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thepaintedlady00 · 3 months

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Nightshade

Chapter 23 | Chapter 25

TW: As always: language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, smoking, sex, general mature themes. We've got some Tony in this chapter, some clear violations of the law and personal property/privacy, Simone's back (...yaaaaayyy), I'm gonna blue ball y'all just one more time with the big conversation our two idiots gotta have, another painting, some mentions of grooming, Lena's not in the mood for any of the shit this chapter, Jake's being the good "friend" he is. Some lies get told, and finally our dummies have THE conversation but also not really xD Enjoy!

Chapter 24: Burn the Ice

The morning chill stung his face as he exited the car - a reminder that the snow could start any day now. With calm, leisurely steps his fine leather shoes echoed amongst the chaos of the city. It was loud and crowded and smelt like cheap street vendor food. Disgusting, he thought to himself, glaring at the slouched-back people running the dirty stalls for a minute before starting up the steps.

Her building was old and smelt of mold, something he couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction about. It was obvious she wasn't living as well as she had been with him. The landlord gave him a wide-eyed look, one he was well accustomed to - the style of the rich was always something poor people gawked at - but all he did was smile that charming smile and offer the old man a wave as he made his way past.

At the door he let the others do their work, patiently drumming his fingers along the hard cover of the sketchbook while they did. The door made a loud creaking noise as it opened. “Wait here. I won't be long.”

The faint smells of cleaning materials and dust filled his nose. She'd been staying here less and less the closer the cold months got. A lingering trauma that made her unconsciously cling to that pathetic family of hers. A trauma he felt a burning frustration and an undoubtable swell of pride whenever he recalled it. Running his fingers along her countertop, looking at the living room filled with paintings she'd done after slipping away, Tony allowed himself a rare moment of quiet.

In that quiet Tony breathed in the faint smell of her cherry perfume with a grimace. He'd always hated that smell, hated the tiny fruit in general. But, he admired the malice behind it… The choice to douse herself in it was one clearly made to slight him. She could do nothing without thinking of him, even if it was in anger, for now, Tony enjoyed the simple fact that Lena still thought of him every day. It was a testament to a larger, even more satisfying truth.

This sad, pathetic little life she'd scrounged together was nothing without him.

Jules’ heavy footsteps intruded on his quiet, but he did so with respect so Tony would allow it. “He's coming this way.”

“How long?”

“Four minutes.”

“Good.” Right on schedule.

Tony set the sketchbook back on the counter and pulled the lovely orange flower from his breast pocket giving it a sniff before setting it on top of the book. Jules handed him the envelope with her name neatly printed in his decadent handwriting. “We'll see each other soon, my Lena.”

Jules had timed it perfectly, as he always did, right as Tony stepped out the door onto the steps of Lena's apartment the old biker turned onto the street. His eyes grew wide in terror and rage as he spotted him. Perfect. With a wide grin, Tony lifted his hand and offered them a wave before he slid into his limousine. “Take us home, driver. We're done here for today.”

A sweet smell filled Jake’s nose as he rolled onto his stomach, arm draping over the warm body lying beside him. The sweet, fruity, decadent aroma was one he recognized in mere seconds. Cherries. He happily buried his nose in that smell. Lena.

He cracked an eye open, catching that heavenly glimpse of the sun hitting her hair just right making it glow like fire. Pretty as that was, it paled in comparison to the sight of her bare back peeking out from beneath his covers. Her skin was soft as silk beneath the tips of his fingers as he lazily traced the snake tattoo.

The warm fuzziness that filled his chest made every touch, every smell, and sound feel almost dreamlike. He would have thought this was just another dream like he had the first time he woke up to her in his bed, but the sensations were too defined to just be his imagination. That and he felt so damn tired from the long night he'd spent in the throes of such physical activities.

With a pleased sigh, Jake recalled all the ways they'd made up for wasted time. He could still taste the sweetness of Lena's lips, still feel her soft skin rubbing so deliciously against his own. If he closed his eyes again he was sure he'd see the heavenly image of her moving on top of him. It was seared into his mind now just like his name felt forever changed now that he'd heard it on her lips as she came apart beneath him. The hickeys on his neck and the faint marks left by her fingernails clawing at his back would be more obvious things to remind him that last night had been real. Those marks would fade in a week or two unless he let her give him more, which he gladly would.

Lena had taken her time with him, kissing him, teasing him, working him so expertly he'd actually struggled not to come prematurely. She was just as talented as she'd built herself up to be and he felt like a damn fool for ever even doubting her. As if she needed more added to the list of all her perfections now she could add being the best he'd ever had.

She was vocal, not just in expressing her pleasure but in encouraging his own. No matter how hard he thought Jake couldn't remember ever feeling as satisfied during or after sex in his life. In between the three rounds of their newfound intense passions, Jake found himself… Present. Usually after an orgasm or two, he'd just fall asleep not caring if his partner did the same or not, but with her, he felt awake… Alive.

They spent just as much time talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company as they had tangled in his sheets. They ate, drank, and played with their cat whenever the little creature slinked from his hiding place. It all felt natural and oddly intimate and, for better or worse, Jake enjoyed it.

Physical intimacy was something he'd always excelled at. Flirting, foreplay, all of it came naturally to him. Jake had spent his fair share of time between the legs of beautiful women but Lena was something else entirely. Something new. Being with her made him feel like his pleasure - he - mattered just as much as hers. It was a concept he'd never truly understood, let alone experienced until now.

Ever since he could remember Simone - women in general - had told him exactly what they wanted from him. Touch me. Kiss me. Fuck me. Faster. Slower. Harder. They told him how to please them and he listened. It was a good time for all parties, but deep down Jake always felt that sting of emptiness. It’d been more about following their orders than it had been about just getting to enjoy the moment. He felt used… Like he'd only been good for a quick fuck and nothing else.

Normally Jake would have swallowed that feeling and forced himself to move… To physically shake off the very thought of it. He'd busy his mind with reading or mundane tasks like showering or cleaning. He'd build up the wall between him and whoever he'd fucked the night before - distance himself from feeling anything at all. Right about now, Jake should have been justifying his dickish, asshole behavior by repeating the words Simone had said to him since he could remember. This is who you are, love. You're just not built for ordinary people.

Ordinary people turned out to be everyone. Everyone but Simone. And now… Maybe… Lena.

He never truly understood how powerful feelings like this could be. He never knew that one person - even one as perfect as her - was capable of making him feel like an entirely different person. Jake felt more like himself, a self he barely even knew any more than he had in practically his entire life. He let the peaceful silence and that warm feeling in his chest stay as he curled further into the back of his sleeping redhead.

It wasn't until Hemingway climbed over both their legs, shimmying beneath the curtains and pushing them open to further blind him with sunlight that Jake truly woke up. Pleased with his work the cat proudly pranced across the pillows to stare down at him with an impatient and demanding meow. He couldn't help but chuckle as Hemingway slapped his forehead with a fleshy paw. Lena mumbled something in her sleep, burrowing her face in his blanket with a happy sigh that practically drowned out the cat's noise. God, he wanted to wake her up and kiss her, feel her, fuck her until they were both too exhausted to continue.

After laying in bed for a minute longer - until Hemingway was on the verge of exploding - he slowly slid out of the sheets and stretched his tense back out with a quiet groan. Briefly glancing over his shoulder to make sure that he hadn't woken her, Jake slid on a pair of pants picked his shirt up off the floor, and dished up Hemingway’s food with a quiet scold, “There, was that so hard to wait for?”

He cleaned up the remnants of the night, tossing the now nubs of melted wax in the trash and putting the leftover oyster shells in his sink. When he moved to put the champagne in his fridge he was bitterly reminded of how little food he had. Shit. He set the champagne back on the counter, closing the fridge to look back at the bed. Did he really want to have the conversation in some overcrowded, too-loud diner?

The thought sat in his mind for a second as a list of possible interruptions made him shake his head. Nope. He wasn't going to risk not talking about this any longer because of anything. Maybe that Chinese is still good? Nope. Jake may have been lazy but even he was above serving month-old Chinese food for breakfast.

Jake knew Lena wouldn't care about where they ate breakfast, but he didn't want to risk anything going wrong. Besides, Lena deserved a proper breakfast. He wanted her to know that he'd thought about this. That he was ready - willing - to put his best foot forward. Jake wanted to show Lena that this wasn't just a one-night stand and that he wasn't going to vanish now that he'd finally fucked her. More than anything he wanted her to see how much last night, she, meant to him.

He quietly put on his shoes and grabbed his keys and wallet. Writing her a quick note, he set it on his pillow and pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. I'll be back before she even wakes up, he reassured himself as he turned and headed out the front door. The diner by his house would be open. It may not have been the best food, but it'd have to do.

I'm definitely going grocery shopping tomorrow. When Lena spent the night again, he'd be ready.

I woke to an abrupt slap to the center of my forehead followed by a loud, demanding meow directly in my ear. The silhouette of Hemingway's pointed ears was all I could see as he stood in front of the sunlit window. “Good morning to you too.”

Another demanding meow was the creature's only reply as I stretched my arms over my head and yawned. Hemingway jumped off the bed the second I'd sleepily rolled over to throw my arms around the body that should have been beside mine but wasn't. A nervous, gut-wrenching pit filled my stomach as I patted the empty mattress. “Jake?”

No answer.

“Jake?” I called out just a bit louder as I held the blanket to my naked chest and sat up in his bed, looking around his now-empty apartment.

The bathroom door was open and the shower was off. His kitchen was empty, although cleaner than it had been when we'd finally fallen asleep. There weren't many places one could hide in an apartment as small and open as his. I shifted slightly, fingers brushing against a thin piece of paper on his pillow.

Relax Princess, I just ran to grab us some breakfast. Should only be ten or fifteen minutes. Make yourself comfortable and DO NOT feed the cat again no matter how much he meows at you!

Air filled my lungs and my body relaxed back into Jake's soft sheets. He was safe. I was safe. Everything was alright.

For how long though? When he returned we'd have to finally have that discussion. The discussion. I'd need to have answers - need to admit just how much I'd fallen for him. The very thought of looking into his stupid, beautiful eyes and pouring my heart out to him made me feel dizzy.

Would he feel the same now that he'd achieved his original goal? Would Jake still want me as much as I still wanted him? And how much did I want him? How far had I really fallen since the start?

Too far. Was the only answer I could admit to. I was naked in his apartment. I had slept with him in his bed. I was waking up with the cat we'd both unofficially adopted. There was no denying it. I was hopelessly, pathetically, irreparably in this - whatever this was. There was no going back to how things were before, not when all I could think about was just how perfect Jake's lips felt on mine and how amazing last night had been.

Sex was nothing new. It was something I'd had a lot of experience in, good and bad. I knew all the steps, all the moves, and still last night had taken me by surprise. Sex with Jake had been… different. It was unlike every other sexual experience I’d had.

I often had to find ways to keep myself in the moment, something that got easier the more I was with someone or the more time had passed. But, with Jake, I was just there. I didn't need to remind myself to breathe. I didn't need to force my body to relax and repeat his name to remind myself whose hands were touching me.

It was fun, exciting and intimate. Instead of feeling that shameful disgust, the one I needed to tell myself wasn't real, I felt at peace. There hadn't been a single moment when we were tangled together that I’d felt anything but completely and utterly cherished. I felt safe, unburdened by all the shit that'd been complicating even the simplest things in my life. Last night nothing else mattered, nothing but us.

Us. It was a word that made my lips quirk up in a smile. Us was simple. Us was what I wanted. And us was ultimately what I was most afraid of.

There were just so many ways it could all go wrong. I could fuck it up. He could fuck it up. We could both collectively fuck it all up. And then what? We'd just have to go about our lives working together, seeing each other every day, watching each other meet new people, and moving on? Even just the possibility of seeing Jake with anyone else made me feel sick.

No, I thought sadly. We're in too deep for that. I couldn't live without Jake. His asshole attitude and his smart mouth, his smile, his laugh, he was entwined in my life now in a way I couldn't undo even if I tried. So, the choice was already made. I'd - we’d -make it work. No matter what I had to do to keep this from falling apart - to keep him in my life - I'd do it.

After surviving another round of Hemingway's desperate attempts to convince me to feed him, I was out of Jake's bed staring at the sulking cat as I searched for Jake's dresser. “Hitting me doesn't change the fact that you already ate!”

He hissed.

“You better watch that attitude,” I replied. “Or I won't sneak you any of my breakfast when Jake gets back.”

Hemingway’s eyes narrowed and with a moment of consideration before he rubbed himself against my feet. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

As respectfully as I could, I searched Jake's drawers until I found his clothes. While they were kind of baggy on me, it was better than walking around in his blanket all morning. Besides, I enjoyed the way they smelt like him and felt softer against my skin than my own clothes had.

My eyes trailed along his shelves, taking a more in-depth look at his books and pictures and odds and ends that he'd saved over the years. There was so much history in his space. So many things that had been saved for a reason I couldn't know just by looking at him. Curiosity swelled in me, my mind running wild with all the possible reasons he'd held onto things. For the first time in a long time I wanted to ask questions and get closer to someone. I wanted to listen to him tell me every story and every detail about his life before I entered. I wanted to know every piece of him.

My fingers traced one of the seashells as his front door opened and he stepped inside with a bag from some diner. His eyes instantly found me, that shimmer in them making me blush and my heart soar. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I was gone so long.”

“It's no problem,” I answered, watching his eyes take in the clothes I now wore. “I… Uh… borrowed some of your clothes. I hope that's okay.”

As he set the bag down his eyes continued to roam down my body, that sinful smirk answering me long before his words did. “That's fine, though I was looking forward to coming back to a beautiful naked woman.”

“If you'd been quicker you woulda gotten that,” I teased. “I just barely got dressed.”

He clicked his tongue. “Damn. Maybe next time.”

Definitely next time, I thought as my mind played through all the new possibilities available to us now that we’d crossed the threshold. Clearing my throat, I moved to stand next to him as he unpacked the food, distractedly watching his hands for a second before asking, “What's for breakfast?”

“The works. Bacon, eggs, sausage, waffles,” he watched my nose scrunch up and chuckled before pulling a box out of the bag and setting it in front of me. “Don't worry, I got you pancakes.”

“You remembered,” I replied, eagerly opening it to the smell of the sweet stacks. “I'm impressed.”

With a shrug, Jake shooed the cat away and leaned back against the counter. “Don't be. It's not like it was a big secret.”

We both took a few tentative bites before neither of us could contain our nerves anymore. “So-”

“We-”

Chucking at one another's interruptions I nodded to him. “You go first.”

Jake watched me, the ocean in his eyes rolling with tense waves and anticipation. “Well, I guess now's as good a time as any for us to talk about last night… and the ones before.”

Don't freak out, I told myself. Just be honest. “Yeah, things have been… Interesting… between us lately.”

“Good interesting?” He asked with a cocky grin, taking a step closer to me.

I nodded, “Great interesting. Right?”

“Right.”

“So…” The words caught in my throat as Jake took one last step closer, putting us chest to chest.

His breath, slightly sweet smelling, rolled across my face. “So…”

“I… I want t-” The front door swung open and the head of blonde hair made my teeth snap shut in anger.

Simone stood in the open doorway, that red-lipped mouth hanging open in shock for a moment before it closed. Jake turned, brows furrowed and the tension between us quickly shifted into just tension. “...Simone?”

She smiled at him, quickly with no sincerity before she looked me up and down and nodded to herself. “Lena. What a surprise.”

I bit my tongue and simply nodded at her while my eyes scanned the floor for my shoes. Jake watched Hemingway dart to his hiding place before returning his attention to the new interruption. “How was your trip?”

The mood soured further as Simone just shook her head, her eyes wide with rage and the smile on her lips quickly shifting into a sneer. “Oh, it was just fantastic. I always love dealing with my mother alone.”

Time to go. I knew if I stayed for even another sentence Jake would be pulling me off Simone and everything between us would be stained with chunks of blonde hair and blood. I may have been able to see her for what she was, but Jake wasn’t and an attack on her - physical or otherwise - would effectively jeopardize everything I had or may have had with Jake. I pushed my hair behind my ears and hastily grabbed my things, quickly pulling on my shoes. “I should go.”

“You…” Jake started to protest, but quickly thought better of trying to keep Simone and I in a room together for longer than necessary. “We can finish this later.”

With a nod I pressed a soft kiss to his lips and forced myself to smile through the disappointment in an attempt to show him I was still ready to have the talk whenever we could find the time. “See you at work.”

“Yeah,” he answered softly, breathing out a slightly relieved sigh. “See you at work.”

As I turned I held Simone's glare, telling her without any words that she wasn't getting rid of me so easily. I grabbed the champagne bottle off the counter and slid out of Jake's apartment, closing the door behind me. The entire walk to Quinn’s I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat and kept repeating positive thoughts to keep myself from crying out of sheer frustration.

I let myself in, setting the champagne on the table next to Quinn and Ari who just looked at me in confusion. “Good morning?”

“Yeah… Morning or whatever,” I replied flopping onto Quinn's couch and melting into the cushions.

“Long night?”

“Was it bad?” Ari asked, practically jumping up from the table. “I didn't think Jake could fumble the bag when sex was involved.”

“Simoneshowedup,” I grumbled into the cushions.

Quinn settled on the arm of the couch. “Say again?”

Lifting my head I turned and glared at her. “We fucked. A lot. It was great and then right when we were about to have the talk Simone just invited herself in.”

Both Ari and Quinn's mouths formed an O. “Yikes.”

“Anything we can do?” Quinn asked, gently rubbing my back.

Flopping back onto the couch I sighed. “Kill me.”

The second the door closed all hell broke loose. Simone threw her bags to the ground and angrily stomped around his kitchen to open the wine she'd brought. “Can we not do this?”

With a joyless laugh, she glared at him. “Not do what? Not keep our promises to each other? Cause you sure as hell have already started that.”

"Jesus," Jake breathed with a frustrated shake of his head. "It just barely happened. What did you want me to call you during and let you know?"

Simone glared at him, her lips thinning into that tight line. "Do not mock me, Jake.”

“I'm not mocking you. I just… I don't fucking understand what you want from me.” His whole body felt so tight he was sure he'd explode any second. “One minute you're telling me to do what I want and the next you're pissed at me for doing what I wanted to!”

“I want you to show me some goddamn respect!” She shouted, slamming her hand down on his counter. “I have been carrying you since you were eight years old and it has been the only thing I've asked of you! Yet you still find ways of failing at that too!”

Jake felt that ugly swell of tears burning behind his eyes. He felt his whole chest ache and his mind sluggishly repeat the word. Fail. Fail. Fail. That's all you ever fucking do. You fail Simone. You failed your mom. You'll fail Lena too. That's all you're good for. Gritting his teeth Jake forced himself to breathe. He forced himself to stay standing, to blink the tears away and speak, “I do respect you. I respect you more than anyone else! I just… It just barely happened, Simone. I was going to tell you the second I got the chance-”

“And when would that have been?” She asked the anger in her voice never wavering. “In a month? Two? Until I had to walk in on you?”

“It would have been when I saw you!” Jake shook his head. “I tell you everything, Simone. I always have, I always will. That's what we do. We tell each other things, we trust each other.” Slowly he could see Simone's shoulders relax and that glimmer of love return to her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

She finally abandoned the wine and gently took hold of his face. “Of course I do.”

The ache dulled as she stroked his cheeks and he finally felt like his lungs were filling with air instead of acid. “I was going to tell you.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I do. I just… It surprised me. And you know how much I hate surprises.”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

Simone smiled and pressed her lips to his, a kiss that once would have sent his heart soaring but now made his gut twist in his chest as he inevitably thought of Lena. She pulled back and nodded. “I know.”

“Are we good?”

“Yes. We are. Honestly, now I guess I’m…” Simone shook her head as she poured her wine and with a heavy sigh, Jake prepared himself for the word he knew far too well. Disappointed. “Relieved.”

“What?”

She picked at Lena's discarded dress, shrugging a shoulder as if she hadn't just been screaming at him over this. “It's done now. You've gotten it out of your system and things can finally get back to normal.”

In some sense she was right. It was done now. He tamed the tiger just like he'd wanted. Normally that did mean that Jake would move on and things would go back to normal. If Lena were anyone else he would probably fuck her a few more times before ultimately tossing her aside in favor of a new fling. But she wasn't anyone else, she was Lena…his Lena.

Jake didn't want things to go back to normal. He didn't want to feel that emptiness - the weight of being so alone and detached - again. So, Jake stared at Simone as she tidied up his apartment drank wine, and lectured him about how rude and selfish it'd been of him to abandon her over the holiday. For an hour - one that should have been filled with Lena's soft touches and breathy moans - Jake listened to his every flaw being brought to the surface.

Usually, he'd bite back and argue - defend himself against Simone’s angry accusations and slanders. But, that morning he didn't bother. Jake was tired, frustrated, and now anxious. Simone's interruption had put him and Lena right back where they started. Their pile of rain checks had barely been touched and now they'd have to restart the awkward, nervous, avoidant dance around each other. Only this time it'd be worse because they'd actually fucked.

This time the longer they went without talking about it the more likely they both were to write it off as some one-night stand and just go back to how things had been before that first kiss. The longer he sat with that thought, the more obvious it became that he couldn't survive not talking about this. Jake needed to know how Lena felt. He needed her to know how he felt.

“Are you even listening to me?” Simone snapped with a disappointed sigh. Before he could answer she'd rolled her eyes and turned away from him. “Of course you aren't.”

God it was going to be a long day.

The locker room was filled with gossip as I entered and shoved Sasha off as he jumped around me practically squealing, “Let me see, let me see!”

“See what?”

“Baby Jakey's work!” He replied. “From your sex!”

I glared at Ari, who sheepishly smiled. “Oh… Were you not telling people?”

“Fuck off. All of you,” I warned, opening my locker and getting changed as quickly as I could to try and avoid Sasha's peeking. The Russian only let up when a familiar broad-shouldered bartender set his bike down and entered the locker room.

“JAKEY!” Sasha purred. “Take your shirt off!”

Jake brushed past him, shaking his head. “Not in the mood Sasha.”

“Oohhhh,” he glanced between the two of us. “Was the sex that bad?”

I whirled around and slapped his forearm, cursing him in Russian until he retreated from the room giggling with Ari. “Fucking dickhead.”

Jake and I locked eyes. Desire and frustration vibrated between us, but neither of those made my heart drop… the uncertainty in Jake’s eyes, the new sliver of doubt shining back at me did. Had Simone talked him out of whatever this was? Had she dug those talons into his back hard enough for him to abandon the feelings I knew we both felt? Or had all of this… everything between us really just been part of some long game for him?

My racing thoughts must have been obvious, because Jake took a step toward me, mouth open to try and say something before Simone stepped into the locker room, happily humming as if she hadn't interrupted us at all. The apologetic look in his eyes was the only thing that kept me from punching that smug blonde bitch in the back of the head. I ground my teeth together and turned around to finish getting ready.

I left the two of them and their small talk in the locker room and headed to the table for family meal. Howard, who looked slightly tanner, offered me an apologetic look of his own that I didn't understand until I sat down and my eyes found the new painting hanging on the wall. Right. That's a fucking thing.

The vivid orange petals were splattered with red. I found my mind having to remind itself that it'd been wine instead of blood this time. The jagged cuts in the canvas and its slightly bent shape made it all too clear what'd happened to this particular empty showcase.

The glass shattered over the top of the painting at my feet, wine sloshing over the half-painted petals and the shards of glass slicing the canvas where it struck. If this had been any other circumstance I would have admired how artistic it made the piece look. But this was just another bender.

Tony lay on the ground next to the broken glass, laughing. It didn't matter how much or how loud he laughed, I could see the tired bags under his eyes and the hazed far off look that made me wonder if there was some human part of him deep inside. I almost pitied him, if just for one fragmented moment.

Jules checked his pulse and shoved my painting aside to keep him away from the broken glass. Turning to me he nodded to the mostly incoherent man at his side. “Stay with him while I get the doctor.”

“Of course,” I obediently answered, moving to kneel beside Tony. Jules gave my shoulder a soft squeeze as he stood and hurried toward the elevator.

My eyes fixated on the broken shards of glass just a few inches away. I could easily take one and shove it into his neck or cut his wrists. I could make it look like an accident… Like he'd done it to himself. Before the fear or the guilt could stop me I was reaching for the largest shard.

“Lena…” Tony mumbled, voice quivering as his glazed-over eyes searched for me. “Lena?”

“I'm here,” I answered quietly, my finger lingering on the glass as I looked down at him.

He relaxed instantly at the sound of my voice, lifting his hand to search for me in the dimly lit living room. “I… I can't see. Lena?”

Pity, understanding, and sympathy slowly replaced the darker thoughts in my head. With a gentle sigh, I slid closer to him, taking his hand in mine and pulling Tony into my lap. “I'm here.”

“W… Will you stay?” He mumbled kissing my hand. “Will you stay with me?”

The reply was practically instant… trained. “Of course.”

Tony set my hand against his chest, forcing me to feel the beating of his heart that cruelly reminded me he was a living, breathing human being. “Promise?”

Staring down at the floor of broken glass and then at the tender, beautiful face of the man I hated and feared and… Loved… I nodded. The words sounded sincere but filled my chest with a numbness that made it hard to breathe. “I promise.”

It was a low blow, reminding me of my supposed love for him. Reminding me that I'd made promises… Attempting to guilt me back into obedience. What was worse though, was that it worked.

In an entirely, uniquely twisted… Fucked up way my whole body went into some old, automatic tense posture. My chest burned with shame and my head filled with guilt-riddled thoughts. You broke his heart. You abandoned him. You said you'd never leave… Grinding my teeth together and balling my hands into fists I forced myself to remember the truth.

Being with Tony hadn't just been lavish gifts and eloquent love letters and expensive trips abroad. Those moments were far and few between. Being with him was filled with venom and rage. Being with him meant being held down, fighting… Aching. It was full of bloodied knuckles, bruises, and broken glass. Obey or be punished. Obey or starve. Obey or drown.

It wasn't love, I told myself, forcing that thought to be louder than all the others. What we had was never love.

Jake sat across the table from her, silently cursing himself for not offering her the reassurance she clearly needed in the locker room. The glassy, scared look in her eyes as she picked up on that tiny part of him that doubted if he deserved her, was stuck in his mind like a sliver. Beside him, Simone quietly ate her food while all he could do was watch Lena. Her eyes hadn’t met his again, unsteady they were fixed past him on the flower painting that now hung on the wall. He could see so much emotion raging in her distant eyes. Fear, fondness, guilt, shame. It wasn't like the other paintings. Those had just made her afraid, angry but this… This was one of those things he didn't understand and it made his chest tighten.

The only thing that drew his gaze away from her was the neatly pressed suit and the fucking pervert that wore it. Howard was back. To his credit, the manager barely looked at him, but Jake could still see the faint bruises that he'd done his vest to conceal. With steady steps Howard approached Lena, one hand holding a bottle while the other lifted, moving toward her shoulder.

Howard's eyes locked with his and Jake did his best to convey the ass-kicking he'd be dishing out if he so much as tried to touch her. Do it. I fucking dare you. At the last second his hand shifted to the back of the chair and a smug sense of pride made Jake's mouth twitch into a smile.

“A gift…” Howard told her carefully, setting the wine down in front of her. “An apology for my involvement.”

Lena’s gaze slowly drifted away from the painting to glare at the bottle. For a moment, her face remained expressionless before a thin, bitter smile spread on her lips. “Expensive.”

“And one of your favorites.”

She said nothing as she stood and began pouring the wine into her glass. Lena's eyes were fixed on Howard even as the glass began to overflow, wine staining the white tablecloth in seconds. The manager pursed his lips, disappointment and a mild look of frustration playing out on his still slightly discolored face. No one said a single word as the bottle finally ran empty and Lena set it back down.

Howard sighed. “Was that truly necessary?”

Still, without a single word, Lena knocked the glass over, sending wine down the table. She strode past him and toward the kitchen just as everyone at the table burst with laughter and gossip. Jake leaned back in his seat and grinned at Howard, enjoying every second of the manager's hateful gaze.

Simone looked at the mess with a disapproving shake of her head. “Such a waste.”

Howard's glare shifted to Sasha and Ari as they continued their laughter. With a snap of his fingers and a swift gesture to the mess he barked out the order, “You two, please get this tablecloth in a soak and clean this up?”

“No fair,” Ari pouted quietly as they started cleaning. “Tiger Bitch makes a mess and we have to clean it.”

“Nepotism,” Sasha answered almost flippantly. “Tiger Bitch is special baby.”

Jake took his plate and Simone's back to the kitchen, eyes finding Lena among the dish crew with ease. She had her head down, focused completely on washing the dishes in the sink. As he set his dirty plates down he watched the water, trying to gauge how hot it was in an attempt to tell how fucked up the painting and Howard had her. It was bad, but not as bad as the first time.

He didn't want to leave her, not when she was like this. A hand waved in his peripheral vision, drawing his gaze to the line where Isaac nodded him toward the door. A silent but reassuring message that he'd keep an eye on her through this shift. Jake spared one last look to the back of her head before he sighed and left the kitchen.

Service felt longer than it should have. Wave after wave of rich assholes poured through the door and gawked at that painting hanging on the wall with Lena's name on it. It made him feel angry and sick to his stomach even just imagining what horrible memory she'd tried to bury in that paint. And there these fuckers were, complimenting it… Calling it a masterpiece. Worse than that Jake knew that even if they knew the full story they'd still find it just as fascinating - maybe even more.

As he made the drinks and served the guests in front of him, Jake made it a point to glare at Howard. The disgusting man was practically trying to sell the damn thing. He stood beside the crowd, pointing out the details of the piece and praising the painter, who he'd already revealed worked in the restaurant. When he'd walked past the bar toward the kitchen it took all of Jake's willpower not to hit him again.

Only a minute had passed before his heart dropped into his stomach at the sound of shattering dishes. In an instant Jake was moving towards the kitchen doors, his heartbeat practically echoing her name. Just as he reached the end of the bar, Sasha fled the scene with a deviant smile, effectively blocking Jake's path. “The hell happened?”

“Tiger Bitch is not in a playful mood tonight,” The Russian answered. “Dear Howard was telling her that some of the guests wanted to speak with her about her painting and she just held up a plate,” he illustrated the throwing movement as well as the crash with his hands, “She threw a plate and told him she'd throw one every time he spoke to her.”

A part of him couldn't help but feel satisfied at how hostile she was acting towards Howard. She may not have known what he did, but Jake was glad she was giving him hell even if it wasn't for the worst of his crimes against her. But, beneath that satisfaction was the simmering worry that it would all be too much for Lena to handle and he'd have to watch her spiral into another night of panic and drowning her fears in alcohol.

Sasha watched his face, reading it carefully as he set his head in his hands and leaned on the bar in front of Jake. “Something about those paintings puts Tiger in a bad mood.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he replied curtly.

“Tell me what you know, pretty Jake,” he urged.

Jake leaned forward, looking around them for a moment as if he cared about who could hear them. “I know you should get the fuck off my bar and back to work.”

The Russian cursed and waved him off. “Ha ha, you so funny.” With a thoughtful look, he shifted his question, “So, what's next?”

“Next?” Jake asked with a pointed look.

Sasha smirked and gave him an innocent shrug. “Well, now that you've tamed the tiger you'll be taking on a new project, yes? A new hostess maybe?”

Turning his head to the hostess stand Jake caught the new girl bashfully averting her eyes from the bar. In the past, he would have felt a thrill at the idea of stringing along another sweet, innocent hostess… But now when he looked at her and saw those blushing cheeks that told him she was interested all he could think of was how boring it'd be. No one would ever be able to offer him even a fraction of what he had with Lena.

No one else would challenge him the way she did. It didn't matter how pretty the hostess was, she wouldn't tease him encourage him, or support him the way the redhead did. No one could be more beautiful than her, funnier than her, smarter than her, more badass, or fearless. No one would be Lena and if it wasn't her… Well, he just didn't want it.

“Nah,” Jake finally replied, returning to his work. “No new projects.”

Sasha made a shocked face and with a quiet, almost supportive hum he asked, “Who really tamed who?”

The second service ended, I grabbed my shit and left out the alley door. I'd wanted to wait for Jake to talk to him, but after seeing that painting and having Howard tell me about the requests some rich asshole made to meet me… It was too much. As I wandered the brisk city, desperately trying to force the pit in my stomach to dissolve with the movement, I had to continuously pull myself from wave after wave of old thoughts trying to plague me with guilt and make me doubt what I knew to be true.

It wasn't love. It was never love.

Everything I'd been through, all the years I'd spent moving on, and all it took was one painting to make me feel like that sad, lonely, dead little girl. One painting and in whatever fucking twisted way I was looking back on the times when Tony made me laugh or smile or feel anything good. Those memories were ones I had to combat with the truth and the truth meant remembering and remembering meant I couldn't just pretend like everything was fine.

Tony had not only been in the restaurant but had weaseled his way into Howard's ear, and quite possibly my aunt's. He'd hung the paintings to elicit a very specific response and I'd played right into it. The larger message was simple. It was a reminder that in this game we were playing, he was the king. He snapped his fingers and everyone would play whatever tune he wanted, me included.

Fear, anger, guilt. What was his next move? I wondered as I had many times before. And just like every time before, I hadn't the faintest idea. Even with all the time I'd spent with him to give me a clear picture of who he was and how he thought, I'd never been able to predict his moves. The one thing I knew to be a certainty was there wasn't a damn thing he wouldn't do and that meant everything I loved was at stake… that meant the people closest to me were in danger.

Ozzy, Peter, Patrick, Quinn, Prue, Nana, Abdul, Isaac, Dom, Scott, Ari, Sasah… Jake. They were all possible targets for Tony to choose from. It was terrifying to think about and so I forced myself to not think about it. The lights over Ozzy's bar eventually flashed ahead of me as I did my best to shed myself of the powerless feeling that was now firmly rooted in my stomach. I had to keep moving forward, even blindly. I had to focus on the good around me, even if it was just a tiny speck of it.

He wouldn't take this from me. He would never take anything from me again.

As I made my way to the door I heard the rumble of Dom's bike engine and felt a sense of relief wash over me. As he pulled into the bike spaces I reminded myself of my one advantage in this fucked up game. I had Dom. He wouldn't let anything bad happen. Not ever again.

He had a tired look in his eyes as he flung his leg over the side and stood, thanking the bikers around him as they followed suit.

“Busy day?” I called out, drawing his attention to me.

A thought made his brows pinch together as he sighed and walked toward me. “Yeah.”

As he walked with me through the bar door a faint, floral smell lingered on his jacket. I leaned in, smelling him a bit deeper. “You open a flower shop or something?”

“Huh?”

“You smell all flowery,” I replied tugging on his jacket.

Dom's face drained of any emotion as he shrugged. “Right. Yeah, I… Had some business with a florist.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Are you back in the game of wooing Mav?”

“No.”

“Oh come on, you can tell me!” I playfully urged. “You know I'm in full support of your “marriage”.”

With a sigh he stopped, gently placing a hand on my arm. “Lena… There's something we should talk about.”

A sudden tightness seized my throat at his serious tone and blank expression. “What's going on?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sasha and the group waving their hands in the air, urging me to hurry and join them. “Tiger! Come on!”

Dom glanced at them and quickly shook his head. “I… just wanted to give you a heads up that Nana's got a big celebration planned for your birthday.”

“Oh.” A relieved breath left my lungs in the form of an anxious chuckle. “Oh, good. Fuck, you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he quietly replied.

“It's okay. I promised Nana she could go all out this year and… I dunno…” Glancing back at my group, at my brothers and Quinn and Prue, the restaurant crew… Jake… I smiled. I had these people in my life. They may have been in danger by being here - being close to me - but they were here nonetheless. None of them cared about possible dangers, they still chose to be here with me. The weight that had made everything feel so heavy slowly eased as I looked at my friends… my family and smiled wider. “Maybe it won't be so bad this year.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he mumbled, giving me a pat on the head. “That's real good, kid. Now go on. Enjoy your night or whatever.”

I caught his arm before he could go too far, squeezing it and offering him a sad smile. “You been to visit her yet?”

Dom's whole body tensed. He likely thought I forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it, but with a quick shake of his head, he answered “No… I don't know if I'm gonna this year.”

“Well if you do, tell her I said hi.” I knew that Dom didn't really believe in ghosts or angels. I knew to him Sarah wouldn't hear him or even know if he'd visited at all, but every year I still encouraged him to go to her grave as some kind of birthday gift to her. He had yet to do it, but I could tell that speaking of her fondly from time to time - acknowledging that his sister existed and had been important - helped ease the hurt in him a little.

But, tonight that didn't seem to be the case.

Dom averted his gaze, cleared his throat, and nodded to the group with a firm, “Go on.”

The chaos of the night continued as expected. My friends and their antics helped me push all the bad the day had to offer back into their boxes and as I met Jake's eyes over the bartop. I was scared that he’d still have that speck of doubt lingering in those beautiful eyes, but as he stared back at me all I could see was the desire. It reminded me of the good… of the possibility that I could have something normal.

Remembering how right it felt to kiss him, to feel him in every way physically possible made me flush with a shameless want to do it all again. Jake's never-faltering gaze didn't help either. It was like he knew exactly what I was thinking and that he wholeheartedly agreed. As the night progressed and the bar slowly started to slow I found myself avoiding leaving it. The pit in my stomach, though lessened still filled me with a lingering and old voice urging me to take the quickest, easiest path away from potential heartache. End it.

That conversation we didn't get to have was now right in front of me and I felt scared. Terrified that something had changed. If Jake told me he wanted to move on from last night it would gut me. But if he said he wanted us to be something official… That thought made me feel almost as sick, just in a different way. Get him as far away from you as possible.

How many men had come before him? All of whom I'd deeply felt for and all of whom Tony had destroyed in some way or another. So what would he do to Jake? What would Tony do to the man that I cared for most… The man who was different from every other in a way I didn't even fully understand. Protect him.

Ozzy set a hand on my shoulder and nudged me to the door. “Go on and get some rest, dear. You've helped enough.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, accepting the kiss on the head and making my way out the back door where I attempted to steel myself.

The gym was quiet, with only a few lights left on to illuminate the old pictures on the walls. As I looked at my dad's smiling face in every photo that scared voice in me quieted, instead replaced by his. “Why you gotta fight me every step of the way?”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I’d replied coldly, angry and terrified. Dad had done nothing but offer me love and acceptance since I’d gotten back for the summer, two things I knew weren’t given away for free. He wanted something but instead of telling me what it was chose to play some cruel game instead.

My dad’s shoulders slumped slightly, a sigh falling from his lips as he stared down at me with a pitiful look. I prepared myself for his disappointment, but it never came. “I don’t want anything from you, Lena.”

Shaking my head I swallowed hard. “Everyone wants something from me.”

“Alright,” he finally relented. “I do want one thing. I want you to live.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I asked, timid but still angry.

“You’re alive, sure,” he replied, carefully reaching out to touch my shoulder. “But this ain’t living. This hostile… bitterness you’re carrying, it’s not what life’s supposed to be like. Especially not for a kid.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, guilt filling my lungs as another failure was added to the list.

Dad bent down, forcing our eyes to meet, and smiled. “Don’t be sorry. It ain’t your fault. Just… let us help you. Let me help you, sweet girl.”

With tears building in my eyes, I answered, “Okay. I… Sorry I’ve been making it so hard for you.”

He pulled me into his arms and kissed my head. “You make my life, all our lives, better just by bein here. All we want is for you to see that…” He pulled away, taking my face in his hands and smushing my cheeks the way he thought was funny. “Come on. Let’s go start livin, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The sound of the alley door opening spurred me back into motion. As I headed up the stairs to the apartment I could hear Jake's steady footsteps following me. His movements didn’t sound rushed or hesitant, just steady. My heart hammered in my chest and my head filled with a hundred thoughts, a hundred voices all shouting different things at me. Jake appeared in the stairwell, hands in his pockets as he put one foot on the bottom step before stopping himself. “Now a good time to talk?”

The longer I looked down at him the quieter my mind got. Nodding I opened the door and shrugged. “As good a time as we’re probably gonna get.”

He trudged up the stairs with a faint smile on his face and all the noise, all the extra baggage weighing me down fell away. The smell of alcohol, faint cigarette smoke and Jake’s colognue reminded me that I was here. I was in this moment, not the ones in Tony’s paintings or in picture frames. I was here. I was alive and now I wanted to live.

Jake stepped inside and quietly watched me as I closed the door behind him. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” I replied, clearing my throat and taking a tensely casual position by the table. “Why wouldn't I be?”

He shrugged. “You seemed to be kind of somewhere else today… after seeing that painting.”

My jaw clenched as the ugly emotions in me wanted to return. “Yeah… That wasn't great but, I'm okay now.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” I laughed a little to myself, forcing my body to focus on that feeling of steadiness and safety that Jake’s presence brought me. “Besides, we have other stuff we need to talk about, don't we?”

Now he looked just as nervous as I felt. “Yeah.”

“We're kind of horrible at this, aren't we?”

Jake nodded in agreement, chuckling before he spoke, “Yeah… okay… Fuck it, I'm just gonna start. Neither of us do well with labels,” Jake offered before quickly stammering over his own words. “Not that I'm against labeling this as… Whatever. I just mean…”

“Why put a label on things when we're still figuring out exactly what things are?” I finished, ignoring the slight sting of disappointment that festered in my chest by focusing on the wave of relief.

“Exactly.” He scratched his head and cleared his throat. “So… We… keep it casual.”

“Casual,” I agreed. Casual was fun, predictable but most importantly safe. Casual was familiar to both of us and given everything that had happened - changed in our lives and in our friendship - maybe that was a safety net we both needed.

Casual.

Jake nodded, taking a careful step forward. “If someone were to ask what we were… What would we say to that?”

I watched his lips, resisting the urge to end all the tedious talking by kissing him. “We'd say we're casually seeing each other? Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies? Whatever feels right to you I'm fine with.”

“So, you're a girl I'm seeing… casually?”

Nodding I forced myself to meet his eyes, not that it helped either of us stay on track. “And you're a boy I'm seeing casually.”

Jake's hands slid around me, urging me to lean into him. With that simple touch, everything else faded into the back of my mind. I felt myself relax into him, my body finally able to focus on those tingling sensations of desire and excitement. “And since we're seeing each other, casually, it'd be perfectly normal for us to kiss, right?”

“I think it'd be expected, really.”

“Good,” he mumbled, running his thumb over my lower lip. “I liked being your friend and all, but I don't think I can go any longer without fucking you again.”

As if it had a mind of its own my tongue slipped out to lick his thumb and tug it between my teeth for a second. I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing, teasing… Testing the waters… Inviting him to fuck me as much as he wanted? “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Smirking, he brushed my hair behind my ears. “That.”

His lips further erased every ounce of tension, guilt, disappointment, and fear from my lungs. The way his hands cradled my face replaced everything with a warm fuzzy sense of safety. The painting, Howard, Simone… Nothing else mattered. As long as I had this, him, somehow I knew everything would be alright.

When he pulled back for air he smiled with a quiet sigh. “This is how our morning should have gone. Sorry about Simone.”

“It's alright. We’re here now.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, leaning back down towards me. “I haven't been able to think about anything else all day.”

Before our lips could connect again I threw one last taunt at him, “I knew you liked being my friend.”

Jake rolled his eyes, warm hands sliding down my cheek to take hold of my hips. “God you're insufferable.”

I ran my hands down his chest and whispered against his lips, “You like it.”

“Shut up.” Our lips finally touched, soft hands quickly turning into heated grabs at one another's clothes.

With a half step forward Jake pressed me into the back of a kitchen chair. His tongue invaded my mouth as his hands pulled my sleeves away from my shoulders, clearing a path for his lips and teeth to follow. The way his lips felt against my skin was something that made me shiver. Jake was… How had he put it? Adept in the art of pleasure? Smug bastard… And completely right.

“God,” Patrick groaned the second he opened the door. His hand slapped over his face, covering his eyes and sighing in defeat. “Guess I should get used to that now that you two are officially a thing.”

“Casually,” Jake and I both corrected.

My brother blindly made his way around the kitchen table. “Yeah yeah, “casually” whatever ya say. Just keep alla that “casual” touchy-feely shit in your room or something.”

“Sorry,” we both mumbled watching Patrick run into his bedroom door before quickly opening it and fleeing inside.

I nodded to my bedroom door and smiled as I tugged Jake toward it. He followed, pushing the door closed behind him. I practically pounced on him, pressing my chest into his as I pulled his head down to reconnect our lips. Jake stumbled slightly causing the door to rattle. Before we could say anything else Irish folk music blared through Pat’s speakers. A crystal clear message.

“Shhh,” I whispered against his collarbone with a giggle. “We have to be quiet!”

“I'm not the one that needs to worry about that.” To prove his point he took a handful of my ass and ground himself against my core, pulling a sharp - loud - moan from me.

“Nope! I'm leaving!” Patrick shouted as the music turned off. “You two have an hour before Pete gets back! For the love of god, be done before then!”

I smirked at Jake. “Now I finally have you all to myself.”

“Looks that way,” he replied. “You gonna entertain me?”

“Of course! What kind of host would I be if I didn't?”

His eyes sparkled with lust as he watched my mouth move. “Well, what's your plan?”

Leaning in I pressed my lips to his neck, occupying my hands with his belt and starting the slow drag of my body down his. When my knees hit the floor and I'd gotten Jake's pants down I looked up at him, fluttering my lashes and smiling at him. “I'm sure I'll think of something you'll enjoy.”

My dearest Lena,

In the unlikely event you're reading this letter I simply wished to send you a simple reminder of my devotion to you. A token of my love will be finding its way to your door soon and soon we will be reunited once more.

Yours, Anthony

Dom stared at the letter, examining each line as meticulously as he would an engine. He needed to know what the sick bastard had planned. Needed to know how to protect her from whatever was coming. Tony wouldn't make it easy or fair. He never did and this time was different. He was braver than before, bolder in his actions than Dom had ever seen him.

After the beating he'd given him upon hearing all he'd done to Lena, Tony should have been cowering in some far corner of the world. He should have been terrified to even set foot in the city again and yet there he was, in her apartment, waving at her landlord, waving at him.

The longer he held the evidence of Tony's visit the more guilty he felt for keeping it secret. Lena deserved to know. Her brothers had the right to know about the danger. They all deserved better than he could give them.

With a sigh, he lifted the lighter to the corner of the paper and watched the fire spread to the cursive words in ink. He dropped it into the empty bin and picked the orange flower up off the table before tossing it into the fire too.

He should have killed Tony a hundred times by now. A mistake he wasn't going to make again. Then and there Dom silently vowed that the next time he saw that fuckers face he'd put a bullet between his eyes.

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raaorqtpbpdy · 2 months

Text

Date Night Cat-astrophe

Vlad has a problem. He has a date in approximately... now... and he's currently trapped in the form of an ordinary house cat, unable to transform back.

For the prompts: Clockwork has a secret hobby, what is it and how does he keep it secret? And: Rich history fluff 🥺 [both from @fruity-hub-blog], and Vlad experiments with a new ghost power--taking non-humanoid shape without artifact assistance--and things go horribly wrong. [from @kuzann]

Read also on AO3

[Warnings for mentions of violence]

Vlad was... stuck.

This was most definitely not ideal, not the least because it was almost time for his date. It hadn't really been a problem two hours ago. However, after two hours of trying—and miserably failing—to return to his humanoid form, it was now, officially a problem.

He was just in his lab, experimenting with a new ghost power, something he'd done dozens of times before. All he was doing was attempting to take on a non-humanoid form under his own power. He'd thought he would just test it out to pass the time before his lovely partner arrived. He'd tried shape-shifting before—though, granted, not often. Surprisingly, he didn't really find a use for it much.

But the point was that nothing about this situation should have been especially new or different from anything he'd done before.

How was he supposed to know he'd get stuck? And in the form of a cat, no less. A smaller-than-average, black-and-white cat, with a red collar. He looked absurd.

Vlad huffed and shook his fluffy head. A cloud of loose fur billowed off him and he sagged in annoyance, knowing he would have to clean that up when he was humanoid again or it might contaminate his ectoplasm samples.

He'd thought using Maddie the cat as a model for his transformation would make this easier. In some respects, he supposed it had. Transforming into a cat hadn't been all that difficult at all. It was transforming back that was proving to be a problem. Twenty years of experience in mastering ghost powers proved to be utterly useless.

After two whole hours of concentrating, switching tactics, trying again and again as he paced across the floor of his lab, he was still utterly unable to turn his four tiny paws into hands and feet. He wasn't going to panic about it, because he wasn't a silly child with anxiety, but he was beginning to get truly frustrated, and time was running out until—

The sound of the a knock on the closed door of his ghost portal interrupted Vlad's thoughts.

Oh no. He was here.

Normally, Vlad would open the door himself but when he was only a foot high with no fingers, let alone the proper fingerprints to open the biometric lock, that wasn't really a possibility. After a few moments, Clockwork let himself in. Vlad had given him an override key so he could come over without being let in, not that a biometric lock could keep out the Master of Time, anyway.

"Vlad, dear, are you here?" he asked.

"Meow!" Vlad replied. He had meant to say, I'm terribly sorry my sweet, but it seems I've become trapped in the form of a house cat and may require your assistance, but that was decidedly not what came out of his tiny feline mouth.

"Hm?" Clockwork looked down, taking notice of him for the first time. "I thought Vlad didn't allow his cat in his lab," he noted, then levitated Vlad up to get a closer look. "You're not Maddie. Vlad never mentioned getting a second cat."

Vlad wanted to respond that he hadn't gotten a second cat. That it was him, and could Clockwork please help him instead of floating him through the air looking vaguely curious.

Again, the only thing that came out was, "Meow!"

Clockwork floated him closer and let Vlad drop a few inches into his cradled arms as the timeless ghost examined him. Vlad wanted to be upset, or at least disgruntled, but Clockwork's arms were so comfortable, soft and strong. Instead of mewling indignantly, Vlad found himself nuzzling into them involuntarily.

"You sure are fluffy," Clockwork observed. "No tag on your collar. Has Vlad not given you a name yet?"

I am Vlad, he tried to say, but what came out was, "Mew."

Clock work gently scratched Vlad between the ears. His eyes fell closed in the satisfaction, and a rumbling purr rose in his chest.

"You're a sweet little thing, aren't you?" Vlad could hear the smile in his partner's voice. "I can see why Vlad took you in... And you're a little ghostly, too. What, are you down eight lives already? On your last one?"

"Meow," Vlad replied, hoping to convey with his tone how bad that joke had been. Honestly, Clockwork had been spending too much time watching Daniel in the time-stream if he was making jokes like that. Vlad would have even said as much, if he thought it would come out as anything besides 'meow'.

"We said 6 o'clock, didn't we?" Clockwork said consideringly, looking at the digital clock up on the wall of Vlad's lab. "My darling is always so punctual. I showed up right on time, but he's nearly five minutes late. He didn't forget, did he?"

No! Vlad thought. No, I didn't forget. I would never forget. I'm right here!

"Meow! Meow!" he said. Curse his stupid feline vocal chords. Clockwork understood many languages, but Cat wasn't one of them.

"You're right, I'm sure he's just caught up in something unavoidable," Clockwork agreed, though of course, he didn't actually know what the cat had said. "I suppose I'll just wait here with you until he returns. What should we talk about, do you think?"

Vlad looked up at his love and blinked slowly, unsure what to do or say. Waiting until he got back would be useless when he was already here, but there was no way for Clockwork to recognize him in this form to help him change back, and asking obviously wasn't an option.

"Can I tell you a secret," Clockwork said conspiratorially. "Something even Vlad doesn't know?"

Vlad's eyes widened and he wriggled in his partner's arms, unsure what he was trying to do except somehow express his irritation that the ghost who supposedly loved him would share a secret with his cat and not with him.

"It's a bit embarrassing," the ghost continued. "Sometimes, when I'm bored, I search the time streams for apocalyptic timelines. Sometimes they're ones that have already been averted, or ones that would happen so far off in the future that the Observants haven't forced me to do anything about them yet. And you know what I do?"

"Meow?" Vlad asked, which of course was meant to be 'what', but he couldn't actually say that.

Clockwork smiled and stroked Vlad's soft cat belly.

"I like to go to places rife with chaos, and make them worse," Clockwork said. "I know the Observants will allow nothing in those pockets of time to actually come to be, so I just show up and make a menace of myself. Sometimes I use my powers, but sometimes I just set things on fire, or hit things with my staff. no matter what I do, it will never have actually happened, so no one ever finds out. It's ever so freeing. Cathartic even. Sometimes I just obliterate survivor's and imagine they're Observants and I'm making their big hideous eyes explode."

Vlad stared up at Clockwork with his mouth agape. He was thinking that he'd never been more in love with the ghost before him, but evidently Clockwork interpreted the look as judgemental because he quickly rose to his own defense.

"I know it's a bit dark, but since I always go to offshoot timelines, none of it actually happens," he assured. "It's just a consequence free outlet for the stresses and frustrations of my existence at the whims of that short-sighted council." He frowned and added in a grumble, "Considering none of them have any depth perception, they certainly have a lot of opinions on what they see."

Vlad mewled in sympathy and pushed his head against Clockwork's hand. Any time the matter of his work came up, Clockwork had nothing but complaints about the council of Observants that kept him in check. As their relationship progressed, Vlad had come to absolutely despise those wretched cyclopes—though he'd never actually mat any of them.

Clockwork sighed. "You really are quite the affectionate animal," he said.

Upon saying so, Clockwork lowered his head and planted a kiss on the space between Vlad's ears.

Vlad felt his heart rate skyrocket, and the next thing he knew, he was changing. His body grew, the joints in his limbs shifting from animal to human, his ears lowering on the sides of his head, his fur receding into his skin.

Then he was standing in his lab, pressed against his partner's body, with Clockwork's arms wrapped around him.

"It was an accident," Vlad said immediately, burying his face in Clockwork's chest in embarrassment. He listened to the quiet tick-tocking of his lover's core and let his heartbeat slow to match the sound. "I was just trying to pass the time until you got here, and I got stuck."

Vlad heard a rhythmic shudder, and he realized that Clockwork was laughing softly.

"Um... about what I told you..."

"I wasn't judging you," Vlad told him quickly, pulling back just enough that the two of them could look each other in the eyes. "Honestly, I think your... shall we say hobby? Is rather ingenious. And considering who you work for, I don't think anyone should blame you for wanting to take out your frustrations every once-in-a-while. Finding a consequence free environment to do so was exceptionally clever on your part."

"You think so?"

"I do," Vlad confirmed. "In fact, I think I'd like to join you some time. I'm trying very hard to be the good guy from now on, but frankly, I miss being the bad guy sometimes."

"Perhaps I'll take you with me next time," Clockwork suggested. "But this evening, I've planned something else?"

"Oh?"

Clockwork pulled away from the embrace, sliding his arms down Vlad's side and coming to rest when the two of them were holding hands.

"The best Italian restaurant in all of history was in Naples. It was shut down by the government in 1997 because it was a front for a money laundering operation, but I happen to know the best time to go. Care to join me, dearest?"

Clockwork let go of Vlad's hands and offered him an elbow.

Vlad interlocked their arms with a smile.

"Sounds divine, my sweet," he agreed, pressing up to kiss Clockwork on the cheek. "Lead the way."

The was a flash of light, and the image of a clock burned itself into Vlad's retinas momentarily, and then they were standing on a street in Naples, Italy, across from a restaurant that definitely looked like a front for some mafia scheme, but if Clockwork said it was the best Italian food in all of history, well, he would know best.

Vlad did ask for a moment to let his eyes adjust. It was a bit jarring going from the relatively dim light of his lab to the sunny streets of Italy at what looked to be around mid-afternoon. Not to mention he'd forgotten to close his eyes when his love had transported them, and the image of a clock was still bright and clear every time he closed his eyes to blink.

Once Vlad was adjusted, however, the two of them walked in, side-by-side, and Vlad couldn't speak to all of history, but it was certainly the best Italian food he'd ever had. And with the best company to share it with, too.

#danny phantom #dp #rich history ship #dp clockwork #vlad plasmius #vlad masters #fluff #fic #phic phight #phic phight 24 #things i wrote

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beautifulpersonpeach · 2 years

Note

Help me Obi Peach Kenobi, I need your opinion on a veeeeeeeeery unimportant topic.

In my last Ask you talked about Jikook's chemistry

And also how a lot of people don't see it. And on Tumblr I've seen:

people that blatantly ignore it (which is so grotesque to me, I don't have further think on that)

and people who say "Jikook were very close till 2019, but not since then. Their moments just don't do it for me anymore"

So I've just wanted to hear your thoughts on the "Jikook aren't as close anymore (aka since 2019)" narrative?

Why I am asking for your opinion on this:

I value your opinion. You are someone where I think, the balance of the force is with you

you've been a BTS for quite a long time, much longer than me. 2021 has been the first time I've experienced BTS and Jikook content live and not just from watching past content. So I fear maybe that plays into my perception

while you enjoy Jikooks relationship, it's not a big focus for you. So there's less confirmation bias involved

Ask 2: Do you think the way ppl see jikook changed cos of the pandemic? Jikook used to be like sirens blasting

LOOK AT ME I'M FRUITY

NO MANGO.

Now they're very calm I almost don't notice them.

Ask 3: The way the fandom ignores jikook irritates the hell out of me. Some Armys are like sheep that do whatever big accounts tell them even if it means not seeing jikook giving hickeys. I'm not a shipper but I almost want to become one to negate the effect of Army always pretending jikook doesn't exist.

(...No mango? Really?)

Hi @guacamoli-avocadorado 💜 and Anon(s)!

I decided to group these very differently written asks together because I think they all pose similar questions. I’ll try not to ramble.

A couple years ago, I used to have this same debate with a joker friend on Twitter. In fact she’s the person that convinced me to join Tumblr where she said a bigger jikooker community was. Let’s call her A. I remember she had a theory that the way the fandom relates to jikook has changed dramatically since 2017, and she explained there are three or four groups of people in the fandom who react to jikook in particular ways.

1. The homophobic subset of the fandom. There’s no getting around it - many people are homophobic, either due to cultural upbringing such as the traditionally religious, or some other prejudice, and in a fandom as big as ARMY many of which are from conservative Asian cultures, there’s bound to be thousands like this.

2. The non-homophobic subset of the fandom that notices or suspects jikook but says nothing either out of respect or out of an inclination to protect them. (As a non-shipping rapline bias who had just started asking explicit questions at the time, she placed me in this group). Jikook can be as affectionate as they want with each other and it can be explained away as skinship or something permissible for idols to do - I’ve seen some jikookers refer to this as a glass closet. Some non-shipping people in the fandom see this, occasionally joke about jikook in this way, but try not to excessively draw attention to jikook given LGBT+ rights are frankly non-existent in Korea.

3. The rival shippers. Throw in the y/ns who sometimes overlap with the homophobes, the taekookers, yoonminers, etc. These are basically other shippers who may or may not see jikook, but clearly have an interest in dismissing anything jikook do.

4. The people who just don’t care. For them, out of sight is out of mind, and even when in sight, the interpersonal dynamics between the members is just not something they care about. One of my closest ARMY friends (Minimoni bias) is exactly like this. I could gush from now till tomorrow about jikook and the most she’ll do is have a slightly amused look on her face. It’s not that she hates jikook or hates shipping, she’s simply not interested in it.

At the time, I argued with A that there are more sub-groups (in group 4 for example there are anti-shippers who actively squash down any mention of interpersonal chemistry because they think it distracts people from the music and cheapens it. They’re like music purists or something lol, but some of them also overlap with group 1 and so they have an added interest in dismissing any chemistry at all). But looking at all your asks, I’d say these four groups broadly explain the reasons the fandom reacts to jikook the way they do.

@guacamoli-avocadorado , I think in addition to all these, the sorts of people to say they no longer see jikook since like 2019, are a particular type of shipper. These are people who I think need constant stimulation, they ship actively (and I’d argue in borderline unhealthy ways) and need a constant drip feed of content. The reason I say it’s borderline unhealthy, is because I think these are people who run the risk of seeing BTS more as objects than as real people with real lives which include other people besides Jimin and Jungkook.

Because a lot did change for BTS and jikook in 2020. Many pairing moments usually come from on stage interactions on tour and the Vlives that would happen right after, Run BTS moments, off the clock sightings in tour locations, and so on. Since 2020, first with the pandemic and then their hiatus, nearly all of these opportunities have whittled down in frequency, and in some ways have almost dried up. So people who forget that after the cameras turn off, BTS still exist in each other’s lives, and that even with reduced on camera instances jikook still maintain a consistency their fondness for each other, those people then come online to complain about jikook either not being as close or jikook not even being close at all anymore.

It’s basically bias - a form of binary confirmation bias where the absence of constant evidence negates every possibility. The annoying thing is that, it’s actually true that jikook’s relationship has changed, but it’s also true that it hasn’t really changed all that much either. Jimin and Jungkook are two individuals, adult men with different friend groups and different personal and career goals. As they mature, so will their relationship. As time passes we get glimpses into what that looks like, but based on what I’ve seen, the chemistry, fondness, and deference between them hasn’t worsened at all. It’s taken on a slightly different shade, but the Busan Bros have not slowed down their shenanigans.

I remember in 2020 when people were saying they had broken up (I’m not certain they’re dating, but I do remember seeing this theory all over based on an ‘out of sight out of mind’ rationale), and we later learned Jungkook had been getting drunk with him privately and spinning a grown man around bridal style.

I don’t know when people will learn to live and let live with jikook. They haven’t slowed down in 10 years, with the cameras rolling and the cameras off. Their relationship might have indeed changed since 2019, but not in any meaningful way that negates their love and respect for each other.

Whether or not some people see it has more to do with them and their bias, than anything jikook may or may not be doing in their personal lives.

#jikook #Jungkook #jimin #fandom behavior #bts fandom

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aceofshitposts · 2 years

Note

For the Fake Fic titles: A Death in the Family

😂😂😂 trying to kill me here lifting a title straight from dc huh?? my god

okay i think the only thing i can really think of is like Tim's going through a checklist, he's got a bunch of things to get done before heading to the manor later that day.

he stops by his favourite cafe to get some coffee for the day, staring down at his phone as texts from various family members come in. He ignores them in favour of looking at a particular stain that still mars the counter. It happened before they got together, when Tim and Jason had a tentative truce and Jason had fully spilled his drink via squeezing it so hard it overflowed. Luckily for him, it was a cold drink but one of those fruity, brightly coloured ones that's never quite been scrubbed off fully since.

A new text comes in from Kon, you okay?? i can come visit

Tim taps away on his phone with one hand, sipping his drink with the other, I'll be fine. Seeing the family later.

And continues on his way.

He walks by the restaurant where he and Jason had their first "official" date, although their real first date should probably be attributed to the twenty four hour diner they would get pancakes at 4am at. Jason always got chocolate chip pancakes.

Dick texts him next, the delivery got cancelled, can you pick up some flowers on your way???

Tim texts back an affirmative and changed trajectory towards a flower shop. It happens to be the same one he and Jason both bought bouquets at for the other one Valentines Day. The surprise had been a little ruined when they ended up picking up their respective flowers at the same time.

On his way back to the apartment to get the car Tim crosses through the park he and Jason would walk their dog, Birdie through. Jason spoiled her absolutely rotten with all the best toys and treats. They would spend hours lounging in the grass with her laying over their legs.

Driving to the manor during rush hour is always fun. Tim, naturally, gets stuck in traffic with nothing but his thoughts so he turns on the radio. The songs shuffle through until the one playing happens to be the one Jason and Tim danced to on their wedding night.

Arriving at the manor Tim is immediately engulfed in a hug by Stephanie, nearly crushing the flowers he bought, as she says, "I'm so sorry, Tim."

Tim pats her on the back. "It's okay. It was going to happen eventually."

Stephanie eventually lets him go, Tim begging off so that he can put the groceries he brought away in the kitchen along with the flowers.

"Hey, stranger," Jason grins from his place at the kitchen island when Tim steps through the threshold. "Did you get the things I asked for?"

"Yes, I got everything," Tim says, heaving the grocery bag onto the counter and leaning into Jason's waiting arms. "Missed you, today. Apartment's quiet without you and--"

Tim is interrupted by Damian entering the kitchen. "I heard your dog passed this weekend. My condolences."

"She was already a senior when we adopted her, we knew it was coming."

"Regardless," Damian presses on, looking a little pink as he offers, "if you two would be interested we just had some puppies surrendered to the shelter."

Tim pulls back to look at Jason who raises an eyebrow down at Tim.

"We'll think about it. Let's get though Alfred's welcome back dinner first."

#I GOT~ CARRIED AWAY~#purely just wanted to pull a misdirection if something doesn't make sense yes it does shut up #astrix answers #astrix writes #jaytim #alfred is returning from vacation that's why everyone's there LMAO #he deserved it but also they all missed him so much

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pelorsdyke · 2 years

Text

there’s nothing redbubble loves more than putting my silly little drawings under review right when I post them. but if you’re so inclined, go check out my fruity four beanie babies art here! (also purchasable in steddie, ronance, and steve & robin friendship. don’t be weird and ship that last pair.)

(Img description: digital art of four beanie babies, complete with ty heart tags on their ears, in the outfits from the upside-down in s4 of stranger things for steve harrington, eddie munson, robin buckley, and nancy wheeler, in order. the bears are yellow, red, green, and purple, respectively.)

#stranger things #fruity four #ronance #steddie #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #eddie munson #my art

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imfiguringitoutlovely · 3 years

Note

Hiii idk if I'm doing this exactly right but I thought it'd be fun!

This is kinda basic my baddd

Element

The user can control any element. The amount of air the user can use is limited to how long they can hold their air. The amount of water and earth they can control is dependent on how much they weigh. They can control about twice their mass. Earth is hard to control and is stubborn, strong forceful movements are needed to control earth. Water is delicate and needs precision to be able to control it to it's fullest. Fire is limited by how much energy the user has. Using too much energy will cause cells to die and lead to them passing out. They can't control the element if they have nothing to draw from.

No relation to the cannon

No relation to pre-existing characters

X class 1a can be platonic or romantic

class 1a with a lifebender that they will protect with their l i v e s

pairing: platonic!class 1a x gn!reader (they/them)

genre: fluff! fun!!

warnings: none!

author's notes: mhm! you did it right, and it's not basic! the idea is common, but the details you added make it very special and interesting! i had a ton of fun writing this :D

i also didn't add any relation to canon, but did make reader a child of a non-canon hero couple

ALSO YEAH I. I KNOW I NOW HAVE A PATTERN OF FOCUSING ON KACCHAN FOR A WHOLE LIKE THREE POINTS BUT IM LIKE IN LOVE? SO LEAVE ME BE-

expectations were fucking high, ok? you didn't have a choice as to whether or not you'd succeed; you HAD to.

not only were you the child of two very prominent heroes who happen to be alumni of UA themselves, but you had an incredibly powerful quirk.

hell, it was so strong that theorists started using it as a prime example of quirk singularity theory.

of course your quirk wasn't perfect, and if misused, the consequences were very dangerous.

this meant a lot of training and discipline on your part, something that all your peers of course needed and utilized but you had to do almost two times more. elements wasn't just any quirk, and that was clear during the initial training process in your new hero costumes.

there was half-hot, half-cold and now someone who could control the damn elements? jesus was that battle... interesting-

todoroki has the benefit of focusing on two areas, and both come soley from him, his body. you had to make use of what was around you, and you had four different areas to master. fair to say he was a bit more advanced than you.

that didn't mean you didn't catch him off guard when the ice was creeping up on you and your partner and suddenly it just went up. yes. up.

with patient, focused, graceful movement, you were able to manipulate his ice,, since it's literally just very very cold water. you weren't able to control all of it, but definitely a solid amount, snd the temperature left shoji, his partner, stunned for a few moments, almost literally frozen.

shoto eventually still got the W, but dAMN WAS THAT WILD-

you and shoto have this silent understanding throughout the rest of the year that this was a competition, though he was far more aggressive about it. you were still willing to be friends (and eventually you are) but for a long time he's like "im not here to make friends"

(sure you're not, you fruity son of a-)

you're kind, and a great leader, but you tend to sit back and mind your own business unless told to do otherwise. you're not there to be miserable, but you're not there to get into drama outside of the situations already planted in front of you.

you're a lot like shoji, ojiro, etc. in that sense, and everyone really respects that.

PLUS YOUR QUIRK IS FUCKING COOL AND EVEN BAKUGOU IS HESITANT TO FUCK W YOU-

and omg omg omg omg yes yes yES YOU AND KODA END UP VEING BEST FRIENDS AND YOU'RE NEVER. EVER. E V E R . gonna change my mind

yes, he's quiet at first, but my BOY HE OPENS UP TO YOU W TIME I PROMISE. he gets closer w people through quality time tbh and acts of service. yall work sooo well together, esp in different terrains! you can bring ocean animals to him like the waves in moana hehe and he can speak to the fish to get them to help yall 🥺

and the bugs in the earth!! and the birds in the air!!! and you work so so well together it's really great!!!!!

🥺 y'all can literally just sit in nature together, under a tree and feeling super connected to it all and to each other,, yes y'all are super ultra mega besties 🥺

people tbh entranced by your ability to go between the four elements. like the grace in your movements, your ability to go from fluid movement into strong, sharp movements to absolute peaceful focus and aH you're so cool. AND YOU GET SO MUCH BETTER AND SWITCHING THROUGHOUT WITH TIME

YOU FUCKING BOSS YOUR PROVISIONAL LICENSE TEST TBH LIKE 😳 YOU A T E FR 😭

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE SPORTS FESTIVAL, YOU LEFT NO C R U M B S. NONE.

HELL, YOU BEAT BAKUGOU'S ASS, YOU ALMOST GOT HIM TO TAP OUT AND HONESTLY HE'S KINDA SCARED FOR YEAR TWO SPORTS FEST

DEKU AND TODO TOO

yes, you're in the top four fs.

aizawa a lil scared tbh.

well like

the class is as time goes on. you keep getting stronger and stronger. but with this, cells were dying quick.

somewhere near the end of the first year, you were forced to begin a regular meetings with a very specific doctor who had a cell regeneration quirk. down the road, like mirio, you cross your fingers a little tighter on eri's quirk progress. ofc you kept it to yourself, though.

outside of that, you kept to your sessions. it still didn't stop the passing out when you pressed too hard, though, and it worried everyone. the harder you trained, the more often they happened.

so, in the same way they'd bOnk deku when he keeps breaking his damn bones, they are willing to bOnk you if you don't fUCKING REST-

REST, BITCH, YOU DESERVE IT,, YOU NEED IT PLEASE IT'S GONNA BE OKAY YOU DON'T NEED TO BE AT 100 ALL THE TIME :((((

but yes they love you v much

esp koda

hehe i love that...

oRGANIC OPPOS- 😭

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90stvshowgoth · 3 years

Text

—THE BET

summary: you thought that as a member of the phantom troupe you were supposed to be smarter than this, yet here you were betting against hisoka. everyone knew that hisoka was a master at poker, cards were his weapon after all, but you couldn’t resist wagering one more bet on a drinking game.

w/c: 4587

tags: dubcon, drunk sex, creampie, blood kink, hate sex, begging, brat taming

a/n: this originally started as a chrollo oneshot, you can kinda tell from how the opening paragraph is about him, but once i started writing the poker game i was like “okay no i gotta make this its own thing,” and because of that decision we now have loose ends getting ch.3 rn :) also no, i couldn’t help but kinda reference phantom of the opera cause it slaps and nobody can tell me otherwise. also, no, before anyone asks, this is a oneshot. it aint getting a sequel.

big thanks to the lovely miss @sealedrosewater for beta reading this clownfucking nightmare.

The heist had gone off without a hitch, Chrollo’s plan worked like a charm and before the night was out you had all flawlessly extracted each and every one of the gilded texts being held in the museum. You still remembered the childlike gleam in your boss’ eyes as he ran his fingers over the aged leather, its binding parchment laced with gold. The faintest ghost of a smile fled from his pallid lips as he admired his new conquest. It made your chest swell with pride, happy to help the man you respected so much. Besides, your cut was nothing to sneeze at.

Your rendezvous was inside a long-abandoned opera theatre where dust clung to the red velvet of the seats and the chandelier was seemingly hanging by a thread; your boss always had a flair for the dramatics. Once all members of the spider had finished reconvening at the empty theatre to gather their spoils it wasn’t long before someone, probably Uvogin, brought out the drinks. Nobunaga had already begun nursing a rum and coke, all while Feitan kept turning down Shal’s insistence to “Just try some, Fei,” Even Shizuku cracked open one of the ice-cold bottles, knocking back an impressive swig. As soon as you saw Machi pulling out a deck of cards you knew you had to stay for the after party.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of your leader. He’d gone to his room with the book you recovered tucked under his arm. A few other members who couldn’t be bothered took after your leader and went off to whichever side room they’d stashed a futon in the week prior; the Phantom Troupe’s equivalent of picking out a bedroom. A shame, really. You’d seen Feitan drunk once before and it was truly a sight to behold.

You sat crosslegged on the wooden floor, watching your comrades slowly get comfortable for a night of fun. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat above you, looking up to see Pakunoda with a soft smile on her face and an opened beer in her outstretched hand.

“Paku, have I ever told you how much I love you?” You couldn’t help but shower the woman with praise. She had been the one who recommended you to Chrollo after all, and she served as your mentor for your first few months until you found your feet.

She scoffed at the compliment, “Far too much,”

Sticking your tongue out playfully at the mindreader, you took a deep sip of beer, enjoying the familiar taste. Paku sat down beside you and it wasn’t long before the two of you were drinking shoulder to shoulder.

“Machi! Deal us in,” You raised your drink to the transmuter and she flicked two cards towards you both.

Scooting away from Paku, you quickly scanned the cards you’d received before pressing them face down. A queen and an ace. Not great, but not awful either.

The others had formed a haphazard circle, each glancing at their cards with an unreadable poker face. Well, all except Hisoka, who seemed pleased as punch with whatever hand he’d been dealt. Silently, Nobunaga took out two coins and threw them into the center— the Troupe’s house rules counting it to be equivalent to 2 billion jenny.

“Call,” you answered, matching the swordsman’s bet with an unreadable expression on your face.

“Oh? Well then, I’ll raise you,” Hisoka purred, pushing five extra chips into the pot without breaking his gaze from yours.

‘What was he planning?’ That smug look of his just made you want to win that much more. The same seemed to be true of everyone else, each calling the clown’s bet in a row. After all, to a member of the Phantom Troupe, five billion jenny wasn’t that much of a loss.

When Machi turned up the first three cards your heart skipped a beat. Two queens and a seven. Winning a round of poker against some of the smartest criminals the world had ever known was an uphill battle, seeing as how you’d been a member for years without winning a single game.

‘Three of a kind already... what should I do?’ Your face was as stone-cold as before, even with the excitement bubbling in your gut. As nonchalantly as you could, you raised another two billion. At that, Uvo and Shizuku both folded, the enhancer grumbling with a disappointed frown.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I haven’t got enough coins~” Hisoka slapped down a twenty, and a chorus of annoyed groans broke out like a choir, the abandoned theatre’s acoustics amusingly echoed the loud noises of displeasure.

After that little stunt only three others remained: Pakunoda, who’s facade hadn’t cracked all game, Nobunaga, who was glaring daggers at Hisoka, and the aforementioned magician holding up his cards in front of him like a child playing for the first time.

All three of you matched his bet, but none were happy about it. As Machi flipped over the fourth card you found yourself holding your breath. Not because you particularly cared about the money at stake, but because you felt closer to a victory than you had in months. The caricature of a medieval jester being illuminated under the light made you dig your nails into the palm of your hand.

Joker. That meant you had four queens.

It never felt harder to fight a smile off your face than in that moment. Without betraying your excitement, you called, and to your surprise so did Hisoka. Was he bluffing? Or did he have something else in mind? Nobunaga took a deep breath, knocking back the rest of his drink before calling alongside Pakunoda.

All eyes were on the card beneath Machi’s fingertips, the seconds it took to turn the paper on its head filled the theatre with a suspense liable to bring its fragile walls to the ground.

An eight of hearts. Oh well, no big deal.

Nobunaga muttered a curse under his breath, revealing a simple jack and ten of the same suit. Pakunoda was unreadable when she showed the pair of kings she held in her hands. She must’ve thought that the three of a kind would’ve won her the game. The smile on your face felt sweeter after holding it in the whole round, and Nobunaga rolled his eyes when he saw your hand, pushing the pot towards you.

“Well, look at that~” Your victory was interrupted by Hisoka’s insufferable tone, the cards he held up making your jaw drop.

A nine and a jack of hearts. A straight flush.

“That’s bullshit!” You cried, enraged over the loss. It wasn’t even that you cared so much about losing, It only mattered because you lost to him. In an instant you had summoned your nen into the palms of your hands, ready to lunge at the clown when Pakunoda grasped your shoulders, holding you back. Sometimes you forgot how much brute strength was hidden under that pantsuit.

“Just flip a coin, don’t give him what he wants.” Your first reaction was to ignore her, squirming against her iron grip to try and get to Hisoka, who was dramatically scooping all your winnings into his arms.

Uvogin tossed yet another empty beer can over his head, “C’mon Paku, I say let ‘em fight,”

“I concur~” The magician chirped, dramatically stacking each and every coin he’d won while boring his yellow eyes right into yours. His tongue parted his lips, a manic excitement hiding behind the coy expression.

Although every muscle in your body screamed at you to rip into him, you knew you wouldn’t win. He knew your abilities and you couldn’t say for certain you knew all of his.

“Never-mind,” You spat the words out at him like they tasted sour, “You’d probably get off on it anyways.”

A few laughs from the peanut gallery followed your words and Hisoka shrugged, the intense bloodlust from a few seconds ago vanishing as if he’d changed his mind about fighting you on a whim. “You may be right, darling,” your face scrunched up at the nickname you knew he only used to get on your nerves, which it did. “but what if we played a different game?”

Despite how badly you just wanted to ignore him and laugh the night away with all but one of your comrades, you couldn’t turn down the idea of a rematch. Your pride wasn’t nothing to you. “What kind of game?” You asked hesitantly.

He hummed, standing up from the towers of coin he’d made, sauntering over to the cooler of drinks Franklin had provided. After digging around the cold box he pulled out a bottle of fruity tequila and two empty shot glasses.

Your eyes narrowed at the “innocent” smile on his face, looking over to Pakunoda for reassurance.

“You’ll kill him if he spikes my drink, right?” You asked your mentor, who nodded resolutely.

Paku was staring at Hisoka like she was already thinking of ten different ways how to kill him. After sizing him up she flashed you a reassuring nod, “Without question.”

Resolute in your decision, you marched forward, snatching one of the shot glasses from his hand. The stage lights shone above him, making his eyes gleam like the plastic gloss of a doll.

“Shall we begin, then?”

You raised an eyebrow, “What are the rules first?”

He waved his hand in the air, brushing it off, “Nothing too complex, I assure you. The first one who taps out will lose. The loser will do something for the winner. That’s all.”

You still weren’t convinced it could be that simple. “What’s the catch?”

That smirk from before returned to his painted face and he suddenly leaned forward, feeling far too close for comfort. Still, you didn’t step away, your face expressionless as he whispered into your ear. If you did you felt like he’d somehow win whatever stand-still the two of you had on.

“If I lose, I’ll leave the Phantom Troupe,” You reeled away, stunned at his declaration.

Being accepted into the Troupe was the best moment of your life, it always would be. When you looked into the mirror at the tattoo that curled under your ribcage you felt such a warm swell of pride. You couldn’t imagine throwing it all away over some drinking game.

“And...” You blinked rapidly, trying to collect yourself, “If I lose?”

The laugh that echoed from his chest was far from reassuring.

The evening slowly ran into the early morning, each of the other Troupe members wandering off eventually in varying stages of drunkenness. Even Pakunoda headed off to bed after confirming that Hisoka hadn’t spiked your drinks with anything other than a strawberry vodka base. It was unnerving at first, to be completely alone with Omokage’s replacement. Luckily his tastes ran strong, and your vision was spinning before your knew it.

“Match.” Another shot went down your throats, the taste disgustingly sweet, and you watched as his Adam’s apple tensed from the burn.

You’d long since stopped counting how many drinks you’d had, losing track once you got to the double digits. You were both using nen to reinforce yourselves, obviously, but it wasn’t infallible.

‘How is he so good at this?’ You wondered, because as the bottle ran low you started to question just what had made you so confident as to enter a bet with Hisoka in the first place.

“My dear, why not rest for a minute? At least try to enjoy each others company?” His legs were crossed, resting his hand on his palm as he not-so-subtly checked you out. It wasn’t uncommon, and certainly not unexpected from someone like him, but what you hated wasn’t just the nerve of him, but how it made you feel. His scrutiny sent chills down your spine, the unnerving edge to his tone only making you shift your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,” you knocked back two consecutive shots, unable to hide the wince it caused on your face. Good, you wanted it to sting. Anything to take your mind off the magician in front of you.

He pouted as he poured another row of drinks, “Aw, now why’s that?”

You answered his question with another, pointing towards the half-empty bottle of liquor, “Whats in this, really?”

The magician rolled his eyes, “I did pick an unopened bottle for a reason, dear, I do so want you to trust me.”

Without much fanfare he threw back four shots, over your stunned reaction.

“Just give up already, Darling~ I promise to make it worth your while,” You were reaching your limit for sure, but you were far to stubborn to give up without a fight.

“Fuck you,” you took the first of your next four shots slowly, not managing his fast pace.

He grinned a cheshire smile, “Oh, say that again, will you?”

If he were to call you out on the blush slowly spreading across your nose you’d just blame the alcohol, but the truth was that his words just egged you on even more to the point where you were almost—barely even considering...

“What do you mean, make it worth my while?”

He leaned forward like a cat, agile and silent, whispering his words against your temple, “I’ll tell you how I won that hand,” He got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“You’ll tell me how you cheated?”

Hisoka nodded, a clawed hand coming to stroke a stray piece of hair behind your ear, the action far too intimate for someone like him.

There was no way you’d win against him in this match, that much was clear from the very sober way Hisoka held himself against you, inhumanly still, so what did you have to lose?

‘Your dignity,’ A part of you answered back, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d left your dignity behind four shots ago.

“If I lose...”

“If you lose,” He mouthed the words into your cheek, his eyes closed in thought, “You do know what I’ve decided my prize shall be, right?” Of course you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, and the way he nuzzled himself into your neck was far from subtle.

Were you actually so desperate to learn how you lost that you’d sleep with him?

No, you weren’t. But the ache between your legs was getting harder to ignore, and the idea that you could write off what you were about to do behind the excuse of gathering intel sounded like a win-win.

You dug your hands into his hair, not trying to be anything but rough, basking in the moan that spilled from his lips, breath hot against your neck before you yanked him back to meet your gaze.

“Fine. You win, Hisoka,” He smirked, and although he was on his knees he still towered over you, “so how did you cheat?”

Before you could blink his hand had wrapped around your throat, the magician slamming your head into the wood of the stage. You’d had plenty of time to block the damage with your hatsu but the action left your brain rattling inside your skull.

“I’ll tell you later,” He promised, the disorienting blur was slow to fade from the alcohol, and distantly you could feel his other hand stroke your face, his nails like filed daggers trailing over your cheekbones.

“What to do with my prize, then, hm?” He mused, tilting your head from left to right as if examining a block of wood he was about to carve. You coughed on impulse when he let go of your neck, guiding it up instead and taking both your small hands into his palm with an iron grip.

With a flick of his wrist he drew a card, the eight of hearts, seemingly out of nowhere, his nen sharpening it into a thin blade, “Don’t move,”

“Wait... Hisoka, don’t—!” You were far too late to stop him, the frigid air of the ghostly theatre rushing to meet the bare skin of your chest.

Your shirt fell to ribbons along with your bra and you thrashed desperately in his grasp, angry over the loss of your favorite top. He paid your escape attempt no mind, enraptured with the way your tits rose and fell with the timing of your breath and the way you tried to wriggle yourself free.

Still holding your hands to the floor above you, his head bent to wrap a skilled tongue around your tits, a soft sigh involuntarily falling away from you.

“I fuckin’ ha-ate you, Hisoka—ah,” His teeth bit down on your peak at the comment, peering up at you from under his fiery hair.

“Oh? Then why is it you’re moaning like a little whore?” He shifted his weight above you and you saw an opportunity.

You kicked with all your strength between his legs, pulling your knee back and shoving him off with a dig of your shoe into his stomach, “I’m not, don’t call me that shit!”

He actually loosened his grip on you clearly not intending for you to get free from his grasp, a choked sound of what you thought was pain devolving to something much more heated as he stared into you.

“You... are well worth the wait, my dear,” His bloodlust seeped out from every pore, grounding you to the spot. You could usually hold your own against someone like him but it wasn’t hard to see the disadvantage you were at.

Within a fraction of a second he was on you, twisting your waist in his clawed grasp until your ass was hiked into the air, a sharpened playing card slicing through the denim until he could rip it from your legs, yelp echoing like music in the long-silent theatre.

“I knew you’d have some fight left in you,” He crawled forward and you started to realize why he wore exclusively baggy pants, his length hot against you through the fabric as his hips caged you in. As he began to remove that street-performer getup he always wore he’d occasionally curl his hand around your waist to mercifully tug on your ignored clit, your groans muffled and cursed, “I love it. That resilience? It just turns me on.”

You could feel your confidence fade as he tugged those sweatpants down, the weight of him grinding into your ass made all your bravado vanish.

“It will make it so much more satisfying...” He pointed his finger upwards, and suddenly your hands became magnetized to each other, no amount of struggle even budging the rubbery nen substance. “...when I break you.”

Without warning he slid himself inside you, hands holding your hips still as he forced your back into an arch. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, the flailing of your bound arms useless as he shallowly began pumping his cock deeper inside you.

Your muffled curses whispered into the floor made him laugh, pulling his hand back and cruelly slapping the vulnerable flesh of your ass without a warning.

“Wh.. Why?”

“Because, darling, I want to hear you beg for me.” He pouted, teasing your clenched walls with only the tip of his slick head.

Despite the desire coursing through your veins you still had your pride in tact, “Never gonna happen, asshole.”

Gripping your hips, he dug himself into your dripping cunt as far as he could, both of you unrestrained with a moan at the feeling of his cock brushing near your cervix, your hips traitorously snapping back to meet his eager thrusts, movement near impossible as Hisoka forced you into the ground.

You cried out softly with each quick pull and stretch, only able to say his name one syllable at a time,

“Hi-so—kah...” It was hard to turn your head to the side from his brutal pace but somehow you manage, craning yourself in order to see him; His head was thrown back with a sheer bliss softening his glistening skin, his eyes closed and lips parted. The sight made your keening grow louder, the simple image of him losing himself in your twitching pussy sending a wave of slick dripping around his length.

He must’ve felt your gaze on him because soon enough his was staring at you, his pupils blown wide with desire in a way that made them look like a sun eclipsed, black outlined with a ring of fiery gold.

All at once his hips froze, digging his cock so far as to leave an indent in your pelvis. For a confused second you thought he’d finished, but his gaze was cruel and focused, his lips in a smirk, and you felt no more full than you had a moment ago. He was doing this on purpose.

“Wait, no-nono, wh..y?” You hiccuped, taking his break as a moment to wipe unshed tears from your glossy eyes.

He sighed, “I don’t like repeating myself, darling,” He accentuated the infuriating nickname with a slap to your thigh, face unchanged as he trailed his sharpened fingertips along the reddening skin.

��His..oh.. fuck, Hisoka—“ The banished tears returned, falling silently down your pink face as you whispered, “please,”

“Hmm? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, my dear, mind saying that again?

Your voice hiccuped as you spoke, “Please, alright? Please,” You thought it’d be enough, that he might finally go back to toying with your clit while he fucked you into the old floorboards, but you’d underestimated the magician’s self-control.

Innocently, he tilted his head, “Please what, dear? Please hit you again?” Hisoka didn’t blink as he slowly brought up his palm, giving you plenty of time to try and wiggle free from your punishment just to show off how futile escape really was, lashing his hand down on the same patch of skin as before, grinning at the shriek he yanked from your lungs.

“No! No, fu-uck.. just—“ You whimpered, brain seemingly disconnected from your mouth as you struggled to form the words, “just fuck me, Hisoka, please.”

“Look at you, huh? You were a slut after all,” He purred, letting the weight of your words hang lifeless in the air along with your stubborn pride. Before you could argue again his hand had returned to your clit, pace unforgiving as he pulled your nerves ever closer to snapping only to halt the second he grew bored, “Say it,”

Mindlessly, you nodded your head, “I’m yours, I’m your slut, Hisoka,” you intentionally clenched yourself around him, mumbling lucid pleas for more as his hard cock twitched, pre cum dripping from your heat onto the floor as your conscience trying to deny what your body so willingly accepted, “want you to fuck me, Hisoka, fu-ck,” you whined, the still presence inside your sensitive walls drove you insane.

With each word a truly unhinged aura began to surround him, and by extension, you, the intoxicating menace dripping over you like a drug as you faced forward once again, wiggling your ass as best you could in his grip.

That was his breaking point, ripping you away from his cock only to drive himself back in, digging the full blade of his nails into your hips, blood pooling around the crescent cuts.

“Fuck, ah.. Darling, ‘doing so good, so good’fr me-ah,” He slurred his words together, more drunk on you than the vodka as he leaned back, forcing you to meet him as his thrusts became so quick that it was getting hard to breathe, your ribcage creaking with discomfort as you were nailed into the stage.

“M..o-re, more...” You begged, and he was happy to oblige. the smearing crimson of blood running hot down your thighs, the pain only making you more pliant in his sculptor’s hands as he folded your body however he liked, ignoring your pained weep from the stretch as he slung one of your bleeding legs over his shoulder.

It was almost weird to hear him say your actual name, so often he used a pet name to mock or flirt with you, sometimes both, “So good for me like this, taking me so goo-uh,” He choked on his words as your cunt tightened around him, your hands clinging for balance in his hair, and Hisoka clearly didn’t mind if the slew of moans from his lips was any indication.

The angle his hips cut into had the edges of your vision turning into a vignette, “I’m close, so close, gonna cum inside you, yeah? Right here,” The hand that had been toying with your clit changed angles, his fingertips spinning spirals onto your aching bud while the flat of his hand pushed against your stomach, your shout swallowed by his pretty lips, tongue toying with yours.

“Ye-es cum inn-side me,” You were too far gone to care, anything he said sounded good as long as he said it in that sultry purr, arms numb as they lay suspended above your head.

“Take it, take it, Darling,” With what little strength you had left you curved your calf beside his neck, pulling him in until his cock brushed your cervix, the pain indistinguishable from the pleasure, “Uhn, cumm-fuck, i’m cumming—“

His cum was thick, the curve of his cock jutting inside you as he filled you up, mercifully swallowing your hallowed scream as he kissed you deeply, almost all feeling in your raised leg lost until he lowered it to his waist, involuntarily snapping his hips up although they had nowhere left to go until your moan turned into a broken sob of lingering bliss.

“Shh, dear, I’ve got you,” With a whirl of his wrist your arms were free of his bungee gum, shakily pulling them to your sides again as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, whispering a slurred mess of sweet words, stopping to suck a particularly deep hickey into the vein of your flesh.

“Hisoka, quit it!” Your fight had returned along with feeling to your fingertips as you wrenched him back by the hair, his cock jumping.a bit inside you at the grip, “I’ll have to wear sweaters for weeks now, you jerk.”

The capillaries had already begun to burst as he laughed, reaching up behind your head to pull his discarded top forward, digging out what looked like a piece of smooth cleaning cloth from its pocket and lying it over your neck with a simple point of his finger, gyo revealing the pink gum of his aura that controlled it before he smoothed the fabric over your skin, the texture so light you could barely feel it.

“A deal’s a deal, love, I’ll tell you how I cheated,” He smiled as satisfied and smug as he could ever be, a tingling sensation overtaking the patch of covered skin.

As he pulled your hand away you ran your fingers over the cloth, not finding a seam among the normal tone of your chest. Eyes wide as you looked at him for answers he was already happy to provide, “It’s called texture surprise. I can apply it to any flat surface and change its appearance. It’s quite handy,”

“It works on skin, paper, even playing cards,” You felt like an idiot. During the match you kept analyzing him for a sleight of hand trick all while he was using a second nen technique to win. It was so simple but genius, and you felt a little bit better knowing you weren’t outwitted by something obvious.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,”

He chuckled, kissing along the new unblemished canvas of your neck, “I know~”

#hisoka x reader #hisoka x reader smut #hisoka morrow #hisoka morrow x reader #hisoka morrow x reader smut #phantom troupe #hxh fanfic #hxh #hunter x hunter

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mitsukui · 3 years

Text

cherry explosion | b.w.

Pairing: Bill Weasley x female reader.

Summary: unexpectedly, Bill finds a way to give you the best New Year’s Eve you have ever had.

Word Count: 1,7k.

Warnings: smut! Oral sex (female receiving). Mentions of alcohol, drinking, and one-night stands ending badly.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: sending all of my love to those who are spending their New Year’s Eve by themselves! Dear @maddi-sun18, thank you so much for the request, and I hope this can bring you some comfort. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Sometimes, it was so easy to read men. Their actions were so predictable, and they never failed to act exactly the same as the ones who had been there previously.

You wondered if there was some sort of training for young gentlemen on how to pick up girls at hotel bars. There seemed to be four steps for a man to follow in order to get lucky: one – exchange looks with the chosen pretty girl; two – lure the prey by offering her a fizzy and fruity drink; three – make small conversation, and say she is different from any other girl in the room; and, finally, four – get into her panties.

All of that was bullshit, and you would never fall for it.

And, perhaps, that was why you panicked a bit when a painfully attractive man approached you in a different way.

“Hey.” He shot you a small, yet, charming smile. “Do you mind if I sit here? If I listen to Patricia Rakepick talking about her adventures in Japan for one more bit, I might die.”

Both of you were taking part in an international conference on Curse-Breaking. The event had gathered wizards and witches from all around the globe, which caused Gringotts to rent a few areas on a muggle hotel in London for it. Although it was a knotty task for so many people to act as if they had no magical powers rushing through their veins, every participant seemed to be doing well on their own.

His presence there was perfectly reasonable, once he was a Curse-Breaker himself. Yours, however, was a bit questionable. You, as a columnist for the Daily Prophet, had been asked to cover the event, and could not be any less excited about it.

It was New Year’s Eve. All you wanted to do was go home to your family and friends.

While many people were not shy on showing their personal preference for Christmas, you were crazy about New Year’s Eve. The upcoming novel 365 days for you to live as if they were your last, the fancy dresses you always insisted on wearing, the taste of fizzy and fruity drinks lingering in your mouth until January 1st – all of that meant something to you, as brainless as it sounded.

Your peevish ways were soon destroyed by his sudden presence and polite attitudes. After you agreed with his company, it did not take long until you were laughing about the event and the people attending it.

As a matter of fact, Curse-Breakers were rather odd and monotonous people. The man with fiery, long hair seemed to be a clear exception to them, with his exotic fang earring, and his dragonhide boots. He also was to be the only good-looking one in that crowded bar, in that stupidly sophisticated hotel.

He was surprising you second by second. Breaking every single trait of loathing you had piled up for men, due to failed relationships and other women’s reports, he was showing himself as a funny and respectful man.

Between a few drinks, you had talked about his insanely big family, your repetitive daily life, his experiences in Egypt, and how you accidently had Apparated in Colombia once, being left without any knowledge of Spanish.

There was something sweet and intoxicating about him; about the way he asked to hold your hand while you were talking, and about the way he confessed and apologized for being unable to stop staring at your lips and wondering what they felt like.

“They probably taste like cherries now.” You leaned in and whispered, the dizzy sensation caused by your Cherry Bomb drink starting to tingle your insides. In a bold movement, you took your cocktail glass towards him. With your other hand, you touched his chin, and pushed it down a bit, forcing his mouth to part open. Your gaze transformed itself into a flirty one, and you told him to sip your drink so he could get a better grasp on what you tasted like.

It did not take long for you to crash your lips against his after that. You felt comfortable doing exactly what you were doing. You felt like you were in command of your own feelings. There was no stupid game of prey and hunter. There was no lie being told so one would get lucky.

At that moment, there were only two adults, being nice to each other and understanding their desires fully.

Unlike so many other men, he had respected you and, in the midst of slightly drunken kisses and touches, he kept on trying to be certain you were okay and you really wanted that.

Bill was briefly tipsy as well, his tongue tasting like the scotch he had earlier. The mixture between your cherry-like taste and his own made you feel like you were in heaven, although his kisses were growing to be hungry and more desperate.

Half an hour later, your hair spread across the pillow he was temporarily using for sleeping purposes. Your dress had been lifted up until your stomach, and your underwear was now nowhere to be found.

His soft hands roamed around your inner thighs as his tongue lapped your juices. Surprisingly, he was terrific at that, and you suspected you would crave more once he was done.

As he gave short licks to your clit and his tongue ran around your folds, two of his fingers were inserted in you. You arched your back, and reached out for his hair. You allowed your own fingers to tug delicately on his locks, his name leaving your lips religiously. He kept on pumping in and out of you, the pressure on your soft spot increasing each time.

The burning knot in your loins became tighter, and he adored how you clenched your walls around him so strongly. You were a mumbling, breathy mess, but he was entirely mesmerized by the sight, and the intimacy you were sharing.

Almost as if destiny was playing a prank on you, when you hit your first orgasm, fireworks started exploding outside the window of his hotel room. You squeezed your eyes shut, and cried out in the greatest pleasure you had ever felt in your entire life.

Slurping and sinful noises were produced as you came back from your high, still moaning. Your entire body trembled violently, but his big hands soothed your delicious torture.

He looked at you and chuckled quietly, your fluids still hanging on his lips, making them even more kissable than before. You were stunning in his eyes, and he feared not being able to let you go after the morning would come.

“Happy New Year, darling.”

January 1st came as softly and quietly as it possibly could. You dozed off in his arms after you spent a bit watching the fireworks show, and talking as well. The fact he was a grown man, but still could hold a decent conversation for so long, without any visible struggles was amusing.

You woke up to the next morning weak daylight peeking through the curtains and tickling your cheeks. Something inside your chest felt amazing. Flashes of the previous night appeared in your mind, and you could not hold a smile back. Funny enough, the taste of your Cherry Bomb drink still lingered faintly on your tongue.

However, all of your peace of mind vanished in the very instant you realized you had woken up by yourself. Waves of embarrassment and regret crashed in your heart, and you felt ridiculous for falling for all of the sweet nothings that had escaped his lips.

“Yes, that would be all. Yes. Room 716. Thank you very much.”

His enchanting voice shattered your own trance into a million pieces, and his bare footsteps announced he was returning to the same spot where you were at. You pulled the white sheets up and covered your naked torso, still unsure of how you would have to deal with the rising tension of the situation.

He soon captured the image of you being up and a glorious grin painted his lips. “Good morning.” His lower body was covered by a pair of dark jeans, which seemed to embrace his existence perfectly well, despite being different from the visual image he displayed last night. How was it possible for someone to look that good early in the morning? Or was it really early? What time was it? What did happen after the fireworks? With a timid voice, you wished him a good morning, too, but remained silent afterwards. It was difficult for you to ponder your next actions.

“So, the room service guys will be here shortly. I took the freedom to order us some breakfast.” His eyes gleamed with a pure kindness as the words slipped out of his lips. “I hope you fancy some orange juice in the morning.” He was offering you nothing but soft spoken words, and thoughtful actions

What was that?!

“B-Breakfast?” You repeated the key word of the whole conversation in surprise. No one had ever prepared, or even ordered, you breakfast after a night of sex and lust.

“Yeah.” Bill was quick to notice your tone of surprise and, somehow, it was funny to him. A girl like you, whom had shown him nothing but a great personality so far, should be used to being pampered like that. “Did you think for one second that I’d just eat you out like that, and leave you hanging the next morning?”

Honestly? Yes. You did think of that. You feared you would be tricked once more. One more disappointment to be added to your personal archive. One more reason to continue living your life despising men.

His arms were crossed against his chest and he shook his head, a dismissive, short laugh echoing through the room. “I would be mental if I ever did that. In a few hours, you managed to wow me.”

He made his way to the bed, and his body sank down on the mattress, being placed right next to yours. Truth being told, without the alcohol, you felt quite shy being that close to such a handsome man. “And, if you allow me to, I want to continue seeing you. I want to get to know more of you.”

A snuggly heat erupted in you, and it was a novel sensation for you. Perhaps, not all men had those devilish ways in them.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I really feel like kissing you right now. But, given your astonished behaviors, I’m not sure if you’d enjoy that. What do you tell me?”

Perhaps, this new year would not be so terrible.

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley fluff #bill weasley #bill weasley smut #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #smut #🌼 — personal: writings

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thebreakfastgenie · 2 years

Note

How about Sidney for the ask meme?

I was so annoying about this I got like four of these so I love you all ❤️ I’m answering this one because it’s the original that tumblr tried to eat, but I might do partial answers on some of the others too because I love him.

favorite thing about them

He cares about his patients so much. I get the sense he takes every case personally. He’s deeply involved, he gets down in the hole with them and gets dirty. He feels their pain and he feels such genuine joy when he’s able to help them. For the most part, I think he’s able to maintain appropriate boundaries, but I think he’s always kind of on the line and sometimes he crosses into dangerous territory in terms of being too involved. I think he’s a lot like Hawkeye and he’s more well-adjusted but he still has some of those tendencies.

least favorite thing about them

Does hypnosis and thinks it works.

favorite line

“Ladies and gentlemen, take my advice: pull down your pants and slide on the ice.” I have others too but you can get those on the other asks lol. This line is just fun and it rhymes and I knew he was going to say it in GFA. And I love how much Alan Alda loves it.

brOTP

Sidney and Hawkeye’s relationship is so interesting I could write pages (I already have). But at the heart of it all is a really good friendship. Hawkeye and Sidney have a lot in common, in terms of values and personality, and they’re both from the Northeast, and they really like and respect each other. If Hawkeye hadn’t needed Sidney’s help as a doctor I think they’d just be good friends longterm, but what happens complicates their relationship in sad and interesting ways. I’m obsessed.

OTP

Sidney has a baby son at home so I assume he’s married and in my head he just has a happy, solid marriage. I think I read a fic once where his wife’s name was Molly and I’ve been running with it ever since. So my OTP is Sidney and his spouse that we know literally nothing about who I’ve been constricting in my head. Lol.

nOTP

Hawkeye/Sidney I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: they have enough ethical violations without sleeping together.

random headcanon

His son’s name is Jacob.

unpopular opinion

I enjoy the memes about him being fruity but for me they’re just memes. I can easily see him being bi and he’s flirty but I don’t think he ever acts on anything with anyone in Korea.

song i associate with them

I can’t think of one but I have Quinn the Eskimo stuck in my head while filling this out for some reason.

favorite picture of them

That shot of him mirroring Hawkeye’s posture in GFA is the best thing I’ve ever seen.

#mashposting

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ariesbilly · 2 years

Text

Heather with s3 robin specifically wouldve been so fun cuz robins the snarky girl right? She’s the chill cool girl who just hangs back and gives everyone shit and comes across like she’s got her shit together and sits in judgement of everyone else

BUT the second heather comes through all confidence and flirting robin short circuits because she doesn’t actually have any experience with girls so having a really pretty popular one give her attention is too much for her brain to handle and she gets all flustered and rosy cheeked and every coherent thought flies out of her head and billy and Steve totally call her out on it and make fun of her but the second heathers backs turned robins mouthing at them “I will kill you” and making a slicing motion over her throat and she’s so deadly serious for that split second before heathers facing her again and then she’s right back to being all gooey

#nothing but respect for MY fruity four

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cyndalyssa · 3 years

Text

Oh, Look, Another Darkwing Drabble

This one’s a snippet of a bigger story in my head, based on the idea of Bushroot going massive mindless monstrosity.

I dunno if I’ll ever write the rest of the story down, my life tends to get a little busy and I already have a lot of ideas I want to make in my free time, but I at least wanted to exercise the writing muscles.

All was quiet at the Museum of Failed Experiments. The dark of night gave the appearance of rest to each polished display, even those that were still lit. Though dignified it looked, the place was home to quite a bit of failure, hence the name. Each wing, covering branches of science and engineering, was a hall of shame, showing off embarrassments, tragedies, and unfinished projects to the citizens of St. Canard.

It was at this scene that the night guards present had unfortunate encounters. A flower that sprayed sleeping gas, a stun gun, a joy buzzer that ended in instant knockout, being washed into a closet by water from the drinking fountain, and just getting hit by a mallet were their fates, and they were swiftly locked up by the intruders.

The Fearsome Five then had the place to themselves.

As they met up in the lobby, Megavolt couldn’t help but look up, in awe of the enormity of it. “Wowza, they really went all out on this place!” He glanced back at the corridor from whence he came and smiled. “They’ve got gizmos and gadgets aplenty!”

Quackerjack bounced to his side. “And whozits and whatzits galore!”

“They got thingamabobs?”

“Psht, at least twenty!”

Megavolt laughed. “I can’t believe they gave up on some of these! I oughta grab ‘em and show everyone how it’s done!”

Quackerjack grinned. “Oh, I feel you, Sparky! In fact, I’m getting quite a bit of inspiration myself from doodads like the fruit-flavored fireworks! Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo, can you just imagine a literal explosion of fruity goodness?”

Megavolt narrowed his eyes, his plug hat sparking and an irritated growl in his voice. “How many times have I told you not to call me Sparky?”

“Not like you can remember.”

Cutting between them, the Liquidator piped in, “Fruit-flavored fireworks? The phenomenon of the century, guaranteed to sweeten up your 4th of July celebrations! Comes in apple, cherry, grape, and blue raspberry.”

Bushroot scratched his head. “I’m just wondering how the inventor expected that to work. What kind of chemistry was involved?”

Negaduck rolled his eyes. “Blegh, of course you dweebs get hopped up on exploding fruit snacks. Now remember, children, we’re not here for the fireworks, we’re here for the portal gun that’s supposed to be displayed here… and I expect you to be looking for it!”

The other four silently stared at him for a moment, glanced at each other, and then back to him. Then, Megavolt asked, “Well, what does it look like?”

“It’s red and vaguely gun-shaped, with a spinny thing at the end,” Negaduck answered in baby-talk. Then he snapped, “I’m sure you could figure it out from the display name! Now, get to searching!”

Negaduck stormed upstairs. Quackerjack and Megavolt rushed to the technology wing--partially running from Negaduck, partially rushing to see what kind of doodads they could see. Perhaps even take some and modify them for later mischief.

Liquidator was about to flow down another hall when he noticed Bushroot at the directory. The plant duck glanced the direction of the hall that Quackerjack and Megavolt rushed down, and then up the stairs that Negaduck had descended. Then, almost sneakily, he went in the opposite direction and toward the natural science and chemistry wing.

Curious, Liquidator decided to follow him, and had caught up in a second. “One in ten customers would say that this portal gun is not in this wing, Bushroot.”

Bushroot flinched at the sudden voice, but quickly regained his composure. “Well, uh… when studying the map earlier, I recall that the storage room was somewhere in this direction. It could be in there.”

Liquidator raised a watery eyebrow. “You want an excuse to look around, huh?”

Bushroot glanced away. “Well… it couldn’t hurt. I mean, I’m curious and I don’t know when I’ll be able to have another opportunity for a museum visit.” He looked back to see Liquidator still staring like a disappointed parent. “But I do think storage is in this wing, honest!”

“Hm. Well, if it’s in this direction, why not treat yourself to this once-in-a-lifetime super private tour? Just don’t get too distracted, and it’ll be between you and me.”

“O-oh, that’s no problem. I’m a pretty fast reader.”

The two mutants wandered around the natural science and chemistry wing, looking for a door or hall or basement staircase that led to that storage room. However, Liquidator was doing most of the looking, sweeping around the rooms quickly, while Bushroot, though still looking at the walls in hopes of spotting the passage they were looking for, was circling displays in fascination. There were models and pictures of odd creatures or monstrosities, as well as deformed skeletons of unfortunate souls. He read about attempts to clone prehistoric plants and even animals, a tale of a man who accidentally fused himself with a fly, and the horror of radioactive moss. On occasion, he’d stumble on a display involving water, and invite Likki to take a look.

Every so often, Liquidator would look to see what Bushroot was doing. There were moments that Bushroot seemed to be genuinely looking for that storage room--such as now, when walking along the wall of glass cases full of more experiments, he paused at a gap in the wall, looking at a door, but saw that it was an emergency exit and then moved on. Otherwise, the plant duck was more invested in the science that surrounded him, which Likki had a little trouble relating to. While some of the stuff involving water was interesting, he otherwise didn’t care for the biological stuff that Bushroot was so entranced by.

Meanwhile, so far, the only doors they had found were emergency exits, but nothing leading to any storage or basement at some point. Liquidator was almost of the mind that Bushroot duped him, but Bushy wasn’t like that.

At some point, when Liquidator finally found a hallway that looked promising, Bushroot suddenly cried, “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Alarmed, Likki splashed his way to where Bushroot stood, at a display in the corner about biological chemical disasters. The plant duck was looking quite offended, glaring at one particular shelf where a green substance, surrounded by plant models and photos of a strange machine, sat. Likki took a closer look at the label, which read:

Chloroplast Infusion Solution, Dr. Reginald Bushroot, Ph.D

Skimming over the description of the substance, what it was supposed to do, and how it backfired, Likki just glanced over to Bushroot, who held his head in his leafy hands.

“How humiliating! I can’t believe I made it into the Hall of Shame!”

Likki patted him on the back. “Aw, Bushy, do not fret! After all, you’ve gotten an upgrade! Who needs a normal sad sap scientist when you can have a super plant that can grow a forest with just a thought?”

A sharp glare arose from Bushroot’s palms. “I just wanted to alleviate world hunger… and, uh, maybe get a little respect…”

“Respect, huh?” Likki shook his head. “I’m sure with your power, you can easily command it.”

“There is a difference between respect and fear.”

“Hm. Well, as Bud Flud, I was just a salesman trying to keep my business afloat; but as the Liquidator, I became master of all liquids, one with the water, and a force to be reckoned with!” A sphere of water detached from Likki’s hand and revolved around it. “I know my power, and I revel in it.”

He grabbed the sphere, reabsorbing it. “As for you… well, you’ve got potential, but you lack nerve. Someday, I’d like to see you cut loose, show them what Bushroot is really capable of.”

Bushroot glanced at him, pondering on whether he should remind Liquidator of Negaduck and their shared fear of him, but decided against it. He crossed his arms. “Fine, whatever you say.”

He went back to glaring at the display of his fateful project. “If those two ignoramuses had just minded their own business and not made me look bad in front of the dean, then I would’ve still had the funding to test on the lab rats instead of myself. You know, catch the kinks and find a way to iron them out. But… here I am now.”

“I’d say that career change was for the better.”

“But I liked being a scientist… sure, I hated my coworkers--except one--but I love science.”

Likki shrugged. “Life sucks and we just gotta roll with the punches.” He turned around and marched toward that one hallway. “Now, come on, there’s a storage room calling our names, and who knows when the purple menace will pop in.”

Bushroot sighed, taking one last look at his experiment’s exhibit. “All right, I’ll stop wasting ti--”

He stopped when he caught a name on the display right next to his. Eyes boggling, he grabbed the bottle from that shelf and shouted, “Goodness grapevines! He has one here too?”

Likki stopped and turned around. “Inquiring minds must know… who’s he?”

Bushroot gestured to the name on the display, which, when Likki took a closer look, read ‘Dr. Arthur Bones’. “He was my rival back in college, and he was one of the meanest, most condescending jerks that I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. I don’t know what I ever did to him, but sometimes it felt like it was his life’s mission just to convince me that everything I do is stupid and dangerous. Hmph, at least my buddy Andrew had my back.”

Liquidator rubbed his chin. “You just have a way of attracting bullies, don’t you? At the very least, you can take some joy that Dr. Bones is also in the Hall of Shame!”

“Yeah, I guess I could.” Bushroot looked at the label on the bottle, brow furrowed in confusion. “Although I do wonder what he was doing making fertilizer. Last I remember, he was into genetics--especially studies on mutations and defects.”

“For more information, check the description--it’s right there.”

Bushroot turned to the description and read aloud, “‘In 1990, a miracle growth formula invented by Dr. Bones took several western states by storm. With a natural sweet scent and potent power, it improved the lives of gardeners everywhere by making plants healthier, stronger, and sturdier against disease and pests, and helping them to grow faster than normal’.” He scratched his chin and nodded. “Well, now I’m tempted to bring it home with me and see what my plants think.”

Liquidator chuckled. “Oh, I bet they’d love it! The amazing miracle fertilizer, guaranteed to create a happy and hearty garden!”

“Ee-hee, it does sound great.” Bushroot’s smile fell into a frown as he turned back to the description. “But this is a Museum of Failed Experiments, so there is a catch here... ‘While at first it seemed to be a blessing, it soon proved to be dangerous for people, as proven with the Mallard High School Football Team during the fall of 1990. Reports of--’”

“I am the terror that flaps in the night!”

The sudden voice from nowhere made them jump. Bushroot even ended up tossing the bottle of fertilizer into the air. He didn’t even hear the second part of the introduction, too distracted by gravity smashing the bottle onto his head. The glass shattered, and fertilizer splashed everywhere on him and the floor, leaving him a dripping mess. His roots started lapping up the puddle that remained.

“I am… Darkwing Duck!”

#darkwing duck #fearsome five #bushroot #liquidator #megavolt #quackerjack #negaduck #drabble #lyssa writes #wishing i had more time and motivation to write

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Cherry Red (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: Cherry Red Rating: Explicit Length: 4700 Warnings: Smut (Bathroom sex ‘nuff said) Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set later summer 1998. Reader’s outfit can be found here. Check out the NSFW ABCs. Summary: Javier and Reader enjoy a night out with Connie and Steve.

“Babe,” You started, using your tongue to catch the straw, taking a sip before you sat it down on the table. “What’s your favorite color?”

Javier’s brows drew together as he leaned over to give Sofía a handful of broken up animal crackers. He pursed his lips, “It depends.”

“Helpful.” You rolled your eyes, brushing your fingers through your hair as you rested your elbows on the table. “Maybe I want to buy something special…”

“Oh?” He smirked across the table at you. “Red.”

“That’s your favorite color?”

He shrugged, “You’ve got that one flannel shirt you wear.” Javier adjusted the straw in Sofía’s apple juice box, glancing back at you. “It’s red and it looks good on you.”

“I didn’t know you liked that.” You grinned a little, chewing on your bottom lip. “I don’t know if they have lumberjack chic, but I’ll check. Just for you.” You nudge his foot under the table. “You good to watch the girls for a couple minutes?”

He nodded, “Yeah, baby.”

Josie was dipping her chicken nuggets in her Szechuan Sauce, occupied with the cassette tape she was listening to. You could take her almost anywhere, so long as she had something to listen to.

Javier was already working on you about the Gameboy Color that was supposedly coming out around his birthday. He’d passed his Gameboy down to Josie — but she wasn't nearly as enthralled with it as he’d hoped. She liked her cassette tapes.

You finished your drink, rising to your feet and moving around the table to drape your arms over Javier’s shoulders, resting against his back. “Try not to pick up any women.”

Javier snorted, turning his head to kiss your cheek. “I’m only looking to pick you up, baby.”

You grinned at him as you brushed your fingers through his hair, “You know what the hot dad look does.”

“To you.”

“Nice save.” You laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you pulled away.

“Will I be getting a show tonight?” He questioned, turning around as you took a few steps backwards.

“Maybe.” With a wink, you turned away from him and headed through the mall towards the lingerie store where you’d already bought a decent collection of intimates.

You were looking forward to tonight. With the busyness of summer, vacations, work, and balancing everything neither of you had had much of a chance to have an evening out with the Murphys.

Connie had been dying for a night out for the past couple weeks and everything finally aligned. Monica and Nadia had agreed to watch all four girls.

“Welcome! Can I help you find anything in particular?” The shopgirl questioned as you strolled into the store. “We have a sale on our V-String Panties.”

You snapped your fingers and laughed, “You know… I’m not into feeling like my underwear is riding up my ass all day. But I appreciate the aesthetic.”

She laughed brightly, “Well what are you looking for? Are you shopping for yourself or a special someone?”

“Well, I’m looking for my own personal comfort… But yes, I am shopping for something to entertain him.” You folded your arms across your chest, glancing around the store. “We’ve had success with everything else I’ve bought here.”

“Always happy to have a returning customer,” She offered with a smile. “If thongs aren’t your style, we have a very nice collection of lacey intimates in different cuts. Boyshort, hipster, and so forth.”

“Oh!” You hummed thoughtfully, “I suppose a boyshort cut would be nice. I’m planning on wearing this black dress of mine. It has a cute cherry print, spaghetti straps, and it lands about here.” You explained, gesturing to your mid-thigh.

“I have mad respect for you.” She told you as she guided you further into the store, towards a display of lacey underwear. “What about these?” She pointed to a pair of blue pair of lace underwear on the mannequin.

“Does it come in red?”

She bent down, pulling out the drawer beneath the display, “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” You ruffled through the drawer until you found a pair in your size. You could definitely see Javier enjoying these. Though, truth-be-told, he was easy to please.

“Now, if you’re wearing spaghetti straps, you’re going to need something strapless.” She tapped her finger against her chin, looking around the store thoughtfully. “Oh! I know. Come with me.”

You followed after the shopgirl, moving further towards the back of the store where there was a collection of bustiers on display. You made a mental note to return to purchase a few of the others on display — particularly a black lace up bustier that wouldn’t cover much. It had ribbons that were neatly placed directly over the breasts and not much else.

“I think this should go with the panties.” The girl said, holding up a cherry-red strapless bustier. “What do you think?”

“I’m in love.” You smiled, taking the bustier from her and holding it up in front of you. It was tasteful, entirely covered cups that would actually offer a little support, and the lace descended about mid-rib. “I’ll take both.”

“Great! I’ll ring you up.” She smiled.

You had a feeling that Javier was going to really enjoy the purchase.

——

“What is your secret?” Connie questioned, holding the little straw in her drink in place as she took a sip of her fruity cocktail.

You cocked your head to the side, “Which one?”

“How do you pull off this look?” She questioned, sweeping her hand over the length of your body. “Whenever I’ve attempted the mini dress look, I end up looking like a woman in her thirties who still thinks she’s a teen.”

“I just don’t give a fuck.” You admitted with a shrug. “You know how I dress at home. Sweatpants or shorts, paired with whatever tank top is clean. At work I’m rocking a power suit.” You picked up your rum runner, taking a drink. “So when we get out — I like showing a little skin.”

Your eyes wandered towards the back of the bar, where Javier and Steve were playing pool. They needed a little guy time.

“Javier likes it, doesn’t he?” Connie questioned, curling a lock of blond hair as she leaned her elbow against the table.

“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “But he also likes me in sweatpants.” You smoothed your hand over the skirt of your dress. “You should wear whatever you want to wear, Connie.”

“I do!” She assured you, gesturing to her own outfit. Connie rocked the mom jeans. “It’s just… Steve and I hit another dry spell and it’s driving me crazy.”

You frowned, “Shit. What happened?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted, taking another drink, before sitting it down. “And it’s not everything… we just haven’t had sex. At all. All summer.”

“Okay, but if it’s not everything…”

“It’s all the build up.” Connie explained. “That’s fine, that’s good. He’ll go down on me, but then seem like he’s not interested in actually having sex.”

You frowned, “Have you talked to him?”

“You know how he is. He’s as bad as Javier.” Connie chewed on her bottom lip. “Steve assured me that nothing’s wrong, he’s just not really in the mood.”

“Well, if he told you he isn’t in the mood that’s probably the case.” You told her, circling your thumb around the rim of your glass.

“My mother got me paranoid that there’s someone else.”

“Well, your mother should shut the fuck up.” You said bluntly. “If there’s one thing I know about Murphy, it’s that he’d bend heaven and hell to keep you in his life.”

“I just thought… maybe if I dressed more like you do.” She gestured to your outfit again. “Javier can’t keep his eyes or hands off of you.”

“We both have very different relationships.” You sat up a little straighter. Well, now you knew why Connie had been dying for a night out. She was always more comfortable having these discussions after a couple drinks.

“I know. But I want what you have. I want that passion.” Connie sighed heavily. “I just don’t understand it. Everything is so good and then he just shuts down.”

“Okay.” You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek. “What happens after things die down? He gets you off and then what?”

“He usually says something about not really being in the mood. He’ll kiss me for a little while longer and then we’ll go to bed or get up for the day.” She frowned, “I wish I hadn’t told my mom. She’s had me stressing about this since June.”

“Have you tried making an evening of it?” You questioned, your brows drawn together. “He might be genuinely stressed with everything that’s been changing in your lives. He quit the DEA after like fifteen years.”

“We’ve been so busy this summer.”

“Then that is your problem.” You took another sip of your drink. “You’ve both been busy. I mean, at least he’s been trying to meet your needs.” You pointed out. “Props to Murph.”

Connie dragged her fingers through her hair, laughing nervously. “And what if that’s not the problem?”

“Then you talk to him.” You told her, “And maybe go see Nancy. She helped Javier and I get over our own dry spell.”

“Go buy some sexy lingerie.” You told her, glancing around to make sure no one was watching the two of you. You flipped up the skirt of your dress, showing off your red lace covered hip.

“Oh my God!” Connie covered her mouth and laughed. “That’s gorgeous!”

You smirked at her, “I bet you Steve would lose his shit if you undressed and had on some sexy lingerie.”

“I definitely don’t have anything like that in my dresser.”

“But really, you should also talk to him.” You insisted, glancing back at where the guys were. They appeared to be having a similarly serious conversation. “I’m sure he’s got his own concerns.”

“I would love to prove my mother wrong.” Connie laughed quietly, shaking her head. “She’s never really liked Steve.”

“Didn’t she stay with you guys this summer? I wouldn’t be in the mood if my in-laws didn’t like me.”

Connie grimaced, “God, I’m glad I have you to talk me off the ledge.”

“You can always call me, Connie. Or meet up for coffee. You don’t have to drink to talk sex with me.” You shrugged a shoulder, taking another sip of your drink. “Why don’t we go check on the guys?”

“Okay.” Connie finished off her drink, pausing for a second, before she slid out of the booth and followed you towards the back of the bar.

“Having fun?” You questioned, taking a drink of your rum runner before sitting it on the ledge of the pool table, putting a little sway in your step as you approached Javier.

Javier slid his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, “Steve’s still shit at pool.”

“Of course he is.” You snorted, shaking your head as you set your eyes on Steve. You watched him and Connie carefully, analyzing the way they interacted with each other. Same as they always had. You leaned up to whisper in Javi’s ear, “Please tell me Steve was asking you for advice too.”

His shoulders sagged with relief, “Yes. Connie too?”

You nodded, “I figured tonight was a motivated evening.”

Javier chuckled, “They’ll be fine.” He ran his hand over the small of your back, before his hand moved lower and he slipped it under the hem of your skirt, giving your ass a squeeze.

“Javi.” You laughed, pressing your face against his chest, snaking your arm around his waist. “Behave.”

“It’s been driving me crazy wondering what you have on under this.”

You smirked, “I think you’ll enjoy it.” You pulled away from him then, gesturing to the pool table. “Let’s get another round of drinks and play a game.”

Connie made a face, “I’m bad at this game sober.”

“That’s why it’s fun.”

“I’ll get the drinks.” Javier said, pressing a kiss to the back of your head before he headed for the bar.

You grabbed two cue sticks from the stand, passing one to Connie. “Good news.” You told her, “I think things are going to be just fine.”

“Really?” She smiled brightly.

“What are you ladies talking about?” Steve questioned, wrapping his arm around Connie as he swung the rack in his other hand.

“How badly team Peña is going to kick your ass.” You grinned triumphantly, taking the rack from him and moving back to the table to set up the balls.

“Team Peña? Did ya’ll get married and forget to tell us?” Steve teased.

“And we had a secret son and named him Stephen Murphy. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” You deadpanned.

Javier returned with the drinks, “What did I just walk in on?” He questioned, passing you your drink.

“I was telling Steve about our secret son.”

“Oh, right.” Javier took a sip of his whiskey. “Stephen Murphy.”

Steve looked between the two of you, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” Javier questioned.

“Just know what the other was doing?”

You shrugged, tilting your head to look at Javier. “I chalk it up to eleven years of healthy banter. We’re on the same wavelength.” You bumped your hip against his, before you took a sip.

“Let me guess,” Javier scratched at the back of his neck. “Some shit about our secret marriage?”

Connie laughed, “Oh. My. God.”

You grinned, “Yep!”

“Figured.” He sat his glass down on the pool table, moving to grab his discarded cue stick. “We playing?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Steve answered, exchanging a look with Connie.

You and Javier absolutely killed the Murphy’s at pool. Three rounds in and you were still the victors. Nailing pocket after pocket with ease.

“I’m starting to think you’re cheating.” Steve remarked, looking between the two of you.

“You can’t cheat at pool, bud.” You quipped, blowing off the extra blue chalk on the tip of Javier’s cue stick. “At least not easily.”

Javier’s hand found its way under the hem of your dress again, giving your ass a playful squeeze. He was making it increasingly difficult to focus on the game. Not that you weren’t intentionally bending over to show off the hint of lace that laid beneath your skirt.

You shot him a look, only to be met with a suggestive raise of his brows.

“Why don’t you buy us another round of drinks.” You suggested, “You know… losers buy drinks.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Javier grinned, curling his arm around your waist. “Come on, Murphy. Don’t act surprised.”

“I’m not. That’s the sad part.” He turned towards Connie, “You want another drink, sweetheart?”

“I’d like that.” She smiled hopefully, “And… maybe we could dance.”

Steve nodded slowly, “That sounds nice.”

“Come on,” You said, taking Javier’s hand into yours. “They need some alone time, anyway.”

“Yeah, they’ve got some shit to work out.” Javier agreed, following after you through the crowd, back to the hallway that led to the bathroom.

One of the bathrooms was occupied, but upon trying the second door knob you found it unlocked and empty.

“I had this whole plan of showing off the lingerie when we got home.” You told him, watching as he locked the door behind him. “I guess I should’ve known we wouldn’t be able to control ourselves.”

Javier arched a brow at you, “What did you think was gonna happen, baby? You wear this dress and spend all night bending over…” He crowded close to you, his hands sliding up your outer thighs, until he curled his hands around your hips. “Your ass looks divine.”

“You think my ass looks divine in sweatpants.” You poked him in the chest, before you slid your hand up to curl around the back of his neck.

“Maybe I just like your ass,” Javier’s hand slid around, giving your asscheek a squeeze before he swiftly smacked it. You were just this side of tipsy and entirely unable to control the yelp that escaped you.

“It’s a pretty good ass.” You laughed, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Hmm?”

You lowered your voice, leaning in close to him. “I like your ass too.”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, fuck off.’

You laughed, sliding both of your arms over his shoulders as you pressed close to him. “It’s the truth.” You grinned, leaning up to kiss him.

Javier’s tongue invaded your mouth, sliding over your tongue, before sweeping over the roof of your mouth. You chased after his lips as he drew back, his gaze dark with desire as he met yours. “Turn around, baby.”

You didn’t even hesitate, turning around to face your reflection in the mirror. You glanced over your shoulder, watching as Javier worked the zipped down your spine, revealing bare skin and the cherry-red bustier that stood out against your skin.

“Look at you.” Javier drawled out, peeling the thin fabric of your dress down your torso. He held your gaze in the mirror as you leaned back against his chest. “Fuck.”

“I thought you’d like it.” You remarked, tilting your head back to kiss his jaw. Javier was transfixed on your reflection and you watched the way his hand trailed over your ribs, tracing the lacey lines of the fabric that was wrapped around you.

“I fucking love it.” He told you, his hands sliding downwards, pushing your dress down your hips to reveal the red lace covering your there. “You were gonna make me wait until we got back home to show me this, baby?”

You nodded, reaching behind you to curl your fingers around the back of his head, playing with his hair. “Had to make you work for it.” You pointedly ground your ass back against him, smirking as you felt his stiffened cock. “Baby, did you bring your cue stick in here?”

Javier chuckled, the sound turning into a soft growl as he pressed his mouth into the crook of your neck. “So fucking mouthy. I should put that mouth to use.” He drawled out, cupping your jaw as he held your gaze in the mirror. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, watching as your tongue darted out to tease it.

“You could…” You arched a brow at him. “But I think you want more than that.” You rocked back against him, “Don’t you, Javi?”

Javier’s lips found your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed you there, before dragging his mouth back down your neck. “You’re right, baby. You can’t wear this shit and not expect me to want to fuck you.”

You inhaled sharply as he roughly grabbed at your hips, holding you steady as he took a step backwards. You watched him in the mirror as his eyes raked over you. “Like something you see?” You teased, swaying your hips from side-to-side.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the lace, dragging them down your hips. “I like everything I see.” Javier told you, crowding close to you again. He worked his hand in between you and the bathroom sink, his fingers slipping between your thighs.

You bit down on your bottom lip, rocking back against his covered cock as his fingers cupped your cunt. “Feel that?”

“Fuck. Baby, you’re soaking wet.” He said as he dragged his finger between your slick folds. “Goddamn it.”

“Well someone kept eyefucking me during pool. I’m sorry.” You shot back with a wicked smirk as you met his gaze in the mirror. “What’s a girl to do?”

Javier abandoned his teasing, his hands moving to unzip his jeans, shoving them and his boxers down his hips. “Indeed.”

You let him maneuver you into position, arching your back as you widened your stance, knuckles going white as you clenched at the edge of the sink for support. There was very little foreplay in these scenarios. And you loved it.

The haste, the need, the desperation.

You cried out — thankful that the bar was noisy and crowded and no one would care if someone was getting fucked in the bathroom. His cock filled you completely, buried within you from root to tip.

“Watch yourself, baby.” He told you, rocking his hips forward roughly, urging you to open your eyes and watch as he fucked you. “Wish you could see just how good you look on my cock.” He told you, fingers winding into your hair as he held fast to you and fucked you.

You moaned, grabbing onto the faucet as you lurched forward. “Javier.” You hissed out through clenched teeth as he kept repeatedly driving into that sweet spot within you. His cock hitting the deepest spots that had you seeing stars.

Javier’s fingers curled loosely around your throat, pulling you back against his chest so you only had his arm to cling to for support as he rocked into you, burying the full length of his cock into you with every thrust. You were lost to the pleasure of it all.

Even the way your nipples pebbled beneath the lace, the way his arm kept rubbing over them as he kept his hand securely wrapped around your throat. It was all overwhelming.

“Want you to come for me.” Javier urged, his lips close to your ear as he spoke. “I want you to come for me, baby. Come on my cock.”

Your body clenched in response to his words, your cunt tightening like a vice around his cock as he kept slamming into you. You were right on the cusp, teetering right on the edge. You could feel it throbbing deep within you, your release ready to wash through you.

“That’s it, baby.” Javier rasped out, “Want you to come for me so I can fill that pretty little pussy of yours.” He reached downwards, his fingers seeking out that little bundle of nerves just above where his cock was driving into you. “Love knowing I’m dripping out of you.”

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. You cried out, the sound muffled by his hand as he wrapped it around your mouth. Your body clenched around him, but still he didn’t stop thrusting into you until he found his own release. Your cunt milked it from him, inner walls pulsing around his cock as he spilled into you.

And only then did he slow down his pace, hips rolling languidly as he guided you both through the afterglow of your releases. Your legs shook from exhaustion as Javier pulled out of you, quick to pull the lacey red underwear back up your thighs. Putting them back into place.

“Holy shit.” You panted out, hand to your chest as you felt your thundering heartbeat beneath your palm. “Why is bathroom sex… so good?”

“Wish I knew.” He chuckled lowly as he tucked his cock back into his boxers and zipping his jeans closed once more. It was unfair how easily he could look composed and you felt like you looked thoroughly fucked. Mostly because you had been. Your inner walls were still fluttering in response to just how thoroughly he’d fucked you.

Javier arched a brow at your reflection, “You good, baby?”

You nodded your head slowly, “A little out of breath.” You admitted, pulling your dress back up your body. “Do you mind?”

He stepped towards you, pulling your zipper up your back as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. “I like the lingerie.” He remarked, resting his hands at your hips as he propped his chin up on your shoulder — meeting your gaze in the mirror.

You bit down on your bottom lip, laughing softly as you sank back against him with a sigh. “I’m glad.” You reached behind you, stroking his cheek lovingly. “I love you.”

He grinned at you as he curled an arm around your waist, keeping you pressed close to him. “I love you too.” Javier pressed his lips to your cheek. “We should get back out there.”

“Like they don’t know where we went.” You snorted, turning around in his embrace so you could lean up to kiss him. “Is everything okay with Steve?”

Javier rolled his eyes, “I love our pillow talk.” He deadpanned, giving your hip a squeeze. “Yeah, he’s good. He’s just working through some shit.”

“Well, Connie’s mother thinks he’s cheating on her.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Connie’s mother is part of the problem.”

“I told her to talk to him.”

“Good.” Javier shrugged his shoulders. “I told him the same shit. I reamed him out for letting it go on as long as he has.”

“They’ll be okay though, right?”

“If they talk. Yeah.” He nodded. “Never thought we’d be the ones giving relationship advice.”

“Oh how the tables have turned.” You laughed, checking your reflection in the mirror before you moved towards the bathroom door. “Personally, I think Connie’s jealous that they don’t have this—” You gestured in between the two of them. “But they’re both very…”

“Vanilla?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll be proud.” Javier told you, slipping his hand into yours. “I told him they should experiment.” Your brows shot upwards. “Don’t get too excited. I just told him they should mix it up.”

You grinned at him, “Well that’s something. I told Connie to buy some sexy clothes.”

“Hopefully they work things out,” He squeezed your hand tightly as you headed back out into the main area of the bar.

You scanned the crowd, spotting Connie and Steve slow dancing to some sappy song with the rest of the couples on the dance floor. They seemed to be having a good time. And as much fun as it was to hangout with them — they needed alone time.

“I’m gonna go close out the tab,” You told Javier as you turned towards him.

“Yeah.” Javier nodded, releasing his hold on your hand and running his fingers down your spine. “Works for me, baby. I’ll be at the table.”

You headed over to the bar, flagging down the bartender to close out your tab.

“Here you go.” The bartender said as he sat a drink down in front of you.

“I’m actually closing out my tab.” You explained.

“I know,” He shrugged, passing you your receipt.

“Okay.” Your brows furrowed, following the bartender’s line of sight as a younger man approached you, settling at the bar beside you.

Of course.

“Hey there pretty thing,” The man leered, his eyes raking over your body, before meeting your eyes with a toothy grin. “Saw you playing pool over there,” He leaned a little too close to you on the bar, but you didn’t flinch.

You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of unnerving you. “Yeah?” You raised your brows with an unamused expression.

“Can’t help but thinking you could do better.” He continued, “Didn’t seem like he appreciated the way you blew on his cue stick.”

You snorted, “Wow.”

“Just speaking the truth,” The younger man remarked, eyes flickering over you again. “I bet I could give you what you really need.”

“See,” You tossed your hair over your shoulder, “Everything you just said was wrong.” You popped the cherry from the drink into your mouth. “Cause I doubt your pencil dick could fuck me like my partner just did in the bathroom.”

He looked flummoxed by that.

You patted him on the shoulder, “Thanks for the drink. Make sure you get home before your curfew. Would hate for your mommy to worry.” And with that you headed towards Javier, sliding into the booth beside him.

“Free drink?”

You grinned at him, “It really pained me to turn down the offer of sexual favors that came with it.”

Javier curled his hand around your leg, “Really?”

“Didn’t seem right given what we just did.” You dragged your teeth over your bottom lip, keeping your eyes on his face.

Your breath caught in the back of your throat as you felt Javier’s hand curl around your inner thigh beneath your skirt. He slid his hand up higher, until his thumb dragged over your sensitive folds through the damp lace that was soaked with his come.

“We should go home.” You whispered, closing the distance so you could kiss him. “So I can give you the full show.” You added as you pulled back, meeting his gaze.

“I love the way you think, baby.” Javier grinned, brushing his nose against yours. “C’mon.”

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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jaskiers-lutkulele-of-sex · 3 years

Text

Rules and Stuff

Hello, multifandom (but mostly Witcher and Stranger Things)-themed kink-writing blog here. pronouns are flexible, they/he/she.

I take prompts, for short fic or not!fic, or discussion, but please familiarize yourself w/ my hard limits etc below

Rules:

- 18+ only. Come back when you’re no longer a minor, if you still want to. ESPECIALLY don’t be interacting with/sending me messages if you’re a minor (by most US standards, which is where I live). Boundaries like this are for everyone’s protection. Thank you for respecting that.

- YKINMKATO. Curate your own space. Be excellent to each other.

If you’re not into what goes on here? Keep scrolling, or block tags, or unfollow/block. This goes for me as well-- I curate my own space, so if you are rude or hateful in my inbox or in replies or whatev, I’m deleting without giving you the satisfaction, and blocking.

This is obvs a kink-affirming, sex-affirming, no-shaming space. Ace/aro folk are part of the queer community, trans rights are human rights, enby folk are my folk and valid, sex work is work, and black (and other non-white) lives are systemically and actively under attack in my and many countries and they matter. Freedom of religion necessarily includes freedom from religion. Eat the rich.

Also fiction is not real life. What folk like to engage with in fiction/fantasy is their business, and doesn’t necessarily mean they want or condone those things in real life, and anything to do with their real life is, again, none of anyone’s business unless they choose to share.

pairings, kink list, etc, under the cut.

Stranger Things ships

I’m primarily a Steddie shipper, wasn’t really in the fandom when Billy was Steve’s main squeeze. Can do a bit of Ronance or Buckingham, always up for poly stuff. mostly write the fruity four/spicy six/ whatever we’re calling the New Adult bunch these days.

Witcher Pairings/My canon

I’ve seen the netflix series, played roughly half tW3 (no blood and wine yet, sorry Regis folks), read the first few novels, and seen part of The Hexer series.

I primarily ship book/game/or show geraskier/gerlion.

Secondarily, i can get down with Lambden, various witcher/witcher pairings or moresomes, Jaskier/witchers, and Geralt/Renfri

When the mood is right I can do Geralt/jaskier/otherFolks (yen, ciri, renfri, etc)

I’m almost never interested in geralt/yennefer as standalone, same for Jask/Yen

and, this is more appropriate here than in the kink section, I am cool with gender exploration and trans and nonbinary characters, but I’m usually going to prefer either a “straight” cisswap (for example AlwaysAGirl!Geralt who has always used female pronouns, or TemporarilyAGirl!Jaskier who ran afoul of a mage and has just this one chance to explore and it Awakens Nothing XD), or if the characters are binary trans then for them to identify as their canon gender (i.e. Transmasc Geralt, Transfemme Ciri), and while I’m happy to write trans or enby versions of the characters who Have kinks, i will not be writing trans and nonbinary stuff AS a kink, if that makes sense. There are other authors who do genderplay like that, and I’m happy to rec some to you if that’s what you’re looking for!

KINKS!

My bulletproof kink is desperation/struggle for/loss of control. I’m talking omorashi, edging, premature ejaculation, accidental knotting, accidental arousal, even scat, emeto, or ovi in the right situations, and those more extreme situ are what inspired having a dedicated blog. if your idea has a desperation angle on it, I’m very likely up for it, or at least up to brainstorm on it.

also good: sounding, sex magic, clothed sex, bestiality (particularly sentient or character-transformed-into types), unusual or non-human biology (incl a/b/o), bdsm or d/s dynamics, knotting gets its own entry cuz it’s lovely, virginity/first time stuff, X-made-them-do-it (sex pollen, fuck-or-die, etc), praise kink,

Fine: lots of things. bloodplay, abdl/ageplay, petplay, underage, incest, dubcon/coersion, cbt/pain play, plain watersports, marking, breeding talk

no thank you: scat play (distinct from the desperation side, I’m talking messing around with it or consuming it, etc), full noncon, unhappy endings, true unrequited feelings as the focus, some kinds of power imbalance, abuse, pregnancy (my opinions on pregnancy in fic vary WILDLY, but 9/10 times it’s got a feminization vibe or a body horror vibe for me, so usually no)

Hard limit: dehumanization, proper humiliation, forced feminization, body horror (incl castration and involuntary body modding), vore, necrophilia

TLDR

I am more of a not!ficcer, or short fills, but you never know what’ll happen. ;) Shoot me an ask or prompt if our preferences align, or ask me if you’re not sure. also. Hello. XD

also also, I Am Soft. none of this is likely to be “true” dead dove content, fyi. The angst is going to get a “good” resolution if I’m involved-- I generally prefer neutral, hea, or hfn type endings, can barely handle bittersweet, let alone folks being legit unhappy at the end. for “proper” DDDNE or WitcherTrashParty stuff, you should probs seek someone like... @ witchertrashpary ... XD Things can be messier here, but not as heavy, if you get me.

#gpoy #witcher kink blogs

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that-scouse-wizard · 3 years

Text

Sightseeing Part Two

`A/N: Welcome to part two of Sightseeing, hope you guys enjoy my interpretation of Liverpool’s wizarding community. All I’ll say for the moment... Scouse Elves.

Also, just a couple of Face Claims for some OCs who are going to appear in this:

Thomas Tremblay Thornwood III A.K.A Old Tom: Mark Addy (also voice claim).

Marcus Jacques: Daniel John-Jules. Voice Claim: Levi Roots.

MC friends: Judith Harris @judediangelo75

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

Judith let out a startled yelp that turned to shrieks as she and David dropped onto an almost-vertical slope, sliding down it and beginning to quickly pick up speed. It was made of a smooth, black marble laced with white lines, bright lights intermittently illuminating the passage.

Judith however couldn’t have given less of a damn about how it looked in that moment. There was nothing to hold onto except David’s hand, tightening her grip with what felt like near bone-crushing strength. Her friend was the only familiar thing on the slide and she wasn’t about to let him go.

Although in contrast to her, David was having the time of his life, laughing like a madman. All Judith could do was pause her screaming briefly as she gave him an incredulous look, at least he wasn’t worried. The slope was rapidly becoming less steep, eventually curving until it plateaued. The remaining momentum the two friends had still moved them forward to the end of a short tunnel heading towards a warm, orange glow.

Slowing, then eventually stopping, the two found themselves in a fairly busy pub. Red brick pillars held the building up. The flagstones of the floor were a deeper red, cut into hexagonal shapes and lined black. The tables were fairly small, pushed up against the walls of the pub to make a clear pathway through the building, each one accommodating two to four stools. Lanterns lit with candles, some on the table others levitated around in a fixed pattern illuminated the establishment, giving it a homely feel despite the simplicity.

A long, mahogany bar was being tended to by an unshaven, portly man. His receding black hair was flecked with grey, his stubble already having turned the same colour.

Behind the bar was lined with various drinks on shelves, most notably though was a pair of broomsticks crossed over one another. Two flags were hung either side of the X-shape. One, like the flagstones, was red with the side profile of a lion in mid-roar painted in black. The other was a smart, marine blue with a white eagle painted on it, also from a side profile with the eagle looking to be in mid-strike as if getting ready to attack its prey. The two symbols were positioned to be facing each other as if their respective mascots were about to do battle.

Quidditch teams clearly, though Judith didn’t recognise them at all.

David got up, Judith followed, her hand still firmly clasped in his as he guided off the black marble platform they found themselves on. Any interest other patrons had of the new arrivals quickly dwindled. Judith looked around taking in the sight, it was certainly very... red. Finally letting go of David’s hand, she balled it into a fist and promptly punched him in the arm.

“Ow! Judith what was that for?” David yelped, though both the grin and the laugh that accompanied his question made it clear he knew exactly why he’d received it.

“For taking me on that.” Judith hissed, gesturing to the exit of the slide.

David shrugged, “I said ‘brace yourself’.” He responded cheekily.

Judith looked thoroughly unimpressed, “What part of ‘brace yourself’ means ‘I’m going to put you on a bloody death trap?’”

A raucous laugh was what she got in response, though it didn’t come from David. The bartender seemed to be enjoying the show, “Friend of yours, David?” He asked with a chuckle, his accent making it known he was from Yorkshire.

“She is,” David confirmed, sounding quite proud of the fact, “This is Judith, a friend of mine from Hogwarts. Judith, this is Tom, he runs the pub.”

The old man beamed at the introduction, “Thomas Tremblay Thornwood III, most people just call me Old Tom. Welcome to The Purple Griffin. Is it your first time visiting Under Mersey, Judith?” He asked kindly.

“Yes.” Judith answered quietly, giving a nod. The bartender seemed nice, if a little loud.

“Thought so,” He smirked, “Now, important question, Red or Blue?” He asked, slightly louder, a few patrons and even David looked to Judith expectantly.

“Um...” Judith mumbled, a bit confused as to what the question meant. They were both colours she wore and liked though she supposed did prefer red..., “Red.” She answered, the reaction from everyone who was bothered to listen was immediate.

“We’ve got another Lion’s fan lads!” Tom declared, causing those who had taken an interest to either cheer, others let out groans of disapproval.

David was one of those who was pleased with her answer, giving her a slap on the back, “I knew you’d make the right choice.”

“Can you at least tell me what choice I made?” Judith asked, really needing some context.

“Liverpool Lions, Everton Eagles,” David said pointing at the red and blue flag respectively, “Both are Liverpool teams and frequently top contenders in the Amateur Division of the British and Irish Quidditch League. They’re fierce rivals with most other teams, but it’s at their worst with each other.” That explained it, Judith only knew of the twelve teams that were considered professional.

“And you support the Lions?” Judith asked,

“That’s right, had to go with the Reds all the way.” David grinned.

“Ah.” Judith nodded knowingly, her friend supported Liverpool Football Club, so she supposed it made sense he would be a fan of their Quidditch equivalent.

“In fact...” David began as he started rummaging through the pouch of coins his mother had given him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Taking out six sickles before putting the silver coins on the bar and sliding them over to Tom, “Give us the Lion’s Summertime Specials.” Tom took the silvers with a conspiring grin.

“Take away?” The bartender asked, receiving a nod from David. At that prompt, Tom produced two cold bottles of butterbeer, causing Judith to give both of them a questioning look.

“I thought butterbeer was worth two sickles each?” She asked.

“Not the way Tom does them, watch.” David stated, now Judith was curious. Tom took out two large cups, emptying the contents of the bottles into them before calling out.

“Crocky! I need two pomegranates, and a mortar and pestle.”

“On it Tom!” A high-pitched scouse accent called back. It wasn’t long before the odd assortment of items was floated into the bar from the back area of the pub, guided by a house elf dressed in a starch-white chef’s outfit. His big, grey eyes only glancing at David and Judith briefly.

Judith’s eyes widened at that, the only house elves she had met were treated poorly at best, like slaves at worst. They would never refer to their master so casually, it was unheard of. The fact that this house elf had a healthy, lean build compared to the thin, frail frames of most other elves was another indicator something odd was going on. That wasn’t even mentioning how well-dressed the elf was. Perhaps David would know.

“Thank you.” Tom said to Crocky as he began deseeding the pomegranates, emptying the seeds into the mortar and starting to grind them up. The house elf disappeared back into the kitchens.

Judith watched the sight, curious as to see just what Tom was doing. It took a moment but Tom’s strong arms eventually ground down the seeds into a fine pulp. Mixing the juice into the butterbeer with a wooden stirrer briefly dyed the drink an orange colour. It didn’t last long as the mixture fizzed from the stirring, a scarlet hue quickly overtaking the contents of the cup, causing the foam on top to turn a light pink.

“Go on then, drink up.” Tom said, looking ready to receive their verdict.

Judith took her cup, intrigued at the idea of a fruity-tasting butterbeer, Briefly knocking her cup against David’s one before taking a sip. It still had a sweet taste to it but lessened from the sour edge of the pomegranate juice. Yet the extra flavour wasn’t overwhelming, in fact it was quite refreshing, more so an ordinary butterbeer.

“It’s nice,” Judith responded positively.

“Good as always Tom.” David said, nodding in agreement.

“Glad I haven’t lost my touch.” The bartender grinned. The deep, rhythmic tolling of a bell from outside suddenly cut in, ringing twelve times before it was silenced, “Sounds like lunch time, you could always have some pub grub but I reckon that you’ll want to show your friend around Under Mersey won’t you, David?”

“That’s right.” David said.

“Well, off with you both then,” He said, making a shooing motion with his hand, “Just remember our motto.”

“Do us harm and we bring the weight of the Mersey down on your head.” David echoed with a grin.

“Exactly. Enjoy your time out there you two.” With that statement from the bartender, the two friends stepped out into the streets of Under Mersey.

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

Judith was impressed, Under Mersey was definitely not like Diagon Alley. It wasn’t just a single alley. This place was an entire town, quite literally under the noses of muggles.

Yet despite it being underground in a cavern that must have taken years to carve out, yet strangely, it felt no different to how it had been on the surface. It was warm with just the faintest hint of a sea breeze. A huge enchanted lantern acted like a miniature sun, moving slowly in tandem with the time displayed on a prominent clock tower on the southern end of the town. An illusory sky was even being maintained to mirror the weather on the surface.

The streets were a mix of cobblestone and pavements. Most buildings had chimneys that stretched far upwards, acting as support to the ceiling above. Four pillars at the four corners of the town also seemed to assist in holding up the ceiling, yet unlike the chimneys, they didn’t appear to be directly attached to any other building. It was certainly a feat of architecture that wizards had even managed to do this.

It wasn’t simply dull and lifeless though, Judith saw more than a few colourful plants growing either in planters on the streets or accommodated on outside window sills of buildings.

Luckily, David was willing to explain everything to her.

“Basically, we’re right under the River Mersey that runs by Liverpool. Vents on the ceiling and the chimneys are enchanted at either end to filter the air through. It’s why we’re able to breathe, and why the entire place isn’t flooded. The Pillars are where the town gets its water supply from. Pipes run underneath the streets to get it to the buildings. Not bad that it’s still around, seeing as construction began in 1801 and finished in 1823.”

Judith gave an impressed whistle. Whoever had come up with this, and even spent more than two decades seeing it through to completion must have had both ambition and patience.

“So what’s the deal with Old Tom and... Crocky was it?” Judith asked after having a sip from her butterbeer. They had left the building behind as they walked, though it could be easily found again, no other building had the same lavender hue as the brickwork the pub was made out of. Still, she was curious of the relationship between Tom and his house elf.

“That’s right,” David confirmed, “Far as I know, Old Tom is a squib, born to a pure-blood family. Don’t know when he and Crocky met but apparently, Tom gave him that chef’s uniform, Crocky just stuck around as an employee.”

“Really?” Judith asked in surprise. If any owner actually gave their house elf a piece of clothing, chances are they would take it and run. It spoke volumes of Crocky’s loyalty if he truly cared for the person who was apparently his ex-master.

“Yeah, I’ve been around them outside of working hours, the two of them act like best mates. Some even say Under Mersey is actually run by house elves.” Judith looked confused at the last part of David’s statement, causing him to elaborate, “The lantern, the ‘sky’, even the charms on the vents and chimneys? All of it is managed and maintained by house elves. The wizards and witches bring in business and live here. Some are even in charge of overseeing maintenance but ultimately it’s the elves who stop the place from bein’ destroyed.”

“Wow.” Judith said, marvelling at the sights again. She had a respect for the house-elves, putting up with so much. Quite literally holding this place together was just another feat that only cemented that sentiment.

Judith would have loved to explore the town a bit more but for the moment she was starting to feel a bit peckish...

“How about we go get some food?” David said.

Judith grinned at her friend practically reading her mind, “Sounds good, let’s go!” With that prompt, David guided Judith closer to the centre of the town.

This part of Under Mersey was by far the most active and Judith could see why, it seemed to be where most of the town’s shops were located. A wandmaker, a book shop, and practically every other kind of shop a wizard or witch could need.

A stone fountain was the centrepiece for the town square. Two cormorants that towered over people, being at least eight feet tall. They faced away from each other, one looking west, the other looking east, the tips of their outstretched wings almost touching. A sprig of seaweed was clasped in their beaks.

However, both friends wanted to follow their stomachs at the moment and they certainly had options...

Looking one way, Judith could see that an odd assortment of restaurants had been packed into a single long street, thronging with people eager for lunch.. Chinese, Indian, Turkish. Spanish, Greek, French. Those were just some of the ones Judith noted.

Yet despite the range of mouth-watering scents. the tempting food on display and even the occasional encouragement from a place’s owner, there was just one that really caught Judith’s eye.

A lot smaller when compared to the other restaurants, hanging above its doors was a string of flags. One of which was had three stripes blue on both sides, gold in the middle, with the head of a black trident in its centre.

That was the flag of Barbados, accompanied by flags of the other Caribbean islands. Above them was the name of the restaurant, only confirming Judith’s suspicions, Jacques’ Caribbean Cuisine. Judith knew exactly where she wanted to go, making a b-line for the restaurant as David followed close behind.

“Welcome,” A friendly tone was the first thing the pair of friends heard. Greeting them was a somewhat tall, lean and dark-skinned man. He was balding with a greying goatee, the hair he had left turning the same colour. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood despite his restaurant being empty in such a rush, “What can I interest you kids in today?”

Judith perked up at the man’s accent, it was similar to her Barbadian one, he definitely wasn’t British, “Where are you from?” Judith asked the man excitedly.

A bit confused at his question not being answered, the man responded, “Jamaica, and yourself?”

“I’m from Barbados.” She answered proudly, the man’s eyes went wide at that.

“Really? Girl if I was born a few decades later, you and me would have practically been neighbours!” He said enthusiastically, Judith grinned at, “And you boy?”

“Local.” David answered proudly, gesturing above..

“Ah, good, I like Liverpool. Think it’s a good city.” He said in approval, “Marcus Jacques, I came over here on request of the Ministry about thirty years ago. I was about twenty then, I’m fifty now.”

“Wait, I think I’ve heard of you,” David said in realisation. Judith looked at her friend curiously, “You started all of well... that outside.”

Marcus took on a smug expression at that, “Right you are, I got shipped up here by the Ministry, I was asked to come over after that war the muggles had in the fourties and decided the food this side of the wizarding world could do with a bit more variety. Now don’t get me wrong, British food can be nice. Crocky at the Purple Griffin makes a great shepherd’s pie but I needed something to remind me of home. A couple more people got interested in the idea and we thought it would be nice to set up in the local community.” The man let out a chuckle, clearly reminiscing. David and Judith listening intently for him to continue, there was always a ‘but’ in these situations.

“See, a few in the local Ministry at the time were quite insular about new things coming in, they kicked up a fuss. We kicked up a bigger one and what you see outside is the result of the wizarding community here using the cultures right on their doorstep not too much differently to how the muggle side does. Anyway, enough of an old man’s ramblings, how about I give the two of you a taste of the Caribbean?”

“Yes please!” Judith said, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, “Do you serve brown stew chicken?”

“’Do I serve brown stew chicken?’“ Marcus echoed back in a playfully sarcastic manner, “Of course I do, I’ll get right on it.” Yet he didn’t ask David what he wanted, “For you boy, I’ve got something special. Call it a Caribbean twist on something considered British.”

Judith looked eager as she took a seat while David shrugged in acceptance. The owner leaving the two friends alone as he set to work in the kitchen.

“So, what do you think of your first time in Liverpool?” David asked eagerly as he sat across from his friend.

“It’s... nice, I’ve had fun so far,” Judith answered honestly, “Though, can I ask something?”

“Yeah go on Judith.”

“Can we plan these holidays in advance next time?” David looked perplexed at the question, “Please, David.” She quietly begged.

Though he was still a bit confused, David knew Judith wouldn’t just ask him a question like that out of the blue. He was sure she had a good reason, “Of course we can Judith, whatever you want.”

Judith looked immensely grateful for his positive response, “Thank you David. You know, one of these days, I’ll have to take you to Barbados. It’s a beautiful country, white sandy beaches, lush greenery, the sea shining like sapphire.” She stated, clearly proud of her homeland.

David gave her a smile, “I’d like that, and now that you’ve described it for me, I’ll have to go.”

“To our future holidays?” Judith asked, raising up the half-full cup of butterbeer.

David raised own, though his was almost empty, “To Liverpool, Lancaster and Barbados... one of those destinations is not like the other two.” He finished with a chuckle. Judith had to laugh as they knocked the cups together. From there on, the two settled into a content silence, it wasn’t long before Marcus came by with their food.

“Hope you kids enjoy.” He said, placing their meals and cutlery in front of them.

Judith’s was several pieces of chicken covered in a rich, brown gravy that contained pieces of carrot and onion. Served with fluffy, white rice that soaked up any of the gravy was in contact with.

David’s was comparatively simpler. It looked like fish and chips, strangely, the fish was in pieces. The batter looked crispy and light but was flecked with spots of red. The accompaniments... looked like very thick-cut chips but they just... weren’t.

“Saltfish fritters, and boiled and fried breadfruit.” Marcus confirmed.

Judith had already begun tucking in to her food, clearly enjoying it, “Mmm.” She managed to hum to satisfaction through a mouthful of food, giving a thumbs up.

David cut a small piece off the fish with a particularly prominent red fleck. It was nice, the batter was crispy, the fish soft with a distinct taste of salt. Then... hot... it was spicy. David began panting like a dog as he felt his nose starting to run.

“Oh no... I think he bit into a piece of scotch bonnet.” Marcus realised, “Hang on, I’ll get you some yoghurt.” It would be the only thing that could relieve the spiciness.

While Marcus sped into the kitchen again, Judith couldn’t help but laugh a bit at her friends misfortune, “David you’re a beater, and you can’t handle a bit of spice?” She chuckled, David couldn’t even muster a retort, just glare, causing Judith to let out another laugh, “Hey this is what you get for surprising me with how you got us here.”

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm #jacob's sibling #david willows #judith harris #other people's mcs #hphm mc #hufflepuff!mc #hufflepuff!mcs #tigress and hound

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