret it,” Yunho admits.

You hear the tiny bit of loss in his voice and you can’t help but glance upwards to meet his eyes. Yunho has a small, sad smile on his face and it makes you frown immediately. As his best friend, you want to do whatever it takes to remove that look off of his face. He doesn’t deserve to be so sad on his birthday.

That was your first mistake.

Yunho’s tongue curls around his upper teeth, a slight smirk pulling the corners of his lips upwards. "You do wanna hear what I have in mind, don't you?" Fear must have shown in your eyes because Yunho’s smirk became a full fledged one. "I wanna hold you in place with my hands around your neck as I fuck you against these cupboards. I want you to scream my name so loud, that Seonghwa runs in here worried and catches us in the act. I want you to succumb to my every desire."

You gulp and you wince how it echoes throughout the kitchen like a mating call. Your whole body is tingling with excitement. You can't help what comes out of your mouth next. "You're willing to be rough with me?"

Yunho raises an eyebrow in question, "What, like you've asked before?"

You nod eagerly, "Everyone keeps saying they'll hurt me more than I think I want."

Yunho’s fingers tighten ever so slightly along your neck, and you gasp, as if you're ready to hold in your breath. Yunho appears amused at this. "You really just want someone to own you, don't you?"

"I--" You don't really know how to own up to that. "I want someone to take me."

"We need a safe word," Yunho says in a raspy voice, getting turned on with each sentence you say.

"You need a safe word," You quietly correct him.

"Me? Are you saying you're willing to go harder than I can?"

Your eyes are back to the floor now. This was a bit much for you. "Just pick something!" You whine.

"Hmmm," Yunho tips your head to the side and kisses the place just below your jaw but above his fingers. "What should my safe word be?" His tongue comes out between the kisses, sneaky little thing it is. Then he starts to suck harshly where he's kissed and you groan. "How about cake?"

"Fine fine, just, quickly before someone looks for us!"

You don't see it but Yunho’s eyes flash with anger. He doesn't like this attitude now. "I've changed my mind."

"What?" If you wanna be honest, you're having a bit of a hard time focusing with his hands around your neck.

"Open your mouth," Yunho demands. You open your mouth, obediently sticking your tongue out. "I'm going to spit in your whore mouth and then you're going to swallow it like the dutiful little brat you are. Then you will be mine until the sun rises. And I do not want to hear any form of the word no. Do you understand?"

You nod and Yunho spits onto your tongue. You swallow it exactly how he instructs and you keep your eyes lowered. "Yes. What now, Sir…?"

Yunho turns your body around so that your back is flush with his chest. You watch as his hands hover over and follow the plunge of your neckline. He doesn't touch you as he moves along the planes of your stomach and you hold your breath.

Yunho’s voice is gravelly as he says into your ear, "Hongjoong couldn't shut up one night about how fucking tight you were during that week we all went to Cabo. And not that I like to brag but you're going to need all the help you can get with me so…" Yunho puts both of his hands on top of your thighs, fingers languidly moving to pull your dress up. Your thighs are slowly revealed, followed by your crotch which happened to be covered in cotton pink underwear. "Cute," Yunho laughs into your ear and you wince. You had not planned on anyone seeing you without your dress on tonight.

"Yunho," You huff, head turned so you could tuck your chin into your shoulder.

"What?" God, you could hear the smirk in his voice, "Getting impatient for my fingers?" You purse your lips because you can't say no but you're too proud to say yes.

Oh, but Yunho doesn't like your lack of response. So he gets a big handful of your underwear, and with a resounding ripping noise, yanked them clean from your body.

"What the hell?!" You yell.

"Open your mouth, pretty baby," Yunho coos and you do what you're told even though your inner thighs and ass cheeks are stinging from Yunho literally ripping your underwear from your body. Yunho shoves your underwear into your mouth. "You're going to need this."

Yunho sucks on his index and middle finger before he mercilessly rubs your clit, those beautiful fingers of his making a maddening circle that make you push your pelvis forward. "Weren't you just telling me to stop? You sure you wanna come on my fingers now?"

You whine and breath deeply through your nose. Yunho was teasing you and it was driving you wild. "Patience isn't your strong suit, isn't it?"

You roll your hips, whimpering for more. Yunho obliges you, rubbing harder. But he needs a better angle so he lifts one of your legs up. With your clit more fully exposed, Yunho was able to coat one single index finger in your juices and then swipe back and forth along that swollen clit of yours. The direct contact would have made you hiss if you didn't have underwear in your mouth. With the speed and pressure, Yunho abuses your pussy so that you can enjoy that fine line of pleasure and pain. He almost stops when you stop whimpering but when your spine goes ramrod straight, Yunho knows he's done the right thing by you.

Your climax rips through your body, radiating from your lower half and lapping at your fingertips. You're still whining as you come down from your high. In between your legs you are an absolute mess. You are swollen, sensitive beyond measure and still tensing from the pleasure.

"That's it, pretty baby. Look how well you came on my fingers. I bet your pussy is just clenching, thinking about my cock inside of you."

You gulp at Yunho’s dirty talk. It's like he knew exactly what you liked to hear. You whine for him to remove the underwear and he agrees. If he was just about to split you apart, he definitely wants to hear you singing his name.

"...how?" You really, really try not to be as fucked out as you are right now but Yunho really edged you in the best way. How was he going to fuck you because you weren't sure you were going to be making any coherent thoughts anytime soon.

"I can make it easy for you, how about that?" Yunho pushes his fingers into your mouth and you clean them like it was natural.

You nod eagerly and that, coupled with his fingers in your mouth, and your eyes looking at him, is enough to make Yunho groan. "I can't wait any longer."

Yunho places his hands around your waist and lifts you onto the counter top, not that far from the cake you had slid on top. Your upper half is squished against the marble and your lower half is hanging off. With zero underwear and a very wet pussy, Yunho has no trouble stretching you to the max. But boy, did you feel fucking full. No, full implied you could take more, but you were pretty sure from Yunho’s first shallow thrusts, that he had more to push into you.

You try to wiggle your hips to get that extra more but Yunho presses firmly on your lower back. "Not yet," he says and he sounds a little strained.

"Please!" You begin the begging. "I want more. Fuck me so hard I have finger bruises on my hips where you held me. Fuck me so fast that I'm gasping for air between chanting your name. Fuck me with a fistful of hair pulling back. Please, Yunho, please."

Your last mistake was this monologue. Yunho can't hold back anymore, not with those mental pictures. Normally, he's terrified of hurting any girl with his thrusts. He's heard complaints about being too big, it's true, I promise. And with you, he probably would have held back, if not for that one look of yours that begged to be hurt but terrified of how it would be coming from him. Yunho had one chance to show you that he could be everything you wanted.

Yunho fucks you, rocking into you from behind and it's like the best thing since sliced bread. The way he's hitting you within, that gasp you do because it feels so good, you don't know if you have the breath to keep going. It's a bad angle for him to hit your g spot, but hitting your uterus walls was a whole other pleasure.

All you can do is keen at how good it all feels. You're not even thinking about how anyone could walk in and know exactly what's happening. You're not thinking about Yeosang holding this over your head for the next foreseeable five years or more. The only thing you're thinking about is getting that orgasm you're chasing.

"Mmmm Yunho, it feels so good, please don't stop, I'm so close."

Not that Yunho didn't want you whining and begging under him, but his brains kicked in at that moment. What if…

Yunho, with a lot of perseverance, pulled himself out of you. You're a scrambled ball of want right now so you cannot do anything but wait and see what the birthday boy wants.

You feel his fingers admire your ass and then a resounding smack fills the kitchen. You can only feel the slight pain but Yunho didn't realize how much he'd enjoy seeing his hand print on your ass. "Off the counter," he commands abruptly.

You wiggle but whose got energy after this up and down roller-coaster which is sex with dominating Yunho? So the tall boy helps you slide down. That makes you moan as your ass slides down the roughness of his pants. You can only manage to bend your legs under you as you sit on the floor. It's a long way to look up to Yunho, your dress spread over your legs, making you look innocent for a moment.

Yunho cups the side of your head tenderly. Before he had the daydreams of making you scream his name, his heartstrings had tugged when you had hugged him for the first time. Yunho was head over heels in love with you but the lust would have to do, for now.

"What I wouldn't give to just rub one out and bukake you right now," Yunho says in a rough and low voice.

You giggle softly, "You watch way too much Hentai, you weeb."

His hand moves to your chin, pulling your lower lip down with his thumb, "Open up," he demands.

You pout. Now you know you aren't getting your second orgasm. "Really?!"

Yunho is at the height of his glory. His proud face looks down at you, dark eyes commanding and tempting. You genuinely want this man to ruin you, time and time again. "Really," he replies firmly.

You open and Yunho slides his cock between your lips. You hollow out your cheeks immediately, bobbing along his length experimentally. If you thought he was big inside of you, he seemed even bigger in your mouth. If Yunho got out of control… You grin, internally at least. He didn't know what he was about to get.

The moan that comes from Yunho is almost worthy of recording for some personal time. Partly it's the blow job, but the other part is the visual. You're on your knees for him, looking up at him as his dick disappears in your mouth; he has to dig half-moons into his palms so he doesn't come right then and there.

But you don't let it stay cute for long. Eventually Yunho loses his control. His eyes are tightly shut and his thrusting is out of control. He is hitting the back of your throat and then he is moving far down enough to make you choke. You have to time your breathing with his thrusts, and even with that knowledge, you still choke.

"Oh fuck, you're gonna swallow right?" Yunho opens his eyes to see if you nod or shake your head and he stops abruptly. Yes, he wants to see you debauched and crumbling for him, but it's the tears at the corner of your eyes that gets him. Next, he quietly murmurs, "Cake."

You let Yunho leave your mouth with a resounding pop. You smile happily. "Told you so."

Yunho still narrows his eyes at you, making you even more smug. "Who said I was done?"

You roll your eyes, "Fine, I'll finish it."

You grab two fistfuls of his trousers, and force him down your throat. You deep throat Yunho until he is a whimpering mess. He holds onto your shoulders for dear life as he spills his seed down your throat. You swallow and swallow for ages before Yunho pulls out due to sensitivity. You wipe the corners of your mouth in satisfaction. "Now how is that for a birthday gift?"

Yunho is a bit starstruck right now. He was the one with the fucked out expression but he smiles tiredly. "Better than my daydreams."

You stand up and pat his head, "That's nice, Bestie."

That earns you a second slap on the other ass cheek. Matching big ass hand prints on each cheek was kind of a gift too, right?

"Yunho!" You cry out in indignation.

"Why are you teasing her, didn't she just buy your forgetful ass a whole cake?" Hongjoong announces his entrance into the kitchen.

You quickly shove some cake into your mouth, terrified you'll blurt out what had just happened out of sheer panic and your tendency to always utter the truth. Yunho grabs your hand as you go to take a second helping, putting those fingers in his mouth and swirling his tongue around them for the frosting.

"Really you two? Eating the cake before we even blow out the candles?" Hongjoong rolls his eyes dramatically before leaving the kitchen, not noting the sexual tension in the room at all.

"You're an asshole, Jung Yunho," You mutter under your breath, snatching back your hand.

Yunho picks up some icing with his index finger and swipes it playfully on your nose. "And you wouldn't have it any other way."

There was no fucking way Yunho wasn't going to ask for a part two…you were his until sunrise after all.

#ksmutclub #kvanity #ateez smut #jeong yunho smut #ateez scenarios #jeong yunho scenarios #ღatz #why am i such a nice guy #writing stuff for my besties about my besties #nice guys really never win lmao #topaz's work

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kohanayaki · 3 years

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.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 8

You come across an old photo book full of untouched memories and decide to go through it with Harry, though there are some things you decide he doesn't need to know and some things you'd rather forget. (Takes place mostly through Marauders era flashbacks)

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

Ch 8 .:Snapshots, Secrets, and Sentimentality:.

“Hey, Harry?” you called out into the living room where said boy was reclined on one of the large charcoal armchairs, “I found something you might want to see.”

His eyes widened behind the round frames of his glasses as you carried over a large, leather bound book that was thick with laminated pages. You sat across from him on the couch, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“We still have a few more hours before the others arrive for the meeting,” you said, “and I don't know when the next time we'll be able to talk like this will be.”

“Wait,” he said before you could open the book, “you aren't staying?”

“I can't,” you smiled at him sadly. A statement that was true for a multitude of reasons you'd rather not get into with your godson. “I wanted to show this to you before I left, though.”

With a wave of your hand the book's pages gently flipped open, revealing a number of old magical photographs. The page you had turned to had a picture of James, and you could see Harry's eyes lock onto it. His father was beaming at the camera, holding up the Quidditch cup as two of his Gryffindor teammates held him up on their shoulders.

“Now you see why everyone always tells you how much you look like him,” you chuckled, “that's him in his fifth year, same as you now.”

Harry stared in wonder at the photo. He really did look like his dad. James was slightly taller, lankier, but he had the same disheveled waves of dark brown hair and boyish grin as Harry. Their faces were nearly identical; except for the eyes, of course.

The photo right next to that one was you wearing a Seeker's crest. You were posed, standing with the rest of your team with a wide smile on your face. Harry's brow furrowed as he spotted an unknown yet somehow familiar boy next to you with curly black hair and light eyes.

“Who is that?” he asked, “he almost looks like—”

“Sirius?” you finished. Harry nodded. “That would make sense,” you said, “that's Regulus, his younger brother.”

“I. . . didn't know he had one,” Harry said in wonder.

“Well, you know he doesn't talk about his family often.”

“Right. . .” Harry trailed off for a moment, “but you knew him? His brother?”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a tug at your heart, “We were friends, for a while.” Your eyes subconsciously looked up towards his room which now stood empty. “He, um. . . he died, some time ago.”

“Oh,” Harry said, not knowing what to say, “I'm sorry. . .”

You gave him a small smile in thanks, trying to shrug off the grim feeling the memories brought up as you turned the page of the book to the next.

This photograph was one that was moving— you and James in your Quidditch captain's uniforms. He was reaching over, ruffling your hair while you were ducking to avoid him, pushing his face away and turning his glasses askew despite the grin on your face.

“We both became team captains in year six,” you said, smiling fondly at the picture, “we'd squared off as Seekers the year prior, so it was only natural. You were already playing Seeker your first year, weren't you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said bashfully, “although my first time catching the snitch was bit rough to say the least.” You laughed at that, recalling the time he told you the story of how he had caught the snitch with his mouth his first match.

“You take after your father, for sure,” you said, “he was always a creative flier; came up with all sorts of purposefully confusing strategies as captain. By the time the other team figured out what he was doing, he'd have already caught the snitch and the match would be set.”

Harry felt pride fill his chest at your words, glad he was taking on his father's good qualities.

“So you were a Seeker your fifth year and played until you graduated,” he recalled, “but I thought you said you played Chaser before?”

“Well, sort of?” you admitted, “Not officially. My introduction to the game was unconventional, to say the least. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James and Sirius huddled with the rest of the Gryffindor team on the Quidditch pitch, gearing up for the match. The energy around them was electric, the stands packed with students and faculty from every house.

“Remember, keep to the left,” Halls, their team captain, said sternly, “and take advantage of Parkinson's blind spot. If Rollins and the rest of the Chasers start scoring above 40 before halftime, we'll go in for the Pincer.”

Sirius nodded, determined to win this match. It was the first one of the season, so a lot was riding on this. However, his attention was diverted as the crowd's cheers suddenly grew louder. The Slytherin team had arrived on the field, marching towards them. Something Sirius didn't expect to see, however, was you, dressed in Chaser's robes next to his brother.

“What are they doing here?” Sirius scoffed as he spotted you, “they're not even on the team!”

“Rollins took a spill last practice,” Vanity said as she stepped forward. The Slytherin captain had a wicked grin on her face, “(L/n)'s a last minute replacement. Don't bother trying to argue, I've already cleared it with Madame Hooch.”

“Convenient of you to tell us ahead of time,” Halls' eyes narrowed.

“Is there a part of 'last minute' that escapes your understanding?” Vanity rolled her eyes.

“Well, no matter,” Halls said, “you've lost your best Chaser, we don't have anything to worry about.”

“That classic Gryffindor confidence,” Vanity smirked, “we'll see about that. I don't choose just anyone to fill in.”

Halls scoffed as Vanity turned on her heels, not bothering to look back.

“Seems you've found yourself another game to lose, (L/n),” James smirked at you.

“Have I?” you arched a brow, “what's our score now? 10-9?”

“10-10 since I got you with that scalene water in the Prefect's bathroom,” James reminded you, “how was being half fish for a day?”

“Marvelous, felt just like you,” you quipped.

“Settle down, everyone,” Madame Hooch said, stepping out onto the field, “Potter, (L/n), I know you two have taken to pranks on each other in class, but I don't want to see a lick of that up in the air, understood?”

“Perfectly,” you said, a smirk sneaking onto your face as you mounted your broom.

“Wouldn't dream of it, professor,” James said with sarcastic flair.

Sirius eyed you cautiously. Gryffindor had flying class with Hufflepuff, so they'd never actually seen you fly before, but there was no doubt that if Vanity approved of you, you had to pose some kind of threat.

“Take your marks,” Hooch said, and you rose off the ground in unison, staring each other down. “Let the match begin!” With a strong, well placed kick, the Quidditch case was thrown open to release the bludgers and the snitch, and as she threw the quaffle up in the air you lunged forward into a dive. You were just about to grab the ball when a blur of red and gold nearly knocked you off your broom.

“Potter has the Quaffle!” Kingston commentated from the box, “he passes to Longbottom, who evades Catchlove and Regulus Black. Longbottom scores! The first ten points go to Gryffindor!”

The patrons in the red and gold stands went wild, the roar deafening in your ears. This was definitely different from flying class. You had to get it together.

The hair on the back of your neck suddenly stood straight up when something whizzed right past your head as you barely moved to dodge it. Sirius gave you a passive shrug from the other side of the field, a beater's bat resting on his shoulder.

“Tosser,” you grumbled under your breath. You had half a mind to throw him right through the left-field hoops without his broom, but dealing with the bludgers wasn't your job; you just had to evade and score. You wouldn't let your team down.

Your eyes searched the skies for the quaffle again, and found it as you spotted a Gryffindor snatch it out of Catchlove's hands. You built up momentum, lowering your body to your broom handle as you picked up speed, swiping the ball from the red Chaser's hands before his eyes could register. You flew under him before their team could rearrange formation and spun around quickly, swatting the quaffle towards the lower right goal with the tail end of your broom. Their Keeper dove to block it, but was one second too late. The ball flew through the hoop and straight into Regulus' hands, who looped back around and threw it through the top right, leaving the Gryffindor Keeper too disoriented and too low in the corner of the goal posts to do anything about it.

“(L/n) outmaneuvers Johnson and scores!” you heard the commentary box boom, “Regulus Black follows up with another goal, we are 20 Slytherin to 10 Gryffindor, what a quick turnaround to start off the match!”

You huffed, impressed that Regulus was able to make the most of your shot. You knew he was Sirius' brother, but that was about it. He was a year younger than you, so you didn't have any classes together and never really talked to him before.

“Nice shot,” you said, flying next to him.

“Same to you,” he said with the slightest upwards quirk of his lips.

“Oi, keep it up you two!” Vanity shouted, hovering over you before dodging the bludger that flew her way, “Black, keep point on Johnson, he's off his game today. (L/n) I want you on intercept and watch for Potter.”

“Gladly,” you smirked, flying off towards the other side of the field. You were starting to feel more comfortable in the air, like you were when you were just flying by yourself; the sounds of the crowd disappeared over the wind rushing in your ears, and you were able to concentrate on your main objective:

Kicking James Potter's arse.

And that you did. The all too confident smirk that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face disappeared when he suddenly felt the weight of the quaffle leave his hands. A victorious smile graced your lips at his dumbfound expression as you threw the ball long to Regulus, who caught it with ease, swatting Johnson away like a fly before scoring another goal.

“(L/n) passes to Black who scores another ten points for Slytherin!” Kingston announced, “it looks like the two rookie players are really hitting their stride now. Choosing (L/n) as a last second fill in is really paying off!”

Sirius' eyes narrowed, grunting in frustration as he hit another bludger your way. Regulus' head turned at the sound of the crack of the bat and signaled over to one of your Beaters, who tossed the bat his way just in time for the Slytherin to send the ball flying back towards his brother. Sirius cursed under his breath, rolling to the right and spinning out of control for a moment before reorienting himself.

“Hooch, what gives!” he shouted, “penalize them!”

“Fair play under protection,” Hooch denied him, “you've been taking headshots, Black. Be grateful I'm not docking you.”

Sirius grumbled a few choice words under his breath before flying back into the fray.

“Thanks for that!” you called over to Regulus.

“Don't mention it,” the boy said, his expression still fairly neutral save for the slight smirk on his face. How the hell was he so calm during this game anyways?

You continued to work with Regulus throughout the match; you'd found a system that worked, and your captain told you to roll with it. Pass after pass you intercepted and scored, mainly targeting Potter not just because Vanity had told you to, but because it brought you a considerable amount of personal enjoyment.

That's when you saw it— a tiny, nearly imperceptible flash of gold that whizzed by your peripheral vision. Neither of the Seekers had caught sight of it yet, but you watched as it zoomed low towards the ground, hovering just beneath one of the crowd stands.

“Oi, Talkalot!” you shouted over the crowd at your Seeker, “Dive low at Hippogriff, now!”

You'd only had a few hours to look over the strategies that Vanity laid out for you, but you knew the Slytherin team had come up with code words for each quadrant of the Quiditch pitch so you could alert your Seeker if you saw the snitch without the other team knowing where it was. You hoped to Merlin you'd gotten the code right, and you exhaled in relief as Talkalot zoomed past you, taking a sharp dive straight down.

“Nice eye, (L/n)!” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice trailing off as she went after the snitch at top speed.

Sirius' eyes widened as he saw the sporadic move from your Seeker. That could only mean one thing.

“Halls, they've got eyes on the snitch!” he shouted to his team captain who cursed under his breath, taking off in Talkalot's direction, but her lead was too great.

“She's got it!” Kingston hollered into the mic, “Lucinda Talkalot has caught the golden snitch, scoring 150 points for Slytherin! Our score comes out 50 Gryffindor to 230 Slytherin, and this match is over!”

“Slytherin wins!” Madame Hooch proclaimed from her broom.

Everyone in the emerald stands cheered so loudly you thought their tents would topple. You couldn't believe the amount of adrenaline coursing through your body in that moment. It was a complete sensory overload as you were bombarded by the Slytherin team, mostly comprised of people you hardly even knew, and thrown on top of their shoulders and they cheered for you.

“What a game, (L/n)! I never knew you could play!”

“Where the hell have you been all this time, eh?”

“You better try out next year or you're dead!”

You laughed at the last comment from Vanity, people buzzing around you as soon as you were set down. You broke away from the congratulatory comments and pats on the back, however, as you spotted James across the field. You couldn't help but rub this in his face a little.

“Why so blue, Potter?” you grinned as you bounded over to him, “what was that about me 'finding another game to lose'?”

For once, James had no clever comeback, and his face flushed as you laughed at his expression.

“I do believe that leaves us 11-10,” you said cheekily, doing an overly exaggerated bow before tossing your broom from your left hand to your right and stalking off.

“Not for long,” James said to himself once you were out of earshot, equal parts impressed and supremely annoyed. It was time for him to pay another visit to Zonko's. He'd show you blue all right. . .

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

“After that year I tried out for a permanent position as Seeker,” you said, “your father and I concluded our prank war, Sirius and I put aside our differences, Lupin vouched for my involvement with the map, and the rest is history.”

“I seriously can't believe you became such close friends only two years later,” Harry said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Neither could we,” you said, “it was just a series of chance encounters that we learned we were more similar than we thought. I really do believe that friendship can come from anywhere, Harry. Even more so when you least expect it. So if there's anyone around you that you think you might never get along with, I'd say it's worth it to give them a chance.”

Harry paused at your words. There were more than a few people who came to mind.

You turned to the next page, which was a spread of you and the rest of the Marauders in more casual settings. One could clearly tell you had taken them of each other, if the shaky camera movement and blurry rendering were anything to go off of.

You smiled to yourself as you saw a photo of you and Remus asleep in the Hogwarts library, lightly leaning against each other with your eyes peacefully closed. Suddenly the camera flash jolted through the photograph, and you two bolted upright. You glared at the person taking the photo and reached out to smack the camera away, the picture going blurry for a moment before resetting. Harry laughed at the brief repeating scene, as did you.

“Your father took this one,” you huffed, “because of course he did.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1977 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You rested your head in your palm as you transcribed a few spells into your notebook. The lantern in front of you gave you just enough light to read the elaborate Latin, as the sun had long since set. Your eyelids felt annoyingly heavy, attempting to close on their own as you fought against them to stay awake.

“How are you holding up?” Remus asked with a slight grin, catching you jump awake at his remark.

You and Remus had gotten permission from Madame Pince to use the library after hours to study; after all, you two were outstanding students. If James and Sirius had made the request, they wouldn't have gotten so positive a reaction.

“I've been more awake in my life, but I really need to get this done tonight,” you sighed, “NEWTS start next week and I have to be ready.” You stared up at the boy who was looking at you with obvious concern. “I'm fine, Moony. And I don't want to keep you here, so whenever you want to head off to bed, feel free to.”

“It's no trouble,” he said, “I'll walk you back to your common room, at least. At this rate you'll fall asleep in the middle of the hall for Filch to find you.”

You gave him a light but well-meant glare, groaning as you turned your tired eyes back to the parchment in front of you.

“Why the sudden all-nighters anyways?” Lupin asked, “I thought you'd be plenty prepared.”

“My Charms marks haven't exactly been the best lately,” you admitted, “that's kind of important if I want to become an auror, Remus.”

“Really?” the lycanthrope said, surprised, “but you're always in the know on some spell or another I've never even heard of. You've even made some of your own, right?”

“Yes, but the Ministry wants people who can conjure a corporeal patronus, not someone who made up a spell that makes antlers grow on someone's head to make a very specific joke.”

“Well, I thought it was impressive,” Remus laughed, thinking back to James asking him 'why does my head feel so heavy?' “but I see what you're saying,” Remus continued, “Have you thought about Dumbledore's proposal? Joining the cause might call for some more specialized tasks that would fit you well.”

“Right,” you bit your lip, “I just. . . I don't know. It's a lot to take on. A big part of me is scared, Remus. I'm not like you guys. I can't just fearlessly leap into a battle without any second thoughts. James and Sirius gave their answers so quickly and. . . I couldn't say for sure right away like they could. Honestly, I was terrified, and I still feel guilty because of it.”

“Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, (Y/n),” Remus said, “It's nothing to be ashamed of. No one is forcing you to make this decision right away, nor are they requiring you do it alone. There's a war going on out there, (Y/n). No one would blame you for not diving into it headfirst.”

“Always the quoter of muggle proverbs,” you chuckled lightly, “thank you, Remus. Really.”

A quiet yawn snuck into the back of your throat, and you stretched out of your chair to try to get feeling back into your body.

“Maybe I should turn in soon,” you said, your voice already groggy, “just a few more transcriptions. . .”

Remus stayed by your side as you continued to work diligently, and he found himself smiling at your innate stubbornness. It was something he greatly admired about you; when you decided on something you stuck to it no matter what, sometimes to a fault. You fought to keep your eyes open, even as your head began to slope and your handwriting gradually became slower.

Lupin was beginning to tire himself, which surprised him. He was naturally nocturnal, after all, and usually had no issue staying up to the early hours of the morning. But the quiet scratch of your quill against the parchment, the occasional sound of a page turning, and the smell of your shampoo that wafted with the motion, all lulled him into a sense of ease that was much too easy to doze off to.

Just when he thought he might fall asleep, he almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. He looked to the side to see you sleeping peacefully, your head having slipped from your palm and onto the soft fabric of his sweater. His face flushed a deep red, and he thanked Merlin you were sound asleep. He was caught in between embarrassment and slight panic as he instinctualy wanted to wake you but also ensure you actually got to sleep tonight.

He meant to wake you, he really had, but his mind and body betrayed him, and without even knowing when, his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into quite possibly the best sleep he'd had in weeks.

The flash of the magical camera was blinding, even through your closed eyelids. White spots danced in your vision as you groaned, shielding your face from the camera.

“MORNING, LOVEBIRDS!”

Remus jolted awake, remembering last night's events in an instant and banging his head on the bookshelf beside him in an attempt to put some distance between you two.

James was stood there, camera in hand and doubled over in laughter.

“Prongs, you better start running before I skin you and turn you into a pair of shoes,” you growled.

“How is it that I always catch you two sleeping together?” James chortled, completely ignoring your statement, “Can't be long till you get it on to the other sense of the phrase.”

And that's when you lunged at him. Too bad he didn't take your advice for a head start.

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

“That twat,” you said fondly, a statement that about summed up your and James' friendship.

Harry found himself smiling as you recounted your memories with his father. It made him feel that much more grateful for what he shared with Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, Merlin,” you laughed as you saw the next picture. You, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and James were standing side by side, Slughorn smiling in the middle of all of you. “This was the first and last Slug Club party that we ever attended all together,” you said, “Like I mentioned, Lily and I had always gone, and—”

You caught yourself.

And Severus would pretend to be reluctant tagging along, you finished in your mind. After what happened he stopped attending the parties.

You cleared your throat.

“Ahem, well, we'd always gone together as friends but none of the boys ever went with us,” you said, “It was our last year, and Lily finally convinced James to tag along, because by then they were together and he was contractually obligated to do so. I talked Sirius into coming because Slughorn had been trying to get him to come for years, and I made Remus my plus one. So for the first time ever, we were all at the party.”

“So it was the last party of the year?” Harry asked.

“Um, well, no,” you laughed, “it was the last party we were invited to. Let's just say your godfather thought it would be funny to enchant the ice sculptures to chase Lucius Malfoy around the dance floor. I'll admit, watching that stupid blonde ninny run screaming from a rapidly melting octopus to the tune of a classical string quartet was pretty entertaining, though Slughorn obviously felt otherwise.”

Harry chuckled, clearly seeing the spark of mischief in Sirius' eyes, even through a photo. As Harry's gaze drifted across the page, he noticed an empty space near the corner of the book. A discolored square remained where a photo should have been, the caption reading 'Christmas, 1976.' As he saw the way you ran your fingers lightly across the page, he decided against asking you what used to be there. He instead turned his attention to the next photograph, which was one taken in an all too familiar setting.

“Hold on,” Harry said, pointing to the picture, “that's the Gryffindor common room!”

“Sure is,” you grinned, “that secret passage from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower went from being used purely for pranking purposes to a way for us to actually hang out together at night.”

You stared down at the photograph fondly. You all looked so much older than the first pictures. You and James were lounging on the couch, not bothering to hide the overly full glasses of firewhiskey in your hands. Sirius and Remus were sitting on pillows on the floor, caught in the middle of a fit of laughter before all four of you turned to the camera which flashed. A pang of hurt and anger hit you square in the chest as it did. Peter had been the one taking the photo.

“I remember this day,” you said, an expression Harry couldn't quite figure out on your face, “it was the night before graduation. Our last night at Hogwarts. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1978 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A giggle rose in your throat as you took yet another drink of firewhiskey with James and Sirius, something that Remus insisted you were going to regret come morning.

“Oh, don't be suck a stickler, Moony,” Sirius guffawed, “tonight's the night! This time tomorrow we'll be packing up camp and heading out into the great unknown.” He made an expansive gesture with his hand that was cut off promptly by James smacking him upside the head.

“I'll brew a pepperup potion tomorrow if anyone really needs it,” you assured Remus.

“Not really the point, (Y/n),” he rolled his eyes.

As you leaned back to look at the four of them, all grinning like idiots and laughing, you felt a strange sense of sadness come over you. This was your last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place you had spent most of your life and where you had met the people you could no longer imagine that life without. As the reality of that fact sunk in, you grew quiet.

“Everything's going to be different after tomorrow, isn't it?” you said.

The boys looked surprised at your sudden and intense declaration, and James was the first to break the tension you'd created.

“Aww, Fangs is getting all sentimental,” he grinned, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“I will toss you out this window, Prongs.”

He laughed, poking you in the cheek, his smile only widening as you huffed in annoyance.

“It won't be different,” he promised, more serious but with that smile ever present on his face, “we'll still be friends. We'll still be a pack. And besides, after we graduate we could go. . . well, anywhere together! Just think, the five greatest heroes Hogwarts has ever seen, going on top secret missions from Dumbledore, saving the world!”

“It'll be dangerous, James,” you said, “there's a war going on, remember?”

“What war could ever break us up, huh?” he said reassuringly. You felt your heart swell at the remark. “And besides, you're gonna have to see me next year for the wedding anyways! Lily wanted it sometime in Spring.”

“. . .”

“WEDDING?!” you, Sirius, Remus, and Peter screeched, practically in unison as if it had been planned and rehearsed. Chaos erupted in the room, and you couldn't care less if you woke everyone in Gryffindor tower.

“You sly git, when were you gonna tell us?!” Sirius whacked his friend over the head with the map.

“I just did!” James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “And ow, Merlin, Pads. . .”

“You hit me first!”

“I can't believe you just dropped that on us,” you said, “Lily actually agreed to this?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” James huffed.

“Hey, I'm just saying you tend to drift off into fantasy land when it comes to her,” you said, putting your hands up in mock surrender, “I was just making sure this was rooted in reality.”

Remus laughed at that, lifting the needle on his record gently.

“They have a point,” he chuckled.

“Yes, I actually proposed, and yes she actually agreed,” James said, a lovesick smile on his face, “I wanted to get married pretty soon after we graduated, and she had no problem with that. She said she'd want to start a family—”

“Oh GOD,” Sirius said, drunken horror on his face.

“An actual nightmare,” you joined in playfully, “imagine another one of you running around. Even Lily's DNA couldn't balance that out.”

“Alright, that's it,” James said, “you're not gonna be godparents anymore.”

“I'd be terrible at that anyways,” Sirius chortled.

“I disagree,” James said earnestly, and the comment struck Sirius completely off guard. He chocked up the welling tears in his eyes to the alcohol, taking another sip to mask it.

“You're going soft, Prongsy,” he grumbled.

“Look who's talking, tough guy,” James laughed, clapping his best friend on the shoulder.

“We should take a picture,” Peter suggested quietly, turning red when everyone stopped what they were doing to face him, “I-I mean, since (Y/n) was worried about things changing, and we're all graduating, a-and who knows when—”

“Good thinking Wormtail,” James beamed, pulling you closer and leaning down towards Sirius and Remus so you could all be in the frame.

Peter was looking down at his shoes, fidgeting with his wand.

“Peter, you don't wanna get in the picture?” you asked.

The large framed boy jumped at your voice, looking nervously between the people he had come to know as his friends. There was an oddly fearful look in his eyes that left as soon as it came— a look you wouldn't understand until years later.

“N-no, that's alright,” he said.

And that was one of the last peaceful days of your life you could recall.

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

“I haven't even thought about these in the longest time,” you said, staring at the faded photos, “it's crazy to look back on them. It feels both like yesterday and a hundred years ago.”

The next page immediately summoned a lump in your throat.

“This was their wedding,” you said, fighting to keep your voice level, “the year after we graduated.”

Harry looked down at the dozens of photos of the ceremony and party that took place after; James at the altar in his burgundy and gold embroidered suit, and Lily walking down the isle with a bouquet full of the flowers that shared her name. Remus raising a champagne flute to the large crowd of guests as he made a heartfelt speech. You and Sirius dancing under the floating lanterns made to mimic the Hogwarts ceiling.

“Your father never was one for subtlety,” you laughed lightly, “he wanted the ceremony to be as extravagant as possible. He pulled out all the stops. . . and then, the very next year, they announced that they were going to have you.”

You looked up at Harry, and the resemblance he shared with two of your closest late friends conjured feelings of happiness, love, and deep, cutting sadness all at the same time.

Your fingers moved to turn the page, wanting to move on to something else, but you froze as you saw the edge of the next one. So much for that plan.

“I think that's enough for now,” you said quickly, smoothing the page back down, “the others will be arriving soon for the meeting, you best get washed up.”

Harry was curious, of course, but he nodded, not wanting to press for anything else as he reluctantly headed back upstairs.

When you were left alone with the photo book you sighed, bringing yourself to turn the page to see a picture of you and Severus. You were beaming at the camera, proudly holding out your perfectly brewed Draught of Living Death, the photo having been taken by Slughorn to put up on his famous wall. One of your arms held the cauldron haphazardly, the other slung around Severus' shoulders. He certainly wasn't displaying your level of enthusiasm, but a small smile graced his expression, allowing his lips to fully curve upwards, which was as close to 'beaming' as he ever got. He looked so much younger— less burdened.

Right next to that photo was an older one from 1973. It was one you had taken from the top of the oak tree, with Severus and Lily looking up at you. You knew he'd be here soon, and you knew you should talk to him, but you found yourself stuck back in the cycle of doubting every opening spiel you came up with.

You groaned in frustration, snapping the book shut and resting your forehead on the table as stress flooded your being. You refused to live in this perpetual state of dwelling on what happened. You were ready to talk, you just had to take the first step.

Chapter 9 coming soon!

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius @pan-pride-12

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valdomarx · 4 years

Text

Geralt and Jaskier visit a brothel together, requested by me

It’s been a long few weeks in the wilderness, and for once it’s as much of a relief for Geralt as it is for Jaskier to arrive in a town with a comfortable inn. Nature may have its bounties, but the body has its needs. Alas, the contracts have been poor of late, and by the time the room and bath have been paid for, both of their purses are light.

There’s enough money for a decent meal or for a trip to a brothel, but not both. Geralt contemplates this dilemma.

“We could share,” Jaskier suggests.

Geralt snorts. “One portion of food barely feeds me at the best of times. I’m not going halves with you.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “I don’t mean dinner. We could share a girl.”

“Hmm.” Geralt considers. That would indeed be cheaper, and there would be enough coin left over for a basic meal for each of them as well. The thought of both satisfaction and food wins out over any qualms he has, and he nods.

Jaskier brightens, and hustles him off in the direction of the local brothel.

He lets Jaskier do the talking once they arrive. It seems easier that way. Jaskier explains what they want and arranges payment with the madam, who recommends to them a highly accommodating lady by the name of April who resides upstairs.

When they head to her room, they find April to be a sturdy brunette with lovely wide hips and a cute dimpled chin. Taking in the pair of them standing in the doorway, she raises an eyebrow. “Both at once?” she asks, not in the least bit shy.

“We come as a package deal,” Jaskier jokes, which sets Geralt’s teeth on edge.

“Two charming gentlemen,” she smiles beguilingly. “My lucky day.”

She leads them inside, to a bedroom filled with worn red velvet fabrics and the damp, musky smell of sex. They kick off their boots at the door, because it seems only polite, and while Geralt is wondering if there is some sort of etiquette to this sharing business she takes him by the hand and toys with the laces of his shirt.

“How about I start by getting this off you, handsome?” she asks, and he hums his assent. She pulls off his shirt and sucks in a quick breath when she sees his scars. She’s professional enough to cover it, but not fast enough to fool Geralt’s heightened senses. She touches each mark curiously.

“How did you get this one?” she asks, running her fingers over a jagged, red scar curving over his shoulder. Geralt is used to that question from bed partners. He doesn’t even mind it much.

“That one was from an ekhidna,” Jaskier butts in. “Caught him when he was out on a lake gathering buckthorn.”

Geralt glares at him. This situation would be much easier to deal with if Jaskier would keep his mouth shut for once.

The girl gives Jaskier a inquisitive look. “You know all his stories?” She walks over to Jaskier and runs a hand down his chest, catching on the buttons of his chemise and undoing them one by one to reveal a thatch of dark hair. Geralt averts his eyes.

Jaskier preens. “I should think so. I’m the one who made him famous.”

The girl giggles. “Maybe you can tell me what he likes then,” she says, looking back at Geralt from under her lashes. Her hands are still on Jaskier’s chest.

“I reckon I have an idea,” Jaskier says, and something about that sends a shiver up Geralt’s spine.

“Good,” the girl says, sliding the chemise off Jaskier’s shoulders. “It’s hard to tell with the strong and silent type.” She smiles at Geralt as she says it, though, so it doesn’t feel too much like a criticism.

“Do you think he’d like to go first, or would he prefer to watch?” She’s playing with the strings on Jaskier’s trousers now, teasing them around her fingers, the blue fabric bright against her rosy skin.

“Oh, he wants to watch,” Jaskier says, with absolute surety. Geralt’s eyes fly to his, because what the fuck, Jaskier, but he finds Jaskier grinning like this is all perfectly delightful and not gearing up to be the most mortifying thing that’s ever happened to either of them.

“That work for you, big boy?” she asks, and Geralt doesn’t really know what to do other than nod. She indicates a chair in the corner of the room. “Make yourself comfortable, if you like.”

Unsure why this situation has made him so meek, he settles in the chair as he’s told. From here he can’t really help but get a full view of the bed.

April pushes Jaskier on to the bed with some force and he goes willingly, laughing. She climbs onto him and buries her face into his neck, where Geralt knows from prior observations that Jaskier is sensitive. He squirms beneath her attentions, cheeks flushing, hands running up her sides and over her breasts which are spilling out from her top.

Geralt can see glimpses of her hands as well, first opening Jaskier’s trousers, then pushing them down and wrapping around his cock. Jaskier groans and Geralt can smell his arousal, sharp and spicy, making his own heart beat pick up in sympathy.

She sits back to remove Jaskier’s trousers completely, which he tries to help with a gets a playful smack for, and then she’s pushing him down again and bending to lick stripes up his now clearly hard cock. Geralt doesn’t know where to look.

When she swallows Jaskier’s cock down in one go, Jaskier arches his back and Geralt's attention is drawn to the long, elegant line of his neck, the tight cords of muscle running out to his shoulders. Geralt fidgets in the chair, his trousers uncomfortably tight.

It's because of the girl, obviously, that he's feeling so on edge. She really is very pretty, and watching a pretty girl sucking cock would get any man going, wouldn't it?

Geralt finds his fingers playing through his trousers without him meaning to, although April notices from the corner of her eye.

"You can take care of yourself while you watch," she says, pulling off with a wink. "We won't mind, will we?"

Jaskier looks at him with a smirk. "We won't mind at all."

Geralt scowls, feeling strangely put upon. But if that's what’s expected... He unlaces his trousers and sighs in relief when he wraps a hand around his aching cock.

As April gets back to work, Jaskier strokes a finger down her cheek, and Geralt is struck by how tender his is, even when he has no need to be. Most men couldn't be less interested in the comfort of a whore they're with, but Jaskier cares about everyone, it seems, even someone he'll only see for one night.

When she gets her hands involved, Jaskier throws his arms above his head and twines his fingers into the headboard. Geralt's mouth goes very dry, for some reason, at the sight of Jaskier stretched out and braced for pleasure. Geralt spits in his hand and works himself over, carefully not thinking too much about it.

What's somewhat disconcerting is the fact that Jaskier keeps looking over at him, his eyes darting back to Geralt while a woman sucks his cock. The first time it happens Geralt's breath hitches, and he thinks he should really tear his gaze away from Jaskier's face and focus at the action, so to speak. But something in the way Jaskier bites at his lip, head thrown back in gratification, has heat racing under Geralt’s skin. He works himself harder, faster, eyes on Jaskier and discomfort with the situation rapidly eclipsed by desire.

When Jaskier's breath becomes more irregular and more gasping, April pulls off again. "You want to finish in my mouth or inside my pussy, sweetheart?" she asks.

"Your mouth is a joy and a delight, which I would be honoured to continuing appreciating," Jaskier says, effusive as ever, and she gives him a sweet smile.

"As you like." She turns to Geralt. "Maybe now you'd like to join us, love?" She pushes her skirt up over her wide hips, showing off the curve of her arse. Looking at him, she reaches behind herself, sliding a finger over her wet lips and dipping it inside. "You wouldn't leave me so bereft, would you?"

Geralt is nothing if not chivalrous, and he does appreciate being given clear instructions. So he stands from the chair and walks over to the bed, hand still on his cock as he takes in the view.

Jaskier is lying on his back on the bed, with April on all fours over him. And she's in the perfect position for Geralt to stand behind her and line up his cock with the inviting slick of her lips, swollen and rosy.

As he enters her it's like warm, wet velvet enveloping his cock, and by gods, he's missed this.

He sets a slow, languid pace, not wanting to be too demanding. The only issue is that from this angle, he can see the curve of her hips and the soft lines of her back, leading up to her dark hair. But he can also see Jaskier, spread out beneath her, all long limbs and firm muscle, face slack with pleasure as she takes his cock into her mouth. It's... distracting, that's what it is.

There’s nowhere else he can reasonably look though, so he stares down at the pair of them as he fucks her, noting the little shivers that pass through her body and the way Jaskier twitches when she swirls her tongue.

When she pushes back to meet Geralt’s thrusts, urging him to go faster, he doesn’t fight it, letting himself be led. She takes Jaskier down with even more enthusiasm as well, and soon Jaskier’s pants become whines and his hands grip more tightly to the headboard. Geralt watches, fascinated, as Jaskier trembles and arches, making a series of filthy noises that spark something deep and primal inside him.

When Jaskier tenses and comes, Geralt can smell it, the salty tang of his seed flooding the air even as April swallows it down like the professional she is, and it’s overwhelming and intoxicating.

He thrusts into her harder, his control fraying, eyes drawn to Jaskier who sighs and stretches on the bed, soft and smiling, hair flopping in his eyes. She moans encouragements and Geralt allows himself to let go, to give in to what his body wants, drinking in the view of soft skin and a broad chest and long, dark hair and blue, blue eyes.

It really doesn’t take him long after that. His fingers flex against her hips and with a few final thrusts he’s coming inside her, shuddering as his release races through him, unwinding his tense muscles and flooding his body with a feeling of gasping satisfaction.

He lets himself luxuriate in the feeling for a few seconds, eyes scrunched shut, blood racing through his veins, limbs heavy.

When he opens his eyes he sees Jaskier looking right at him, studying his face intently. His heart is still racing and the warm, dozy sensation of orgasm makes him feel strangely vulnerable. He quickly looks away, something like guilt flicking through him, then pulls out and offers a polite hand to April. She thanks him with a saucy grin and stands to rearrange her skirt.

When Jaskier rolls off the bed and goes to fetch his clothes from the floor, April touches Geralt gently on the wrist. "Will you be staying long in town?"

"Leaving tomorrow. Duty calls."

She nods, understanding. "If you're ever back in the area, look me up," she says with what appears to be genuine enthusiasm. "I'm always happy to have repeat customers." She casts a glance at Jaskier and speaks in a low voice. "Though perhaps next time my presence won't be necessary, hmm?"

She looks at him like that's significant. Geralt has no idea what she could possibly mean.

#geraskier #the witcher #my writing #sometimes u gotta write the fic u want to see in the world ya know #geralt and jaskier's brothel adventures

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sibsteria · 3 years

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must be nice [ravi chakrabarti]

1/2 parts

[...]

''-Liv, I just don't think it's a good idea-'' I tried to reason with my sister as much as I could but she had her mind set on me joining her for 'lunch' with herself and Ravi.

''-shut your damn mouth, you're coming, whether your damn dadgum brain wants to or not. You got me?'' Hell, I really don't like this redneck brain.

''You're asking for uncomfortableness and awkward smiles. This isn't a good idea, at all.'' I sighed, she'd never listen, it pointless arguing. You see, Ravi and I had slept with each other a while back, there were feelings involved and it got messy. He was 'in love' with Peyton at the time and didn't really grasp the concept of other people's feelings, long story short- I loved him and he loved me but he was also in love with Peyton. Hurt like a motherfucker.

[...]

Walking into the day bar with Liv was an experience, an over-enthusiastic Liv hailing us to our table with an uncomfortable Ravi adorned by our side? Hilarious sight. Really. I love being here.

''Hey.'' Ravi spat out, a waver of anxiousness layered his tone.

''Hi.'' Was all I could mutter.

[Ravi's p.o.v]

'Hey'?! Really? She must think I'm a fucking idiot. I messed everything up so badly last year, I wish I could go back and change it all. Change myself, more so. I was a complete dickhead to her, I realised that as soon as I was away from her. How do I fix this? Liv, help me.

[End]

I chose the duck salad with a side of bread. Fucking bread. Not to mention tall glass of rosé wine to top it off, 10am what? I'm going to need it to get though this 'lunch' or whatever the hell it was.

Let's guess a random thing that would increase the tension of a lunch with your sister and ex-lover? a) You're hands constantly bumping against your ex's, b) Accidentally kicking him instead of your sister, c) Dropping utensils on the floor only to bump heads with a man you've seen naked as he tried to pick it up at the same time after the whole hour was spent in awkward silence, or d) all of the above?

You guessed it, it was d!

There is no coming back from today, there was such awkwardness that a Tobey Maguire Spiderman™ movie would be jealous.

[...]

We all exited 'Lorenzo's' in a swift orderly fashion and raced for the door. Liv bee-lined for her car, aka my ride, and locked the doors on me. Twenty blocks away from my apartment. Fuck.

''Shit, Liv! The fuck?!'' I called after her, angrier than ever. I kicked a bin over and sent it flying before messaging my friend Don to see if he could give me a ride. Ravi had seen the whole thing and was now wide-eyed and staring in my direction.

''What are you staring at, big man? You know she did this on purpose.'' I said with a surge of confidence. I shook my head at the reply I got from my supposed best friend:

'No-can-do, gotta do a lot of work for emo Walter Cronkite over here, if I could then I would. You know me, girl'

Goddamn this brain was sassy.

''I mean, I-I could give you a ride, if you wanted..'' Ravi trailed off, his eyes averted mine as I looked at him with a stern face.

''I don't think that would be wise.'' I told him, softly.

''I get that, completely. I'm sorry, okay? The reason Peyton and I-'' He must have seen my face change at the mention of her because he paused his speech.

''Look, the reason she and I broke up was because I was honest with her. I'll tell you the rest if you let me drive you home. This isn't a nice neighbourhood to be in alone.'' He urged me to get in the car with his body language.

''This once, I will hear you out, Chakrabarti.'' I could tell he saw the emotion in my eyes.

[...]

It was silent in the car, for a while, he was scared to say anything.

''About what I was saying..'' He started. ''We broke up because I told her something I'd felt since it happened. Since we, uh, slept together.''

I felt like being snarky because before he could finish I shot back with, ''Which time?'' He ignored me and carried on.

''I realised that I am so fucking in love with you. She didn't do it for me. It was always you.'' He stopped the car outside my apartment building.

''You don't mean that, you just miss her.'' I said, honestly, tears welling up in my eyes- though I refused myself to let them fall. I kept my gaze straight ahead.

''No I do. It's the thing I'm most sure about. What I feel for you, I have never felt in my entire life. I love you, not just because of what we did but because of who you are. And who we are together. Trust me, this is the truth.'' His hands were gently placed on my cheek, bringing my face to look at him. As if there were such thing as amazing timing, a tear rolled down my red cheeks just as I looked into his eyes. He wiped my tears, focused on my eyes so intently.

''I love you too, always have. Since I first dropped a cup of coffee among seeing you. Which you should be flattered about, by the way.'' We let out premature laughs and let a smile paint my face for once.

''What are we gonna do about this..'' He trails off, in a scolding tone, tutting afterwards.

There was a couple seconds of silence before my self-assurance was fully confirmed. I took my shot.

Leaning forward, we connected our lips with such urgency that it slightly hurt. The kiss was bruising and passionate and rough and everything I'd imagined us to be one day. His hand gripped my waist whilst mine gripped his hair, he groaned into my mouth. The hand that rested on my cheek was warm and calloused, I loved it. He pulled me towards him with strength, he bit my lip and shoved his tongue into my mouth. I could tell he wanted me closer so I did the next best thing. I climbed over the gear and sat myself into his lap, his hands now resting on my lower back, and getting dangerously lower by the second. My hands still tugged at his hair as I started to grind myself on top of him.

''God, what you do to me, why didn't we do this fucking sooner.'' The way the words fell out of his mouth sounded so fucking amazing. I moaned into his mouth as a response and he started to thrust back up at me, increasing the friction. He groped my arse with both hands, pushing me and pushing me. I broke apart to trail kisses down his neck, leaving small bites and sucking on the skin below his jaw, I remembered exactly what gets this boy riled.

''Ra-avi, back seat. Now.'' He pulled the seat lever all the way down, slamming us onto the car floor. I now had more room to continue my work.

One of his hands moved up, his fingers tracing my side and up to the hem of my top. He tried to do what he could in the position he was in but ultimately I had to lean up to life my shirt over my head. As soon as I connected our lips again, there was a knock on the car window.

''Ha!'' A crazed Liv, stood.

Ravi and I parted and I looked at him, my eyes bulged.

''What are we gonna do now?'' I whispered.

1315

#ravi chakrabarti #izombie #liv moore #ravi chakrabarti imagine #ravi chakrabarti imagines #ravi chakrabarti x reader #ravi chakrabarti smut

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

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Pls just more Ben smut, any idea that comes to mind for the blurbs thingy, all your work are some of my favs and there can never be enough Benny 😫🥵😍

ahhhh thank you! And you’re so right, there can never be enough Benny.

This idea has been in my head for the last week-ish, so i decided to use it and ended up writing like 2.7k for it lmao i hope you like it!

warnings: Smut, dollification, dom!ben, oral (m receiving), and a little bit of biting

Advent Blurbs: Day 12

“Urgh, what else is on?” Ben asked, juggling his dinner plate as he reached for the TV remote. He flicked through some channels but it all looked as boring as the rest. Finally, he settled on the second half of an episode of Britain’s Got Talent. It wasn’t what you usually watched but Ben had already said he didn’t want to get invested in anything on Netflix because he had some work to do after dinner and didn’t want to be distracted from it. It was partway through an act when you switched it on, some sort of acrobatics thing, mildly impressive but not so much that you couldn’t talk through it between bites of your food. The next act was a very pitchy singer and the one after the ad break was some sort of magic act, but you barely noticed them. Ben certainly didn’t have any issues with ignoring the show in favour of your conversation either. Until a woman stepped out on stage dressed up in a puffy skirt with a wind up gear on her back. She danced, her movements intentionally stiff as if she were a music box doll that had escaped. Ben was entranced, his fork hovering above his plate as if he’d forgotten he was about to take a bite. His eyes never left the screen for the entirety of the performance. You were more amused by Ben’s reaction than the performance itself but as the dancing came to an end and Ben returned to his senses you agreed with his appraisal of her.

“She was good,” he said, adjusting his plate over his lap.

Ben ate a few more bites before taking his dishes to the kitchen. He dropped a kiss to the top of your head as he passed back through the living room.

“I’ll be in the study if you need me.”

You nodded and reached for the remote to find something better to watch.

You didn’t see Ben again until you were heading to bed though at one point you got up to use the bathroom and heard a muffled groan from behind the closed door to the study. You figured he was grappling with a particularly difficult script or something like that and left him to it. As you were settling into bed with a book, Ben entered the room. He joined you on the bed but plucked the book from your hands as he kissed you.

You broke off with a breathless sort of laugh, “what was that for?”

“Can I not just kiss my girlfriend for the hell of it?”

“I s’pose that’s allowed,” you giggled as Ben caught your lips again. But Ben was clearly in the mood for more than a kiss, nipping at your neck as he settled on top of you. And it didn’t take him long at all to get your pants off.

Both of you slept well that night and you thought nothing of it until a couple of days later.

You were watching TV again while Ben was out with some friends but looked around at the sound of the door opening.

“How was it?” you asked as Ben dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Yeah great. Had a few games of poker which was fun.”

“You win any?”

“Not one,” he laughed, “But I di-” Ben paused, his attention drawn to the TV as an ad for Britain’s Got Talent started. It featured clips from the doll dancer’s performance and once again Ben seemed to be completely entranced by it for the duration of the ad. They showed her doing a move that involved lifting her leg up high and Ben let out a soft groan. You waited for the ad to finish and Ben’s attention to shift back to you.

“What was I saying?” he asked, giving his head a little shake.

“Do you think she’s hot?”

“What?”

“The girl dressed as a doll.” You clarified.

“Babe, no,”

“No, I’m not upset. You’re allowed to find other women attractive. I’m just curious cause every time she’s on screen you sort of get lost in it.”

“No, it’s not her, not exactly,”

“What does that mean?”

Ben filled his cheeks with air and slowly let it out, “It’s the way she’s dressed.”

You waited for him to explain further.

“You know Jessie in Toy Story 2? I had a pretty big crush on her as a kid and then as a teenager it kind of sparked a few, um, well… I got off to her a lot.”

You had to giggle at that and Ben laughed softly too, his cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, kinda silly but it started cause she was a cute cowgirl and I was horny all the time and so it was just like the natural thing to do. But then, as I learnt more about sex, I started thinking about fucking her too. And it all kind of snowballed.”

“So that’s why you think the doll dancer is hot? Cause of Toy Story?”

“Kind of. There’s a bit more to it. See, um, one of my mates from high school had a hot older sister. Red hair she used to wear in a plait. Might have had the hots for her cause she reminded me of Jessie. So then I started getting off to the thought of fucking her. Except there was all this doll stuff mixed up in there too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like the idea of posable limbs and, um… Cause with Jessie, right, she’s a soft ragdoll type of doll, yeah? So a lot of what I’d imagined with her was like a human sized version of her that would lie there like a limp ragdoll while I fucked her. And that was sort of where it started with the idea of the hot sister but then I hit phases where I thought about other sorts of dolls more. As a joke one Christmas my brother got me a off brand Barbie so after that in the fantasies she’d be like a posable plastic doll who I could position how I wanted. Sometimes it was like a wind up doll who had limited movement when I wound her up. Sometimes she’d have a voicebox and I’d press a button or pull a string and she’d say something dirty, ask for it harder or moan or whatever.” Ben looked at you nervously, “I know it’s weird. But…yeah.”

“It’s not that weird,” you said, grabbing his hand between both of yours, “I think I kind of get why it’d be hot. Would, um, would you ever want to do that with me?”

“Babe, you don’t have to do that. I only mentioned it because you asked, I wasn’t trying to get you into it or anything.”

“No, I know. But would you? If I wanted to would you be into that?”

“Well, yeah, I would be into it. I mean, not gonna lie I have kind of thought about it before.”

“Really? Dressing me up and posing me?”

“Yeah,”

“That’s kinda hot,” you giggled again and Ben seemed to relax.

“I’m glad you don’t think it’s too weird, but I’m serious, you don’t have to indulge this idea at all.”

“Okay. Thank you for telling me though.” You pulled him down into a soft kiss that you hoped would reassure him that you weren’t freaked out by his confession, but already your mind was spinning with ideas.

The next day you dug through your wardrobe and found your most suitably doll like dress. It wasn’t as ruffled as the dancer’s skirt had been but it was short and felt like something a slutty doll might wear. You decided to forgo underwear since most dolls didn’t have them and slipped the dress over your head. Following a youtube tutorial, you did your make up so your eyes would look bigger and doll like and used a soft pink lipstick to shape your lips before adding a little blush to your cheeks. You gave your hair a brush through to make sure it was smooth and then took a seat on the edge of the bed, holding yourself stiff with your hands in your lap, and called out to Ben.

You heard his footsteps approaching and then the bedroom door swung open.

“Oh my god,”

You had to bite your cheek to keep from smiling too much.

Ben took a few tentative steps towards you and then stopped, taking in the sight, “I can’t believe you did this,” he said softly, “fuck I’m lucky.” He stepped closer, running his fingers though the hair around your ear. You shivered slightly as his fingers traced along your jaw, coming to rest at your chin. He tilted your head up and leaned down to kiss you softly.

It was hard to sit still as Ben ran his hands down your shoulders and towards your breasts. He spent a while just fondling you, squeezing your breasts and tweaking your nipples. You could feel your nipples stiffening and fought the urge to arch your back and push your chest against his hands, though you couldn’t quite hide the soft whine the rose up at the attention. Ben didn’t mind though. You saw him smile at the sound, and the tent in the front of his pants was evidence enough that he liked your surprise.

“What should I do with you?” he muttered to himself as he began to undress down to his boxers. He stepped in close again once the extra layers had been removed and placed a hand on the back of your head, pushing you towards his crotch. A damp patch had already begun to form on the front of his pants and it only grew as he rubbed his clothed cock against your face. You focused on breathing to keep from moving though all you could smell was his musky arousal. When he finally sat you back you unconsciously licked your lips, able to taste his precum on them.

“Let’s stand you up Doll,” he said, pulling you to your feet and repositioning your legs so they were parted a little wider. He moved your arms too, still bent at the elbow but raised higher so he could freely lift your dress. The sight of your bare pussy pulled a growl from Ben and he wasted no more time, licking his fingers and rubbing them along your slit. You were already a little wet (it surprised you just how much of a turn on the whole thing was) but the way he roughly grabbed your arse in one hand as his other explored your cunt soon had you even wetter. He pressed the heel of his hand against your clit as he teased your entrance with his fingertips, sinking them in and pulling them out again.

“That’s a good fuck doll,” he said as he pressed his fingers deeper and you bit back a moan. When he was satisfied that you were ready he pulled his hands away. Turning you around he repositioned your limbs again, unfolding your arms so they stuck out in front of you. He pressed on your back, bending you forward at the waist so your arms were braced against the mattress and readjusted your legs. You waited, trying to keep steady and not whine as you listened to his underwear drop. And then he was right behind you, one hand on your hip as he slid into your cunt. You hadn’t realised just how into it Ben would be but the whole doll scenario had turned him feral. He didn’t give you much time to adjust, just started fucking you hard as growling noises rose in his throat. One of his hands moved to your hair, holding it in a vice like grip as he leaned forward and bit down on your shoulder. You gasped at the sudden spike of pain but it was gone half a second later, the imprint of his teeth left as evidence. Your legs shook with the effort of holding your position and the force of Ben’s thrusts. Suddenly you felt empty as he disappeared from your cunt. He wrapped his arms around your waist and nearly threw you onto the bed, making you squeal in surprise. He pushed you onto your back and repositioned you so that one leg was strait up in the air, the other bent towards you and both of your hands placed on it to hold it. He leaned against the edge of the bed, placing one knee onto the mattress so he could sink into you again, letting you rest the leg that was in the air against his shoulder. He didn’t reach quite as deep as he had when you’d been standing but the position let him watch your face. You kept it as impassive as possible though you couldn’t keep from opening your mouth and moaning as he dropped his thumb to your clit. He leaned forward, pressing your legs closer to your body as he fucked you.

“Cum for me Doll,” he commanded, pressing harder against your clit, “cum all over my cock.”

It didn’t take much longer for you to reach your release, moaning as Ben kept fucking you. He pulled out of you again and readjusted you once more, pushing your arms aside as he pulled you to sit up, bringing your head forward. He squeezed your cheeks to keep your mouth open as pressed his cock between your lips.

“Taste yourself Doll.” He pushed you further down his length until you gagged and then pulled back out again, gripping your hair and rubbing your face against his cock, smearing your face with saliva and your own juices, before slipping it into your mouth once more. “Taste all that creamy cum you made,” he snapped his hips forward, fucking into you, his cock twitching against your tongue as he neared his own orgasm. He growled again as he came, replacing the taste of you with his own.

You weren’t sure if he’d want to do more so you sat there, cum pooled on your tongue, keeping yourself as still as possible though breathing heavier than before, waiting to be moved around again. Ben tentatively sat beside you on the edge of the bed and stoked your hair again, watching closely.

“I’m done,” he said softly, “You don’t need to be a doll anymore.”

You sighed and stood, reaching for the box of tissues that lived on your nightstand.

“Are you okay?” Ben asked, biting his lip, “Sorry if that was too much, I shouldn’t have told you about it.”

You shook your head before pressing a tissue to your lips and spitting the cum into it, “Ben I’m okay, I promise. You know I don’t like swallowing.”

“Oh,” he gave you a shy smile and a small laugh, “Yeah, should have realised.”

You took the place beside him again, entwining your fingers with his as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“So, you really are okay? That wasn’t too much?”

“Are you kidding? That was so fucking hot!” you laughed and lifted your head to look at him, “I’m very very very glad you told me.”

“And I wasn’t too rough? I mean I bit you, are you sure that was alright?”

“Ben, stop worrying. That was a big part of what made it so hot. You don’t get rough very often so seeing you like that, feeling you grab me and position me and all that, was fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! You know I’d tell you if it didn’t feel good. I’ll just have to make sure I don’t wear anything sleeveless until the mark clears up.”

He laughed again and wrapped and arm around your waist to pull you in close, “That makes me feel a lot better. Thank you for doing that for me too, you’re an incredible girlfriend.”

“I am,” you bumped his shoulder with yours, “but you’re an incredible boyfriend too.”

Ben kissed you again but this time you kissed back, glad you were able to.

“We should probably clean up, babe,”

You nodded and stood up, hand still in Ben’s, pulling him along with you as you headed to the bathroom, “Next time we should try the ragdoll thing,”

“Next time?”

“Well I assume you’ll want to do it again. I definitely do.”

#my writing #my blurbs #smut blurb #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #listen #i know 1 person who will be into this #because we've talked about dollification before #but i hope some of the rest of you are into it too lmao #my doll kink is very strongly tied to my bimbo kink tho #and i have defs considered doll play with rog in the future management verse #but the idea of ben being into it is hhhhhhhhhh #fuck im gonna be wet all day now #blurb advent 2020 #Anonymous

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magalidragon · 3 years

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fire on ice | a crackish Jonerys drabble

Soooo... @moggett reblogged this post and well I felt compelled to write a drabble for one of those prompts so I give you this crack fic-- a funeral home meet cute!

I give you....FIRE ON ICE! And this is also partially @youwerenevermine‘s fault, lol, because we literally had same idea for one of the prompts.

“Thank you so much Mr. Snow.”

Jon nodded politely, solemnly, his gray eyes the perfect amount of sympathetic, sad, and he hoped the right amount of ‘normal’— lest people think him a total fucking creep—while he shook the hand of the Greatjon Umber, whose son Smalljon Umber had unfortunately encountered the wrong side of a chainsaw while out trimming trees.

Greatjon began to go into a tale about his son—who by all accounts had been a horrible person—speaking like he was the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror for all his ‘talents’ and ‘successes.’ “Hmm,” he murmured, walking him slowly to the door. “He sounds like quite a man your son, thank you Mr. Umber, we will speak later regarding tomorrow.”

“Of course, thank you again Mr. Snow.”

The door shut loudly behind him, Jon slumping against it, relieved. He glanced at his cousin, who had emerged from the basement, shaking her chopped bob out of its messy little knot atop her head. “He gone?” she demanded.

“Aye.”

“I had half a mind to sew his arm on backwards.”

Jon closed the doors to the viewing room where Smalljon rested in repose until tomorrow when he’d be taken to the Karstark’s castle for the final funeral and ultimate burial in the crypts, as was custom for the Northerners. He clicked his tongue. “Arya, be nice.”

“Remember when his wife died, and he squeezed my arse?”

“Aye, I remember.”

“Thought so.” Arya checked her phone. “Your beloved texted me. We have another on the way. This one fell from the Wall. Ygritte said he’s a fucking mess.”

He made a face; he hated that she referred to his ex-girlfriend as his ‘beloved.’ “Will you stop calling her that?”

“She works for the morgue Jon, what were you thinking?”

“It’s hard to find women in this line of work.” He heard the bell ringing on the other side of the old stone house that served as their place of business and home—the five-floor monstrosity he knew people in town referred to as ‘Castle Black.’ He did wear a lot of black. Came with the territory. He waved off Arya. “Just make sure you finish up with Mr. Lannister before the end of the evening.”

“The rich dude who died on the shitter? Yeah, no thanks, that’s all yours.”

“Do you want to take this one? Where the fuck is Robb anyway?” Robb was the master of this shit, not him. He was better with the dead.

Arya walked away before he even could try to play ‘Dragon, Wolf, Lion’ with her or answer as to where her eldest brother happened to have gone off. Guess it was all him. He caught his reflection in one of the mirrors in the hallway, adjusting his black tie at his neck and raking fingers through his curls. It did nothing to tamp them down. He schooled his expression, solemn, and pushed through the dark wooden doors from the funeral home side of the floor to the entry way. He let them swing back and folded his hands in front of him.

“Welcome to Three Wolves Funeral Home, may I help you?” he asked, voice gentle; you never knew who might be waiting to speak with you on this side of the building. He’d been accused too often in Robb’s post-services discussions of being too cold.

The woman standing in a dark red dress with long black overcoat was not someone who appeared to be in mourning, but then you never really knew, some people were good at masking emotions. Her silver hair was in an elegant, braided knot at the back of her head and she had large black sunglasses folded in her hands, gazing at the table with various brochures for caskets.

She turned, blinking wide violet eyes at him, her lips crimson, face pale. “Good afternoon,” she greeted him, eyebrow arching. “I’m inquiring as to your crematory services.”

“For yourself?” he blurted, before he realized how it sounded.

She smirked, while he flushed, thrown off by her stunning beauty. He tried to school his expression again; she could very well have been there for her husband, boyfriend, or other, he did not need to stumbling through this. He wished Robb was there. “That would be interesting, wouldn’t it? Well, I can assure you I’m not here to burn myself alive, but you know…” She inspected her hand, a couple rings on them glittering gold. She grinned up at him. “I have heard stories my ancestors were immune to flame.”

His throat constricted. “Apologies. Can I help you?”

“Your crematory services?” she wondered again, walking by him and into the showroom, running a finger over an ebony casket.

“Ah…I am afraid Three Wolves does not offer such services. We can, however, assist with selecting one, urns, and preparing a memorial service.” He wondered what she was doing; she was now leaning down to look underneath a massive white casket. No one really cared what the underside looked like. He gestured towards the office. “We can speak in private, if you wish?”

The woman shook her head. “No I’m fine, thank you. Just doing a little bit of research.”

“For a relative?”

“Something like that.” She wore very high heels, which clicked loudly on the hardwood. She glanced sideways; eyes shrewd. “Are you one of the Three Wolves on your sign out front?”

“Yes, Jon Snow, I’m the mortician.” It sounded so creepy like that, but it was the truth. Robb handled the hand shaking, the business side. Arya was their resident makeup artist—she could do wonders with faces practically taking them on and off—but he was the one who handled everything else.

“Hmm, yes I heard of you.” The woman offered her hand. “Dany.”

“Jon,” he repeated, like an idiot. He was put off by her beauty, rather disarming. He swallowed hard again. “Nice to meet you. Is there…”

“This was enlightening Mr. Snow. I’ll be back.” Dany wiggled her fingers, waving, striding out decisively. “See you later.”

What the seven hells was that about? He spun on his heel, about to ask her what else he could help her with, when the front door slammed shut, bell ringing on her exit. He heard the door from the services wing open, Robb walking in. He scowled. “Where were you?”

“Talking with the Umbers, heard it went well, did we have a customer?” Robb adjusted his tie, eagerly seeing dollar signs. “Where are they?”

“They left.”

“Damnit Jon!”

He rolled his eyes, storming by. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“With Tywin Lannister? Better make him look good, the Lannisters are paying through the nose for this.”

“Aye,” he said idly, heading downstairs and to his ‘lair’ as Robb referred to it. He shook his head, preparing in the locker room, putting on scrubs and his protective gear. When he tugged on gloves, walking over to the block of freezer drawers, he rolled his eyes again, making another face. He was better with dead people anyway.

-----

A couple of weeks later, Jon saw the beautiful silver-haired woman again, this time from the front step of the funeral home, while Arya sat on the railing, Robb in shocked horror as the sign went up across the street.

Dracarys Funeral Home and Crematory Services

“How did this happen? We had the run of things here!” Robb exclaimed.

Arya cracked her gum. “Want me to get info?”

The silver haired Dany waved from the front step of her home. “Hello Starks!”

Jon shook his head, appalled. “I thought she was just asking because someone died…like they all do.”

“You didn’t think that she was scoping the competition?” Robb shouted.

“I told you I’m better with the dead than I am the living!”

“Oh leave him alone,” Arya chided. She rubbed Ghost’s ears—his great white wolf—gazing across the street again, shrugging. “Maybe we can make this work. Jon, you were the one who met her, maybe you can get some more info. They do crematory, we don’t. Maybe we can make a deal or something.”

Robb nodded, poking his shoulder. “Go over there, find out more.”

Jon sighed. He really didn’t want to do this. “I have that Wall guy to deal with.”

“Jarl will keep, go find out more.”

He slid away from the column, clicking his tongue for Ghost to follow him, the two of them crossing the street and up to Dracarys. He entered into the front room, seeing that everything was a shade of black and red. He glanced at Ghost, who was scanning the space with his bright ruby eyes, white fluffy tail wagging slowly. “What do you think?” he mumbled.

The walnut wood stairs creaked in the back, drawing him towards the door leading away from the showroom and sitting area. He peeked into another part of the old house, just like how their business was set up, with a viewing room and seating area. He moved to another door, which was open, leading down a set of stairs.

A massive black cat yowled from a sunbeam near the door, hissing at Ghost and running off. Ghost didn’t bark but took off after the cat. He sighed, calling out. “Please don’t kill her cat!”

He went down the stairs and pushed open a set of swinging double doors, pausing at the sight. It was state-of-the art and he scowled at some of the fancy equipment he’d been trying to convince Robb to upgrade to for the last year. He ran his tongue over his teeth, arching a dark brow at the woman who had been wearing head-to-toe designer when he’d met her and now was in black scrubs and protective gear, leaning over a dead man, a kit of makeup and brushes next to her.

“Jon Snow,” she called.

“Daenerys Targaryen.” He used her full name. The proprietress of the competition, he would not refer to her as Dany. “You could have told me you were moving in across the street.”

“And you would have shown me around? I think not.”

He stepped closer, curious at what she was working on. His eyebrows flew to his forehead. “Greyscale, huh?”

“Hmm,” Dany murmured. “Yes.” She looked up, grinning. “I saw you coming over, decided not to stop you from finding me. You’re not squeamish.”

“No I’m not.”

“They call you the King of the Dead.”

It wasn’t the worst thing he’d been called. “And you are?” he retorted.

“The Dragon Queen, I suppose you could call me. Or at least, that’s what they called me at mortician school.” She selected another brush, grinning. “I’m offering a service that your busines does not Jon Snow, that’s all.”

“The North doesn’t burn their dead.”

“I know, but many in the South do. There’s plenty of them moving up here.” Dany stood and pushed the gurney with the greyscale man into the freezer, closing the door. She removed her gloves and gear, walking by him, and began to wash up. She tossed a serene smile over her shoulder. “I think we can make this work Jon Snow. Don’t worry about it.”

“Robb isn’t used to competition.”

“And you?”

He shrugged. “I work better with the dead.”

“So do I.” When she finished, she studied him for a few seconds, which unnerved him. He tore his eyes from her, wondering what she was doing. She approached him, hands on her hips. “Would you like to get a cup of coffee?”

He frowned, nose wrinkling, surprised. “Coffee?”

“A hot beverage, sometimes served with milk and sugar? Other times with various accoutrements like cinnamon or chocolate?” Dany’s smile softened. He saw then how gentle she actually was, how soft. It was comforting and he wasn’t even grieving. She must be very good at her job, he thought. He was numb, unsure how best to reply. She patted his arm, stepping by him. “Come on, I’ve got a lovely blend from Braavos.”

In the kitchen on the third floor of her house, where he assumed, she lived, she prepared the coffee. He wondered where Ghost had gone. “This how you get all the competition?” he managed to get out. “Ply them with coffee?”

“Just you.” Dany sat down across from him at a small bistro table in a large bay window, with a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance. She passed him the mug of coffee and used a small ceramic pitcher to pour milk into her coffee. Lifting it to her lips, she smiled again, warm and eyes dancing. “You intrigue me.”

He sipped his coffee—it was very good—a small smile on his lips. “You are an interesting one, Dany…if that is your real name.”

“Only my friends can call me Dany,” she mouthed.

“And we’re friends?”

“Well I hope we’re not enemies.”

Jon figured he’d have to wait it out and see for certain, but he didn’t think enemies was the best word for it. He was not good at this sort of thing, so he chose to continue drinking his coffee. He set the mug down on the table, sighing and cocking his head, a slight furrow to his brow. “I’m not good at this.”

“I know,” Dany shrugged. “But I am.”

Well that was that then, he figured, smiling at her.

-----

“So where did you two meet?”

Jon wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, as one of Sansa’s friends from King’s Landing had cornered him, trying to get info on Robb. “Where did I meet…?” he echoed, playing dumb.

Margaery Tyrell frowned. “Where did you meet Daenerys? Sansa didn’t tell me. In fact, she’s being really weird about things. Won’t even tell me what Robb does for a living.” Her eyes lit up. “I like a challenge.”

“Um, well…”

His wife of the last two hours emerged at his side, looping her arm through his. “We met at a funeral home,” she said, smiling at Margaery’s wide-eyed, horrified expression. Dany gazed up at him, love shining from her beatific face. “In fact, we contemplated holding the reception there, but figured everyone might think that a little weird.” She smiled even wider. “Also in the future, please keep the Fire on Ice Funereal Services in your thoughts for any funereal needs!”

Jon stifled a snort, glad to be rid of the odd questions. He smiled down at his beloved. “We didn’t actually consider the reception there or…did you?”

“No of course not, I don’t want to mix business and pleasure.”

“Isn’t that exactly what we did?”

“Nah, I came to scope out the competition and this really cute guy who couldn’t look me in the eye without blushing wandered in.” Dany rose on her toes, pecking his cheek. She patted her hand against his chest. She beamed again. “Best decision I ever made. I could have sent Viserys.”

At the mention of her annoying older brother, Jon shivered. He squeezed her close. “Very well then. Let’s at least try to figure out a better story, you’re scaring people.”

“Well it is the truth.”

Jon shook his head, but smiled anyway, his arm around her and hers around him, both of them walking off into the crowd of guests. He even thought that he overheard someone say the King of the Dead had found his queen. He kissed her temple, sighing. He certainly did.

THE END

#jonerys #Jonerys au #Jonerys drabble #worst prompts challenge ACCEPTED #I blame Erika for this one #crack fic totally

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pixie88 · 3 years

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Vicky

Chapter 19 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: This chapter has 2 star guest appearances from 2 beauty's @secretaryunpaid and @ridgy--didge 😘😘 Again I’m going to try and start editing and publishing 2 chapters a week as I have 5 drafts in ATB and 3 drafts in Addicted to You (Series 2 of ATB) obviously if you wish to stop reading after series 1 I completely understand just let me know if you like to be untagged. Now offence taken. I hope you like it.

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff, Little Angst, Mention of drug abuse & Violence.

Song: Raye - Love of you life.

Word Count: 2303

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy!

As soon as she read the words she knew who had done this "The flat is all clear" Harry says as Laila just stares at the words on the wall "It was Vicky" she says without looking away. "Are you sure?" he questions her, Laila nods "She's done something like this before when I've given Zeppy advice to stay away from her while she's using in the past. So, she completely smashed up my car"

18 Years ago.

"Nate, you know everyone says she's a druggy right?" this wasn't the reaction he wanted when he told his family about Vic "Laila, she is done with all that!" he hisses at her "Whatever...it's your life!" she gets up off the sofa and heads back to her bedroom. Nate was only 16 and Vic was 2 years older, Terry and Liz didn't care about the age gap as they were the same age when they got together, but it was more the rumours they had heard about her half the time she's high and the other half she's trying to get money to score.

As much as they didn't like her, Terry and Liz knew if they expressed their concerns, this will just push him away and towards her. All they could do is be there for him, they didn't have to worry. 4 months into the relationship the day before Laila's 14 birthday, Vicky just disappeared for two years when she finally turned up she told him about Zeppy. Hoping that he would stump up maintenance for her, but a trainee mechanic didn't make that much. Nate had learned not to give her money for anything, so if Zeppy needed something he would go out and buy it for her himself.

When she reached 12 years old, Vicky relapsed again, Nate had lost count of how many times she had gone back to the gear. Vicky had ended up in hospital again, Nate was working so he had asked Laila to take her to see Vic. When they arrived Vicky was asleep, although she was only 4 years older than Laila, looked twice her age. Zeppy was in tears "Hey, she'll be OK! She always is!" Laila tried to comfort her.

Hearing Zeppy's voice she stirred but kept her eyes shut "Aunt Laila, sometimes I wish she wasn't! I wish she wasn't OK.....I can't keep going through this!" Zeppy sobbed "I get that...I do! Sometimes, you can only take so much before you start to wonder if you would be better off without them or keep putting yourself through it"

This angered Vicky.

3 Days later.

She discharged herself from hospital and caught the tube to Laila's work. She saw her car parked up, she took off her heeled boots and smashed every window, pulling out her house key she scraped it across the shiny black paint work before smashing in her headlights. With the alarm going off Laila and Daniel rushed outside, but the damaged had been done.

Vicky got 6 months in prison for criminal damage.

Nate felt so much guilt that he decided he would worked on her car until it looked like new but Terry and Grandad Carelli couldn't let him do it alone, so they got involved too.

That was Vicky's first attack on Laila...

Present day.

Harry didn't want her staying at the flat just in case, Vicky came back no matter how much Laila protested "Harry, I'll be fine here! I can handle Vicky" he's packing a bag for her "I don't care...Laila, you aren't staying here" although she wasn't scared of Vic, she found Harry's protective side quite a turn on.

The next day.

Harry is in the shower, while Laila is cooking them breakfast "Alexa play Harry's playlist" she calls out. Raye - Love of Your Life starts playing, Laila starts swaying her hips and sings along.

"Oh, I could make you confused

I could give you something to lose

I'ma wake you up in the morning

In the bathroom singing the blues

No, I won't clean up your plates (Your plates)

Got my hair all in your face (Your face)

And my legs wrapped 'round your waist (Your waist)

No, I could never give you any space but I

I could be the love, be the love

Be the love, be the love of your life

I could be the love, be the love

Be the love, be the love of your life

I could be the light, be the light

Be the light when it's dark in the night

Oh God, I could be the love, be the love

Be the love, be the love of your life"

Harry stops in the doorway admiring the view, she hadn't noticed him and continues singing. He watches her hip roll and booty pop. He's almost convinced she knows he's there, so she's moving like this to get a reaction out of him. Which by how tight his boxers have gone she had gotten one.

"Put your, put your ego down when you need to

Yes, I get stressed out if I can't read you

Bad London girl raised in the south

I run my mouth, I say shit that I really didn't meant to say

Got my hair all in your face (Your face)

And my legs wrapped 'round your waist (Your waist)

No, I could ne......."

She cuts herself off when he startles her by wrapping his arms around her from behind "Why does that song seem like it was made for you?" He asks before placing a soft kiss against her neck "Maybe because my legs are normally wrapped around ya waist?" she laughs, "That or the love of you life bit" he nips her ear.

He kisses her neck again "Harry, I'm trying to cook breakfast," he leans forward moving the pan off the heated ring "I'm hungry for....!" he spins her round to face him before lifting her and placing her on the kitchen counter. His lips crash to hers, his hands slip under his t-shirt she's wearing, grasping the waistband of her underwear and pulling them down until their a puddle on the floor.

The pads of his fingers parts her folds, the kiss became more intense, she moans against his lips. She's ready for him, she pushes down his boxers springing him free, she lines him up against her apex. With one swift movement, he thrusts into her, he groans as he grips her arse pulling her forward. She grips his shoulders, his thumb brushes over her nipple making her moan.

A few hours later.

"....I found her washing the kittens in the toilet" Mrs. Hoges tells Laila stories of her 6 year old granddaughter in her southern American accent while she's cutting her hair "No!! How old were they?"

"5 maybe 6 weeks...I shouldn't laugh but it was quite funny"

As she finishes up, she hears her phone buzz.

She loves her friends, but they worry too much, Laila believes if Vicky wanted to hurt her she would.

15 Minutes later...

Laila calls in her next client Miss. Ferguson in "Hey! How are you?" she greets her "G'day, I'm great thanks, you?" She says in her rich Australian accent, Laila nods "So what are we doing today?" Laila throws the gown over her "I'm thinking chocolate brown highlights" Laila nods tearing the foil strips.

At the corner of her eye, she notices someone lean against the wall to her right, she glances over and rolls her eyes as she makes her way over "Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Don't worry Daniel said it was fine.... considering" he seems worried "As much I love you worrying over me...I will be fine" she can see he has no plans on leaving her anytime soon "But seems you aren't going anywhere make yourself useful and pass me those foils when I ask" they make their way back over to Miss. Ferguson.

Once her foils are done, Laila gets Harry to take her to the sinks and wash her hair "I..don't know how to wash women's hair," he whispers to Laila, who laughs "Dude! Come on, it's not that difficult! You know how to wash your hair just wash it how you would yours but we give them a head massage when you do the conditioner" she winks leaving him to it.

At the end of her shift, "Did you have fun being my trainee?" he looks over to her, she had made him do 5 washes, made endless amount of teas and coffees and sweep up hair "I have no idea how you do this everyday my hands are pruned" she laughs, "Aww, those delicate hands can't handle a little water?" she jokes as she grabs her stuff to leave. She checks her phone and saw Nate had text her.

Although Laila wasn't scared of Vicky, she was relieved that she had been caught "Vicky's in custody" she turns towards Harry, who let's out a sigh of relief "Thank...fuck!" He wraps her up in his arms "Let hope she's not released anytime soon" she smiles up at him. She sends a quick reply back.

"So, that means I lose my hunky trainee?" She winks at him, he chuckles "Would it be inappropriate to take my boss out to dinner?" She smirks "Well, now your shift has finished you're no longer my trainee! I'm guessing it's acceptable!"

They leave the salon and find a restaurant that can seat them. Once they are shown their table, they're looking through the menu she looks up at Harry then she spots him...Fuck!!!! She thought as she moved the menu to cover her face.

"Laila?" She hears Harry say "Yes?" She asked not lowering her menu, "Who are you hiding from?" She can almost hear him smirking "No one! I have no idea what you're talking about!" He shook his head "You know even if I can't see your face I can tell you are lying"

She pulls down the menu a little "After Josh, Nikki set me up on a blind date...oh my god the guy was awful. He was one of those who are someone in school, but after he's a nobody the whole date he was just reminiscing about his days at school. I was so bored, so I made my excuses to use the toilets which was right next to the exit and left" Harry howls "Laila!! You didn't?!" He wipes his tears from laughing.

"I did! It's the guy over there with the woman with the yellow dress" Harry is about to turn to look, "Don't look you'll make it obvious!" She hisses "I need to see what this guy looks like especially if you've ditched him!" He turns and he can't believe his eyes "Callum?" He turns back to her "Yeah, how did you know?" She questions him.

"He was the kid in school that used to bully me about my weight...well until Alec told him to back off" Harry starts to laugh again "What's funny?" She asks, "So, he came to my gym years later wanting a PT, I managed to get him into shape....but it felt so good having someone who used to bully me come to me for help and now? My girlfriend went on a date with him and done a runner!" Harry is in fits of laughter.

"Maybe I should go over and say hi" Laila gives him a look as of to say don't you dare, but its to late, he's up and walking over to their table "Callum! I saw you and thought I'd come over and say hi!" Callum looks up at him "Harry, mate how are you?" The pair shake hands "Good, just here with my girlfriend Laila" he points in Laila's direction she awkwardly smiles back.

"I feel like I know her from somewhere" Callum's date turns in Laila's direction, now all 3 are looking over to her. Fuck! Does he recognize me?! She thought. "I think she just has one of those faces" Harry laughs "So, who's your date?" Callum's date looks up at Harry.

Laila caught her checking Harry out, she holds out her hand, which Harry shakes and quickly drops much to Callum's dates disappointment. She watches him smile at him both before making his way back to their table.

"Please tell me..he doesn't remember me?!" She asks as he sits, Harry chuckles "He thinks he knows you from somewhere, but no idea where" Laila sighs with relief "Thank god! But the nerve of his date! Checking you out right in front of him!" Her tone was curt.

A grin appeared on his face "So, I didn't imagine it then!" She rolls her eyes at him "No, I saw it too!" She doesn't look impressed "They were on a first date too! Why do you sound jealous?" He loves this side to her "I'm not.... I just think its rude checking out someone else when you are on a date" he leans over interlinking his fingers through hers "Gorgeous....come on surely you know I literally have tunnel vision, if it's not you I'm not interested! Plus do you know how good it felt telling him that I was with you?! The chubby kid got the super hot girlfriend and at 34 he's still on his first date" His words make her blush.

They're interrupted by the waiter who takes their order.

They are laughing at a silly joke Harry's mum told him when he heads to their table "I figured out where I know you from!" Callum says in an airy tone "We went on a blind date set up by Nikki! You ran out on it"

Fuck he remembered! She thought.

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 20.

@lem-20 @ridgy--didge @irisofpurple @secretaryunpaid @khoicesbyk @txemrn @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer @tea-me-kah @casualpostqueen @beautifuluknownvoid

#atb #always the bridesmaid #harry x laila #pixie88 #Original Work #original character #original writing

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rebelwrites · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: In The Rearview - Nova

As this is an original fic it is hard to tag, so I’d really appreciate it is you reblogged and shared with your friends and followers 🖤 and if you reblog with comments I will love you forever

A/N so I know you said you didn’t want credit @withmyteeth but you are getting some 🖤 this wouldn’t be the story it is without cricket’s input, thank you for giving that first push to write this when I posted about me wanting to do a street racing story, thank you for being my beta reader, thank you for the additions and thank you for letting me bounce ideas off you 🖤 you are amazing 🖤 I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Always My Ride Or Die Masterlist

This Months Writing

Every single day for nearly the last three years, the black tarpaulin taunted me from its corner in the garage, a painful reminder of the life I used to have - the life I loved, the life I vowed never to go back to. Gone were the days of burning rubber, redlining as I slammed through the gears and running from the cops, that life was well and truly in my rear view mirror now but for some reason I just couldn’t part with the lump of metal that sat in the garage.

A thick layer of dust covering the tarpaulin, if it wasn’t for Dad being adamant that he wasn’t going to let what was once my pride and joy rot away, the body and frame oxidizing into rust, belts and tires dry rotting from lack of use, hoses corroding from fluids being left to sit, all of which were a deadly combination leading to a final resting place in the back acres of a scrap yard. Every month he would come down to the garage, lift the cover, check the battery wasn’t dead, and kept the car ticking over, making sure it was ready for the day that I got back behind the wheel. He was certain that one day I would but it had been nearly three years since that night, nearly three years since everything changed, nearly three years since I vowed never to get behind the wheel.

It took Dad at least a year fixing the beast that laid dormant, there was a lot of work that needed to go into it and he wasn’t as agile as he once was, but with help from Nate they got the beast back to its glory, it was a shame it would never be driven again. Not by me anyway.

Checking the time on the clock on the wall, it was the only sound that could be heard, ticking as the seconds went by, the day was dragging its arse. All I wanted to do was head home, I didn’t want to spend another moment at the garage with the beast constantly taunting me. It was a slow day at the driver training school. All the paperwork for the week was complete, all emails had been dealt with, and all maintenance requests on the cars had been processed. It was funny how I always said I would never drive again but ended up buying a track and setting up Woods Driver Training. However my days were spent behind the desk instead of behind the wheel, watching the track through my window, choosing to stay here instead of joining them out there, no matter how useful my knowledge might be. I guess I wasn’t truly ready to leave that life behind no matter how hard I tried.

The sound of Dad’s Chevy Nova drowned out the ticking of the clock, meaning he had picked Shelby up from her Dad’s. Again, something I couldn’t do myself because it was too painful and the less contact that was had with Nate the better. Yet every day my heart called for him, just like it called for me to get back behind the wheel. Both of which would never happen, I reminded myself.

“Mummy,” Shelby shouted as Dad pulled her from the back seat of the car, dislodging me from the thoughts.

“Hey baby,” I smiled, bending down to pick her up. “Did you have a good week with Daddy?”

“Yes” she giggled. “Daddy told me to tell you something.”

“Course he did,” I said rolling my eyes. “What message did daddy give you then, princess?”

“He said something like, uh,” she started, screwing her little face up as she tried to remember what Nate had told her, “beasts don’t belong under covers, I think.”

“Well your daddy doesn’t know what he is talking about, Shelby,” I laughed placing her on the floor “Go play, baby, Mummy has nearly finished for the day and then we can go get ice cream with Grandpa.” She didn’t need telling twice as she wandered behind the desk grabbing some of her toys. Turning back to my Dad, I said, “I wish you and Nate would stop, I am not going back to the scene and you both know why. A decision was made that day, a decision that needed to happen for the sake of Shelby.”

“We know you miss it Nov, we see it in your eyes,” Dad sighed, squeezing my shoulder. “That’s why the beast is still here. Because deep down you know it would kill you to part with it.”

“Maybe I am keeping it as a reminder that I am not untouchable as I thought,” I sighed, unconsciously running my fingers over the scars on my shoulder, scars that would always be a reminder that sometimes the thing you love the most can be the thing that will try to kill you first. “Tell me pops, why did you leave the scene?”

“You know why I left Nov, I left because of you” Dad nodded.

“Exactly! And I left because of Shelby. So if you and Nate can just cool it on the whole ‘me returning to the scene’ - that would be great. It’s never going to happen, that life is in my rearview now,” I trailed off.

“You know it will never be in your rearview for long kiddo,” Dad sighed. “Trust me, it’s in your blood, it’s in Shelby’s blood, it’s a bond that will never break and you know it as well as I do.”

“One thing is for sure, I will do everything in my power to stop my daughter becoming like me and her father,” I said, taking a deep breath. “She will not become part of that life.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that, Nov,” Dad sighed. “Look, I tried to do the same, I wanted to protect you from the life of the streets, but it was in your DNA, just like it is in Shelby’s.”

“Not if I can help it,” I sighed, running my hands through my hair. “How do you think she will feel knowing that was what nearly took her mummy away? Or was the reason me and Nate were MIA for the first couple of years of her life? Look, Dad, I know you mean well but I finally feel like I am a good mother. I am actually around for my child now and not palming her off on you all the time to go race or work on the car. So when I say that life is in my rearview, I mean it.”

@chibsytelford @everyhowlmarksthedead @talicat713 @little-diable @band--psycho @mrsmarvelous1995 @withmyteeth @pancakeisreading

#rebel writes original #always my ride or die

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onthepageoftears · 4 years

Text

A Humble Favor (Jaskier x Reader)// Witcher

A/N: This is another entry for @thewitcherbingo! Also, I’m mostly writing these (and my other imagines) as a gender-neutral reader :) Enjoy!

Summary: Jaskier asks you to attend a banquet with him, but there’s a catch.

Bingo Square Filled: Fake Marriage

Warnings: swearing!! slight angst??, fluffff, mentions of drinking

Word Count: 1,994

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Jaskier had asked you to do a lot of things. ‘Y/N, carry my Lute for a moment.’ ‘Y/N, see what Geralt is up to.’ ‘Y/N, tell me what rhymes with silver.’ ‘Y/N, fill my bath with water and add that special lavender you use.’

But this…this was too far.

“Are you fucking insane?” You could feel the veins pop from your skull, your face red from anger.

Jaskier held his hands up as if taming a rabid dog. “Now, calm down a moment—“

“You calm down Julian. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“I assure you, I do not kid.”

“Oh, really? Because pretending to be your spouse feels like a big joke to me.”

“Fiancé.”

“Fuck off.”

At this very opportune moment, Geralt happened to walk in the room. He was fresh from a relaxing bath, clad in his newly cleaned witcher gear — though now, he walked into quite the shit storm.

He shifted his golden eyes between you and Jaskier, a grunt of impatience settling on his lips. “What’s this about.”

You settled on responding with a harsh glare and a clenched jaw. Geralt’s presence dialed down your anger, mostly because you knew if you tried to lunge at Jaskier he would catch you in an instant. Still, the fumes seeped from your veins, bringing your blood to a near boil.

Jaskier cleared his throat. “I humbly asked Y/N to attend the banquet with me this evening.” You forced a laugh. Geralt slightly lifted his brows, waiting for Jaskier to finish his statement. He didn’t.

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier dramatically sighed. “I need Y/N to pose as my fiancé. Happy?”

“Not even close.”

Geralt’s arm shot out as if to hold you back from attacking the bard. “And what’s in it for you?”

“Well, the pleasure of a friend’s company, is all.” He feigned a tight-lipped smile, then faltered under Geralt’s stare. “And the chance to woo some of the maids there.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and removed himself from the conversation. He sent you a look of understanding, as much as he could, and gave you the space to attack Jaskier if you wanted to.

Instead, you squinted at the bard, mulling over his stupidity. “Do you really think these maids you’re after will fool around with you if you have a fiancé?”

“Oh-ho-ho. It’ll only encourage them.” You stifled a laugh, making Jaskier scoff. “You doubt my romancing abilities?”

“How could I doubt something that doesn’t exist.” The words slipped through your gritted teeth, making Jaskier frown. You let out a dry laugh, “You do realize I have more important things to do than pose as the poor sap who might marry you. Like, I don’t know, working my own job?”

It was true. On any other given day, you might’ve said yes to posing as Jaskier’s fiancé, just for the hell of it. It would be a great story to tell at parties — if you had time for them. But Jaskier knew very well that recently you had been working your ass off at the local tavern — you didn’t dream of being a server, but it made enough coin to hold you over and have enough to save up. And saving up was essential for you to start your very own tailoring shop. It pissed you off that Jaskier didn’t even think of this, didn’t think of you. He was being selfish, like Geralt often said he was.

You retied your apron behind your back and stared the bard down like maybe your glare could burn holes in his skin. “You may be able to convince Geralt to attend your events, but I will have no part in it.” Your voice had a finality to it that made you seem more confident than you felt, but still, you stomped towards the door, hoping to not see his face for the rest of the night.

“I will pay you.” His voice reached your ear just as your hand touched the door handle. The bard ended his sentence with a sing-song voice, making your skin crawl. You didn’t mind Jaskier’s singing — in fact, sometimes you enjoyed it (though you’d never tell him that). What bothered you was that he knew he had you wrapped around his calloused, lute-playing finger.

You turned around. “How much?”

Jaskier’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “I just knew you’d come around.”

“I haven’t come around to shit.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “How. Much.”

Jaskier pursed his lips. “Twenty crowns.”

“Psh.” You rolled your eyes with a snort. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am most definitely serious.”

You squinted your eyes at him and walked further into the room. “How much are you making?”

Jaskier clenched his teeth. “Seven hundred—“

“You are making seven hundred crowns and you were offering twenty?”

“You are playing a small part in the night—“

“Small part my arse—“

“Geralt was my bodyguard and didn’t get paid anything—“

“But Geralt wasn’t hanging off of your arm like a piece of meat.” You shifted in your spot and lifted your chin. “I want four hundred crowns."

Jaskier’s mouth dropped open. “Fo-four hundred? That’s more than half!”

“So you can do math.” You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes at him. “Three-fifty.”

Jaskier double-taked. Once he realized you were serious, he slammed his agape mouth closed and clenched his jaw. “One hundred.”

“Three-fifty.”

“One-fifty.”

“Three-fifty.”

“Fine!” Jaskier lifted his arms in surrender. “Two hundred. And—“ He held a hand out to stop you from complaining. “I will pay for your every alcoholic desire after the banquet.”

You quirked a brow. To be honest, you would have settled at a mere fifty crowns, but watching him sweat under pressure was too much fun. Plus, he’d be paying for your much-needed drinks after the shit-show that would undoubtedly be the banquet.

You gave Jaskier one firm nod and stuck out your hand. “Deal.”

“Oh, thank the gods.” Jaskier clenched a hand to his chest and breathed for air he didn’t know he needed. When he reached to take your hand, instead of settling on a firm shake, he began pulling you towards his dresser. “We are already running past schedule, come on.”

After that, everything seemed to move a mile a minute. Jaskier handed you your outfit and sent you off to wash up and get ready. Soon, you were freshly bathed and dressed and met Jaskier just outside the tavern.

He hesitated before helping you into the carriage sent by the royal family; you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You had never gone to an event like this or worn an outfit like the one you had on. Your nervousness grew in your stomach the closer you got to the castle and only worsened when Jaskier nudged you to exit the carriage.

It wasn’t like you were the only nervous one. Jaskier was tapping his fingers against anything and everything, almost as if he was practicing the songs he would play for the night. He was still tapping his fingers as the two of you were guided further into the castle by the guards. You let out a low sigh and took his nervously fidgeting hand in your own.

He leaned closer to you and whispered, “Way to play it up.” You rolled your eyes at his wink, but the feeling in your stomach didn’t disappear.

As you two walked into the banquet, Jaskier placed his arm around your waist. You were surprised by his forward action, but then again, you weren’t. He was a very touchy person — just not often towards you.

You awkwardly smiled at the guests who made eye contact, hoping you didn’t seem too out of place. Lucky for you, Jaskier seemed more out of place than you did. He didn’t seem to know anyone there, which made sense, because they were pretty much all from royalty. It made you feel a bit better, though you still cringed at the lack of interaction you two had.

You leaned into Jaskier to whisper. “Some crowd, huh?”

He chuckled. “Once they drink some, it’ll be more fun. Trust me.”

You decided to believe him.

On the way to the area of the banquet hall where Jaskier had to set up his instruments, a guest of the banquet walked past you two; he stopped after looking at Jaskier. “Excuse me, sir. Your doublet. Where did you get it?”

Jaskier perked up at the question. “Actually, my lovely fiancé made it.” He gestured to you with a proud smile.

You stuttered at the sudden attention but managed to curtsy.

“Excellent craftsmanship.”

Jaskier practically gushed. “Isn’t it?”

You gave Jaskier that doublet after his favorite was ruined on a trip with Geralt. In your nervousness during the arrival of the banquet, you hadn’t even realized that he wore it to such a prestigious event. Your stomach flipped with a different kind of feeling, but you ignored it as you helped Jaskier set everything up.

Throughout the night, you watched Jaskier perform for the guests. He was right; as soon as people started drinking, the mood of the room shifted and people were dancing in no time. You even had a few laughs yourself, especially when Jaskier would wink at you during certain songs. At one point your face hurt so much from smiling, and you were afraid you might need permanent surgery to put your face back to normal.

After the banquet had ended, the two of you decided to walk back to the tavern, as it wasn’t too far. Anyway, the night was perfect for a walk. You held your shoes in one hand and looked up at the sky, which was sprinkled with stars brighter than any other night.

Your eyes turned back to Jaskier, who was plucking strings on his lute. It was amazing that even after a whole night of performing, he still had the energy and desire to play some music. You supposed that was how you felt about certain things as well, but it was something you particularly noticed in the bard.

“It wasn’t that bad, the banquet.” You surprised him with your words, making him look up from the lute. His eyes were warm, his smile even warmer. You looked towards the road ahead. “Pretending to be your fiancé didn’t make me vomit like I thought it would.”

“But there was a slight gag, wasn’t there?” You smirked and caught the glint of playfulness in Jaskier’s eye just before he turned to get something from his pocket. “Almost forgot your payment.” He pulled out a pouch full of coin and held it out for your taking.

“Right. Thanks.” You frowned as he placed the pouch in your hand.“This feels like more than two hundred crowns."

“You need it more than I do.” You raised your brows at his statement, but he only laughed. “For your shop.”

Your eyebrows shot up even further. You were surprised he had listened when you gushed about your dreams one night a while back. It was crazy to think that just this evening you were cursing his name at the thought of him being selfish. Now, you shook your head with a smile, trying to urge the blush on your face to go away.

But that smile soon turned to a frown as a thought entered your mind. “You didn’t leave with anyone tonight.”

“I’m leaving with you, aren’t I?” In the darkness, he couldn’t see your growing blush. “Besides, there will be other banquets.”

You nodded, letting a long sigh escape your lips. It had been a long night, and your feet were killing you, but the tugging feeling in your gut made you clear your throat. You turned to Jaskier and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I believe you promised me a drink.”

#thewitcherbingo #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #the witcher imagine #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #witcher imagine #reader insert #joey batey #imagine #drabble #fic #witcher fic #writing #my writing #self insert imagine

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aelaer · 3 years

Link

Taaaaa daaaahhh! I’m still doing some polish on parts that beta extraordinaire made great suggestions for, but I couldn’t wait any longer and figured I’d at least get the prologue summary up as a litmus test to see if I have several weeks to polish the last bits, or if I need to get my arse in gear and finish editing ASAP.

The real chapter one, regardless of how the litmus test goes, will be up in 24-48 hours. The stupid fic is somewhere over 50k but I have no idea exactly how much because of all the notes lol. And I’ll have the proper summary/intro for tumblr with the real chapter one, as well. But if you need a reminder as to WTF happened in the last three stories, here you have it xD

#my writing #fanfic #stephen strange #tony stark

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notfckincool · 4 years

Text

DIRTY GIRL

NEGAN X ANA (OC)

MASTERLIST

Ana embarks on a casual and obviously filthy affair with Negan, accidentally falling for the man, knowing he will never love her. Angst and kinkyfuckery.

WARNINGS: It's Negan, so expect swearing, violence, and strong sexual content throughout. I'll add chapter specific warnings as it progresses.

MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: Swearing, violence, explicit smut, dirty talk, fingering, spanking, rough sex, oral sex, masturbation, sub/dom, f/f/m

Chap 1 - I'm Negan

Chap 2 - Door number 1

Chap 3 - No points needed

Chap 4 - Don't call me princess

Chap 5 - Dirty little secret

Chap 6 - Gagged

Chap 7 - Lucky fucking day

Chap 8 - Blood lust

Chap 9 - Good clean fun

(The following chapters are in progress and coming soon.( Pun intended))

8 blood lust (WIP)

Negan and Ana get horny in the truck home after punishing a community

9 good clean fun(WIP)

Negan watches and instructs Ana in the shower

10 giant box o' sex toys(WIP)

Negan gifts Ana a box of sex toys. What will they try first

11 I miss you...what are you wearing?

Phone sex, on a walkie talkie, cuz apocalypse

12 daddy's home

..and he wants to see what Ana's being doing with his gift while he was away

13 fuck you, you fucking fuck

Negan being an asshole as usual

14 double trouble

Ana dreams about what she would do with 2 negans

15 I'll teach you how to be a good girl

Blindfold cuffs belt and other stuff in acts of submission

16 not your bitch

Ana teaches Negan a lesson

17 when I say you're mine I fucking mean it

Bdsm

18 (if you have any requests please let me know I'll do my best to add it into the story)

TIME TO FINALLY GET MY ARSE INTO GEAR AND FINISH THESE CHAPTERS I STARTED. IF ANYONE HAS ANY REQUESTS OR WANTS TO BE TAGGED LET ME KNOW....AND A BIG THANKYOU TO EVERYONE THAT HAS SUPPORTED MY DIRTY RAMBLINGS. MUCH LOVE ❤

#negan x oc #negan fanfiction #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan #twd #fanfic #smut #negan smut

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 4 years

Text

New Fic!

I initially wrote this fic for the Carry On Countdown deleted scene/ missing scene prompt but didn’t manage to finish it/edit it in time. Then I thought I would use it for the Carry On Big Bang, to have an actual FINISHED fic ready before deadline for once. But I wasn't sure if there was enough inspiration for an artist in this fic. And I'm impatient when I have a finished fic in my files. And I had another idea for COBB. So here it is--a canon based, gap-filler of the night they went searching for Nicodemus.

I Follow You

Simon

I’m sitting in this posh car of Baz’s and flipping through the radio stations. There’s not much music at Watford, not since the Mage banned electronics. I stop at the station playing Christmas carols.

It’s not felt like Christmas at all this year. The days have blended together so the fact that it’s almost Christmas has caught me by surprise.

I’d be hiding out in the den with Agatha if I’d been at the Wellbeloves. Their big party is on Christmas Eve and it’s always a madhouse there in the days leading up to the actual event. Mrs. Wellbelove never liked us underfoot.

Well, she didn’t like me underfoot. And Agatha hated helping Helen dust, so we’d skive off as much as we could.

I’m relieved Baz told his step-mum we’d miss the evening meal tonight. I guess relieved isn’t quite the right word. I’m a bit gutted to miss the food but thankful to be spared another awkward encounter with his family.

I suppose I’ll have to sit through Christmas dinner with them. Won’t that be a treat. I wonder if Baz will try to make me wear coat and tails, the tosser. I’d look like a damn penguin, I would.

And he’d look like a fucking prince, the prat. I can just see it. I shake the thought out of my head.

Baz is taking forever.

I look out the passenger side window but there’s no sign of him.

I’m glad he said I didn’t have to go in with him. His aunt Fiona creeps me out. She looks so much like Baz but with sharper edges somehow. Looks at me like she’d burn me to cinders with her eyes if she could. Baz has threatened to burn me to ash more times than I can count but somehow his eyes never look quite as disconcerting as hers do.

I can’t sit still. I think about getting out of the car to stretch my legs but I don’t want to risk locking myself out. Merlin, I’d never hear the end of it from Baz if I did. I’ve not got my wand to magic myself back in, even if I could spell it open without some disaster happening to the car itself.

Not something I’d particularly want to explain to Mr. Grimm.

I tap my fingers on the armrest.

What could be taking so long? He’s supposed to ask her about Nicodemus, not stop for tea and biscuits and a bit of a jaw.

I pull at the collar of my jumper. I don’t really want to stretch it out but the neck is snugger than I like.

Not that it’s even my jumper. It’s Baz’s. Soft and posh, a pale Nordic blue. Even smells like him.

Baz insisted I wear something other than my uniform. Said I looked twelve in my Watford gear, which is rot.

At least he let me wear my own trousers. Imagine the laugh of me wearing his posh jeans—too long in the leg and too tight in the arse, no doubt.

He does look imposing in the suit he’s got on. It fits him just right, like all his clothes do, the wanker. The only clothes that fit me like that are my Watford ones. In the summers I just make do with trackies, t-shirts and baggy thrift-shop jeans.

But even my magically fitted Watford clothes have never looked anywhere near as sharp as Baz’s stylish togs. Looks right fit he does.

Dr. Wellbelove let me borrow one of his posh suits one Christmas. I wasn’t as tall or as broad in the shoulders then. It looked good. I looked good. I looked like I belonged there, next to Agatha, even if the suit hung a bit loose.

I didn’t look like I belonged last night at Pitch Manor. I looked out of place—flushed and stammering, my wrinkled school uniform starkly plain against all their posh clothes. Even with Baz wearing jeans, rather than the waistcoat and silk scarf I’d always imagined he’d wear to lounge around at his ancestral home.

Like some brooding protagonist in a Gothic novel.

I didn’t belong there yet somehow it still felt like they were trying to make me feel welcome, odd as that may be. Mr. Grimm didn’t say much after greeting me, but he didn’t make any snide comments or asides about the Mage either. Baz’s step-mum just kept passing me platters of food and giving me these fleeting little smiles when I’d pile more on my plate. I couldn’t say no. I always thought Cook Pritchard’s food was the best, but this was even better than the meals at Watford. I had to pop my trouser button before the pudding last night.

I wasn’t going to pass on eating that trifle.

Baz

Fiona was painfully resistant to providing much information about this Nicodemus. There’s more to his story than she’s telling me, that’s for damn sure.

Who would go to the vampires? It doesn’t make sense. A Mage has power in and of himself. Magic gives us so much. Why trade that to become a pariah and an outcast?

An eternal life being ostracized? Sounds more like hell. I think the immortality rumors are complete rubbish. We’d be overrun by vampires if they were true (I don’t want them to be true.)

All I know for certain is that we have to go to Covent Garden. Fiona spilled that at least. I should be able to sniff them out. Follow the scent of a fresh kill.

I hate that.

I hate that they’re out there, lurking in the shadows. Preying on some poor sod who had too much to drink. Some girl who made the mistake of walking to the tube station alone.

I can’t save them all. I can’t save any of them.

Not by myself. Not even with Snow. What are we going to do—take on an entire pack of vampires on our own? I think the fuck not.

No. It’s not the time for retribution. I need to know the truth about what happened. Why my mother seems to trust this Nicodemus when Fiona—who was his friend (or more) (I don’t want to think about that)—can barely bring herself to speak his name.

I need answers. I can burn it all down another time.

Although this may be the only time I have Snow at my side.

On my side.

He’s all agitation and tumbled curls when I get in the car. “Did she tell you anything, Baz?”

“She told me enough.”

“What’s that mean?”

I sigh as I start the car. “It means I have an idea of where to find him.”

“So we’re off to the vampire lair, then?”

I give him a withering look. “No, Snow, not yet.”

“Well, why the hell not? You know where to look now, yeah?”

“I’d rather find them after they’ve fed. They might not be all that interested in me but you look like a tasty snack.” In more ways than one, but I keep that thought to myself.

He does though. Snow looks fabulous. He looks gorgeous all the time, but the sight of him in my clothes—there’s an intimacy to it that’s threatening to wreck my composure.

Breathtaking. That’s what he is.

Even now, in this old jumper of mine. It stretches over his broad shoulders, hugs his chest, in just the right way. The colour brings out the blue of his eyes.

I want him to keep it.

I know that’s stupid. But I don’t wear it and the thought of Snow having something of mine—something that brushes against his skin, that soaks in the scent of him, that is tangibly my own and now his--that’s tantalizing, I must admit.

I’ll make sure he takes it with him when he goes.

Fuck.

I don’t want him to go.

But what reason do I have to convince him to stay once we get answers from Nicodemus? None, really.

Not unless I can find a way to draw it out. Keep the truce going through the winter break. Make him stay by my side as we puzzle this mystery out.

Entice him with more of Daphne’s cooking? That actually might work. He’d certainly not stay for me.

Snow’s voice interrupts my fantasies of toasting New Year’s Eve with him at my side. “So what’re we going to do then? Just drive around until what, dinner time?”

My tone is sharper than I intend when I answer. “No, you berk, we’ve got research to do.”

Simon

So now we’re at the British Library. I’ve never seen so many books in one place. Entire floors of them. Galleries full. It’s a world of books.

Baz is striding around as if he owns the place, pulling books off the shelves, foraging through catalogues, going up on tiptoe to reach the higher racks.

I’m following behind, carrying books. I can barely see over the towering pile he’s burdened me with. “Can I put these down somewhere? Nab a table for us or something?”

Baz frowns, places two more books on the stack in my arms, then narrows his eyes at me. “You’d have to stay at the table, to make sure the librarian doesn’t reshelve them while I keep looking.”

“It would be a treat to stop following you around like your own personal book Sherpa.”

I think Baz almost smiled. His lips quirked up and it wasn’t a sneer for once.

“Fine, Snow. Your Sherpa duties are suspended. Find a quiet spot, and I’ll join you in a bit.”

There’s precious few people here besides us.

I suppose most people don’t willingly spend their Christmas holiday in a library. Baz looks as if he couldn’t be happier. It’s odd to see him so . . . well, maybe content is the right word? He’s more at ease here, almost smiling to himself as he pulls books out, carefully flipping through them, and then putting them back on the shelf. I think he actually patted one a moment ago, before setting it aside.

I can’t help but think of how similar he is to Penny. They’re both absolutely gone when it comes to books. Can’t get enough of them. I’ve been to Penny’s house before—I’ve seen how she gets when her mother brings home a load of new books.

Baz has that same gleam in his eye right now. But softer somehow, like his edges have been smoothed a bit.

Merlin, maybe the trick to getting him to soften up is to surround him with books. Distract him from his plotting to end me.

Although he’s not done much scheming since our truce. I haven’t had that feeling from him at all. It’s odd. Unnerving in a way.

I kind of like it.

Which is bollocks, because as soon as we’ve figured things out everything will go back to how it was. Stinging comments. Dirty looks. Spats about the window, the bathroom, the smell of my magic, my dismal inadequacies as a mage—all the miserable interactions we usually have.

Baz joins me a short time later, a tower of books in his arms. He pushes one pile toward me and keeps the other for himself.

“Any mention of vampires, Snow. That’s what we’re after. Get to it.”

And with that he buries his nose in the book he’s holding and it’s research time.

Bloody hell. He is just like Penny.

We leave an hour later with our stash on the table slightly diminished. Baz has pocketed at least three of the books and he’s ignoring my outraged looks.

“You can’t take those,” I hiss at him.

“It’s the British Library, Snow. It’s meant for all of us.”

“To read the books, you privileged prat, not steal them.”

“I’m not stealing. I’m borrowing. That’s what libraries are for, in case you’ve conveniently forgotten, Snow.”

“So you’re telling me you’ll bring them back, then?”

“I’m not a barbarian.”

“I’m sure you’re breaking some law.”

“It’s our tax dollars at work on the upkeep here, Snow. And I highly doubt they’ll miss them.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re overly self-righteous. It’s tedious.” He turns and raises one eyebrow. “Come along, now. We’ve not got all day.”

My stomach rumbles as we make our way to where Baz parked his car (illegally, I might add) (he spelled the no parking sign invisible, the wanker.)

I hope our next stop is dinner.

It’s not.

Our next stop is the fucking British Museum.

The Reading Room to be exact. Baz pilfers a few more books. I end up arguing with him again. He’s trying to get me to hide one of them under my jumper.

“Listen. You can’t just do this. You can’t just take those books.”

“I told you, it’s research.”

“it’s treason, is what it is.”

“Are you going to tell the Queen, Snow?”

I huff and make him steal his own books. I’ll not be party to theft against the Crown, for Merlin’s sake.

The museum closes and we wander around until my stomach rumbles loudly again. Baz rolls his eyes.

“Well, I don’t see why the vampires get to have a meal before we go searching for them and we don’t,” I complain.

“Ugh, fine.” He waves an arm around the square. “Find a place. Just not a chippy. I don’t want to get grease stains on the books.”

“Oh, now you’re worried about the books.”

We find a place where I can get a curry and some samosas. Baz doesn’t order anything. He sits across from me, sucking on his fangs and flipping through the pages of some dusty leather tome—the one he was trying to get me to pilfer.

I expect this is why he’s never had a girlfriend. At least none that I’ve heard about. Can’t imagine many girls would be up for dates that involve library research, outright larceny and being ignored all through dinner. Not bloody likely, even if he is all posh and fit.

Baz slams the book shut, startling me just as I’m scooping up the last remnants of my tikka masala.

He stands up. “Come along, Snow.”

He’s out the door in an instant. I don’t know how he moves that fast.

I scramble to follow him outside. “Are we going after the vampires now, then?”

“Would you keep it down? I don’t need our business broadcast through all of Bloomsbury,” Baz hisses as he sweeps past me, heading down the street in the direction of the car (illegally parked again) (it’s getting to be a habit, this criminal activity of his.)

I buckle in and narrow my eyes at him. “So Covent Garden, then? That’s where she said they hang out?”

Baz glances at his watch (I swear to Merlin it’s a fucking Rolex). “Bloody hell. How can it only be eight o’clock?”

“What’s the problem? It’s dark out. The vampires should be on the prowl by now.”

I get another eye roll. The similarities between Baz and Penny are really starting to grate on me.

“No, Snow. They won’t start this early. It’ll be close to midnight before they’ve got easy pickings from the drunks heading home for the night.”

I frown at him and cross my arms over my chest. “How do you know this?”

Baz sighs. “I don’t know anything. It’s just conjecture. It’s sure to be a damn sight easier to lure someone into a dark alleyway late in the night, rather than when commuters are still crowding the streets and club goers are just heading out.” He meets my gaze, eyes grey as the winter sea, but lacking their usual spark. “It’s how predators work, Snow.” His shoulders sag as he leans back in his seat.

I think of all the times he slipped back into our room late in the night. I think about the hollowed-out rat corpses in the Catacombs. I think about the night I found him down there, fifth year.

I decide not to push Baz on this.

“So what’re we going to do now? Rob another library?”

That gets the flash back in his eyes as he directs a glare at me. “We’re going to go to the feeding grounds.”

That sounds sufficiently ominous.

It’s not what I expect.

It ends up Baz means the various dance clubs scattered around Covent Garden. The clubs that spill out drunk and boisterous revelers at all hours of the night. Revelers who need to catch buses or the tube or flag down taxis in the dark and twisty streets. Pretty girls who may not notice the unnaturally pale skin of their dance partners in the multi-colored strobe lights of a dance bar. Carousers who eagerly take the offer of a ride home from the bloke who’s been sitting next to them at the bar for the last few hours, making pleasant conversation about Arsenal.

Baz

There are a surprising number of people out and about in Covent Garden tonight, considering it’s Christmas Eve. It takes me an inordinately long time to find a parking spot. We could have walked from the restaurant, as Snow keeps unhelpfully reminding me, but I prefer to have the option of a quick getaway, should things turn ugly with the vampires.

This was probably a mistake, coming here with him.

Snow continues to badger me as we get out of the car. He’s far too hung up on this and I simply don’t have the patience for it.

“Crowley, Snow, it’s not like I spend all my time plotting your downfall. I do have a life that doesn’t revolve around you.” Not quite a lie but close enough.

“But dancing? You go dancing? You can’t be serious.”

I can’t believe this is what he’s fixated on. I give him a withering look. “It’s called having fun, Snow. Ever tried it?” I want to take the words back as soon as I see his face fall. Of course he hasn’t. His life has been an endless shuffling from care home to care home, except for when he’s at Watford where he spends any free time he has training as the Mage’s boy soldier—honing his skills as a weapon of destruction.

I feel like an absolute wanker. But I can’t take it back now. I can never take back anything I say to Snow. It stays there, written on both our souls in indelible ink.

Simon

“You can’t be serious,” I say. “I’m not going to a dance club.”

“Then you can sit in the car and wait, Snow.”

Well, I’ll be fucked if I let him go sneaking off on his own. I trot down the sidewalk after him. “Baz, this makes no sense.”

He whirls back to face me, the streetlights highlighting half his face, the rest of it shadowed. “Then let me explain it to you using small words. We go to the club. We watch for suspicious activity. When we see someone acting dodgy we follow them out.”

“But what if they’re… I mean, what if they’re...”

“Spit it out, Snow.”

“There’re dodgy people at clubs who aren’t vampires, is all I’m saying. They’re not the only ones who might be willing to get up to dubious behaviour in a back alley, if you get my meaning.” My face is hot. I can feel the heat rush all the way up to my ears.

Merlin, this is fucking awkward.

I can tell as soon as he realizes what I mean. His mouth drops open and his eyes widen. He schools his face rapidly and drops his eyes, making a show of adjusting his cuffs. “Well, we’ll try to make sure we don’t interrupt anything . . .”

He trails off.

“Right. Good luck with that.”

He squares his shoulders then lifts his gaze up to mine, eyebrows lowered, eyes hooded. “I trust that I’ll be able to recognize the difference.”

“You’d have to be bloody psychic.”

“Trust me, Snow, I’ll have a better clue than you will!” There’s a harshness to his tone and a pained expression on his face.

And now I’m the one making a realization. He can sense them. Or at least he thinks he can.

Has Baz ever met another vampire? Other than the ones that Turned him? Not like he actually met them, of bloody course. Doubt they bothered with introductions first.

So I don’t know if he’s ever come face to face with one since and I don’t quite dare ask him right at the moment.

I’ve got to get through this night with him. Antagonizing him isn’t the way to do it.

I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. But I do know one thing--I’m not letting him out of my sight, not with other vampires around.

“Fine. I’ll trust you on this, Baz. But so help me, I do not want to stumble onto some randy couple getting it on in a back alley!”

I don’t particularly want to blunder into a vampire feeding on a victim either but at least I’d know what to do in that situation.

“Point taken, Snow. I’ll try to ferret out the blood-sucking versus the cock-sucking before your delicate sensibilities and virgin eyes are irrevocably sullied.” He stomps away, still managing to look effortless and graceful, while I scurry in his wake.

“You are such a fucking arsehole.”

I follow him across the street to the club and isn’t it just typical that he bypasses the regular line to queue up at the VIP entrance.

The bouncer greets him like an old friend. “Ah, seems like it’s been ages since you’ve been here.” He peers over Baz’s shoulder at me. “Not your regular company tonight, eh? The boys off for the holiday?”

The boys? Oh. He must mean Dev and Niall. Seems Baz keeps company with his minions even when he’s away from Watford.

“Unavoidably detained in the country,” Baz drawls, then slips the guy a tenner as he sweeps past him, motioning for me to follow.

I’m gobsmacked.

Baz has practically admitted he’s a vampire, but somehow the revelation that he frequents dance clubs is harder for me to fathom at the moment.

“Shut your mouth, Snow. It makes you look far too thirsty. And I don’t mean for a drink. Someone will be whisking you into a back alley, if you don’t watch yourself.”

I sputter for an instant but I’ve got to keep my wits about me, because Baz is already striding toward the bar and I don’t want to lose him in the press of people.

He’s back, drinks in hand a moment later. I take the one he passes me and eye the glass dubiously. “I don’t drink, you know.”

I get a raised eyebrow. “Good to know you’re so virtuous, Snow.” He takes a sip from his own and gestures at my glass. “It’s soda water and lime, you utter berk. I’m not about to let either of us get muddled tonight. We’ve got to keep our wits about us, challenging as that may be for you.”

I take a cautious sip and relief floods through me at the bland taste of the soda water. I swallow the whole thing down.

“You’re a barbarian, Snow, really.”

“I’m thirsty is all. Those samosas were a mite salty.”

“Well, I’m not about to go get you another drink. That’s all I need tonight, you skiving off to the lav right when things get interesting.”

“Piss off.”

I turn away from him and take a moment to look around the club. I’ve never been to one before. It’s not the kind of place for a care home day trip.

The music is loud, the bass beat so intense I can feel it thumping through my chest. It’s early in the night but there are still masses of people here, hovering near the bar, gathered around high tables, pressed against each other on the dance floor.

I can’t say it fits with what I imagined, but I’ve never really thought much about places like this either.

I can honestly say I never imagined Baz at a dance club. I’m still a bit staggered at the thought.

I’ve lived with Baz for over seven years and I’ve somehow managed to discover more about him in the last twenty-four hours than in all that time before.

It’s unexpected. Everything about the last few weeks has been.

I move closer to Baz, going up on tiptoe so I can reach his ear. I probably don’t even need to bother, what with his vampire super senses, but I do it anyway. “So you weren’t kidding when you said you hang out at places like this? On a regular basis?”

I can’t tell if it’s the glow of the lights or if his face gets flushed at my question. He doesn’t turn to look at me and he doesn’t answer right away. I bump his shoulder lightly with mine, to encourage him.

He tilts his head down, bending close to my ear. I can smell his posh shampoo when he does. His hair is falling forward a bit, not quite as pristine as it was a few hours ago. It tickles my cheek.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it regular,” Baz says. I don’t expect him to say more after that but he does. “It gets quite boring in Hampshire over the summer.” He pauses and then I feel his breath against my skin as he continues. “It’s just a lark. Dev, Niall and I come up for the night on occasion, have a few drinks, a few laughs, burn off some energy dancing. For fun.”

I think about that. I think about Baz doing something for fun. I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about Baz doing anything for entertainment--other than finding ways to humiliate or enrage me.

It makes me feel odd, to think of him here, standing under the flashing lights. Grinning at Dev and Niall, letting his face relax into something other than a sneer. Making his way to the dance floor, as graceful and fucking ruthless as he is on the pitch.

I can almost see it. See him swaying to the music, shirt partially unbuttoned, head tilted back, eyes closed as he moves to the beat.

It’s right warm in here.

I can feel a trickle of sweat trail its way down my back. I dart a glance at Baz, who looks as cool and collected as he did when we left Pitch Manor. He raises his glass to me and smirks.

My face heats up. I jiggle the ice in my glass and sip a few of the drops that have melted.

We stand, shoulder to shoulder, pressed together by the growing crush of bodies around us.

Everyone looks pale and washed out under these lights. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I don’t even know what a normal vampire looks like. I mean maybe they’re like goblins—fit buggers? Posh and fit, like Baz?

I’ve got no idea.

I don’t have much time to think about it. There’s a bloke standing right in front of us, all wavy blonde hair and tight jeans, with his silky shirt half unbuttoned. He’s smiling but it’s not at me. He’s only got eyes for Baz. I can’t quite catch what he says but Baz gives him a polite smile and a shake of his head.

The bloke shrugs and walks away, turning his head to wink at Baz before disappearing into the masses of people on the dance floor.

I’m whirling in Baz’s direction as soon as the guy shoves off. “Did he . . . did he just hit on you?”

Baz gives me a side-long look, then leans down so I can hear him. “It’s a dance club, Snow. He asked me to dance. It’s what people do here.”

I’m still reeling from that when a girl sidles up to Baz and starts batting her eyelashes at him, twirling a strand of her dark hair with one finger and going up on tiptoe to make herself heard. It also makes her lean forward and flash a bit more of her cleavage in his direction.

He gives her the same smile he gave the bloke and the same shake of his head. She darts her eyes at me and then back to Baz before resting her hand on his forearm and nodding in my direction. He shakes his head again but his smile’s gone this time.

I wish I’d heard what she said to him. I hope she’s not going to turn around and talk to me now.

I needn’t have worried. She’s off a moment later, without a backward glance.

I scan the people around us, take in the bodies moving on the dance floor, and then I pause for a moment to really look at Baz. To take in the sight of him, as if I were seeing him for the first time.

As if I didn’t know what an absolute prick he is.

He’s striking, with his grey eyes and his shiny dark hair. That aristocratic nose (I’m likely the only one that can see the bump on it) (I put it there.)

How he carries himself, the set of his shoulders, so self-assured. The way the fabric of his suit clings to him, hugs every curve, accentuating his long legs, his slim yet powerful build.

He’s breathtaking, if you don’t know him, isn’t he?

Baz shifts, breaking my concentration. He gazes down at his watch and tilts his head at me. I can see his lips move, mouthing the words “let’s go.”

Seems it’s time to hunt down some vampires.

I almost regret it, when we leave the club.

For a moment I could forget the rest of it. For a moment we were just two blokes having a night on the town together.

Baz

I don’t know how many times I’ve come to these clubs to exorcise Simon Snow from my brain. I don’t know how many times I’ve danced with faded copies of him, in a vain attempt to pretend he’s the one with me.

I finally have him here, at a club, within easy reach. Steps away from the dance floor and inches away from my arms and it’s nothing like my fantasies.

We’re not here together. Not really. We’re not even here as friends.

We’re here hunting vampires.

We’re searching for clues about my mother’s killer.

We’re here because we’ve been forced into this uneasy detente.

No more than that.

I look at my watch. It’s early yet but I can’t stand being here any longer.

Not like this.

Not when I can feel every beat of his heart, every thrum of blood in his veins, the heat of his body next to mine.

I can’t even let myself look at him, for fear he’ll see the yearning in my face.

I bump him with my elbow, just to savor that one brief instant of contact.

His eyes meet mine. “Let’s go,” I say and then I turn away.

#carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #gap filler fic #london #time between Fiona's and finding Nicodemus #dance clubs #covent garden #my fics #my writing

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lostonrevenge · 3 years

Text

Captive (prequel)

Link to the main story here

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

The tentacles of the octopus are beautiful as the creature unfurls them in the water. Uma can just make out its orangey colour as it swims gracefully just under the surface of the murky water which turns it a sickly green.

She would feel at peace watching it glide through the water, if it weren’t for her first mate being abnormally silent beside her. Normally Harry would be teasing her and asking if she knew the octopus personally – she knew he was watching it as well.

He hadn’t said much to her since they’d met up on the ship before the crew started filing in. Giving out the orders he’d seemed more subdued and his voice didn’t seem to carry as much. Remembering that he’d mentioned having a sore throat in passing the night before when they were organising papers on the map table, Uma spares him a quick glance sideways.

Nothing looked particularly off about him and yet his lack of energy made him seem like a completely different person. It was possible that she was worrying about nothing, everyone had off days.

Just when she was about to look away, she saw him grimace slightly as he swallowed.

“Your throat still a pain in the arse?”

“No, it’s a pain in my throat” he smirks to her before walking away from the railing to get to work.

Uma smirks and lets him leave; he doesn’t seem too bad off.

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

Uma spent most of the morning looking out at the wharf, watching over its workings, leaving the crew to their own devices. One thing that she admired about them was their teamwork. Today they each had individual tasks laid out for them checking the maintenance of the ship, sometimes collaborating in groups for the trickier tasks.

It wasn’t until the morning mist had faded away that she decides that she should check in on how progress is going, starting with a small group of newer crewmembers scrubbing the deck – as cliché as that sounds. Finding everything in order with them she moves on to a group of boys lowering the main sails to check for any damage.

After a few more check-ins she surveys around the ship for Harry, knowing that he’s doing some of the trickier tasks. Her brow furrows when she spots him securing the end of a rope to the ship’s rigging, his head resting on the tension of the rope. He looks spent with his hand habitually going about securing the rope, not even looking focused on it.

The corner of her mouth turns down in sympathy after he finishes tying the rope off before shielding a few coughs into his elbow, his other hand holding onto the rope. Hardly hearing the sound over the working of the crew.

“Harry!” she calls out to him before he can begin his next task, gesturing for him to come over to her at the raised level of the deck.

At the sound of her voice he looks over to her and nods.

As he makes his way over Uma begins to see how much she was mistaken about him being fine earlier in the day. He’s never really had great posture but he’s slumped over as he walks like he has an impossible weight on his shoulders, and his eyes barely make it off on the ground.

“How’s progress?” she asks him as he steps up onto the platform next to her. The pointed look she gives him letting him know that she really means ‘how are you?’

Harry takes a deep breath before sighing. “Slow” he admits, “I can’t concentrate.”

Uma hums quietly in recognition, facing out to the crew without sparing him a glance. Trying to maintain as if they are having a normal conversation.

“How much do you need me today?” Harry says after some hesitation and Uma can tell that he was still reluctant to say it.

“I need you as much as the work you can spare me” she tells him diplomatically, turning toward him with a worried look on her face that she hopes the crew won’t see. Half of her had been expecting this but the other half of her had ruled it out as impossible and she had been stupid to believe it.

“Would you mind if it took the day off?” he asks uncomfortably, chewing at his lip. Seeming to shrink more in on himself if possible, not daring to meet her eyes.

Uma hates how long it takes for her to reply with her mind struggling to process Harry admitting defeat - knowing that he will be gearing himself up for rejection. “I wouldn’t” she says at last.

Of course, she values his work and knows the crew would work faster with him helping them, but looking at him there is no way that she could disallow it. He really didn’t look himself without the mischievous spark in his eyes.

With her approval given Harry turns to face her and she can see that he still looks guilty as he shuffles hesitantly on his feet.

“You can go Harry, I’ve dismissed you” she tells him. “Go sleep it off.”

#disney #disney descendants #disney descendants fanfiction #harry hook #uma #sickfic

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hexusproductions · 3 years

Text

Intermission

Summary: The villains meet to discuss what to do about the new superheroes giving them trouble Author’s Note: Finally finished that Hell Week story I decided to write! It lines up with the current events of the campaign, and sets up the next couple of sessions. (It’s also from Crono Sector’s POV)

These children are becoming a problem.

Black Mamba has relayed word to me that Trencher was captured. Mamba isn’t here of course – here in the villains’ board room, sterile and bare, with a long mahogany table in the centre – he’s sitting in his safe house, most likely thinking of the best direction to take from here. First Fester Jester, now Trencher. We’re losing men quickly.

I blame the new recruits, of course. The Justice Crew have signed rookie heroes onto their already laughable superhero team. I’ve seen their applications, they fumble and barge their way through every assignment like rodeo clowns. They are nothing but discord. I would never allow someone like them to be hired.

Before, the Justice Crew were a manageable variable, another cog in the machinery. But now they have a bored grandchild poking sticks into the gears. Something needs to be done before they become a real threat.

I’ve already made the call. As the head of Black Mamba’s security team, it is my responsibility to nip this in the bud. What we need is a distraction. Normally, Fester Jester would be the ideal woman for the job. But seeing as that isn’t an option, we have to go with someone else. And he is seven minutes late, as per usual.

I tap my watch impatiently as the doors finally open. He prances in, already grinning and holding his arms open as if expecting an embrace.

“Crono! It’s been too long, babe.” His sequin jacket is new, and the skeleton face paint accentuating his smile is a neon green today.

“You’re late.” I snap.

“Terrible traffic babe, absolutely terrible!” He waves me off, as the reptilian ‘feather’ boa around his neck hisses at me, “I can never find parking sneakily-slinking out to the middle of absolute nowhere!” He takes one of the chairs at the long table, spinning it 360 degrees before finally sitting his arse down. I just grunt at his remark and press the radio strapped to my chest.

“Venus, Vile. Get in here.”

Boogie Man rocks in his chair, still happy as anything. I remain standing. We wait in silence for the doors to swing open again. Venus comes first, lingering in the doorway as if he’s expecting us to bow before he enters. As far as dogs go, he’s the best-in-show that took to fighting in the streets. I have him on a tight enough leash that he’s one of my best for gathering secrets.

Vile comes next, dropping into another chair and crossing one leg over the other. She’s a master of weaponising hazardous materials, and in keeping Venus in line. The long scar across her left eye matches Venus’s eyepatch, but that seems to be one of the only few things they have in common.

There’s one seat free on either side between Vile and Boogie Man, and Venus takes the seat on Vile’s side, further away from Boogie Man. Boogie looks around to give them both a grin, before looking back to me.

“So what’s the haps, babe? And why do you have the Wonder Twins here, hm?” Boogie finally speaks, jerking his head towards the Vs. Venus grumbles.

“Trencher has been arrested.”

“Really?” Venus asks, eyebrows raising.

“That only leaves Boogie, you, and Mamba of the main assembly.” Vile notes, casting a look across the table. Boogie props on one elbow to lean further towards the two Vs.

“Better watch your back, babes, your heads could be a-rollin’ on the chopping block next.”

“Or yours.” Venus retorts, his voice turning snippy, “You’re the one on the main assembly.”

“Tough luck, pink-streak. You lost out on that position. Slipped right through your dirty little fingers.”

Venus’s face screws up and he opens his mouth to start yelling. I bang my hand on the table twice. All eyes turn to me.

“The Justice Crew’s new members are becoming a threat. You, Boogie, will put a stop to them before they can do any further harm to Black Mamba’s association.”

Boogie Man nods and drums his fingers against the table. He pops the lapels of his gaudy jacket.

“You know infiltration is my thing, but where’s the style? Where’s the pinash, babe?” Boogie tuts and shakes his head, “No this won’t do at all.”

I exhale through my nose, a restrained sigh.

“Let me finish. A charity ball is being held in a few days for the city’s elite.”

Boogie Man claps his hands and points at me, hopping onto the edge of his seat.

“Now that’s more like it!”

He keeps jumping the circuit before the battery is fully in place. Considering that he is the battery, it’d benefit him more if I could get my explanation out.

“I can get us an invitation in.” Venus supplies. A smirk is already lingering on his face.

“That won’t be necessary.” I tell him, reigning in his leash, “As a result of Fester Jester’s string of kidnappings and Trencher’s attempted museum heist, the mayor has asked Cronos Security to supply a small team for the event. Boogie Man and his roadies will be smuggled in with the band.”

Venus crosses his arms, sitting back in his seat. He’s pouting over his idea being rejected, meanwhile Boogie is practically vibrating like a child’s wind-up toy.

“Shoot me the details and I’ll get my people on it!” Boogie hops out of his chair, skeletal grin still aimed straight at me as he starts speeding off backwards, “We’ll get coffee sometime, K? Ttfn, babe.” He throws the boa tighter around his neck and turns around, already taking out his phone. I can only assume he’s texting his roadies to start making preparations. Vile and Venus turn in their seats to watch him go, but he stops in the doorway.

“Ta-ta daddy-os!” He throws his hand up in a wave. He throws the door shut behind him, and he’s finally gone. A few seconds pass of silence creeping back into the room, as if only feeling safe now that Boogie Man is gone. I’m still watching the door while Venus mutters something I can’t hear to Vile, and she sniggers in response.

“Follow him.” I say to the Vs without looking, “See what you can gather.”

“You’re kidding.” Venus scoffs, head turning back to me.

“No. I’m not.” My gaze snaps to the Vs. Venus’s derision is still written on his face, but he sits up straight. Vile raises an eyebrow as my hand falls on the table again. “He can’t be trusted to pay attention. He may kill them, but I am not putting all of my eggs into that basket. You two may be the foxes in the hen house.”

“You can’t expect me to follow that hot mess-“ Venus objects.

“This is not a discussion.” I snap, voice raising and ending the argument, “This is my decision. You will do your job and report back to me.”

I lock eyes with Venus, ready for his response. He averts his gaze to glare at a wall and bites his cheek. If he thinks this kind of behaviour will make him worthy of being on the main assembly, he is deluding himself.

“Anything else?” I direct the flattened question at Vile. She shakes her head, raising her hands.

“No complaints from me. You’re the one in charge of everything, right?” Her expression remains calm but there’s a lilt of mockery in her voice. I jerk my head towards the door.

“Get out.”

Vile lowers her legs from the table and starts to stand up, turning to the still-sitting Venus.

“Come on.” Vile grabs Venus by the arm and drags him out of his chair. Venus rolls his eyes but he still follows the grip on his arm back out of the main board room. They leave with far less spectacle than Boogie Man did.

The room is now empty again except for myself. I sigh and take a seat at the table. The three should be successful; they had better be successful. In the meantime, I will update Black Mamba on what I have done for the good of the Alliance.

#original characters #original works #my writing #Hell Week #ttrpg #Boogie Man (OC)#Miss Vile (OC)#Mr Venus (OC)#Crono Sector (OC)#Black Mamba #mentioned

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