#bunch of tossers

[lilithsaintcrow]

"Then, with significant chips on their shoulders, Ferdinand’s representatives reported their assault by the bunch of tossers, and the Thirty Years’ War began."

[redpaladinkitty]

Ok so I'm gonna weigh in on the NuWho. Tennant being the weird 14th off shoot bigeneration was to save everyone from the stupidity that was 13. No one liked her, Russell T Davies had great writing, and he's fixing The Timeless Child plot hole that retconned 60 years worth of Lore. 60 years of Lore. Are you sad sacks gonna ignore that he's fixing the egregious plot hole or are you wanting to whine and cry about shit. If anything, you blithering blasphemers ought to really think and look at shoddy companions and whatnot. Amy Pond was easily the worst and 13 was pandering! You realize that the point of Doctor Who was to be entertaining and mesmerizing and originally an educational sci-fi dealie. You lot ought to be happy the series is even continuing.

[forsworned]

ok, but hear me out. Poly!tf141 on undercover mission. Reader is dressed up, think very club type attire or so. Paired think of the audio "favorite" by Isabel Larosa 👀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋfavorite ft. poly!tf141ˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ okokokokokokokok i finally finished anon im sorry it took me so long, i was trying to make sure it made as much sense as possible but its a fucknnn wrapppppp , i hope u like it ;-; reblogs & comments are appreciated!!

꒰warning(s) heavily suggested polyship, alcohol abuse, violence, titty bar???꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

Pulsating rhythms of the club thudded against their tightened sternums as they impatiently waited for her appearance. On one side, Kyle and Price sat on hightops, sipping slowly at their top shelf whiskey's. Price sucked his teeth at that. Damn them all to hell for their overpriced liquor.

Kyle chuckled from behind the rim of his glass at his Captain's displeasure.

"Fuckin' tossers. All o'em." Price's mood was quite piqued already. This mission for sure was going to get him diagnosed with hypertension.

"Relax, boss. She can handle it." Kyle's voice is smoother than the fine, fiery amber liquid they were downing. Price could admit that it was damn good whiskey.

"Not talkin' 'bout the duck." He retorted, finishing his glass and pushing it away from him. He teased the end of his stache between his fingers.

Kyle simpered at him. "Oh yeah? 'Suppose y'talkin' 'bout the whiskey then."

Price's icy blues peered up at his Sergeant's honey gaze, a half smirk curled up on his lips now.

"Damn good whiskey."

Kyle and Price both chuckled at that. Clearly they were both on edge and neither of them were willing to admit to that. It wasn't easy knowing that she was compromising all of herself for the sake of a mission while they sat their twiddling their thumbs like a bunch of sods.

"'re y'two gonna keep actin' like a pair of plonkers, or y'gonna do wha' y'were assigned to do 'n' keep watch?" Simon's rasping voice was heard over the comms.

Johnny snickered from his seat at the bar." Ahh, give 'em some slack, L.t.. It ain't easy watchin' oor wifie shake 'er ass in fron' of a bunch of--"

"I can hear you, y'know?" Her voice like a dream (the prettiest girl they've ever seeennn), pulling them out of their squabbling.

"There she is." Johnny's murmured, glancing over at her figure appearing between throngs of men. The bright strobe lights casting shadows over her form, highlighting her curves. Every stride more enchanting than the next as she bounced through the crowd so effortlessly. She balanced two whiskey glasses and a bottle of Glenfiddich on a slim black tray as she approached her two teammates.

Did their eyes deceive them, or was she really wearing that?

"On the house, boys." Her tone is ribbing, playful with a hint of a gentle chide. The curve of her red painted lips, and the feline-like eyeliner that cascaded over her tightlined eyes made her that much alluring. Their eyes traveled down her frame, carefully analyzing the black bodycon dress that fit her like a second skin.

The outfit was undeniably slutty. Black strings wrapping around her chest and over her shoulders. The neckline was low, revealing her cleavage while the length of the skirt just barely brushed against her ass. Their eyes stopping at the thigh-high black, latex boots she was wearing.

How long had she been hiding these outfits from them, they didn't know. And knowing her, she would never tell.

"On th' house, you say?" Kyle's gaze heavy on her. "Says who?"

She tilted her head to the side with an impish grin. "Says me."

Price's mouth seemed to have been full of cotton because he couldn't even manage a word. That satisfied her. "Enjoy, boys."

She sauntered off to the next set of patrons, and Price had to readjust himself for a moment as he shook his head with an incredulous look.

"Trousers gettin' too tight?" Simon jested over the comms. That earned a few chuckles.

"Where'd she get tha' lil thing anyways?" Price attempted to derail Simon's taunting.

Johnny's eyes never left her form from the moment she stepped out on the floor. She was working her magic with all the patrons, speaking the native language while he listened in on how it rolled off her tongue like it was her own as their haughty eyes undressed her—it was enough to make his skin crawl. "No idea, but 's makin' me kinda jealous."

"Ditto." Kyle shook his head as he poured his Captain and himself another drink.

"Le's get this shit over with." Price picked up his glass, clinking it against Kyle's before they both downed it with ease.

And boy was it not fun for any of them. Johnny's job really had to be the comedic relief for the night because the way that their collective blood pressure was raising right now was enough to send them into cardiac arrest.

Simon sat in the control room with his gun in his holster, knife in his left hand as he observed every individual body in the room. The mangled body to his left, slumped on the floor for the night as he flitted through multiple CCTV to track her movements and get an idea on the deal that was about to happen.

The mission? It involved an international weapons deal between the Mexican cartel and an arms manufacturer from Russia. They had to infiltrate the club that the cartel owned and [name]--very, very much to their dismay--was the bait.

Kyle, to no one's surprise, was the first one to break the silence.

"The boys are gettin' restless." Kyle eyed the crowd that seemed to be growing by the minute as more and more people came in for some late night fun. The cartel member's body language indicated that they were getting restless.

Price was already on edge. His fingers were gripping the Mexican Pine wood of the hightop table. Every second that went by felt like an eternity as he watched her shake her hips up against one of the cartel members and laughed as a bottle of vodka was passed around between them.

Simon grunted, watching more individuals come in. "Gonna be a bloodbath."

Johnny stayed quiet, but his brows were furrowed with worry. His baby blues watched her as she took a shot with one of the cartel members in an attempt to be flirty while he pressed a hand against the small of her back. Johnny couldn't hide the way his face contorted in disgust.

"Quit bouncin' y'leg, Johnny." Simon warned. In an instant, Johnny's actions are halted like a guard dog on command. He sucked his teeth.

Price's jaw ticked when he laid his icy glare on her taking another shot and laughed coquettishly while the cartel member's hand went up her skirt. "For Christ's sake."

Kyle gave his Captain a sympathetic grin. It was hard being the only one under control.

"Le's have another." He sighed, pouring them both another drink in a weary attempt to calm their nerves. Well, really Price's nerves.

As the night drew on, the club gained more traction. Her movements becoming more risqué as she allowed the men to grope her and squeeze her.

"Gonna lose my bloody shite here." Price muttered, the way they tried to get under her skirt as she laughed it off, her back pressed up against one of their bodies. She was good. He had to give her that much.

Simon turned his attention away from the screen, taking notice of the slight beads of sweat dripping down Price's temples.

He was sweating now too. To be so comfortable with these bastards as she played them like a fiddle. Price's heart was thudding in his ears. He couldn't breathe.

"Gimme an update on somethin', anythin', Simon." Price was practically pleading at this point. A small edge to his voice as he spoke with neediness, referring to the deal that was suppose to be made tonight.

Simon let out an exasperated huff as he kept his eyes on the group, laughing and sharing drinks.

"Still nothin' yet." Simon grunted, scrolling through several camera angles. A cigarette was pinched between his lips, and he pulled from it as he turned to look over at Price. It had been two hours of Price stewing in his seat with nothing to show for.

"She sure as hell ain't making it easy..." Price mumbled, running a hand over the back of his neck.

Kyle was observing the situation with a smirk. "Sure as hell not..." His mouth kicked up at the corner. She was being very provocative with them, trying to get them off their game.

"She's doin' a'ight for herself, ain't she, boss?" Kyle asked while Price remained stilled, almost intentionally provoking him a bit, which in its own respect was quite cruel to do but he couldn't help himself. The Captain was seething in silence, a small twitch on his mouth being the only indication that he had heard what his Sergeant had said.

Simon leaned his cheek against the cold wall of the control room, watching her play the men like a puppet master. Her words and touches were calculated.

He took another drag from his cigarette, trying to keep his nerves calm as Price felt like he was wasting away on his seat. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips and he silently thanked the cartel for installing such HD quality cameras so that he could at least savor this moment.

Three hours in, and there was no sign of the deal being made. Simon wondered if they all wasted their time being her back up.

"She might a'well be dancin' in a stripper's club," Price grunted, his back still stiff as he remained seated.

Simon bit back a laugh. "T’be fair, it is a titty club."

"Shut the 'ell up, Simon." Price turned over as his head pounded in tandem with his heartbeat. His jaw was clenched tight, blood boiling in his veins. "That does not change the fact that she is bein' taken advantage of."

"Right..." Simon muttered, taking another puff from his cigarette with a side-eyed smirk.

"Jus' wait until we have a debrief for this mission, you cocky bastard." Price grunted. It was an empty threat. Like the way a father would reprimand his naughty kids.

Kyle and Johnny could be heard chuckling over the comms and that seemed to alleviate the tense mood once again.

It wasn't until Simon noticed the shift in body language that sent his senses into overdrive. An instinct that he never ignored as he carefully analyzed one of the members who was leaning against the bar. He turned to the barman, ordered a round of drinks for him and his friends. In the distance, he could see [name's] lithe body swaying gracefully in and around the throngs of men. A slow, confident sway. His attention immediately shifted to the bar, catching glimpses of the body language between the cartel members and another girl they could barely keep their mouths off of.

She looked a lot like their [name]. The same build, the same hair and a similar fit. It made his stomach turn a bit.

This was the part of the mission he hated. It was when things started to get real—when there were a lot more moving pieces and when a slight error could cost her, them and the mission.

One of the members was speaking to the girl, he couldn't hear what his words were but he could read his body language clearly. He was starting to connect the dots when the girl was passed a keycard that was gently pushed into her back pocket.

"We've got movement." Simon warned.

"Where?"

Price and Simon could practically hear one another's voices on the edge of breaking.

"One o'em is passin' a keycard to woman at the bar. Keep watch." Simon commanded.

Kyle and Johnny stayed silent. But their focus remained locked on the pair, keeping eyes on her as the men around her continued to paw at her.

The barman finished pouring the drinks, and then a few other people passed by the cartel member before he leaned in to whisper her location. Simon took note.

The man and the girl began to walk away from the bar, heading towards a back door. Her body reacted defensively for a fleeting moment, recoiling ever so slightly to the unwanted touch. The door was out of the camera's range. Only the door handle could be seen. The man continued to drag her towards it, his grip tightening as he did. Simon got even more of an uneasy feeling as they drew closer.

Simon's eyes darted to another screen where a meeting was starting to take place and [name] had somehow managed to slip past the members. She was currently situated on the other side of the meeting doors, tucked away in a corner that kept her out of sight from them but gave him a clear view of her movement.

Simon noticed that there was two guards slumped over in the rooms leading to where [name] now was. "[name], do not engage. Do you copy?"

"Copy." Her voice crackled over the comms.

Simon couldn't help but think when the hell she got there with her weapon ready in hand, still in her same outfit from earlier. There wasn't much time to think about how or when she had done that.

"When did y'leave?" Kyle inquired, on behalf of them. A smirk could be heard in her voice.

"When no one was lookin', silly."

Johnny's and Price's jaw ticked in amusement at that.

"Slippery minx." Price muttered. "Weren't you s'pposed t'keep an eye 'er, Johnny?"

"I was." Johnny replied confidently. It was evident that he allowed her to do her own thing. It sure as hell beat gawking at her while other men got handsy with her assets.

Simon fixated on back on the pair from earlier, as they moved through multiple rooms, and suddenly she was thrown into the bathroom, landing on the tiles with a cry.

"Fuckin' military slut. You think I don't know who you are?" The cartel member sneered.

The girl recoiled and shook her head not able to find any words. "¡…n-no, señor! ¡N-no soy un chivato!"* She cried out.

(...n-no, mister! I am not a spy!)*

"Bloody hell, they've got the got the wrong lass." Simon grumbled over the comms realizing that there positions were somewhat compromised. It was natural for cartel members to be weary and hypervigilant about moles, but he had to maintain control over the situation.

The man didn't seem to be buying it as he fished out his gun from his holster. Simon could hear the sound of the man's voice rising over him manhandling the girl through the CCTV's audio system.

"I don't know what you are thinking you little whore, but you shouldn't have come to my club if you didn't want to get used! Don't come crying to me when these bastards finish with you!" The man yelled. His voice was so laced with arrogance and pride that Simon was tempted to get off the comms and put a bullet through his head.

By now it was obvious that the man thought she was [name]. The girl cowered before him in fear, not daring to move as she kept repeating that she wasn't a spy. But his eyes were filled with nothing but rage. It seemed to be the end of the line for her.

Simon's heart was in his throat as he watched the man aim his gun at her chest. He held the trigger down before another man walked in with two more guards.

He missed. He missed!

The girl's chest rose with relief, still trembling in fear.

"¡Maldito imbécil! ¡¿Parece una espía?!"* One of them shouts at the man who attempted to murder the girl just moments ago.

(Fucking moron! Does she look a like a spy?!)*

A gun is brought to his head and he's instructed to let go of her or die instead. The man lets go and backs away to allow the one of three guards to escort him off. The two guards that are left glare down at her in pity as they watch her shudder.

"Vete de aquí."* One of them gestured his head to the door.

(Get outta here)*

The girl tries to get to her feet but she collapses with tears streaming down her cheeks. They help her up and lead her out of the door as they shake their heads, muttering about who the fuck is training their guys nowadays.

"Fuckin' hell." Simon muttered to himself as he switched back his focus to the meeting happening in the room. No one had seemed to move from their positions. "'least tell us when y'r on th' move." His voice was filled with exasperation at [name's] cunningness.

"Sorry, Si."

She didn't mean that.

"How many?" Price asked over the comms, pushing away her actions to the back of his mind. He would deal with her later.

Simon could hear the girl cry as her tears mingled with the music from the club that drifted in and out of the bathroom. The girl was visibly distraught from her near death experience. Simon's lip was curled at the sight.

"Six." Simon replied as he watched the two guards lead her out of the restroom.

"Nine." Her voice interjected. "Those guys that took care of that--little squabble, are coming in right now." It made her heart wrench that she compromised another innocent woman, but with her out of harms way it was easier to focus on the mission once again.

"Sharp eye, hen." Johnny complimented her.

"Thank ya, Johnny." Her voice practically sang.

Minutes dragged by and Simon's eyes were dancing between [name] and the door that the cartel members all seemed to be facing, like they were waiting for the arms dealer to walk through at any given second.

"Any moment now." Simon muttered, keeping his eyes on the entrance for someone to enter, antsy for the deal to begin.

The door was pushed open and a man dressed in a crisp black suit with greased back silver hair and a thin, angular frame entered, along with another cartel member who held his weapon with his finger on the trigger. The man's eyes scanned the room as they approached the other cartel members, who remained relaxed. Simon let out a sharp breath, hoping that they had arrived on time to foil the deal.

"Tango has entered the building." Simon muttered into the comms.

A collective sigh of relief could be heard over their earpieces, but not from Price. His grip tightened on the bar stool as the seconds dragged on. It was hard to contain his breathing when his adrenaline spiked that high but he was managing.

Simon's voice was even and cool. He had trained for this moment. "Standby f'r engagement. Weapons free at m'signal."

"Copy." Price replied.

The transaction seemed ready to go down smoothly as the Russian man slid his briefcase towards the cartel members, who in turn slid over their weapons.

Simon's muscles began to tense, bracing himself for the inevitable gunfire. He was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Price's hand went to the butt of his gun, checking that it was secure in its holster as he waited for the signal to move in.

The men made their exchange, and the deal looked like it was going to go down without a hitch. But something didn't feel quite right.

Just when it seemed like things were going to go swimmingly, one of the cartel members raised his weapon and fired at the man in the suit. The man dove for cover behind the bar as a bullet shattered the glass door behind him. Chaos erupted as the entire room exploded in gunfire.

Bullets ricocheting off the walls, commands being yelled over the noise the clamor could be heard from both sides as the cartel was scrambling out of sight. [name] took that as her ticket to take care of the Russian arms dealer, but she was gently pinned to the wall.

A familiary honeyed voice in her ear. "An' where do y'think y'r goin', ducky?"

Johnny, Price and Simon move in with ease and efficiency as they neutralized the threats with no remorse. It more than personal at this point, as she ogled the way Simon used his lucky blade against the throat of one man, Johnny breaking the arm of another and Price taking his sweet time over the man that he watched so vehemently put his hands up your skirt. There seemed to be a common theme here.

"Someone call it in." Price let out a exasperated sigh as he shot the last guy straight in the skull without even giving him a second glance. He carded his calloused fingers through sweat saturated locks and his eyes fell on her.

His Sergeant's arms were enveloped around her lovingly as they eagerly tabbed their teammates individual vendettas.

"Done, sir?" Kyle probed playfully as he eyed his Captain and then the other two men. Simon flicked off the blood on his blade on the ground before using the now cartel member's suit to clean of the rest and stuffed it back in its holster, while Johnny's casually rolled his neck from side to side, cracking his neck like he just finished sparring.

The corners of Price's mouth turned up into an incredulous grin as he licked his lips and riveted on [name]. "Y'pull anotha stunt like tha' again, ducky--" He breathed out and shook his head as he took in her puckish grin. "ah fuck it. I've got no fire left 'n me after tonight."

He scratched his temple with the rear end of his handgun. "Y'call it in, Johnny?"

"Done tha' already, Cap." Johnny's tongue was peaking out of his lips as he pressed them in a thin line to keep himself from laughing, but the way the corner of his lips were kicking up gave it away.

"Good man." Price clapped the Scot's shoulder and soon the soft brouhaha of their men was heard, approaching them as they slammed doors of their vehicles ready to clean up the bodies and take them back to base. Simon and Johnny were more than happy to help them drag off the bodies onto the oncoming stretchers.

Price's bleary eyes glanced over at her form for a fleeting second before he headed toward the truck, but not before he pinched the exposed skin of her ass cheek causing her to yelp.

She pouted at him in passing to which he gave her a cheeky grin, gently instigating a smirk from her. Kyle's lips are on her cheek, his subtle stubble scratching her soft skin as she feels his breath against her ear.

"Y'r really in for it this time, ducky."

[nottswitch]

yellow hearts

summary: the times you put yellow hearts around his name, and the times he put them around yours.

pairing: sirius black x reader

warning: sappy fluff

wc: 1.6k

a/n: yellow hearts by ant saunders. a cute little thing I made upon hearing this song after many many years. finally able to write something short!

“Girl, what is this?!”

You whine, slamming your diary shut. Your cheeks suddenly feel hot and you try your hardest to avoid Lily’s prying gaze. She tries to look over your shoulder again, letting out a disappointed groan at the sight of a shiny cover.

“Just… Zip it,” you sigh, still flustered and really embarrassed. “You didn’t see anything!”

“No, no, I definitely just saw it!” Lily shouts and you have to hush her, noticing a few people at the table giving you weird glances. “Was it “Sirius” with hearts around?” she asks, her voice a bit calmer but still conveying the same emotions.

“No…”

You stutter, giving yourself completely and irrevocably away. Your eyes make an automatic roll and you scoot over to make space for your friend. Lily plops down next to you, her eager hands already reaching for your little navy-blue diary. Before you have time to hide it, she snatches the book from you and starts flicking through the pages, ignoring whatever is written on them. Finally, she finds the right page and bends the spine of the diary to have a better look.

Here it is, in all its glory. A “Sirius” with shiny yellow hearts drawn all around.

“Eww!!!”

Lily wrinkles her whole face, looking at you and then at your scribbles again.

“Don’t tell me it’s that prat Black from our year! Is it?!”

You sigh, taking the diary from her and putting it safely in your bag.

“Who else has the name, Lily? Think.”

You stare down at your breakfast, hoping that as long as you don’t look at your friend, she will miraculously forget about your existence.

“But he hangs out with Potter and they’re a bunch of tossers!” Lily’s voice is loud again, earning you a few more concerned looks.

You sigh again, biting on a slice of bacon.

“Maybe,” you mumble with your mouth full.

Lily rolls her eyes. Her plate remains untouched as she turns to you, fully intending to push for more information.

“And since when?” she demands, raising her eyebrow. You start to feel like a criminal being questioned in court.

“Last year,” you answer reluctantly, knowing that she won’t let you be if you don’t pour your whole heart out right here and now.

Lily scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief.

“This is so messed up! What’re you gonna do?”

You don’t reply. You don’t know yet. You don’t plan to ever know. But you don’t stop your sappy scribbles – you just make sure Lily never sees them again.

The second time someone sees the yellow hearts is much, much worse.

It’s your fifth year. You lost the diary a couple of days ago and you go absolutely mental trying to remember all the places you could have left it at. Your heartbeat briefly stops every time you think of a possibility of someone finding it, reading it and knowing it all.

“Oi, come on! It’s not like fancying Black is just a you thing!”

Lily tries to calm you down as best as she can. She has been lightly teasing you about your crush on Sirius for the previous two years, but she sees your worry and, being a good friend she is, hugs you and helps you on a secret mission to search every single classroom for any signs of the diary. Unfortunately, no luck.

“Lily, shut up! I have a wand and I’m not afraid to use it.”

You nibble on your nails for the hundredth time today – a nasty habit you have developed ever since losing the only way to let out your growing feelings towards a certain someone.

“What? The whole school is mad about him and his pack of tossers! No one’d blink an eye.”

“But what if he finds it?!”

“He finds what?”

You freeze at the sound of a voice, and not just a voice, his voice. A young fellow appears from behind the bench you’re sitting on, followed by three other guys, all snickering and whispering something to each other.

“Hello there, ladies,” Sirius murmurs, making a funny little bow.

“Black, shut it!” Lily immediately retorts, noticing your hopeless gaze. “Keep walking, and you might just live.”

“Well, I would, but I may have something you’re looking for.”

No. No, no, no, no.

A small navy-blue book appears in his hand and you suddenly feel like the bottom of the lake wouldn’t be such a horrible spot to be in. Lily’s eyes are wide and you think that if she had an ability to cast spells with just her eyes, she would use it right at this moment.

“Where the hell-” she starts, but you cut her off, not willing to prolong the already tense and miserable moment.

“Sirius, please, give it back.”

Your voice trembles treacherously and you mentally curse yourself for such a poor attempt at hiding your emotions. A thought of trading your face for a brick wall doesn’t seem that unappealing.

To your surprise, Sirius hands you the book without any of his usual shenanigans that you would normally expect. Your fingers brush his as you snatch the diary from him and you hold in a gasp; you would not mind becoming a delicious meal for the mermaids to munch on.

Sirius turns on his heels to leave, but then stops abruptly, as if he forgot something. A moment later, he’s at your ear, his breath warming up your already flaming hot cheek.

“I like yellow,” he whispers as his lips graze against your stray baby hairs; they suddenly feel like а bouquet of exposed nerves.

He leaves, shameless about the fact that his actions made your heart perform acrobatics within the bounds of your ribcage.

“What did he say?!” Lily repeats over and over, but you can barely hear her voice. You flip through the pages erratically and the right one catches your eye at last. A glaring “Sirius” with yellow hearts around it. You notice another name at the bottom of the page. A name of your own, staring right at you. And around it, the same yellow hearts.

The third time someone sees the yellow hearts you aren’t anxious anymore.

It’s your seventh year. Exams are approaching, but seeing as your boyfriend is Sirius Black, it’s hard to get any actual studying done. You have been dating for quite a while now, but it still feels… new.

You’re in Transfiguration together. He sits several rows behind you – a rule McGonagall made just a week prior, “For your own good”, as she said, because together you weren’t making much progress. But he still finds ways to remind you of his presence – he makes paper birds, charming them to fly right to you. Sometimes they’re just pretty birds, sometimes they’re notes with some silly poem he wrote for you, just to make you laugh and earn a warning from Minerva – for both of you, because the source of your distraction is really obvious.

Another bird lands on the desk in front of you. You quickly glance at McGonagall and, much to your contentment, notice that she’s preoccupied with her textbook.

“Hey,” you hear a whisper from behind. Of course, you recognize Sirius. He grins at you and gestures to unfold the origami. Even before you can do it, you see a sheer golden glow emanating from within. Your smile grows wider as you open the poor bird and see the letters scribbled down on a piece of parchment.

Your name. And yellow hearts around it.

McGonagall clears her throat somewhere above you. Her menacing glare tries to burn a hole in your head, but you don’t really care. You give her a sorry nonetheless.

“Shall I teach special classes, so that you attend in the morning and Mr. Black – in the evening?” the professor demands, but you see glimmers of amusement in her eyes. She briefly glances at the note she took from you and gives you and Sirius one of her raised-eyebrow looks, but you see the corners of her mouth lift up ever so slightly. You hear Sirius chuckle, close your eyes and smile. You don’t need anyone else.

The fourth time yellow hearts frame not one name, but two.

You and Sirius have just returned from your honeymoon. You have a whole stack of polaroids from your trip and you want to pick just one to put on the fridge in your shared home. The job proves to be rather difficult. You almost have a fight, which is so stupid and insignificant, but so you.

“Babe, this one is obviously superior! You see how stunning I am in this jacket?!”

“Yeah, and I’m blinking like an idiot because the sun is right up in my face. Sirius, babe, not everything has to be about you.”

You finally choose the one. It’s the last polaroid in your stack and you just can’t take your eyes off of it. In the picture, you’re waving at the camera and laughing, with an ice cream cone in your hand. Sirius pulls you in for a kiss and when he leans away, his nose is adorned with a spot of white ice cream.

You can’t help giggling, show the polaroid to Sirius and he does the same.

“This is it,” you say simultaneously and cackle at your apparently developed skill in Legilimency.

“Just a moment.”

Sirius stops you from taking the picture, takes out a sharpie and writes something on a white area at the bottom of it. He takes out his wand, silently waves it in front of the picture and only then goes up to the fridge and puts it up with many others. He steps back to have a better look at his creation.

You’re flustered, but a joyful smile doesn’t leave your lips. Sirius understands and places a gentle kiss on your temple. You look at the words written on the polaroid once more.

A “Sirius” and then your name below it. Around it, shiny yellow hearts shimmering in the sun and casting an array of rainbow specks all over the kitchen.

my masterlist

[mrsparrasblog]

hi srry if you don't do requests but I have to ask cuz I love everything about your writing.

Can u write a fic where the mc is strictly monogamous but 141 are SO madly in love so they fight on who gets to be with her and it's causing actual problems between them?

Ignored this if u don't want to. Anyway stay slaying✨

Hey ☀️🩷 Ofc I take requests this is my first one tho, I hope you like It, and it's like you imagined because I always have like a little movie in my head when I write a scene and with requests. I don't know if my thoughts match with yours- performance anxiety lol. Still thank you for supporting me 🩷☀️

Fighting for you

TF 141 x Reader

You always had that one plan in your life: meet a nice guy, date for 2 years, marry him with the most extravagant wedding dress someone could imagine, and after that, you get three fat babies whom you will love and dote on.

The only problem was, as a nurse on a military base, you didn't meet guys capable of this lifestyle. You hated to see all these men trying to get in your pants while they were married.

"Why are you in the med again, Johnny?" You scolded him. Of course, you found the Scotsman funny and liked his daily visits, but still, having him here all the time felt like a lost puppy when you had work to do.

"Look, Bonnie, have a mean scratch, need stitches from ya."

"Is that so, Mr. MacTavish?"

"Yes, Bonnie, look." He showed you a scar on his biceps, and you sighed. You knew he was only coming for something else; no soldier went to the medical just because of a scratch. He started to flex his biceps.

"Johnny, that's barely anything."

"But ya always fix me good, lassie." He looked at you with puppy eyes, and you sighed, disinfecting his nonexistent wound. "Such a good caretaker, lass. Need to put a ring on ya before someone else does." You blushed at the thought of marrying someone like Johnny. He was handsome, funny, and super strong, but he was a flirt, probably flirting with every other nurse. Besides, you had a date today.

"Johnny, stop flirting. I have a date today."

"Just a date, lass. It's not like you'll marry him."

You stared at him with a dead glare. "For some people, dates are important, Johnny!"

"Who is it?"

"None of your business, and now leave," you scolded him, annoyed by his noisy behavior.

-----------

"Who of you bastards broke the agreement?" Johnny started to scream at his teammates.

"What do you mean, Soap?" Kyle asked, confused.

"We agreed that no one can have her since she doesn’t want to share, so who of you tossers broke the agreement and goes on a date with her?"

"How do you even know that mate, if you didn’t break the agreement too?"

"I just needed her to take care of my injuries, Kyle."

"Bullshit, you barely got a scratch. Admit that you wanted to break off the agreement too. Admit it." Gaz barked, walking towards Soap to pick him up by his shirt.

"Enough of you, Muppets!"

"You broke the agreement, Captain, didn't ya? Telling us all about the agreement and then taking out my future wife."

"I didn't, and even if, she'd be more happy to become Mrs. Price than Mrs. MacTavish."

They were so close to fighting; everyone accused the other of taking you on that date. They remembered the first day they saw you; all of them were smitten. You were just too precious, full of love and excitement. Perfect hair, perfect body, everything about you was perfect for them. You could walk with your greasy messy bun, and they’d kneel for you, promising you’re the most beautiful woman on earth. After a while, they noticed how every one of them was smitten, how Johnny spent every minute in the infirmary, Ghost becoming your shadow, protecting you from every danger of the world without you even knowing, the Captain always treated you better than every other staff member, you had more off days, better shifts, and even better pay, and Kyle bringing you always your favorite coffee and a bunch of pastries when you overworked yourself again.

Johnny was the first one to ask the rest if they’d be open to a poly relationship. He was the most open about his sexuality, and having Simon and you was the perfect thing for him. Whether the reasons why they agreed to try to court you in this relationship, every one of them thought you only deserved the best, and that included being worshiped by four muscular men.

Unfortunately, your best friend, who noticed their goal while you still stayed in your naive bubble, popped their bubble, telling them to sod off. You weren’t made for this kind of relationship; you were jealous and liked the idea of monogamy way too much. You only wanted to have one husband. That's how the agreement started none of them will pursue you, and they will only start something with you if you approach them, no more flirting, favoritism, or looming over you.

Nonetheless, they gave a fuck about their agreement, behind closed doors still trying to court you in various different ways, but how could they not? You were perfect, and they were obsessed and way too much in love with you to let someone else have you.

"Where the fuck is Ghost?" Kyle asked, looking around for the scary man with the skull face mask.

"Fucking hell, he is her date."

"Sick bastard."

------

Soap walked into Ghost's barracks, eager to scream at his best friend. He was the first to love you, so Ghost should not have gone on a date with you without telling him. The betrayal felt immaculate, his best friend with the love of his life.

"Aye, Lieutenant, heard you're going on a date with the lassie."

"Johnny, it just happened."

"No hard feelings, LT. Where are you taking her?"

"Alfredo's."

"Oh, okay."

Simon looked confused at Johnny. "What's wrong?"

"Take her to a better place a steakhouse or a fish restaurant. Give her a real meal, not something cheap. Lassies love this fancy shit."

"Thanks, mate."

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

Your date with Ghost was okay. He was brooding over something, and as he insisted on ordering something for you as a surprise, despite you telling him no, he did it, wanting to be a posh bloke who knows what his lady wants. Soap said you liked this fancy shit and heavy meat and fish.

As you looked disgusted at the filet steak, trying not to be rude by saying you're a vegetarian, he lost it mentally, not with you but with his best friend, who betrayed him just for you. He'd do the same, of course, but it's still different, right?

The date went on way too cringy, Simon spent most of the time apologizing to you for the messed-up date, and you tried to reassure him that it was okay. When he brought you back home, he asked if he could stay the night, and you politely declined.

"Johnny, I'm going to rip your fucking head off."

"Aye, shit," Johnny screamed as he began to run.

"The date went shit, I guess?" Kyle asked, unfazed by all the screaming from the two men fighting. He acted as if he didn't let slip the information that she is vegetarian next to Johnny or told Price she liked roses after she told him for 20 minutes straight how they are overrated. The best part was no one even suspected him; he was calm about the situation, not trying to solve it with violence like Johnny and Simon. While the others played checkers, he played chess to get you.

"Yes, it was."

"I told you muppets, I'm the one who deserves her."

"Shut up, Price," Ghost scoffed.

"I think so too, Captain should have her. At least he treats her well," Kyle said with a boyish grin.

So the Captain asked you out on a date, and after some convincing, you agreed, making yourself ready and waiting for him in desperation. You looked great, hair curled, mascara applied, and in a dress that was classy but a bit sexy. You knew Price could be a guy for this, maybe a bit too old, but still, you could grow old with him, and maybe he would give you everything your innocent heart desires.

After waiting for an hour, you were sure he wouldn’t come. If only you had known that Ghost was faking an accident and Soap's promise to tell you about it, not to let the sweet angel wait for the Captain. Soap was already on the way to play the knight in shining armor, fully confident to finally sweep you off your feet and make you the future Mrs. MacTavish, his sweet little angel. Oh, how the boys would look to know that he got the heart of their sweetheart finally.

Too late.

"Hey, lovely, why are you sobbing? Do I need to punch someone for you?"

"It's embarrassing, Kyle."

"Tell me about it."

"Just had a bunch of weird dates. One wanted to only bed me, I guess, and the other stood me up," you sobbed, looking into Kyle's pretty face.

"Oh, love, you know that all these guys around the boys are head over heels fighting over you like wild animals."

"Never."

"They are, how couldn't they? You're perfect."

"You're a flirt, you know that."

"And you're too pretty to cry, you know that?" He winked at you, removing the tears from your beautiful eyes.

"You think so?"

"Mhm."

"Kyle," you asked him shyly, looking deep into his brown eyes.

"Yes?"

"Are you one of the boys who fight over me too?"

"Sure as hell, love!" He almost shouted, full of enthusiasm.

"You wouldn’t want what I want."

"And how do you know that?"

"I just want you, to know all, exclusive dating."

"Mhm, I'd give you that without a doubt, love. Just let me prove to you that I'm the right one for you, love." His hand slowly went to your face, caressing the soft skin that was still tinted by your mascara tears. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen." And when you looked at him with your doe eyes, he lost it, slowly pulling his rough lips on your soft ones, holding your head for dear life as if you could vanish any second. He was afraid he did something wrong, maybe scared you like a deer, but you didn't shy away; you pulled him closer, letting his lips intertwine with yours and slowly opening your mouth to let his tongue explore yours. It felt like a firework in your body; every fiber burned with pure passion as he kissed you. You didn't want to stop; you needed him as deeply as he longed for you.

"Fucking Garrick, I didn't think he’d win her over," Ghost murmured behind the wall, watching you with the others in jealousy as Kyle got their girl.

"He played us like fucking fools, telling us it's okay if we win her over," Price muttered, annoyed and kinda proud at his sneaky bastard.

"I'm more of a looker than fucking Gaz," Soap said, annoyed.

As happy as you were right now, all of the boys knew the fight for your heart wouldn’t stop until there was a ring on your finger.

[captainlondonman]

SKIN NEIGHBOUR

Dave was sad to see his neighbour, old Mrs.Dawson leaving for the Rest Home. She had been a good neighbour but been fairly bedridden for a while and Dave had been good at going in to help cook and clean. That was why he had a set of keys for the apartment and it was only after she had left that he realised he had not handed over the keys. Still when the new people arrived he could drop them off.

That Saturday as he was quietly listening to some music he heard  raised voices outside and looked through his spyhole. Standing outside were three skinheads in full gear opening up Mrs. Dawson’s front door laden with boxes

Fucking great place you got here mate. It’ll be a fucking great party place. Before we do anything to unpack you let’s open a few bottles to celebrate. You’ll sure waken up the neighbours here. Bet they are all a bunch of tossers. We’ll show them what fucking skins are eh?

It was clear which was the new occupant and the other two were smaller but chunky in build, with thick necks both covered in tattoos. Their legs looked as if they had been poured into their bleachers and both had them held high with braces showing off meaty bulges.

With that the three went inside and banged the door shut. In minutes Dave could hear the music being switched on and the guys shouting at each other always with expletives

‘Christ this is going to be awful. I’ll have to complain to the authorities if this gets out of control. And for now I certainly am not knocking on that door to give the keys back. They’d probably let loose at me and I’m not risking that.’

The music continued as did the shouting until mid evening when Dave heard two policeman at the opposite door. Shortly after they left the music was switched off and two of the skinheads came out to leave. One of the two crossed the hall and shouted through Dave’s letterbox

“It fucking well better not be you or else we’ll get you’

‘Thank God they have left and not all three are living there.’

Next morning as Dave was getting ready for work he heard the door opposite open and he looked through his spyhole.

The skin was the same height, perhaps a bit broader, still in full gear with oxblood boots, yellow laces, tight fitting bleachers that stuck to a good sized arse, a Fred Perry black T shirt and a black bomber jacket. As he looked at the back view Dave could see the word Skinhead heavily tattooed on the back of his neck. The guy turned round as if he almost knew he was being watched and gave a finger up sign at Dave’s door.

The guy looked a pure thug with his shaved head and slightly bulbous nose as if he had had it broken in a fight plus a good solid neck. On the one hand Dave was terrified but on the other seeing such a real thuggish man was also turning him on to the point that he could feel his cock inching down his trouser leg. As he rubbed his semi hard dick he thought perhaps I should just put the keys through the letterbox but then the guy would know who Dave was. On the other hand as he had the keys perhaps he could go and have a quick look as it was clear the guy had gone off to work. The temptation was too much. He wanted to see what had once been a really nice tidy apartment.

Opening the front door he could smell stale cigarette smoke as well as left over beer. In the kitchen apart from pizza boxes empty cans were scattered across the work top. In the living room an ashtray was full of ciggie butts. What took Dave’s breath away was the huge Nazi flag that had been pinned up and took over one wall. When he then checked out the bedroom a large black rubber sheet covered the bed. However this room was much tidier with a selection of boots and heights and differing laces on the floor. On a rail several pairs of bleachers hung, various colours of Fred Perry shirts and a few bomber backets in black, green and brown. The guy was obviously proud of his clothes. Lying on the floor scrunched up was a jockstrap, clearly used.

As Dave looked at the jockstrap he started to imagine what the guy must look like wearing it and when he gingerly picked it up he could see the well formed bulge that the guy’ cock had stuffed into it. He wanted to sniff it but it was too dangerous to do there so quickly he left the apartment with the jock strap. Sitting on his own sofa  he studied it and could see heavy piss marks but sections were crusty where the guy had obviously had the remnants of cum from sex sessions. Dave ran his one hand over the pouch feeling the crust, his other hand starting to massage his own dick. He needed to sniff and take in the full odour of the piss and cum. At first he just lightly smelt but the strong stench of a good week old jockstrap was too over powerful and he needed to get his nose right into the pouch. He wanted to feel the guy’s cum all over his face as he rubbed it over his cheeks and stuffing it up his nose savouring every part of the stench. He could imagine the guy pissing and not getting rid of the final dribbles so the piss could soak into the jockstrap. Also if the guy had had sex, why wash when his jockstrap could take the last parts to ooze out. Thinking of the guy, Dave was so bloody horny and unzipped his trouser to take out his now fully erect 7inch dick. It was a good thick piece of meat and the little sex Dave had had, his quickie partners had always remarked on the girth and heavy knob head. Now stroking his dick he needed to taste the cum and piss mix and slowly let the jockstrap slip into his mouth.

‘Shit what a taste, this is so bloody amazing. I can just see the guy now.’

By now his hand was fully rubbing the entire length of his cock and he pushed the jockstrap fully into his mouth  down the back of his throat letting his saliva take the full taste. He was almost gagging but the groaning started to increase as he felt his cock so rigid that the precum was oozing out the tip. Dave leant back on his sofa arching his back, his head raised with the jockstrap firmly down his throat, his hand now pummelling his dick. With one final jerk his cock erupted load after load of white cum over the floor and sofa.

As Dave pulled out the soaking wet jockstrap he thought

‘This is one of the best orgasms I’ve had in ages. I’ve never thought much about Skins in the past but thinking of the neighbour messing this up and looking so aggressive and butch is too much. I’m so glad he lives next door and that I still have the keys. I’ll let it dry out and carefully put in back tomorrow when he is out.’

Sure enough next day when he heard the Skin leave he waited a short time and then let himself in to return the now dry jockstrap and place at the side of the bed., just tucked under the rubber sheet so he might think he had kicked it out the way. Standing there looking at all the gear made him horny and made him wonder what he might look dressed in in it all after all the two were about the same size

‘I would so like to see me in all that, and feel what its like to be powerful, a yobbo a skin. I’d never dare go to a skin pub or pick a guy up like that but part of me would love to look like one. This is too good an opportunity to let pass. I know I just have to do this.’

Dave pulled out a pair of bleachers, a white Fred Perry, yellow braces and black Ranger boots with yellow laces and finally a green bomber. Standing there naked his cock was fully erect as he tried to stuff it into the bleachers. It made a huge outline down the leg and he moved his big balls behind his cock pushing his dick even further out to accentuate the hard line. It took him some time to lace up the boots but by looking at posters of skins around the room he could see how it was done. He loved the weight of the soles and how they encased his legs making him almost feel like a hardened yob. Next the Fred Perry and braces and finally the Mac bomber which had a set on wings embroidered on the back. This was better than he could have imagined. He felt transformed. He opened a couple of drawers and on the top of one was a lycra black hood with eye and mouth cut outs.

‘Bet he wears this on the prowl when he’s looking to beat up guys. It will make him feel more aggressive and dominant.’

 As he slipped it on over his head he felt himself more a man, more ready to fight. In the corner of the room was a baseball bat. ‘Christ the guy really did like trouble. I wouldn’t stand a chance meeting him.’

Clutching the bat he stood in front of the full length mirror.

Dave could not recognise himself. Gone was the wimpy college boy and instead was a skin in full gear holding a bat with a stiff cock bursting out of bleachers. He felt himself empowered  staring at the mirror. He looked like a skin and now he felt like one staring at this rough vision of someone he’d love to be

‘I’m a fucking skin, don’t fucking mess with me, I’ll fucking lay you, fucking bat you to bits. Us skins dominate I’ll fuck you to bits till your arse aches.Us skins only fuck skins.’

Putting on his working class accent Dave shouted at the mirror with one hand waving the bat and the other rubbing his cock through his bleachers. He had never felt like this and already a small patch of precum was showing through the bleachers. He had never felt so horny as he unzipped his fly and plunging his hand deep inside he pulled out his thick cock the head now glistening with cum.

‘I’m gonna fucking shoot this skin cum straight at you, you bastard, get ready Im a fucking skin. No one messes with me. Skin. Skin, skin. Oi Oi Oi’

His hand was now sliding up and down his shaft as he stared at his alter ego. ‘Fucking cum now. See how much cum a skin has’

And with that he shot a heavy load of thick white cum over the mirror.

As soon as he had cum he realised he needed to get out of the gear and get back to his real life but more importantly put everything back as it was and clean the mirror of the cum that was now running down the glass. He had to leave the place exactly as it was. He carefully put the clothes back exactly as he had found them, set the bat as it was and the boots in the same line up. By the time he got into his own flat he was exhausted from his orgasm but on a such a high seeing himself as never before.

‘Christ I would love to be like that instead of my weak pathetic self that I am.’

For the rest of the day he could think of little else and even in his dreams he saw a fierce looking skin coming towards him. All he wanted to do was go back the next day and repeat. He so wanted to see his vision changed and to cum in such shedloads

Sure enough the Skin went off to work and an hour later Dave let himself in. He decided to wear a different assortment of skin gear so put on the Oxblood rangers just like he had seen his neighbour wear and he chose a very bleached pair of jeans which showed off his erect cock even more as there was a little more space to allow the bulge look even more obvious. A navy T shirt and the brown bomber jacket which had SKINHEAD emblazoned on the back. He loved how he looked like another skinhead and would act out the part again to make himself so bloody horny it was painful to hold back coming. He found the hood but not the baseball bat which for Dave was all part of the aggro he wanted to create for himself.

‘It must be in the sitting room’ he thought and he opened the door to go in and check.

As he walked in the two Skinheads from last week were sitting on the sofa  beer and ciggies in hand with their booted feet up on a table.

‘Well who the fuck do we have here?’

As Dave froze in the doorway a strong  arm suddenly came round his neck in a stranglehold and he felt a thick metal collar being locked into place around his neck and padlocked. He was terrified as he felt a low sneering voice in his ear saying

‘So you’re the wimp from next door who has been breaking in to my pad. I don’t fucking taking kindly to the likes of you and no doubt you’ve been jerking off in my clothes.’

Suddenly one of the other skins shouted.

‘Fucking hell, Rick, the bloke’s pissing himself and in your fucking bleachers.’

Sure enough the terror had been too much and what started off as a small damp patch appearing at Dave’s crotch was now showing a long line of piss running down one leg all the way down to the boot. He was pissing so much it was also now running down the front of the bleachers having completely soaked through.

Rick yanked the chain attached to the collar forcing Dave’s head back, and with Rick staring at him spat out a huge gob of spit into his face and took one hand and rubbed it well in, gobbing a second time.

‘You fucking little shit. You’re gonna pay for this. You think you can piss in my best bleachers so you can fucking drink the stuff. Joe go and get the special hood for this little wanker but drink up those beers so you give him a real golden shower.

Joe came back with the hood and rubbing his dick with excitement.

‘This is gonna be fucking great. Serves the bastard right ruining your bleachers. We’ll make him pay.’

‘Lets see what the bugger looks like first’ and with that Rick pulled off the lycra hood

‘What a poncy little wimp we have here. ‘Ill tell you now you bastard you will not be leaving here looking like this. Now let me get this hood on you. ‘

The hood was made of leather straps and buckles which Rick secured into place and on the strap that went over Dave’ mouth was a hole with a rubber tube. ‘Breath in for the moment mate but there’s one final piece to be added and with that he rammed a funnel into the other end.

‘There we are so who’s first to let him know what piss really tastes like. He’s already gobbled my dirty jockstrap. Yeah mate did you think I hadn’t noticed? So you’re big on piss? Go on Joe get that rancid cock of yours out and see how much he likes it.’ As Rick said this he tied Dave’s hands firmly in rope behind his back.

Suddenly Dave seemed to realise what was happening

‘Please don’t do this, I am really sorry. I know I’m wrong and I’ll pay for your new jeans and anything else but not this.

‘Not this? You’re the one who drank the piss from my Jocktrap, you’re the one who has pissed himself in my best bleachers. So piss it is and loads of it, so start to swallow

With his hand ensuring the tube was well into Dave’s mouth  Rick shouted at Joe.

‘Go on let him have it. Let me see that piss of yours go all the way down.’

‘Do what Rick fucking well tells you, you slob because you’re doing my boots next, as he emptied his piss in to the funnel. Joe let his cock hang into the funnel and with one large belch his piss started pouring out of the cock and into the funnel.

‘ Shit Rick he’s trying not to swallow. The funnel is filling up.’

‘You little bastard’ and with that Rock slapped Dave across the face. The jolt and shock made Dave open his mouth wide and the piss poured down and Joe’s cock kept releasing more and more beer piss.

‘Right enough Joe, let Fred have a go and he can taste each of your piss.’

Joe stood back flipping his dribble cock into his bleachers and Fred took aim into the funnel his long thin cock being set into the funnel.

‘Christ I love this, seeing a guy take my piss’

With that Fred started stroking his cock as he emptied his piss into the funnel.

‘Keep that knob on for later. You’ll get the chance soon enough’

‘Christ the guy can’t get enough the way he is slurping it down.’

At first Dave felt he wanted to retch as the acid burned in his throat and even though he was tied with Rick holding by the neck and chain, there was something about the beery flavour as well as seeing two skin heads in front of him opening their flies and letting him see two rancid cocks release their piss especially Fred’s  erect cock which had to aim so carefully so as to make the funnel. Dave’s own cock was almost involuntarily reacting and he could feel his dick lengthening down the wet piss stained bleachers. Two skins bearing over him making him feel subservient was in truth what he had wanted.

‘Now put yer cock away Fred time for the next stage. So now you bastard with all that saliva and piss we need our boots cleaned. My turn first’

Rick pulled Dave off the chair by the metal collar and chain.

‘Get down on the fucking floor and start licking’.

As Dave went down on his knees he looked up at Rick and could see the skin was getting excited. There was a thick outline of a rigid cock down one leg. The guy sure had a good sized 8” prick.

As Dave bent to start licking so Rick firmly placed his other booted foot on Dave’s head forcing it hard down his mouth being crushed against the boot

‘Get yer fucking tongue out of yer mouth and start. I wanna see these boots sparkling with yer spit.’

‘Do what Rick fucking tells you as you’re doing my boots next’

‘And then mine’

Rick bent over taking hold of Dave’s head and yanked it up and down his boot watching Dave spit all across the toe caps.

‘That’s better boi. Us Skins like our boots shining. Now do the other’

Dave continued to let his spit and piss mix spread over the boots until Rick pulled him up by the chain and moved him over to Joe who bent down and gobbed into Dave’s face.

‘Now use some of my spit to make em more shiny, got it’.

There was no point Dave saying anything. He was completely under their control and if he complained he would only be mugged big time.

‘You’re good at this boi. Well need to get you do this more often.

‘Make sure he still has some spit for my boots’ Fred shouted. He also bent down and whacked Dave across the face.

‘You make me so fucking annoyed boi for breaking into Ricks pad. Lick my boots and soles I want to see my face in them.’

Dave was being forced down against the boots his arse up showing his good sized round cheeks tight against the bleachers.

‘Shit Rick the boi’s got a brill arse. We ain’t leaving that alone Just looking at that ripe ass is making me cock nice and hard he said stroking the enlarged length. Ain’t got me jock on so nice an easy to whip me dick out.’

Rick said ‘Well boys the next move is for you. Do as you like.’ Joe placed his hand over Fred’s dick outline and rubbed it.

‘Always luv that cock of yours Joe. This boi needs it.’ And with that he took his heavy hand and whacked it across Dave’s cheeks making him wince in pain. Seeing him react Fred decided a few more slaps would warm up his cheeks ready for entry. Fred bent down and put his hands around Dave’s waist to unbutton his flies

‘Fucking hell boys, the lad’s luving this . His cock is like a metal pole and a thick one to. He must luv his cock being soaked in his own piss and us skins on top of him. No bloody wonder he loves our gear.’

Fred eased the jeans down to expose Dave’s arse. ‘Nice and red now boi! You like a slap. Let’s get you ready.’

 He put one finger in and started to move it around

‘Plenty of space there for a good fuck mate’

He then put in a second and a third and finally a fourth

Rather than screaming Dave felt good with the fingers in him and moved his arse up.

‘Christ you’d take a whole fist mate by the looks of things.’

Taking his fingers out he put the hand around Daves face and smeared any shit off them

‘If you can piss yerself like that boi then you can take yer own shit’

‘Time for my cock to get inside that arse of yours.’ Fred said unzipping his bleachers and pulling out his erect dick with the red head pulled back and nicely exposed.

‘What you looking at Joe, get that cock of your ready, were a couple so we fuck together right. Get on yer knees beside me. I go first and then you.’

Both Fred and Joe knelt behind Dave’s arse. Fred put one hand around Joe’s shaft and with the other opened up Dave’s crack to ease in his cock.

‘It may not be the thickest but I’ll give you a good length. What did I say you could take a bloody ship up there boi.’

Fred slipped his dick in and moved it further up, Dave letting out a groan

‘You fucking love this boi eh? Well let’s see how you like two dicks up you.’ Fred then widened Dave’s cheeks to make his hole more exposed. ‘Right Joe get in from the side but put a gob on it first to help our young friend.’

Fred put one  arm around Joe and with the other took his dick and pushed it into the side.

‘Open up that fucking arse of your boi Joe wants in. Push it Joe’

With one sharp push Joe’s cock slipped in alongside Fred’s

Dave yelped with pain as his hole had to expand to take two cocks but once past the entry he felt pleasure and the need for them to push their dicks up further.

‘Christ Rick stop rubbing that prick of yours. I know you get a real knob on watching Fred and I fuck together but the boi can give you a good blow job. Hoist his head up with that chain of yours.’

‘Too fucking right Joe I need to shed a load of cum from watching you’

And with that he hoisted Dave’s head up in the steel collar so Dave was looking straight at the 8 inch dick now bursting against the bleachers. Rick pulled Dave’s head in to him

‘Suck my dick through me bleachers boi.’

Dave could not wait to feel the cock in his mouth with the bleachers between.

‘Please take it out Sir so I can get it all the way down my throat.’

‘Jesus boi what a horny bugger you are. Two cocks up yer arse and all you want my by whopping great prick down yer throat. It ain’t gonna be easy prising this monster out of my bleachers.’ He said with his hand firmly down one leg trying to pull his rigid cock out. Suddenly it sprang out of the bleachers and hit Dave in the face.

‘Like that cock of mine hitting you? Well let’s hit you a few more times’. As he whacked it across Dave’s face leaving a smear of precum

‘Now open that mouth of yours wide.’ Already the saliva was dribbling out of Dave’s mouth in readiness. He wanted to choke on Rick’s cock and feel the cum being forced down the back of his throat.

As Ricks cock entered Dave’s mouth so Dave started to push his arse back  to let in both cock further up his hole.

‘Christ’ he thought ‘I’m serving 3 Skins. It is like a dream’.

Joe and Fred turned to one another and started deep throat kissing , both so fired up being up the same arse and also seeing Rick so horny as his cock slipped further and further into Dave’s mouth.

‘That’s it boi take it all Let me feel my pubes against yer mouth.’ As Rick shoved his cock deeper into Dave’s mouth so Joe and Fed pushed their dicks further up their lips still glued together.

‘Christ boys I am really getting off watching you two fuck. This fucking prick is gonna get a river of spunk down his throat.’

As Fred and Joe stopped mouthing Fred looked up and said

‘Bloody hell Rick I didn’t think the lad would be able to take that big dick of yours. I’ve never managed the whole length. Shit you are the whole way down. Come on Joe its time for us to let him have it. A few more pushes  and I’ll come.’

The two skins worked the arse together and with one wail they let their loads shoot up Dave’s arse, groaning loudly. Rick seeing his mates spunk found it all too much and firmly grabbing Dave’s head said

‘Take the whole fucking lot boy. As he shot his spunk there was so much Dave could not swallow and it started to ooze out his mouth and down on to his Fred Perry, a long line of white cum. Rick kept shoving his cock against Dave’s mouth

‘Christ boi what a fucking throat. This is the best blow job Ive had in a long while.’

‘Jesus that was fucking amazing Rick. This kid loves a good fuck. Looked as if you made him swallow a shedload of cum.’

Rick wiped the remaining cum across Dave’s face

‘Now use your tongue to lick that up boi.’

Dave was no longer frightened. He was with 3 skins and they all had shot a load either inside his arse or down his throat. He almost felt like one of them.

‘Right guys, now fuck off I have the last bit of work to do with Dave boi. But first bring me the razors and shaving foam. I don’t want you here for that otherwise you both become too fucking horny again.’

Joe and Fred did as told

‘Now fuck off. Right Dave boi bend you head forwards and lets get this fuzz off that head of yours. You can’t wear skin gear with all that hair. Why the fuck do you think we are called Skinheads eh? Now you wont need to wear a mask to imagine yerself as a skin.’

Rick took the razor over Dave’s head initially giving him a number one so he only had  tufts left and Dave watched his locks fell to the ground almost relieved this was happening. Rick covered his head with shaving foam and started from the back moving the razor up from the neck and over the top. As he moved around Dave he could feel Ricks cock pressing against his shoulder and it was not soft,  far from it. He had a bloddy great knob on.

‘So you like feeling my knob against you whilst you get shaved eh?’

‘That’s some dick there. Can you please rub it a bit more.’

‘Right fucking little poofta. I can see your own cock stiffening nicely.. Lets get this job done.’ Rick continued with more foam and kept on shaving until he pressed his hand over Dave’s head and was able to feel its smoothness.

Then taking a hot cloth he cleaned Dave up and stood back rubbing his dick with satisfaction.

‘Now the important bit.’

He went out the room and came back in with a full leather hood with no eye or mouth holes. Coming out from various parts it looked almost like electrodes.

‘Lets get this on you,’ he unzipped the back part and slid it over Dave’s head, it sliding on nicely now he was totally bald.

‘A perfect size’ Rick said as he zipped it up. ‘Now smell the leather, good ain’t it.’

Dave nodded not knowing what was going to happen next

‘You’re gonna feel a few sensations but it only takes a few minutes and then you will feel more like us, as it’s what you really want.’

Again Dave nodded.

‘Right I’m switching on now.’

A sudden current made Dave jerk, he felt a heat wave running through his head, a thumping he’d never experienced. It was as if a light was trying to remove everything in his brain and he was totally unable to fight it. He did not want to fight it. It was almost a comfort to feel nothing. There was a pause and nothing happened for what seemed ages and then suddenly his whole head felt as if it was going to explode. He started to feel angry, aggressive even his thoughts were basic and he was sure he could feel his voice going through a change as he groaned with the impact of the charge. He wanted out of this he wanted to take charge.

Rick unzipped and took off the leather mask.

‘Fucking hell, I love it, you have SKIN tattooed across yer scalp. Brill. Now I am gonna untie you and take off the  neck shackle so you can see yerself in the mirror.’

Dave silently stood up and looked at himself in the piss stained bleachers, boots and bomber jacket but now gone were the locks of hair Instead he stood looking at a full bodied skin with a scar running down one cheek and SKIN tattooed over his head.

‘Right mate’ Dave barked in a deeper rough voice ‘you and yer mates have fucking put me through all this and if you think that dick of mine is not gonna cum now you’re fucking wrong.’

And with that Dave attacked Rick with a full punch into the stomach winding him and as he collapsed forward so Dave moved in. and put Rick into a stranglehold

‘You made me a fucking skin so now you’re gonna get fucked by a skin and I can see that dick of yours waiting to burst out of yer bleachers. Did you not think I could see that rear arse zip in yer bleachers. So much for big tough guy. Ye love a big cock up that arse of yours.’

Dave pulled down the rear zip and put his hand into Ricks crack.

‘Nice little hairy bum you have there Rick boi. By the time I’ve fucked you my cum will be stuck to all these hairs as I pull out.’ As Dave’s hand explored the crack and put two fingers up exploring the space.

‘Fucking nice hole boi’ he said taking his fingers out and smearing them across Ricks mouth. ‘Now taste yer own fucking shit, good ain’t it?’

Rick was in such a stranglehold he could not reply but he was suddenly aware of Dave’s fat cock pushing its way in to his craqck.

‘Don’t worry mate I let a good gob onto my cock so it’ll slide in nicely.’ As Dave pushed so Rick instinctively moved his arse back to meet Dave’s shaft.

‘That’s it boy you are fucking desperate for this. Its sliding in a treat. Now lets feel that cock of yours’

Rick was pushing himself into Dave’s shaft so he could feel it going right up to the hilt and Dave put his hand in and unleashed a good thick and long dick.

‘Shit you’re hard man. Lets make sure we come together.’ As Dave started to pummel Ricks arse he put his mouth against Rick’s neck and started kissing almost sinking his teeth into the neck. Rick was groaning with pleasure.

‘Not so much a tough guy now, eh Rick with my dick stuffed up yer arse and that cock of yours in my hand is just luvin it all. That’s it push yer arse all the way back into my prick

‘Shit Dave boi that cock of yours feels so good and your hand rubbing up and down my cock you sure know how to wank a guy. Christ my balls are ready to burst. Go on keep ramming that dick into me, fucking well take me. I can feel your precum oozing into me but I want all you can give. Go on give my tits a good nip.’

‘So you like yer tits worked on, you should have said mate.’

Dave moved his free hand up Ricks chest and gently rubbed his fingers over Ricks left nipple rubbing it through his Fred Perry

‘You don’t want a rub do you mate? More like this.’

And with that he pinched the tit hard.

‘Fucking hell man that hurts’

‘It’s what you want so stop being such a babe’, Dave barked as he continued to tweak.

‘Not so bad now is it the way your moving about. You just love my cock up you, my hand wanking your prick and now having your tit worked on. It’s sure got me so fucking horny I am ready to let rip up yer arse.’

‘Fuck man let me have it I’m also ready to shoot. Wank me harder, that’s it Shit I’m cumin’

‘Take all my cum Rick boi’

And with that Dave let loose spurt after spurt up Rick’s arse and Rick with final groan shot his load with Daves hand firmly around his shaft

‘Fucking hell man, I haven’t had an orgasm like that for ages. Thank God you let yerself into my pad and decided you love us skins.’

Dave gave his final shot up Ricks arse  and as he pulled out he swung Rick round and kissed him roughly putting his tongue well down Ricks throat.

‘Yeah mate thank you. I’m so fucking glad I’m no longer that pathetic  jerk and now I know I’m one of you bois. I’m a Skin’

Rick took hold of Dave face as they kissed and said

‘You are my Skin’.

‘Too fucking right babe’

‘You can keep that set of keys but I want a set of yours and its time we got out and got your yer own skin gear though having you wear my stuff makes me feel so horny.’

‘Right let’s get out pick up some gear and then go to the skin pub for a few beers with the blokes and you can show me off and then its back here as I want to feel that 8 incher of your up my arse’.

‘I was think the same bro. Its gonna be a long night.’

‘Not just the night mate’

[rotting-ink]

How the ros eep? On their side? Back? Bunch of pillows? One pillow? Blankies? PLUSHIES?

Gets a solid 8 hrs? Only catches 3hrs on a good night? Takes naps?

-not qui at 3am >< mwah!

L. Rawlins- Stock still. Grumbles in their sleep every now and then. On their back, hands on their stomach. Perfect for you to sleep in their side, on top of them, maybe even try to scooch under them. They don't move a muscle. Deep sleep that lasts about 6 hours.

S Della Rovere- During the daytime, they're out like a light, wherever they decided to sleep that night. Probably on some settee, on the floor pillows, rarely their bed.

Z Chambers- They don't sleep.

V De Winters- They're a side sleeper, always fitful. They never sleep longer than 4 hours at most. They usually drink quite a bit to get to sleep too. They're a gripper. Once you are near them, they're gripping your side or your clothes to keep you near.

Seir- They pretend to sleep just to see you coo at their animal form.

Saleos- Nope, not sleeping. Just likes to lie there and look pretty for you to shake your knees at.

Starling Knight- Usually sleeps in their office. Naps when they have a moment to. Needs a tea to go to sleep these days. Tosses and turns in a bed, and dead still in a chair.

A Lancaster-Back and side sleeper. Has a good routine, very hard to stir once asleep unless you use magic nearby them, then they spring up. Sleeps 7 hours and gets grumpy if they get used to you lying there with them and then wake up and you're not there.

E Rawlins- On their stomach, on top of a bunch of pillows, arm slung carelessly across the sheets, probably drooling and every now and then kicking their feet like they're chasing something. With a partner, they're fully practically on top of you, arm thrown over you and chest over most of you. Still kicks a bit but now might also sleepily chew on your shoulder.

Quincy Beaumont- Sleeps very little but doesn't seem like it affects them at all. Does their lotions and potions and powders and brew before bed, with their intricate hair and face routine. Sleeps soundly, quietly, looking majestic. Complains if you're gone too long from them.

D Woolf- Tosser and turner. Mumbles in their sleep.Jerks themselves awake and blearily reaches out for something, or someone. Usually you. Gets 5 hours of sleep roughly.

[familyvideostevie]

🐚 SEASHELL: let's look for beautiful things on the beach! send me a line from a book, song, or movie/tv show and a character and i'll write a short (<1k) blurb for you: For either Remus or James, whichever you think would work best, can I request "I write our names down in the sand, picturing all our plans" from What If by Colbie Caillat please?

this struck me as something james would literally do, so that's what i've written for you, darling <3

--

The beach isn't exactly like what you've seen in the films, but it's not too far off, either. The boys are messing about somewhere, throwing something around or doing handstands or whatever boys do when they want to amuse themselves and show off at the same time. You've perched yourself on a perfectly nice bench looking out at where the rocks turn to sand turn to ocean.

As far as a day with you boyfriend and his friends go, it hasn't been bad. The sun has been out but it's not been too hot and James bought you a 99 and then another when someone bumped into you and you dropped it. You can still taste the sweetness of his kiss when he laughed at your shock.

You lean on the bench and tilt your head back to enjoy some more sunshine. Life, when it slows down like this, can really be quite lovely.

You hear James before you open your eyes.

"No, don't step on it you idiots! Go around it, it's not that hard."

His voice grows louder and you hear his soft chuckle once he gets close. "Are you sleeping, love?" he asks.

You open one eye. He's standing there with his hand on his hips, his shirt unbuttoned at least two buttons too many to be considered decent, his pants rolled up to his mid-calves. His shoes are nowhere to be seen and he looks windswept and beautiful, eyes bright behind his dirty glasses.

"What if I was?" you say. He scoffs and reaches for you, tugging you up and into his arms with a groan.

"Take off your shoes, please."

You frown at him. "I don't want to get sandy, James." It's no use -- he turns on the puppy eyes. He's a little shit and he knows you'll do as he asks like this.

So you toe off your shoes and socks and he gallantly grabs them from you and tugs you towards where his are lined up next to what you can only assume is the rest of the boys' shit.

"Now, close your eyes." You sigh and obey. He grabs both of your hands and leads you over the sand. You can hear the other boys jeering in the background.

"Are you about to propose to me, James?" you joke. That's a someday thing and you both know it, so he better say no.

"No," he says, sounding a bit offended. "You think I'm going to propose to you in front of these tossers?"

"Hey!" Sirius yells. James ignores him and turns you around a little bit, then stands behind you with his arms around you and his chin on your shoulder.

"Okay, look, please." You open your eyes and blink in the sunlight. On the sand in front of you James seems to have written your names in a heart with a whole bunch of shells and plants and rocks from the beach decorated around it.

You laugh, delighted. "You spent all the time I was over there alone doing this?" How did you not notice?

James can hear that you're pleased, even if you think it's a little silly. He kisses your cheek sloppily. "You know me, darling. I've got to have something to do or I'll go nuts. And staring at you looking so pretty over there was getting a bit too obvious."

"The tide is just going to wash it away," you say, sounding a bit sad. You wish you had a camera to take a photo of it.

James shrugs and you feel it more than see it. "S'okay," he says. "It was worth it for the way you laughed." You roll your eyes and turn in his arms.

"Flirt," you say. He grins, his dimple begging to be kissed, so you do.

"You love it!"

You laugh again. You do.

join the celebration!

[fadingtostardust]

Dear Moony, October 25, 1981

Maybe it’s because I’m locked up in this house but I’m feeling all sappy and shit.

… I just wanted you to know… You’re my best mate.

You’ve had a hard life… harder than you shoulda got and that makes me all teary like. But also, I’m grateful for it? Cause it brought you to us. You made us the Marauders with your bloody brilliant map and all our forest adventures. You thought you were replaceable but really… you were the founder… the glue. We woulda just been a regular bunch of tossers without you.

You don’t let people love on you enough Moons. You gotta let people care for you, cause you deserve to be cared for.

Anyways, whether or not you liked it I tried to take care of you at Hogwarts and into our time with The Order. I’ll take care of you with everything I’ve got till my dying breath. And even past that…

If anything happens to me and Lily, Moons… I want you to know you’re cared for. The Potter estates and fortune will pass to you, automatically. You will have space to be safe and let Moony run. Pack may be different but you’ll still have a home and we’ll be in your heart.

And you’re not gunna fight it Moons cause this is my dying wish and you’re not gunna be a prick and deny a man his dying wish. (I know you’re chuckling and snotting on yourself now. Wipe your nose and cheer up. Pip pip.)

Anyway, I love you mate. Anything for our Moony!

Mischief Managed,

Prongs

[sneverussape]

walpurgis

another one that's been in my drafts for a while. it's just a lil ficlet so don't expect much hehe

@greens-your-color prompt # 25: DEATH EATER (scenario 1)

summary: a group is taking over the Wizarding World's news by storm and severus is naturally curious

--

“Lily?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you heard of these? These Knights of Walpurgis?”

Lily turned to look at Severus only to give him a disdainful eyeroll. “What do you want to know about them for?”

“Well, who are they even?” Severus was more than a little curious, but he was also apprehensive.

“Nobody special. They’re just a bunch of people who believe in a load of malarkey.”

Severus frowned. That certainly wasn’t the description he expected. “Malarkey? Like what?”

This time, Lily granted him a heavy sigh from behind the heavy tome she was reading. “Honestly, Severus, you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the Prophet. They’re just a group acting grand. Rich tossers who have too much time on their hands.”

“But is it true though, that they have access to hidden magics and things?” Severus felt his fingers itch at the notion. He was already taking advanced lessons in both Potions and Transfiguration, with both Lucius and Andi’s support and none of McGonagall’s and Dumbledore’s knowledge, and he was eager to learn beyond what books held, although he was careful to never share the reason. The few people who mattered would figure it out soon enough, but he avoided voicing it out loud to avoid any pretenses of hope. He was convinced mixing modern medicine and magic was the key to managing or even completely curing his condition altogether. Very few wizards in the past had already done so but they were all at least a century old. He had vowed to himself that he would engage in the same practice to figure out a cure, or at the very least die in the attempt. But he wasn’t going to tell Lily that, of course.

He asked her instead, “Do they know things beyond the books and the stuff they teach us? Like deeper magics? Blood magic?”

“Who told you that?” Lily looked at him this time, a frown twisting her features.

“Lucius,” Severus said before he could even stop himself. When he saw Lily’s expression darken, he caught himself and backtracked. “Not that it means anything, he was just talking shop…keeping me interested throughout lessons. Oh, don't make that face, Lily!”

“You’re fourteen and not living in the Wizarding World, he shouldn’t be telling you that.” Lily had snapped her book shut and was already making her way out of the plush armchair she had settled in. “I’m telling Mum and Dad—”

“No—!” Severus blocked his sister before she could make her way out of their father’s study. This conversation certainly wasn’t going the way he wanted. He had thought it was a simple enough question. “You don’t have to tell them, Lils, c’mon, I was just curious…”

Lily had grown an odd shade of red, as though she was angry. But why? Severus didn’t understand.

“The Knights of Walpurgis,” she spat the name as though it left a bad taste on her tongue, and her voice had dropped down to a hiss, “is a dangerous group, Severus, and you shouldn’t discuss them so casually.”

This time, it was Severus’ turn to frown. He could feel his dreams crumbling to dust before his very eyes. “I thought you said they were just a bunch of tossers. Why are you making it sound like they’re more than that?”

Lily shook her head vehemently. “Forget I said it. Don’t talk about them, Sev. I mean it. Lucius should not be talking about them to you.”

“Why shouldn’t he?” Defiance surged within him; Severus had never really liked being told what to do, especially by his sisters. It just wasn’t in his nature. “He’s my tutor, it’s his job to tell me things.”

“Not about this he isn’t! You wouldn’t understand…”

He caught her insinuation immediately and felt his face grow hot. “Because I’m not at Hogwarts, you mean? Or in the Wizarding World? I’m as much a wizard as any of you lot!”

Lily looked as though she had been struck. Her eyes widened comically wide. “That’s not what I meant!” she said, although her expression said otherwise. Lily had always been a terrible liar.

“That’s what you wanted to say,” Severus said, unable to control the bitterness in his tone. “Out with it then, Lils. You probably don’t even see me as one of you, because I don’t go to school in a magical castle and learn amongst giants and goblins and pixies. I probably don't even hold a wand right in your eyes.”

This time, tears welled in Lily’s eyes, crystal against vibrant green. “That’s not true, stop it, Severus! I have never thought that, and I never will!”

His chest had grown tight and Severus felt like crying himself. He knew Lily wasn’t trying to be mean, but somehow he also couldn’t help but feel the stab of self-pity that came at his own accusation. If his own sister thought he was beneath knowing something that was apparently commonplace news in the Wizarding World, what did the other kids think? Did they think he was some sort of…some sort of second-rate freak? Did Lily?

Severus tilted his chin up as he sniffed. He looked down at Lily with what he hoped was an imperious glare as he said, “Forget I asked. I shan’t bother you about it again.”

He stood and turned to stomp out of the room, tuning out Lily calling out to him. He shouldn’t have asked her. He shouldn’t have asked any of them. He should have just asked Lucius. Lucius would know. Lucius always answered his questions. Lucius wouldn’t think he was a freak.

As he walked away, Severus unconsciously scrubbed at the tears that were gathering at the corners of his eyes with his sleeve.

[wolvesandfoxes25]

Part 2!

"Is that what you truly wish, to become the Princes live in bed partner?" He asked the other man, watching as his teeth ground together at the intrusive question.

"And what if it is? Not conversing through grunts and pissy expressions would help my blood pressure exponentially." He snapped, shaking his hand at the fingers that still held him captive.

"I see, being told what to wear, what to play, tagging a long on set up boar hunts sounds full of adventure." Geralt mocked.

It took every ounce of strength to not react like a jilted lover and slap him across the perfect angle of his jaw.

"Oh I don't know, a cock to ride everyday, along with a hot bath doesn't sound too awful. Maybe if you'd been buggered a bit more over the years, and dumped into a hot water vat daily, you wouldn't be a surly, cowardly sanctimonious piece of toad shit!"

Geralt pulled Jaskier against his chest tightly, growling in his face, making the same height man gasp, his charcoal lined eyes widening in the waning light.

"Didn't stop you from following me for over 20 years, now did it? " He whispered, tone full of malice, golden irises locked onto his.

"Too many hits to the head it would seem. " He hissed back.

Geralt pressed closer to him and blue eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared.

He knew Jaskier could feel his interest, a little puff of breath escaping him when Geralt moved closer still.

"If you stay with me... something could transpire between us, and I don't want you to have regrets."

The bard felt the air in his chest halt at the other males words.

"Y-Yennefer?" He managed to get past the strangling feeling in his larynx.

Geralt blanched.

"She... cared for that Tissaia sorceress, I think a little more than she knew herself. And... our relationship has always been..unconventional."

Those words didn't help Jaskier feel better.

"I won't be a stand-in for her, Geralt. I-I can't, it'll destroy me."

He didn't want to face her ire either. Plus, Yennefer had become important to him, he couldn't disrespect her like that. But something inside him said that she would just roll her eyes and tell them to stop being a bunch of tossers and get in with it.

"You're not, Jask."

All Jaskier could do is nod dumbly as Geralts eyes found his lips.

"No more talk of fucking that Prince or Yennefer. This is us, between you and me."

Jaskier nodded again, feeling his cock harden quickly. He felt dizzy with unreleased need toward the other male that stole his breath and senses.

"F-Fuck." He whimpered.

The Witcher nodded, laying his mouth softly against Jaskiers.

Melitele.

It was chaste, for a moment, then turned filthy.

Geralts hands reached up and fisted in Jaskiers hair as he turned their mouths this way and that for deeper angles.

Jaskier grunted and pushed his palm against the other males chest, fingers running over his medallion.

Gods, it was everything he knew it'd be.

Pulling back, Jaskier kissed the corner of Geralts mouth.

"As much as I'd like to drop trough and have my way with you, Witcher. When was the last time you had a bath?"

Geralt raised a brow in answer.

Jaskier smirked and moved towards the other side of the room to grab something.

Lavender soap.

"They have a nice hot spring hidden in the trees, a little ways off from here. Are you alright to go?" He asked his Witcher.

Geralt nodded.

"My leg really is fine, just stiff at times. My back locks up sometimes, too. Yen said that was all normal. Just her magic trying to heal everything, I suppose."

Jaskier nodded.

"Come on then."

They had gotten strange looks here and there from the dryads and one knowing one from Milva.

Jaskier threw a smirk her way with a little finger wave, winking.

"Gods, this is miraculous." Jaskier groaned, sinking low into the water.

Geralt raised a brow at the low groan.

"Strip down, Witcher. I'd enjoy a show." Jaskier mumbled, shoving his hair away from his eyes, smiling hotly.

Goddesses tits had he missed oggling Geralt.

But now... there were a lot of new scars, due to his last disastrous battle.

Blanching lightly, he watched Geralt sink low into the water, his groan of pleasure making Jaskiers cock twitch beneath the surface.

He reached down and gripped the base of his prick tightly, feeling the heat of the water give him an almost dizzying effect.

Geralt smirked at his expression, watching heavy lidded eyes take him in entirely.

"H-How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" Jaskier gasped, releasing his throbbing appendage.

He knew how much Geralt hated being doted over.

Stubborn buffoon.

"There's...spasming every now and then." The Witcher grumbled lowly.

Jaskier nodded, raking his eyes over a deep, pink scar on Geralts right pectoral. It looked painful, and brand new.

Licking his lips, he opened his mouth but Geralt got there first.

"Don't."

Gulping audibly, he looked away.

Silence.

"D-Did you know of this mage? Vilgefortz?"

Geralt tensed, and Jaskier cursed his inquisitive mind.

Silence.

"I've never fought him before, no. I didn't have an potions on me. He took me down like he was swatting a fly. Didn't even seem like he was trying."

He said that statement like it was nothing to him, but Jaskier knew better. He knew Geralt wasn't fairing well mentally over being beaten so badly.

The thought terrified Jaskier. He had seen injuries on Geralt through the decades of traveling alongside the Witcher, but never as horrible as the ones this mage inflicted upon him.

"Leave it be, Jask."

Looking down, frustration played out on his features, but he nodded stiffly. Taking a breath that did nothing to calm him, he laid his head back against a tall rock that loomed behind him.

Eyes closed, he heard the water move, then felt lips roam his throat, the heat of them sending little waves of pleasure down his spine.

"Hello there." He muttered, turning his cheek to capture Geralt's lips.

Gods, this was actually happening? Was this another one of his dreams? He had many that played out almost exactly like this. And of course, all of them had Geralt as the star.

The both of them stayed that way for a little while, kissing gently amongst the heated pool.

Geralt tensed suddenly, and pulled away to hiss. Moving his hand down quickly, he nearly buckled beneath the water, clutching his thigh in pain.

Jaskier whipped his hands out to grab his shoulders, fingers trembling against the other mans flesh.

"D-Do you need to get out?" He asked Geralt, shakily.

He shook his head, pulling breath into his mouth, seemingly trying not to hiss in pain again.

"It'll pass. The bulk of the break is healed, but I'll never regain the strength I had again. I'll have to really push past it."

Jaskier felt that truth hit him like a punch to the stomach.

Well, another punch to the stomach.

Turning his head away, he shifted his body over, sniffling, not wanting Geralt to see his tears.

"I-I'm sorry I wasn't there to help in some way." Hew mumbled, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Silence.

"There was nothing you could've done." Geralt responded, his voice seeming a mile away from Jaskier.

Silence.

Sucking in breath through his nose, his tears still rolling hotly down his face, Jaskier moved to get out of the water.

Fingers on his wrist stopped him from getting too far.

"Jask?"

The brunette shook his hand off his person, but moved to sit back down, giving more distance between the two of them.

"All I ever am is useless to you, Geralt." He uttered brokenly, feeling the weight of that truth push against his breastbone.

Geralt growled in irritation at his statement.

"I was wrong about the mountain accusation. We both know that. You were right, I followed my cock instead of my sense."

Silence.

"I don't mean regarding that blasted mountain. I was applying that comment to damn near everything."

Silence.

"Ciri ran off to find you two because she was alone. I was too busy, wrapped up in my own mess, fucking off with Radovid. And he wanted to try to take her. I would've killed him had he tried to touch her though."

He had contemplated it for a split second, seeing that pillock inside her hut. The steel dagger in his boot would've drug itself across his throat had he tried anything further.

Jaskier, of course, had been blinded by pretty words and a decent evening of sex. He had been wrong about the Prince. Even if the man himself said that he cared for him, it had its limitations, didn't it? As long as the ends met the means, after that he was dispensable. It was the story of every noble ever.

He should know. He had grown up in an environment with Radovids everywhere.

"You can't blame yourself for that, Jaskier. People are selfish shits, and they always will be."

Isn't that the truth.

Jaskier heard Geralt shift in the water, moving himself back against a ledge that helped prop him up.

"Vilgefortz was stronger than me. That staff he used...I've never encountered anything like it before."

Silence.

"The only one who let Ciri down...was me. I wasn't strong enough to protect her."

Jaskier felt the lump in his throat start to throb, tears piling up. The image of Geralt, lying broken and bleeding on a beach broke his heart into pieces.

It made him want to throw up.

"You bring me peace, Jaskier." Geralt mumbled, voice raspy.

Golden eyes caught his, as the Witcher took in his friends stunned expression.

"I don't need another hand taking up a sword. I don't need another as bad at emotions as I am. And neither does Ciri. She needs someone who can help her see the beauty in this world that's thrown so much ugliness at her. You provide that, you always have."

Jaskier was...stunned. Geralt had been open with him before, telling him about various hurts he had encountered in his long existence. But this...was profound, a deep truth that wormed its way up into reality.

"I need you, Jask. You're the only one who has ever chosen to stand beside me, no matter how much of a nutsack I can be. You do that of your own free will, and not through bullshit destiny having to intervene."

Before he knew it, he was up and pressed against Geralt. In seconds, he was taking his face between shaking fingers and pushing their foreheads together, lips trembling with deep repressed emotion.

Geralt groaned, clutching Jaskier's hands with his own, leaning towards and pushing their lips together.

Gasping, Jaskier let go of his face to run his hands up to his hair, pulling at the throng that held the tendrils trapped.

The white tumbled down, obscuring his vision for a moment, before he decided to move, backing Geralt up into a boulder that sat behind him, making the other male grunt.

Reaching low, he found his hardened cock beneath the water and wrapped his fingers around it..

Part 3 is nothing but pure filth.

[gallifreyanwriter]

Desolation

They were the ones that picked up their arms and their legs and carried on. And it’s a good job they did, because there was no one else left.

The oldest living human in the universe, and the oldest dead human in the universe, stranded together on an orange cliffside, overlooking a magenta ocean.

It wasn’t their first choice of real estate, but being the only survivors of the crash meant they didn’t have much of a choice. They could only drag their salvaged materials so far, after all. So they settled in for the long haul, and used their scraps and some white wood from a distant forest to build their home atop the great orange cliff. 

There wasn’t anything they could really...do, about the wreckage of the Red Dwarf. Neither of them could swim to it, obviously, and there was something about the local ocean water that made Lister kind of itchy, anyway. So they left it alone, as a great, big reminder of everything, and everyone, they’d lost.

Sometimes pieces would break off, sometimes other pieces would wash ashore, and sometimes, those pieces would even be useful. Sometimes Lister, bleeding heart that he was, would just walk outside of their house, stare into the horizon, and weep.

Bloody tosser, Rimmer would think, with tears in his hologramatic eyes.

There’s a special kind of loneliness, being the only life you know of on a planet. It’s not the kind of loneliness when you’re in the corner of a party and no one will speak with you, oh no. It’s more like when you’re in the corner of a party and no one is speaking to you but all the people who aren’t speaking to you are at least a million light years away, and your only way to even have a hope of a drink thrown in your face is half-submerged in this strange pink ocean, hazy in the distance.

Ah well. They were probably a bunch of smegheads anyway.

But they carried on, with the slow acceptance that they were well and truly lost. No enemies, sure, but also no friends—except each other.

And then, erm. Perhaps a bit more than friends, actually. Not sure when that happened, honestly, but who was left to judge? That’s right, no one, so mind your business, please.

They would often look to the sky. The sky, color of fresh mango juice. The rings that surrounded the planet always bisecting the vast expanse, creating some truly interesting sunsets that Dave was always LOOKING THE OTHER WAY FOR, COME ON-

Oh, they had their moments. But neither of them would ever be the same. They walked slower, lived slower, sat quieter. They had both existed since three million years in the past, and something deep in their cellular DNA seemed to know it. Imagine if you were three million years old and got launched into a new planet that seemed to only have plants on it, and see how you fare, eh? You’d have to become a vegetarian.

And when they succumbed to the cold orange earth, and their house fell into disrepair, and every broken and rusted piece of the Red Dwarf had succumbed to the sands of time...the microbes that had set up shop in Lister’s dead bones had evolved to the point of arguing with each other over whether there was a God or not.

Wish I could tell you, dear reader, that their conception of religion was based on dear old Arnie and Davey, but it wasn’t. They lived on this planet, and died on this planet, without anything of sentience to even know their names. Both of them were well and truly forgotten, and there’s no coming back from that.

But hey. They had still mattered.

[tillneverlovedivanuntilhewasshot]

whats your opinion on deuce surely it can't be that bad

What I think about deuce? well he...

Deuce Spade. You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. I wager you couldn't empty a boot of excrement were the instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have to us who think and reason? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh.

You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed , drooling meatslapper. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I'm sorry. I can't go on.

This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don't have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half-baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known, that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You're an idiot. A moron of the highest order. You're so stupid it's a wonder and a pity you can remember to breath. Intelligent ideas bounce off your head as if it were coated with teflon. Creative thoughts take alternate transportation in order to avoid even being in the same state as you. If you had an original thought it would die of loneliness before the hour was out. On an intelligence scale of 1 to 10 (10 corresponding to the highest attainable IQ) you're rating is so far into negative numbers that one would need to travel into another quantum reality in order to even catch a distant glimpse of it.

Your personality is that of a rabid Chihuahua intent on destroying its own tail. Your powers of observation are akin to those of the bird that keeps slamming into the picture window trying to get that other bird it keeps seeing. You are walking, talking proof that you don't have to be sentient to survive, and that Barnum was thinking of you when he uttered his immortal phrase regarding the birth of a sucker. You are, at varying times, tedious, boring, and even occasionally earth shatteringly hilarious in your idiocy, routinely childish, moronic, pathetic, wretched, disgusting and pitiful.

You are wholly without any redeeming social grace or value. If God ever decides to give the planet an enema you'd better run like the wind because anywhere you stand is a suitable place for The Insertion. There is no animal so disgusting, so vile that it deserves comparison to you, for even the lowest, dirtiest, most parasitic member of the animal kingdom fills an ecological niche. You fill no niche. To call you a parasite would be injurious and defamatory to the thousands of honest parasitic species. You are worse than vermin, for vermin do not pretend to be what it is not. You are truly human garbage. You are a fraudulent, lying, predatory charlatan. You are of less worth than a burnt-out light bulb. You will forever live in shame.

You have nothing to say, and Godwin's Law does not apply when writing about you. You are the anti-Midas, for all that you touch becomes valueless and unusable. Mothers gather their children close when you appear. You are an aberration, a corruption, and a boil that needs to be lanced. You are a poison in need of being vomited. You are a tooth so rotten it infects the whole body. You are sperm that should have been captured in a condom and flushed down a toilet.

I don't like you. I don't like anybody who has as little respect for others as you do. Go away, you swine. You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, and a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon. You are a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. Meaningful to no one, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts that sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I wretch at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, and the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell? Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. You are a waste of flesh. On a good day you're a halfwit. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, study, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libellous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystrophic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, abrasive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, and socially-retarded.

Shut up and go away lest you achieve the physical retribution your behaviour merits, deuce spade. I hate snuggling. And I despise said hunger games.

There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The hunger games were the end of me. My reputation, my moon die, everything was taken away from me the moment you approached me. I was hated by all, forced to go away for a month. Why did you snuggle that day? my life is ruined because of your snuggling, man. I cant believe I wasted my time and precious hours on this response. Just go away, Deuce Spade.

tldr; he's quite the devious fella😂🤣😶‍🌫️

[unlimitedgolden]

I wish to acquire knowledge about funny green deer man, quick list your ten favourite tidbits about the character or the Soil Charge Triad to use on you will be decided

⏱️

you've activated my toontown sleeper agent (I NEED TO PLAY IT AGAIN) This is gonna be long so I'll put the reading thing HERE

Dr. Zippety Wonderwhatsit (Just "Zip" for short) was not a generated name, it was handcrafted. "Dr." because I like mad doctor characters, "Zippety" somewhat in reference to "Zebedee" from "The Magic Roundabout", "Wonderwhatsit" to mimic when people say "whatchamacallit", and just shortened to Zip sometimes for peoples sanity.

He was just intended to be a Toontownsona, but has actually now become my fursona. In doing so he's replaced Fatlip, my previous fursona (Though I still cherish Fatlip, since he was made by an old friend I'll never see again)

Zip gets paired with a few of the different characters in TTCC. You've probably seen him with Buck Ruffler and Alton S. Crow, but Dave Brubot is the 3rd addition to his collection of Robot Wives. Zip is also paired with my boyfriends Toon "Cap'n Snappy Gigglesnout". With this, I hope it's obvious Zip is polyamorous!!

Zip does have a sibling, my sisters Toon "Little Pearl" (the kiwi). Though to explain why they're different species and still related? TL;DR what happens when a toon and a cog fall in love + headcanons on how Toons are "born" (drawn into existence) and Zip is the result of a joke, Little Pearl had more thought.

The first gags Zip had were "squirt" and "drop". For Clash players you're probably screaming at the top of your lungs for this combo and in my defence: I thought it was really funny.

A majority of the time you will NOT find Zip without a hat in game, but in art I draw him with nothing added on. This is because he looks so bald in game it hurts my soul. You'll also never find him without those shades, I've never taken them off since the moment I put them on

Zip has influenced both my internet and irl life. During my last hospitalisation I had "toontown fixation withdrawls" and recreated him in Splatoon out of desperation. After that he influenced the decision of getting circle glasses just so I could get matching circle shades, and my favourite sets of clothes that I have bought since his creation are all shades of green (a.k.a my VFX classes worst nightmare). This also means after years of not knowing my favourite colour, it's blatantly obvious what I like now

Zip, like me, is British. Just like me the angrier he gets the more British he sounds (going from "oh my god fuck off die" to "You fucking wanker piss of you tosser. dickhead"

A little ramble: Zip is probably so intertwined with myself because of transgender metaphors. I've seen deers used as trans metaphors with the whole antlers thing, either losing them (mtf) or gaining them (ftm). Sometimes I forget to draw him with antlers but I feel it fits his entire [waves hands] trans thing

FINAL FACT: Zip takes a GREAT PRIDE in his house. It is very well decorated and usually changes around with the seasons (e.g. changing wallpapers to match halloween/christmas). In typing this I realise I've missed a bunch of catalogues in game <- will never recover

OK THATS ALL I THINK <- still could talk more he feels

[dreaming-for-an-escape]

Shades of Cool chapter one sneak peek! ;) You're welcome.

Aemond was all fire when shouting at him. “You think it’s funny taking a piss outta two girls? And one who’s half your size? A bunch of tossers the lot of you are.” 

This guy was a total stranger, only having seen him outside the chippy Adrian worked at every now and then with his mates. But that didn’t matter to Aemond. The fuckhead had made the stupid decision of harassing Adrian and taking her sister’s inhaler. 

Aemond could be a dick himself but he wasn’t the kind of dick that endangered someone’s life. He never crossed that line with Adrian, and never would when it came to her loved ones.

[hermiola]

Title: Final Breakthrough (Now!) by Hermiola

Words: 10,205 (Complete)

Rating: Teen and Up

More: Post-Season 2 | Season 2 Fix-It | they don't talk until they do | Love Confessions | Second Kiss | Aziraphale can and will do wrong in this house but so can Crowley and we love them both for that

“Aw, what happened? Bad day at the office?” He’s both very proud and very ashamed of the whiny voice that comes out of his mouth. “Did you suddenly realise your esteemed coworkers are a bunch of tossers?” Aziraphale keeps looking at him in a way that makes him feel exposed even behind his sunglasses, and he doesn’t waver. He just… stares. No, glares. And he doesn’t move either, doesn’t even breathe properly. The angel slowly wets his lips like he’s tasting a subpar chocolate mousse, tilts up his chin and says: “No,” like he’s stabbing the air with it. Crowley laughs, a short, ugly thing that quickly turns sour in the back of his throat. “Of course you didn’t.” --- Or: 5 times Aziraphale and Crowley don't talk + 1 time they finally do.