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writersdrug · 3 months ago

Note

Bartender Ghost when waitress reader gives someone a hurricane shot

I had to look this up and now I want to do this so badly

Slight NSFW, slapping

It wasn't a busy night; some new faces on a Thursday evening, the three regulars that practically lived on the barstools, a group of college boys in the corner...

Ghost doesn't bat an eye when you put in four shots of tequila and four waters for those punks, an excited smile on your face. He pours them quickly, eyes narrowing at them as they eye you with their own giddy expression, clapping each other on their backs.

He can't help but check in. "They botherin' ya?"

You laugh and take the tray of shots from him. "Not at all - watch this."

He grabs a glass and starts polishing it with a rag as you saunter back to the college students, ass barely contained in your high waisted shorts (he knows he said the dress code was "not your birthday suit", but you're pushing it in those shorts and that tanktop). Pauses his actions when you pass the shots around, then plant your ass on the table in front of one of the guys, thighs spread and holding a plastic solo cup of water in one hand.

The bloke takes the shot - you promptly throw the water in his face and rear your hand back, slapping him across the cheek with your open palm.

The glass nearly shatters in his grip. He's about to scale the counter and grab you by the scruff of your neck... but they were cheering. The other three men slapping his back and laughing as he wipes the water from his face - he gets up from his seat as you grab another cup of water, grinning at the new fella that sits between your legs.

You do the same thing: wait for him to take the shot, drench him in water, and smack your hand across his face. The crack echoes around the pub, followed by their laughter and loud curses. Ghost doesn't let himself yell at you from across the bar, not when he's stiffening up in his pants and wondering how best to ask you to do that to him.

Soap peeks his head out from the kitchen, right as you deliver the third smack. "Feck is goin' on?!" He asks bewilderdly.

Simon's at a loss for words, palms gripping the edges of the bar as he watches the last guy sit in the chair between your thighs, looking up at you like you're some kind of succubus - and you are, staring down at the lad with a smirk as he takes his shot, dousing him with the water and delivering the final blow.

"Shite- gonna try tha' with me after closin'?" Soap says, the both of them watching as you pluck a twenty from each of their hands and stuff them into your bra.

Ghost finds himself again, masking his sexual frustration with his usual grumpiness. "Where's tha' burger I put in fifteen minutes ago?" He says, making the Scot turn back into the kitchen with a dreamy sigh.

You make your way back to the bar and lean against it, still smiling ear to ear, your chest pushing against the counter - Simon can see the edges of the bills poking out of your tank top. "You ever seen that before?"

"Don't do tha' again." He snaps, glaring down at you with his arms folded over his burly chest, making you pout. "This ain't some college bar, I don' want tha' kinda crowd 'ere, understand?"

"They want eight more shots." You said, looking at him through your sweet, doe eyes.

Fuck - bringing in business, and getting to watch you slap the shit out of those guys? Pretending it was himself? He grumbled and snagged more shot glasses from the shelf.

#call of duty #bartender ghost #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod blurbs

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beabnormal24 · 2 months ago

Note

versainz + cat

I had so much fun writing this, and I have to say I am very happy with the outcome.

Versainz + cat

Max kicks the door open in a way that tells Carlos it’s not the first time he does it like that.

To be fair, Carlos can’t exactly blame him when Max’s arms are all full of way too many shopping bags filled to the brim, though in his defence he had offered to help him. Max had only been his usual adamant self, insisting that he had to be the one carrying their dinner for tonight in a pretty adorable attempt of gallantry that seems almost comical, clashing wildly with the high red flush on his pale face and the furrowed eyebrows that do not hide at all his clear discomfort.

Carlos still swallows his tongue diligently, though, thinking about how he will probably tease Max to death in the bed, after, comparing the redness of his cheeks with the one slowly swimming down towards his navel.

For now, he’ll just let himself enjoy the sight of Max’s apartment.

They’ve only been dating for no more than two months, met each other in a pub where Carlos had been practically forced to go to because Lando kept complaining about how much boring he was becoming, focused on work and clearly no more interested in being the soul of the party like the good old times.

And Carlos, of course, loves to prove Lando wrong.

He had been running late, that night, one last project that James had put on his table right the day before and that he really needed to finish up for the weekend, all the while Lando had kept sending him messages about how his friends were all already getting drunk by that point.

And sure enough, there he had found Max, at the time only one of Lando’s coworker, shit-faced and singing a really really bad cover of Rolling in the Deep. And when Max had almost fallen off a chair in an attempt to make himself heard by the whole pub, Carlos had immediately scrambled to stand behind him as Max had inelegantly fallen between his arms.

Max had blinked up at him, the freckles on his nose glinting in the yellow tinted light of the pub, his full lips slick with the condensation of his drink and his big blue eyes staring at Carlos, all lucid and almost timid.

“Are you my angel?” Max had asked, opening his mouth in awe, and Carlos is pretty sure that was the moment he had fallen for Max, too – although not as literally.

Dating Max is probably the easiest thing of his mess of a life. He’s just as dedicated to his job as Carlos is, doesn’t judge him for being late because of last minute projects and is always willing to massage Carlos’ hair when his headaches get especially bad.

They’ve gone on their fair number of dates, fallen into Carlos’ bed just as many times, but they had never spent time at Max’s flat for- whatever reason, really, it had just been a coincidence.

But last week Max had asked him, all half blunt-half shy the way he always is, if Carlos would’ve liked to have a dinner date at his apartment because he felt like he wasn’t providing to Carlos the way that Carlos was providing to him.

Which Carlos honestly considers ridiculous, since he really loves cooking for Max and leading him towards his bed when he gets extra sleepy after late night dinners. But, again, he can’t exactly deny Max’s offer of doing it for him.

So, now, he lets Max moves familiarly in the walls of his own home as he takes in the surroundings. Much like he expected, every corner of Max’s furniture is filled with a sort of controlled clutter, all the most chaotic stuff covering the surfaces, more than two blankets thrown on the back of his couch, a two speakers’ plasma TV on an Ikea cabinet that must’ve seen better days, for l the scratches on its’ sides.

Carlos laughs to himself as he closes the door softly behind himself, watching Max cursing from the kitchen as he lets the shopping bags fall on the counter tops.

“Mi casa-“ Max says, taking a few deep breaths as his body finally seems to deflate. “Es tu casa.”

“That was very bad.” Carlos tells him, but he still presses a quick kiss to Max’s cheek. “Where is the bathroom? I need to wash my hands.”

Max points at a closed door on the right side of the hallway, and Carlos takes off his jacket before reaching towards it. He has to double check, no, triple check as he gets closer to it, but indeed, there is a hole tearing the wood apart, right in the middle of the door.

What the hell?

Carlos washes his hands quickly, looking at his own disgruntled face for just a second before carefully folding the towel back on its rack.

It’s alright, Max is a great guy, he’s- he does have a bit of a temperament, sure, but they’ve known each other for two months now and Carlos has never seen him acting wild. Or, at least, not wild enough to punch a hole through a door.

Carlos takes a deep breath, convincing himself that he’s just acting anxious because he has never been here before and, truly, he is a bit like a dog who needs his time to get used to know places.

Except that, he can’t really fight off the feeling of- something from his skin, his hair standing up on alert.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Max tells him bluntly. He’s already stirring the tomato sauce on the stove, and the domestic scene in front almost manages to make Carlos forget all about the strange sensation of being, sort of, watched? Key word: almost. “Is everything alright? Are you feeling sick?” Max asks, genuine worry painting his face.

Carlos shakes his head, playing with his thumbs distractedly. “No, no. I’m- I’m okay, it’s alright.”

“Do you not like my place?” Max asks, not really hiding the disappointment in his voice. “I know I am not as tidy as you, but I really tried my best and-“

“No, it’s not that!” Carlos rushes to say, placing his hands on Max’s hips. “I love it, it’s so- so you.” He admits.

“Well then, what is it?” Max asks, cocking his head. “You’re making me worried here.”

“It’s just- it’s ridiculous, I know, but I feel like- like I am being watched?”

“Oh!” Max says, chuckling to himself. Carlos doesn’t really know what he’s finding so funny about it. “It’s probably just Sassy, she really likes to hide and stare at strangers.”

A what now?

“Sassy?” Carlos asks, looking around himself to see if he finds- he doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, really. What even is a Sassy like? “Was it the thing that made that hole through the door?”

Max laughs again, this time throwing his head back as he pats at Carlos’ chest fondly, as if Carlos is the one being silly. “Ah no, of course! That was that little idiot of Jimmy. Can you believe that he managed to close himself into the bathroom? I had to use a hammer to break down the door and take him out!”

A Jimmy? A Sassy? What the hell is Max talking about?

“What the hell are you talking about?” Carlos asks, slipping away from Max’s hold to look around in alert.

But Max doesn’t even need to answer him before Carlos’ gaze meets tiny green eyes looking up at him with black pupils turned into sharp flits, malicious.

Carlos barely contains a scream of horror. “Max,” he says, voice in a tremble. “There is a cat on the back of your couch staring at me.”

Max cocks his head over his shoulder, hugging Carlos from behind, but even his warm hands on Carlos’ stomach bring little comfort as the- the cat keeps staring at Carlos like it’s seconds away from jumping at him.

“Yes, that is Sassy and- wait, let me check.” He gets up on his tip toes, prompting Carlos to follow him, and sure enough there is another almost identical cat laying on the blankets folded on the couch, licking its paws. At least, this one is completely ignoring them. “And that is Jimmy.”

“You have cats?” Carlos asks, instinctively pressing himself back against Max’s chest. “Qué diablos-“

“Yes?” Max says, and it sounds rhetorical. Which he definitely should not. “I thought I had told you.”

“You forgot, evidently.” Carlos says though his teeth.

“Well, here are my cats, Sassy and Jimmy.” Max says, gesturing at them. He leans his head on Carlos’ shoulder, hugging his body tighter, just before he freezes. Carlos can’t see his face, but he can clearly picture the cockiness covering his expression. “Oh my- are you scared of my cats?”

“No?” Carlos says, but he can clearly hear the lie in his voice himself. “Maybe?”

“Oh my God!” Max bursts out laughing, hiding his face in the back of Carlos’ neck.

Which is terribly unfair, if anybody cared to ask Carlos’ opinion. He is not scared of cats, alright, it’s just that his mother had never liked them, and she would usually scream at the sight any time they would jump in their house’s garden.

And Carlos just- he just got it through osmosis, alright?

“How can you be afraid of these-“ Max says, interrupting himself with another giggle. “Of these adorable walking hairballs.”

Sure enough, Sassy seems to hear her father’s compliment loud and clear, since she jumps off the couch and quickly paddles her way to Max’s legs. Her long tail flicks close to Carlos’ shins as she elegantly rubs her face against Max’s ankle, and Carlos is actually proud of his own self control for not jumping away from it.

“See? They’re harmless.” Max says, crouching down on the ground to rub a hand under Sassy’s chin. She purrs in delight, her tail moving side to side against Carlos’ leg as she leans into Max’s touch.

Even though it pains him to admit it, it is quite an adorable sight.

“Come on.” Max urges him, patting next to him. “Give it a try.”

Carlos shakes his head vehemently, widening his eyes. “Ah, no, no. Thank you, I’m good.”

Max rolls his eyes, resolving to yanking at Carlos’ arm himself until he’s all but forced to kneel on the ground as well.

“Just-“ Max starts, taking one of Carlos’ hands in his. His palm is soft, the callouses from his pen barely noticeable as they pass over Carlos’ knuckles in a gentle gesture, and he slowly brings Carlos’ hand towards Sassy’s head, pressing it over the morbid fur. “See? Delicate.” Max says, curling his hand over Carlos’ until he is effectively caressing at the lighter spot on Sassy’ head.

She starts purring immediately at his touch, closing her eyes and rubbing her face against Carlos’ palm, her ears folding under the weight of it. Carlos can feel the rumble of her meows through his own hand, and it is a very different sensation than the one he would’ve expected from cuddling a cat.

Jimmy reaches them soon after, probably feeling left out as her sister gets all the snuggles, and he starts demanding attention as well by rubbing his body against Carlos’ knees.

Carlos chuckles delightedly, using his other hand to start scratching under Jimmy’s chin, revelling in the way he quickly starts to purr softly, too, as if there is something magic in Carlos’ touch.

Carlos only realises that Max has disappeared from his side when he hears the click of a camera above his head, and when he looks up to search for the source of the noice, he’s met with blue eyes filled with mirth hidden behind a phone.

“What?” Carlos asks, knowing damn well that Max is fighting the urge to say I told you so.

Incredibly, though, he does not. Instead, he pockets his phone, bending down slightly to press a lingering kiss to Carlos’ lips, sweet, chaste, just a soft peck that soon moves from his mouth to the tip of Carlos’ nose.

Max looks at him, smiling in that way that makes the corners his eyes get all crinkled, and his irises glint with happiness. The same one that Carlos is starting to think he might even love.

“You’re the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

#versainz #max verstappen #carlos sainz jr #f1 #f1 rpf #small fics #pair + a word

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ch0k3herwithaseaview · 10 months ago

Text

@jegulus-microfic | march 8 bar | words: 747

did i use two tiktok sounds in this one? yes. yes, i did. am i sorry or ashamed? not in the slightest

enjoy <33

“We’re going out tonight,” Barty said without any preamble.

“Hello to you too, Bartemius,” Regulus replied with an eye roll. “Should I congratulate you on this decision or pity you?” His friend laughed at that.

“No, you didn’t get it. We are going out tonight,” the other guy said, emphasizing the word ‘we’. Regulus stiffened at the statement.

“Fuck off, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, going back to painting his nails.

“Yes, you are! You’ve been moping ever since that Max guy...

“Matty.”

“Same shit, anyways—he left you for some chick! C’mon, Reggie, it’ll be fun; maybe you’ll even get lucky and get some." Barty continued, catching his attention at the last part. Yeah, maybe a rebound with some stranger would make him feel better.

“What should I wear?” There was a loud ‘woohoo’ from the other end of the line, and then Barty started talking about outfits Regulus should put on.

***

An hour later, they both stood at the entrance to the pub called Thirteen Needles, waiting for Evan and Pandora. It didn’t look like a stereotypical British pub with its unmatched chairs and sofas and some colorful lamps thrown around the place. All in all, it was a nice place.

When the dark-skinned siblings showed up, they only managed to smoke half a cigarette each.

“Looking good, Reggie,” Pandora said as Evan approached Barty and started kissing him eagerly. Regulus looked down at his clothes; he wore a black DIY sleeveless crop top with Marina’s Electra Heart cover, tight black pants, and low Docs. Yeah, he looked good.

In response, he just smiled at the blonde girl, making a gesture to come in.

All four of them sat at a table with high chairs, not far from the bar. After their second round of tequila shots, Pandora leaned closer to him. “The bartender is looking at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the world,” she whispered in his ear. Immediately, he turned around to see the man she was talking about, and he was met with the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. The guy noticed him looking and smiled the brightest smile, at which Regulus spit his drink a little. The bartender had the audacity to chuckle at that.

Regulus turned back to his friends, thinking about the rebound he had considered earlier. He ended his drink in one big gulp, putting the glass back down with a thud.

“Anyone wants anything? No? Good” Regulus said this quickly, jumping from his stool and heading straight for the bar.

When he got there, the Pretty Eyes Guy was busy with another customer, and Regulus had time to look at him properly.

The Guy looked like some Latino god with his tanned skin, well-built arms covered in patchwork tattoos, messy hair, and gold accessories—glasses, earrings, and a single signet on his left hand’s middle finger. He had nice hands, Regulus thought.

When it was his turn to order, The Guy’s eyes sparkled with joy.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” Oh god, he had such a nice, deep voice.

“Um, one long island, please.” His voice, on the other hand, sounded like he just had a stroke.

“On it” The Guy winked and started preparing his order. Throughout the whole thing, Regulus's eyes continued to follow his movements. At some point, the guy smirked and said, “If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m going to catch a cold,” and it was Regulus turn to chuckle.

“Oh, nice one…”

“James” The Guy, James, filled in, stealing a glimpse.

“Nice one, James,” Regulus said softly.

When James finished preparing his drink and Reg took out his phone to pay for it, the bartender shook his head. “On the house. Enjoy…”

“Regulus”

“Oh. Oh, I like that." James smiled that bright smile again, and Regulus only winked in response.

He went to order three more times, only flirting innocently. He found the courage to speak his mind when he got there for the fifth time.

“So, listen, James. Would-“

“I’m off at one and live just down the street,” the bartender interrupted, tilting his head and smirking at him. “My roommate is out all night, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar,” he added, lowering his voice.

And Regulus, well, he just laughed at James. How can someone be so good-looking and talk so badly?

Either way, as Barty said, he got really lucky and actually got some.

#jegulus #starchaser #dead gay wizards #james potter #james x regulus #regulus black #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #pandora rosier #modern au

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whxtedreams · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 10: What Reminds You of Them

Blood Runs Thicker than Water - Joel & F!Reader (Platonic DBF!)

Summary: The weight of the new world is heavy on everyones shoulders. Maybe a card game will help?

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Mentions of loss, mentions of readers mom, mentions of sarah, reader has short hair, depression (myles), everyone just dealing with shit, joel trying to explain to reader that her dad is just a lil sad.

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on AO3

Chapter 10: What Reminds You of Them

The horizon is bathed in a soft, hazy red glow, casting a warm hue across the landscape. Down below in the valley, a thick, dense fog weaves its way amid the mountains, slowly creeping up the sides like wisps of cotton. Scattered across the valley floor are various transmission towers, their metal skeletons once humming with activity. Now, nature begins its slow takeover as they lay dormant on the forgotten grounds, vines twisting up the towers and trees gradually swallowing them into their embrace.

The sun makes its slow descent behind the towering mountains, its last rays casting long shadows over the valley below. The moon takes its rightful place high up in the heavens, overseeing the narrow hiking trails snaking through the terrain. You sit at the edge of the rocky cliff, your legs tucked up against your chest as you take in the breathtaking view. Your thoughts drift back to the previous day, remembering how you had explored the valley. You had braved the climb up a fallen transmission tower to cross rapid waters, much to your father's worry.

Your eyes follow as Joel and Tommy appear in your line of vision at the bottom of the steep trail, their rifles held at the ready. They had ventured out around noon, armed with the intentions of hunting, and their efforts are now evident as they make their way up the trail, the weight of a freshly hunted deer in their grasp.

Your face lights up at the sight of the brothers, and you quickly rise to your feet, a grin spread wide across your face. You break into a jog, making your way back to the historic pub where your small group has sought shelter for the night.

You emerge from the tree line and navigate your way through the parking lot, skirting around dilapidated cars and piles of rusted scrap. In the distance, the pub comes into view, standing majestically tall as the last rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow over its brick exterior. The building takes on a castle-like quality, silhouetted against the orange and red hues.

You struggle against the considerable weight of the oversized front door, your feet shifting slightly on the ground as you summon all your strength to push it open. Muscles straining, you slowly creak the door open, the heavy wood groaning with resistance.

Footsteps echo loudly on the tiled floors as you race through the old building. As you reach the top of the stairs that would have been used by guests during the pub’s prime, you come to a halt in front of one of the rooms your father has started to set up camp in.

He stands with his back towards you, his gaze fixed out the window. Candles on the bedside tables cast a flickering, buttery light onto the mustard-colored walls, the wax of the candles starting to drip down the candlesticks. The rooms are basic but cozy, equipped with the bare minimum - a double bed, a chair, and a floor lamp along with the bedside tables.

You approach him silently and stop next to him, curious to see whatever it is that he's observing so intently. However, upon peering out the window, all you see is the peaceful sight of birds flying to their nests in the trees as the day comes to an end. You glance up at your father, taking in his expressionless face as his gaze remains fixed on the outdoor view.

You observe him closely, noticing the way his eyes glisten and his jaw clenches, a familiar expression that mirrors your own when your emotions begin to overflow. Concern tugs at your heartstrings as you speak softly, the question falling from your lips, "Why are you sad?"

He jolts slightly as he looks down at you, having been lost in thought before your sudden presence pulled him back to reality. With a heavy sigh, he glances back out the window as the light from Joel and Tommy's torches become visible. His gaze becomes distant as he speaks. "Your mom and I used to visit a lot of places just like this one," he says softly. "She was quite the history buff." He pauses, his words tinged with a hint of nostalgia, before he walks away from the window towards the door.

Your dad's casual comment about your mother catches your attention, and your eyes widen with keen interest. It is rare for him to bring her up in conversation, usually brushing off any mention of her name. So the fact that he's mentioned her unprompted piques your curiosity - and you are determined to grasp onto any details he shares.

You turn away from the window, a question about your mother on the tip of your tongue. But before you can voice it, your father has already made his way halfway down the stairs, leaving you alone in the room.

By the time you reach the downstairs area, Tommy is already hauling the slain deer into the small kitchen behind the bar. Joel, meanwhile, drops his bag onto the counter top with a thud and proceeds to start unloading its contents. He carefully places the assortment of items they'd managed to scavenge on top of the bar.

You clamber onto the stool next to your father as his conversation with Joel ends with hushed voices as your eyes scan the items spread out on the counter. A few sealed packages of food and some basic necessities cover the surface. You cast a quick glance at the finds, trying to hide your disappointment. You understand that survival means only grabbing what's necessary and nothing more, but you can't help but feel just a bit let down.

Your dad's fingers close around a packet of cigarettes, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. "I can't believe you actually found some," he mutters, extracting one from the pack. He rises from the stool and announces, "I'll be outside." Without further words, he turns and begins to make his way out of the room.

You pivot on your stool, intending to follow your father, but Joel gently suggests it might be best to give your dad some time alone right now.

You reluctantly turn away from your dad's departing figure and return your attention to Joel. With a heavy sigh, you rest your arms on the bar.

Joel pats at his coat pockets, a frown of concentration etched on his face. He rummages through them, eventually pulling out a small yellow and white striped cloth from his back pocket. With an enigmatic smile, he stretches his arm across the bar and hands it to you. You take the item, your fingers curling around the fabric as you regard it with cautious intrigue.

You unfurl the fabric and examine it quizzically, your curiosity piqued. Expecting to find something concealed within, you're momentarily surprised to find it's just cloth. "What's this?" you ask.

A soft chuckle escapes from Joel as he shakes his head, moving to stand beside you. Taking the cloth from your hands, he begins folding it with practiced ease. "It's a bandanna," he clarifies, positioning himself behind you. He then places the cloth on your forehead, skillfully tying the ends beneath your short ponytail.

"Keeps the hair out of your face." His touch is gentle as he removes the hair tie from your hair, allowing the short strands to fall loosely around your neck. Joel moves to stand beside you, and you notice the subtle rise of a soft smile at the corner of his mouth as he carefully adjusts the fabric, ensuring it's secure.

You shake your head to test it out and smile as the hair stays out of your eyes.

Tommy reappears in the room, holding two half-full bottles of alcohol in his hands, his face lit up with an excited grin. "Looks like we're eating and drinking well tonight," he declares with a booming chuckle. He sets the bottles down on the opposite side of the bar and proceeds to scour the cabinets for unbroken glasses.

With a glass in hand, Tommy turns and starts pouring alcohol for both himself and Joel. He pushes the glass across the counter towards Joel and takes a long sip of his own drink. Then, he glances your way, nodding approvingly. "Yellow suits you," he praises, his words accompanied by a small smile.

You murmur a quick thanks in response as Joel and Tommy start discussing their plans for the freshly caught deer. Their conversation fills the background as you fiddle with the ends of the bandanna.

You peer over your shoulder towards the parking lot through the large window. The world outside is steeped in almost complete darkness, the stars above offering minimal light. Your father is seated on the husk of a car, a small lantern by his side and a lit cigarette between his lips, casting a flickering glow against the side of his face that you can see.

Joel's hand gently rests on your shoulder. His gaze meets yours, accompanied by a sympathetic smile. "Come on," he murmurs, a playful tone in his voice. "Why don't we play a game of cards while Tommy cooks us dinner? Let me beat you again."

A disapproving frown creeps onto your face, and you let out an exaggerated huff before jumping off the stool. "You only win because you cheat," you retort, moving towards a table by the fireplace with a pout.

Joel responds with a scoff, an amused grin tugging at his lips. He takes his seat at the table, retrieving the deck of cards and diligently shuffling them in his hands. "Is that so?" he retorts, his tone both challenging and playful.

You can't help but gloat as you take the cards he's dealt. "Tommy told me so," you declare as you begin organizing the cards in your hand, the hint of a smirk on your face.

Joel responds with a resigned sigh, his focus on sorting out his own cards. "Just because he says somethin’, doesn't mean you gotta believe him, sweetheart," he warns, his tone a mix of gentle teasing and mild irritation. He shakes his head slightly, seemingly displeased with the cards he's been dealt.

You can't help but chuckle as you place down a card on the table. "He told me you would say that," you repeat, your smile widening as you revel in the thought of having anticipated his response.

Despite your smug attitude, Joel remains unfazed. He exhales a deep sigh and places his card on top of yours, matching your play.

Joel ends up winning four times in a row.

Your dad remains mostly withdrawn over the following week, his expression distant and detached. Both Tommy and Joel seem to intervene whenever you attempt to engage in conversation with him, subtly redirecting your attention elsewhere.

You've seen your dad behave this way before, but never for this extended period of time. Day after day, you wake up, silently hoping that it will be the day that he snaps out of it and returns to his usual self — just like he has in the past.

And yet, he doesn’t.

On the sixth day while you sit by the river, lost in your thoughts as you watch the soothing flow of the water, you turn to Joel. "Have I done something to upset my dad?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, the concern palpable in your words.

Joel's expression softens as he hears your question. He immediately pulls you into his side, pulling you closer to him. "Of course not, princess," he replies gently, his voice filled with a mix of reassurance and tenderness.

After a moment's pause, Joel continues, his tone soft and understanding. "He's just a little sad, that's all," he explains, his gaze fixed on the flowing water before you.

You scowl slightly at Joel's explanation, genuinely confused. "Sad?" you repeat, your voice tinged with confusion. "Why would he be sad?" The situation doesn't make sense to you, and you look up at Joel, seeking clarification.

Joel lets out a deep sigh, his eyes meeting yours. He tugs gently at the bandanna tied around your forehead, his touch gentle and tender. "He just misses your mom," he explains, his voice tinged with melancholy. "He misses how things used to be, how the world used to be."

You murmur a soft "Oh" in response, leaning into Joel's side as your gaze drifts to Tommy, who is washing his hair on the other side of the river with your dad. The silence that follows is filled with your unspoken questions and thoughts, hanging heavy in the air.

You turn your gaze back to Joel, a slight frown of confusion creasing your forehead. "Why is he missing her now?" you ask. "She died when I was born."

Joel takes a deep breath, seemingly contemplating how to explain it to you. "Sometimes," he begins slowly, "there are things that happen that remind us of something we've lost. It brings back memories."

You fall silent, mulling over his words as you begin to comprehend what Joel is trying to say. It's then that you recall your own fears and how the sight of fire still makes you think of losing Joel. The memory of being caught in the fire still haunts your dreams even years later.

You realize that your dad, like you, must also suffer from the same pain. The memory of losing someone you love can be triggered by the smallest things and bring forth powerful emotions, even years afterward.

“What reminds you of Sarah?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

There's a sudden tightness in Joel's grip on your arm, and you can feel the shuddering exhale of his breath. The mention of Sarah's name brings a flash of pain to his face, as memories of his lost daughter flood his mind. For a brief moment, his grief is palpable.

He's silent, his gaze transfixed on the river, his knuckles turning white as his grip on you involuntarily tightens. After a few moments, he finally speaks, his voice thick with emotion.

"Everything.”

Click here for Chapter 11

Notes

this is kind of a intermission, just a filler tbh. not extreamly happy about this chapter but i wanted to write them travelling before they reach somewhere suitable to stay.

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @sunandmuun , @rain-soaked-sun, @frootloops1213 , @samarav , @geralallfandoms , @joelmillersblog , @severussimp , @kitdjarin1 , @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @justanotherteen12@lils-1979 @elisha-chloe

#joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tommy miller

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mykneeshurt · 2 years ago

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Don’t fear the Reaper part 1

I got excited and wrote part one haha. Female character, swearing and COD typical violence throughout this series. Female x oc

A night at the pub goes awry, Ghost offers a helping hand, though that’s not the only thing you notice that night.

Don’t fear the Reaper, a popular saying about the inevitability of death. However, you were feared amongst many. You’d been with 141 for a while now and earnt your call sign ‘Reaper’, due to your extremely violent tendencies. There was nothing you loved more than watching the life drain from a persons eyes. The warmth of their blood on your skin. In fact you revelled in it.

On base those who didn’t know you, but knew of you gave you a wide berth. They felt uneasy. And honestly? You loved it. You loved making people feel uneasy, on edge. You kept to yourself mostly, preferring to observe and listen to your surroundings. You’d often be found either at the gun range, or on the mats sparring with some sucker who clearly had a death wish.

Tonight, however you were sat on the roof, dangling your feet over the edge like a child. You watched as you exhaled smoke, the sweet high of nicotine coating your lungs. The night was clear, stars peering down over you like silent protectors. It was peaceful, just how you liked it. That was until your phone vibrated next to you, a little soap emoji popped up. Smirking you rolled your eyes, wee Johnny, your closet friend here. His text was simple. Pub. Not a question but a command.

Jumping down you stubbed out the cigarette under your black boots and made your way down the stairs. Sending a kissy face emoji back to him. You swung by your room to freshen up, change of top, a swipe of red lip balm and a squirt of Baccarat Rouge 540. You slid your phone back in your pocket and gave yourself a once over in the mirror.

‘Reaper!’ He shouted excitedly down the hall, his accent thick and gravelly. God you loved his accent, any Scottish accent to be honest. ‘Hey Johnny!’ You smiled back, bounding towards him full speed. You hopped on his back as he made his way off base, you two were thick as thieves. But purely platonic, he had a girl back home he was planning on asking to marry him. You kept annoying him by asking to be his best man, constantly.

The pub wasn’t too far away from the base, a small country side pub which was normally filled with locals. Locals you had a love hate relationship with. Gaz, Price and Ghost were already there waiting for the two of you. They were all squished in a tiny booth, which looked ludicrous. Two chairs were placed outside the booth, at the end of the table ready for you.

The pub was warm and cosy, a stone floor and wooden beams adorned the ceiling. Pale white walls and a huge open fire in the centre, crackling in the background. Perfection. Two pints were already waiting for you by the time you arrived. ‘There they are! Take your fuckin time, Christ!’ Gaz greeted with a roll of his eyes. ‘Who put 20p in you this evening?’ Soap retorted, taking his seat. You followed suit, pulling your chair into the table and taking a sip of the amber liquid of the Gods.

‘Looks like you needed that’ Price laughed from behind his beard. You nodded ‘thirsty work making men submit all day.’

‘Not making em quit already I hope?’ Price asked taking a swig of his drink. Smirking, you shrugged, ‘not yet anyway.’ It was a well known fact you put new recruits through their paces during drills, especially sparring and close combat training. So much so that a few had quit mere weeks after joining, something you were quite proud of in fact.

Conversation and drinks flowed well into the evening. You stumbled back from the jukebox and eagerly awaited your song choice. ‘Better not be shit, I know what you’re like’ Ghost quipped. You feigned offence, ‘now sir, since when have I ever played shit. I am a woman of good taste I’ll have you know.’ He rolled his eyes before a small crease became visible in the outer corner. Fucker was smiling under that mask. You often wondered what his mouth looked like.

True Faith by New Order came on over the speakers, you flashed a grin to Ghost who met your gaze with some surprise. ‘Well?’

‘Hmm, not bad, I’ll let you off.’

‘Not bad?!’ You shrieked laughing, ‘this is a staple, an absolute classic. Pffft. Not bad. I’m offended.’ You swigged the dregs of your pint before standing, ‘my round lads, same as before?’ They finished off their drinks and a flurry of please and thank yous rang out among them.

The pub was busy, but wasn’t overcrowded, it was a nice atmosphere, relaxed. Putting the tray of drinks on the table you handed them out one by one. Handing Ghost his short of Bourbon his fingertips grazed yours as you passed him the glass. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered you, except he seemed to flinch. Looking up his eyes were already on you, burning through your mere presence. As you caught his gaze he looked away, desperately looking else where. Weird.

Evening turned into night, round two turned into three, turned into five. You were all starting to feel the affects of the alcohol, feeling merry and buzzed. You stood outside smoking a cigarette, taking a few minutes for yourself. Enjoying your own company until a group of men walked past, one deciding to try his chances with you. ‘Alright love? Nice arse you got there.’ You eyed him up and down, ‘thanks. Bit out of your league though a ain’t I?’ He approached your further. ‘She got a mouth on her this one. I like em feisty. Come back with me I’ll show you a good time.’

‘It’s a no from me. Keep walking, there’s a good lad.’ You pointed to the direction of the village. ‘Wasn’t asking, was tellin yah. Seems that mouth of yours needs putting to work.’ He came closer still, rage now rising in your blood. ‘I wouldn’t’ you warned, anger coating the tip of your tongue. ‘Or what?’ He squared up to you, pushing your buttons for a reaction, mashing them all together. ‘Or I’ll punch you so hard you’ll be shitting teeth for a week. Now. Fuck off.’ You stepped up to him, face to face, seeing the rage overflow from him. Clearly he doesn’t know what no means.

With him not backing down you offered one final warning. ‘Last chance. Fuck off.’ Scoffing he spat in your face, ‘bitch.’ And that was that, you saw red. Reeling back you planted a very hard Glasgow kiss on his forehead. As he stumbled backwards you pushed him, he fell to the floor with a thud. His friends then started shouting obscenities at you. ‘Oh fuck off. I’ll floor you n all if you want?’ You knew Price would have you for this, again. But you didn’t care, why should they keep getting away with it.

Due to the commotion the boys appeared at the door, seeing the larger men come to your aid the others ran off. Hoisting their confused friend off the floor and throwing him over their shoulders. ‘Think you’ve have enough love. We all have, back to base’ Price ordered. ‘He fuckin started it!’

‘And I’m finishing it. Ghost have a word, Soaps in the loo. Gaz grab her purse please mate.’

Feeling like a child you marched ahead to the base, furious at being shut down like that. With only a few short strides Ghost caught up to you and placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you. ‘You alright?’ Whipping round you looked up at him, seething, ‘do I look alright? I get harassed and yet I’m the bad guy? Fuckin Price. He can be a real arse sometimes.’

‘I know, but…’

‘But nothing. Do you know how exhausting it is to be harassed and still be made out to be the bad guy. That it feels like I should just sit back and take it? Fuck no. And fuck you if you think that.’

‘I don’t think that. None of us do.’

‘He fucking spat at me. Pity I couldn’t cave his fucking head in.’

‘He spat at you?! Lemme see.’

In your heightened state you’d completely forgot to even wipe it off your face. A string of saliva hung from your hairline to your cheek. Ghost cupped your jaw with one had and wiped away the offensive substance with the other. He’s patched you up before, but never touched you, like this. Gentle. Caring. You felt the flutter of a butterfly’s wing in your stomach, a pin prick of heat rose to your cheeks. ‘Thanks, sir’ you murmured softly.

‘Oi!’ A familiar voice boomed. Soap came running up to you, hands fumbling over you making sure you were ok. ‘Price told me what happened. Heard you head-butted the wanker. Gutted i didnae see it.’ You ruffled his hair, ‘well I can head-butt you? Then you’d know what it felt like.’

‘Fuck off Reaper. Come on’ he motioned for you to jump up for a piggyback, ‘let’s get you back before you assault anyone else.’

You jumped up onto his back and secured you legs round his waist. Turning back you saw Ghost was still watching you, nodding you offered a silent thank you. His touch still biting at your face.

____________

A/N hit me up if you wanna be on the tag list chief.

@sashadiurnal @iamnotyourmusebitch (thank you for fuelling me with reaper inspiration)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #ghost x you #simon riley #modern warefare 2 #ghost #call of duty ghost simon riley #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #slow build #Simon Riley x female oc #female oc #ghost x oc #Simon Riley x oc

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asifyoucouldoutreadme · 3 months ago

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Hermione Granger is riding a career high: her biography on Voldemort was a smash hit, her agent Blaise Zabini has just negotiated a lucrative new contract with her publisher, and her follow-up work on the writing of Hogwarts: A History already has buzz. She is happy… happyish… content… fine. Definitely not interested in reconnecting with her former childhood bully, even if he possesses a first edition she’d kill to get her hands on. But their explosive reunion poses more questions than answers and Hermione finds herself curious about more than the contents of a book.

Hermione and Draco reunite to heal, write a book, fall in love, and solve a cold case.

6,121 Words (1/? Chapters WIP)

Read the first chapter!

EXCERPT:

“I loved Pureblood Hypocrisy ,” Malfoy muttered, cutting short the spiraling of her mind. His voice was almost lost in the ambient noise of the pub, and she felt him speak more than she heard him.

Whirling in her chair to face him, she caught his eyes completing a scan of the room. His comment had to have more complicated intentions than bearing a compliment, but she was automatically distracted with the reference to her last book.

“Is that your biography of the Dark Lord?” Theo asked, embracing the change of topic with an eagerness that made Hermione cringe.

“Yes,” she answered coldly, eyes never straying from Malfoy’s blank face. “As you may recall, I sent you a fair amount of owls to try and schedule an interview.”

“You did,” he confirmed casually. The disregard grated against every single one of her nerves.

“You didn’t feel the need to respond?” Hermione asked, attempting to match his insouciance. She could see from Blaise’s worried face that she wasn’t pulling it off.

“Silence speaks for itself,” he shrugged, watching the remnants of his drink spin at the bottom of his glass before downing it.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Hermione sneered, knuckles white against her mug. “Almost as if you still hold some loyalty to your former master.”

The entire table froze, silent until Blaise forced out a strained laugh.

Malfoy defrosted at the sound, relaxing into his chair and giving her a tight smile. “I’m sure you can relate to finding a topic that hits too close to home.”

“Apt wording, considering you welcomed the man into your home,” Hermione countered.

“It is not a period of time that I wish to revisit,” he gritted out, avoiding her provocation. Somehow it only fueled her wrath.

“Mustn't dwell on the past, not when you're so very culpable,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Malfoy leaned forward, eyes molten and nostrils flaring. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek, sharp with alcohol and faintly minty. “I’ve paid my dues,” he growled.

Hermione laughed. Her mouth curved into a dark smile, but Theo smothered the fire growing on her tongue before she could release it.

“I’ve heard wonderful things!” He nearly shouted, slowly adjusting the volume of his voice as he rambled on. “About your book. I only read when I’m paid to, I’m afraid, but I’ve heard wonderful things. Never been much of a reader, outside of school. More of a numbers man, myself.”

“It’s still on the top seller list, three years later,” Blaise provided helpfully.

Theo gasped, overselling his astonishment. “You don’t say!”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, pushing back in his chair and glaring out at the room. It seemed he enjoyed being managed as little as she did.

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maccreadysbaby · 5 months ago

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part i ; chapter i

❝ inescapable ❞

all chapters linked here

⚔︎

DALE WAS BURSTING WITH THE JOYS AND MERRIMENT OF LIFE. Children ran about the cobblestone streets, bellies full and energy abounding. The jingling of coins came and went from the shops that lined the roads, the entire city humming with a loud overlapping chatter -- people talking, laughing, living their lives to the fullest in a city rebuilt to splendor. Seven and a half decades had passed since their faithful city was rebuilt, and over triple that since the great dragon, Smaug, had left it in ruin. Now, the sun was shining on Dale once more, turning the stone streets gold, making the buildings that lifted high into the sky glow. It was peaceful, it was happy, it was plentiful. The evening sunlight streamed bright enough to grace the farthest buildings with its luminous golden rays -- even buildings like packed-to-the-gills pubs that sat right on the edge of the city, near to the docks, facing Lake-Town.

Beorn's Hollow was roaring with drunken laughter and shouts, as men from Dale, as well as travelers from the lands abroad, lifted the weight from their shoulders by filling themselves with stiff drink. A soft, jazzy tune wafted through the air, dancing and mixing with the smells of cigar smoke and fermented alcohol to make a toxic, tempting cocktail that, once swallowed up by it, few to none could escape. Not until the next morning, at least.

The interior of the building was almost completely coated in dark wood, tables and chairs smushed uncomfortably close together, but not as close together as the seemingly hundreds of bodies that were constantly moving around inside. The bar stood tall in the center, with never a seat open. The overbearing shouts of drunken merriment echoed out onto the blissful streets of Dale for the better half of every evening, drifting into the midnights and fading by morning. It was, to some, the happiest place in all the city.

But not tonight.

Tonight, an unfamiliar cold lay over the pub. And while most of the people inside were too busy drinking and socializing to notice, few did, and few left before the darkness of night fell over the building. Few turned around before they went through the door, with a sudden change of mind, of heart. Right ere midnight, pouring rain, accompanied by lightning, thunder, and a fierce wind rolled over Dale, plunging it into a cold, seldom silence.

Half after midnight, the large, wooden door to the pub swung open, hitting the wall behind with a loud bang and clatter of the decor hanging on it.

Standing in the doorway was a hooded figure, the light inside the pub too dim to illuminate their features. Lightning flashed and boomed outside, turning them into nothing more than a menacing black silhouette.

Little to none batted an eye besides a frazzled bartender who, without as much as an upward glance, shouted: "Oi! Careful with the door!"

The hooded figure closed the door and scraped the mud off their boots, their head and gaze staying low as they moved. They, covered head to toe in a long, sopping wet brown cloak, seemed to disappear into the chaos of the pub, slinking through the crowd unnoticed until they were seated in one of the farthest, darkest tables. There they sat, alone, silent.

A waitress took a break from circling the pub like a wearied vulture to approach them, her dark eyes trailing about their appearance with a glimmer of suspicion. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy updo on top of her head that sort of made her look like a strange flower. "And anything for you?"

The figure reached up with a gloved hand, and the waitress visibly stiffened as they tugged the hood of the cloak off their head.

"Oh, Adavera. It's you,"

Now visible for all the eyes in the room to see, the face beyond the dark cloak was not that of a suspicious man, or an exiled elf, but a young woman. Her eyes were like shards of crystal ice, cold and sharp, her brown hair the rich color of a beautiful woodland grove. Her face held the shine of youthfulness, her features petite yet striking, her posture and conduct holding years of experience far beyond her age.

The waitress sighed lightly, the tenseness in her shoulders fading. "You want your usual?"

"If you'd be so kind. And two more, as well, for I will have visitors," Adavera replied, an small grin tugging upward at her lips, her fluttery falsetto a strange addition to the loud chorus of typical pub sounds. The coldness over the building seemed to warm at her smile, fade at her grin.

The waitress smiled, giving her a little bow, her blonde hair bouncing in its knot atop her head. "Very well."

Adavera turned her gaze down to the candle that sat, flame swaying at the center of the wooden table. Wax was dripping down the side and pooling against the tabletop, filling the crevices like water, like blood. Only a few of the waitress's footsteps met Adavera's ears before the woman turned around again.

"Oh, and Adavera?"

Their gazes met.

"I'd be careful wearing dark cloaks over your head like that. Rumor has it there's a very dangerous man lurking around the cities. Some people might get the wrong idea from you, become suspicious," She explained softly.

Adavera cocked a brow, leaning forward on her elbows. "What do you mean, dangerous?"

The waitress glanced around, to make sure none of the other inhabitants were listening, then took a few steps back over toward Adavera's seat. "I don't know for sure, but I've heard lots of talk about a mercenary. An assassin. A paid killer," She started, glancing around warily. "Every now and again someone will die — a clean slit to the throat, poison in a drink, an arrow to the chest, and no one can ever find the killer. He always leaves a symbol on his victims, a wolf, cut into their clothes, into a tree nearby, into the dirt. That's why they refer to him as The Ghost. Because no one's ever seen him before... or at least... no ones lived to tell it."

Adavera straightened uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, I'll be sure to keep my eyes open and my hood down from now on," She said, with a faintly uncomfortable smile. With an equally pained grin, the waitress took another small bow and disappeared back into the roaring crowd.

Adavera's eyes wandered over the room full of shouting people, her gaze lingering on a few of the daunting males in the room. A mercenary. A killer. A Ghost.

It was just as her eyes were drifting over the entry that the door flung open again, thudding against the wall behind it, just like it had when she entered.

"Oi! Watch the damn door!"

Again, the bartender couldn't trouble himself enough to look up, but Adavera paid enough attention for the both of them as a dark, cloaked figure entered from the storm, shutting the door and scraping their boots.

It was a tall person, hidden almost entirely from the rain by a dark cloak, bringing a wave of coldness with them. They rubbed their hands together to fight the winter chill as they moved like a cat through the crowd, going almost completely unnoticed. They moved further and further and further from the door until they were near to Adavera's table, and her eyes followed them closely.

All the way into the chair across from her.

Her hand slipped toward the hilt of a dagger hidden beneath her cloak, her gaze staying completely trained on the stranger's shadowed face. A silent moment passed before they, warily, reached up and tugged off their hood.

Beneath said hood was a pair of swampy green eyes, and some graying hair that Adavera knew all too well. The blank face of a man with nothing if not money and power -- aged by greed and grief and hardened to stone by his line of work.

"Sir Godwyn," She breathed, ducking her head slightly as a form of compliancy. Respect. Submission, toward her employer.

He looked around the pub warily, nose crinkling as though he was too high-class for the place, unclipping his brown cloak and letting it gather by his sides. Adavera watched his cold gaze as it moved, a physical drop in temperature following his pupils around the room.

"Are we waiting for the third member of our party?" She questioned lowly, and he only responded with a curt nod.

With that, the pair fell silent again, Adavera peering around the pub curiously. She watched men with weapons on their backs sit at the bar -- those were most likely wary travelers settling in Dale for the night. The men who came in with a weapon on their back tended to scan the room as though a wolf was lurking somewhere within.

Someone slid into the chair to the left of Adavera.

She hadn't heard or seen him come in.

Glancing over quickly, slightly startled, she took in the third cloaked figure. He was taller than her and Godwyn each by at least a foot, easy. Slowly, he let down the hood of his wet cloak.

Beneath it was an uncommon sight in cities of men like Dale -- the ageless and perfected face of an elf. His features were symmetrical and perfectly placed, as an elf's often were, his grayish-brown eyes, even in the pub, dancing with something that looked oddly like starlight. His hair, raven-dark and silky, cascaded down into his cloak, straight as a pin, tied back out of his face by a myriad of intricate braids and silver clasps.

His eyes full of starlight found hold on Adavera's, and he gave her a quick nod of greeting, which she returned readily.

"Nice of you to show, Cepheus. If not on your own time," Godwyn said lowly, as if Cepheus hadn't arrived mere minutes after himself, scratching at the gray scruff that was growing unevenly on his chin. His eyes kept darting around, to avoid meeting their gazes. "Tell me-"

The three of them glanced up at the waitress when she returned with three plates of dinner food and a trio of ales. Godwyn nodded thanks, and Adavera smiled faintly as the woman passed them the dishes. Her eyes seemed trained on Cepheus -- rightfully so, for no one ever saw an elf in Dale. She put an ale in front of each of them and, with a little bow and one last look at the resident pointy-ear, made a break for it.

Adavera looked down at her hefty plate of a pork chop, corn, and potatoes, then up at the others. Godwyn was staring at his food, blankly, and Cepheus already had his half-pint of ale in his hand, cringing down at the liquid like the waitress had poisoned it. Adavera would've made a joke about their fine elvish wine, had their boss not been sitting right across the table.

Godwyn grabbed his utensils and began to cut at his meat, nodding to himself as he caught the perfectly cooked innards of the pork chop. "Tell me, how was your trip to Erebor?"

Adavera picked up her fork and swirled the potatoes around, leaving small trails in it like a vegetable garden on a hill. She glanced over at Cepheus, and his eyes were already on her, fork in hand, and they stared, deciding who was to speak.

Adavera lost the staring contest to the two big stars the elf had on his face. "It went smoothly," She started near-inaudibly, clearing her throat, looking down at her plate and swirling her fork some more. "No hiccups, no witnesses, not a single suspicion thrown my way. All believe I am perfectly innocent."

"Watcher?" Godwyn's eyes flicked to Cepheus for assurance, and the elf nodded, once.

"Yes, sir. The dwarves even insisted she take her leave afterwards so as to protect her from whatever lurks within, going as far as telling her to send a missive back when she arrived at Dale to convince them of her safety. They have long since closed their gates."

Godwyn put a bite of meat in his mouth, his green eyes lingering on the elf. "Speak to me pleasantries all you like, you know I will not believe the job is done until I receive a token."

With a quick shared glance between Adavera and Cepheus, the former reached into a bag she was concealing beneath her cloak, retracting her hand with a clipping of hair that had been cut by a knife from someone's head, ruddy and red, with a metal clasp still wrapped around it. She handed it across the table to her employer, who took it readily.

She stayed silent as he examined it, putting a small bite of potatoes in her mouth. She wasn't very hungry anymore.

"And did you leave your token?"

Adavera nodded subtly. "Used one of their forging furnaces to brand it into the dead dwarf's leather tunic. Everyone saw it."

After a moment of quiet contemplation, he nodded. "News of the dreaded dwarf's death has spread to Dale and Laketown. No one suspects a thing. Not from us, anyway," He spoke lowly. He reached into perhaps his own hidden bag and withdrew a large bundle of cloth from it. "Your payment, Ghost." He whispered the last word with a hint of mirth on his lips.

He handed the large, tied up cloth across the table to Adavera, who readily ignored the nickname and took it instead. She pulled back one edge and peeked inside.

"The king's jewels," She breathed, watching the riches twinkle in the candlelight. "Was I hired by a member of the royal family of Dale?"

Godwyn's eyes trailed down to the cloth. "I will not reveal who hired you. You know this."

Adavera said nothing, and he pulled another bundle from his cloak. "And for the Watcher."

He handed Cepheus the bundle, which looked a little smaller than Adavera's, and the elf nodded once in thanks.

"I have another job for you," Godwyn said, leaning forward. He pulled a paper from inside of his cloak and slid it across the table, between Adavera and Cepheus so they could both see. It held a drawing of a man. He was not an ugly man, mind you -- he was rather well-groomed, with shoulder length hair and a warrior's stoic expression. At the top of the slip was written his name, at the bottom, a bounty of much larger a number than Adavera had expected. "This is Boromir, firstborn son of Denethor the II, heir to the seat of Gondor. And he has a very, very hefty price on his head."

Adavera examined the photograph, taking in his features and the details of his appearance, as did Cepheus. She had been to Gondor twice before, to Minas Tirith, on business. She remembered hearing his name floating around the streets. He was an esteemed warrior.

"Who is it, that wishes the heir of Gondor to perish?" She spoke softly.

"I must not reveal that to you," Godwyn started, glaring coldly at her. "His whereabouts change frequently, though last I heard he was riding north, from Minas Tirith to Rivendell, with only his steed for company."

Adavera nodded absentmindedly, staring down at the little picture, engraving his appearance into her mind.

"Perhaps the Ghost can intercept him before his lone journey ends," The man started quietly, and she looked up, their eyes meeting. "If he has arrived at Rivendell ere yourself, I expect no shortness of professionalism as you finish your job in the city. Not even from you, Watcher."

Godwyn gave Cepheus one of his signature glares. "I do realize your kin are within that city, and you must make nothing of it. Remember that it is your job not to be seen."

Cepheus nodded once again, but some of the starlight seemed to be dimming in his brownish irises.

Adavera tapped her fingertips against the tabletop. "Have you any idea how long he has been on the road? It may aid us in deciding if we should try to intercept him or continue hastily to Rivendell."

Godwyn shrugged, shoving a large bite of food in his mouth. "I received word right ere noon from a scout who saw him leaving Minas Tirith. Taking into consideration the time it would take for me to receive the message here in Dale, I suspect he has about a remaining two months journey ahead of him if he keeps at a steady pace. You should restock and leave ere sunrise, for if you ride through the nights, through Mirkwood and over the Misty Mountains, you may be able to catch him yet. Keep your tokens close, for I have many scouts on your path."

Adavera's hand trailed to the inside neckline of her cloak, which held a small wolf, embroidered in white — the mark of Godwyn's employees. The same one Cepheus had on the inside of his cloak, and their boss, as well. The same one Adavera left on every single target she killed. She met Godwyn's cold gaze again, but instead of speaking, she nodded, glancing down at the picture of the valiant warrior. Her eyes then trailed up to Cepheus, who looked up at her, and for a moment, they stared.

Cutting the heir of Gondor off before he could arrive at Rivendell. It wasn't the hardest job they'd ever had, but it wouldn't be the easiest. The slightest incorrect calculation could lead their timing astray and throw the whole thing off balance. Adavera wasn't sure who or why someone wanted Boromir, son of Gondor, dead, but she couldn't help the pang of pity that struck through her quickly, like lightning. Like it always did when she got a new job, when she examined various drawings of perfectly happy souls with unfathomable prices below their heads.

But, as always, she was painfully good at putting up a facade.

With an exhale, she pulled her hood up and stood, leaving her full plate of food and cup of drink on the table. She grabbed the slip of paper and tucked it away her bag.

"Then I must get preparing. I give you my word-" She started, grabbing some money from her pouch and leaving it on the table for their food and drink. She looked up at her boss, then at Cepheus, a small grin flashing across her features. "-The son of Gondor shall die to no blade if it is not my own."

She was as silent leaving the pub as she was coming in.

⚔︎

tag list!

@inkedmoth

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stranger224 · 4 months ago

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Kinky Kaptions: Remember

“I’m telling you this chick's tits were out here!” Gary bragged to his buddies as they shared a drink at a local sports bar

“And I’m telling you you are full of shit! That girl you were bragging about being a smoking 11 last week; I looked her up, she is barely a 6” his buddy Andy responded.

“I said she was an 11 when I was drunk! Looking her up sober doesn't count. But that doesn't matter cause the chick I was with the other night was an 11 sober! Her tits were beautiful and her ass, god; I wish I could remember her name.” Gary said.

His friend Oliver snorted. “Of course you can't, then we could find her and see if you're full of shit!”

Steve and Pete nodded in agreement. They had heard Gary telling tales of exploits before, and the women were never as hot as he made them sound.

“Actually he is being quite modest, we did have fun the other night”. A sultry voice added to the conversation. Its owner stepping up to the table. The hottest woman any of the men had ever see casually came into view. Her fiery red hair hung like a waterfall down her back, her breasts full DDs that had been spilling out of her bra, ending in an ass that could stop traffic. She settled that plush rear into Gary’s lap and cheekily took a sip of his beer. Gary for his part felt like a king, the way her soft flesh felt on his lap made him hard so fast he got a head rush. Feeling it jiggled while she got comfortable he was surprised he didnt cum on the spot. She kisses his cheek before continuing “You left out the best part, the blond with the giant rack that gave you a tit job while I was in the shower. Remember?” The memory forming in Gary’s mind, how could he have forgotten?Those tits had been amazing, round, perky, they were obviously implants. But who cared when they were wrapped around his dick?

A giggle brought him back to reality. A blond strode up to the table, her heels clicking on the polished wood floor of the bar. She leaned over Gary’s head so her massive tits rested on the top of his chair “Yea that totally was fun! She said in a high pitched girly voice. “But not as much fun as the week before I bet. You showed me a picture of that girl, the one with lips so pumped up she could barely talk Member?”

Gary certainly did. It had been the best blow job he had ever had, right in the back of this pub. The guys had bet him he couldn't get that chick's number, but he had sure showed them. She had been pretty, but what she could do with her lips. He almost regretted giving her a fake number. Then again, if he hadn't then he wouldn't have met, what were their names again? The blond and the redhead, hell what was Lip chick’s name? He searched for it but it never appeared. It was a painful flick to the forehead that got him to focus this time. When he focused Lip Chick was at his side. Her beautifully sculpted lips turned into an adorable pouty frown. “If you had gifen me your real number, You would hafe seen what these could really do. but oh well you're lost." She walked up to Pete and settled into his lap with a wet kiss on his cheek. The group ordered another round and relaxed. Gary particularly enjoyed how the Redhead felt on his cock. He hoped he could get the Blond and the Redhead to give a repeat performance.

A bit later the blond and the redhead started arguing about something Gary hadn’t been paying attention to, only tuning in to hear “Don't get me wrong Red, you have a beautiful ass but this woman Gary and I played with the other week end, I was worried she wouldn't be able to get through the door of my apartment with hips that wide. Member Gare?

Gary’s hand reflexively squeezed Red's meaty thigh as the memory came to him. Him and The Blond had found the Brunette at a club, chatted her up, and brought her home. The memory of his cock squeezing between her soft ass cheeks was overwhelming. She had felt so good that words failed him, particularly when the same brunette settled herself on Andy’s lap “I hear my name. Were you too sluts talking about little old me?” The brunette had a lovely southern drawl that matched with the rugged flannel and khaki shorts she had shoved her oversized curves into. Blondie squealed excitedly, throwing herself into The Brunette’s arms before wrapping her own around the woman’s hip and rear, trying fruitlessly to get her arms all the way around the soft orbs while kissing her aggressively.

“Get a room you too” Lip Chick said taking a break from her own make out session.

“I actually just came from mine. After a wonderful fuck session with Gary and Olivia there” said the brunette coming up for air to toss Oliver’s hair. Oliver looked confused “Olivia?”

“Oh no need to hide from us Olivia. We all know how much of a bimbo you are. All those pink slutty outfits you wear. That's how you ended up in a room with Gare bear and me. Gary was mauling those massive tits of yours. While I sat on his face and he ate me out, oh it felt so good you remember right Gary?”

Gary did. The brunette’s ass was so large he had been afraid it was going to suffocate him. That just made his cock harder. Which had made Olivia scream even louder. She had bounced on him so hard, that her tits had flopped out of the pink wrap top she had been using to conceal a bit of modesty. Lucky she had put it back on before coming down to drink with him and the lads she was such a ditz he half expected her to forget it. He looked at her over the table and saw she was playing with her nipples through the shirt “Oh yea that was hot! God, I'm such a ditz, how could I forget an orgasm that good!”

“Maybe because you were too busy masturabing to that night you Gary and Steffi over there had a threesome.” Red said. nodding over to Steven who had been quietly enjoying his beer before all of the women had come over. “You had been telling us that Steffi was such a blond she's more of a ditz than you are. Remember Gary?”

Of course Gary did. He remembered thinking this girl was such an idiot it was good thing she had nice tit’s. He also remembered pounding her into such a stupor she hadn't been able to form words for an hour, not that words were really what her mouth was for. That had been the best head he had gotten before he met Lip Chick. For her part, Steffi just sat in her chair, vacant eyes staring off into space, a ribbon of drool on her glossy lips.

Lip Chick stopped making out with Andy for a moment. “Remember the Titty twins Gary? What were their names? Andi and Petra! God those bolt-ons were nice. We had such a wild night!

Gary was starting to get annoyed. Of course he remembered the twins, they were so alike in every way they could be clones of each other. Right down to their massive matching set of tits that they were currently resting on the bar table. Large tumblers of booze wedged into their cleavage. One of them, Andi, Gary thought had resumed making out with Lip Chick. Looking around he saw all of the different bimbos he had slept with recently. “I guess I must be a great lover to pull this many hotties,” he said. As the words left his mouth it was like a record scratched. All eyes looking at him and the voices seemed to be speaking in unison “What are you talking about Gabrielle? We came out tonight because it's girls night, and you because you're our bimbo bestie. Remember?”

#bimbotf #bimbotransformation

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bourbonanbarrelnorth · 8 months ago

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#Barrel Tables for Sale #Custom Logo Pub Tables #High Top Table #Bar Chairs and stools Collection #Bar Stool Furniture Collection #High Top Tables #Bar Chairs for Sale #Bar Chair Set

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tedwardremus · 1 year ago

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Am I to suffer this constant stream of interruption?

The quaint village of Hogsmeade was abuzz with the excitement of students from Hogwarts enjoying their first weekend visit of the fall term. Among the loud and cheerful crowd, a blue-haired wizard calmly leaned against a lamppost, watching two teenagers try to sneak bottles of butterbeer out of the pub.

Or at least he hoped he looked calm. Teddy Lupin was surprised at how sweaty his palms felt and how fast his heart was racing. It shouldn't be that big of a deal to be standing in Hogsmeade. He was no longer a student, having worked as a legislative aid for the newly reformed Werewolf Affairs and Support Office (formally the Werewolf Registration Office) for over a year. He was allowed to be in the village whenever he wanted. And while this visit had been marked on his calendar for several weeks it really shouldn't be that big of a deal. Except today was actually in fact a big deal. A Very big deal.

Teddy Lupin had planned this visit with Victoire Weasley since September. It was their first official outing as a couple. And while he had known Vic her whole life the thought of actually being an official couple still made his heart jump and his head swirl in a whirlpool of incoherent thoughts.

And really what was there to be nervous about? The kiss at Platform 9 3/4 proved that the romantic feelings were mutual. She had flashed her sweet smile and said, "I love you too, and not in a cousin-sort-of-family-way either" while she boarded the train and his heart had swelled in size. And on top of that their near-daily letters full of flirtations, gossip, advice, and thoughts he'd only dare share with here were enough proof that the relationship was real. This wasn't a dream.

No, really he shouldn't be nervous.

He just wanted this day to be perfect. For her. Because she was perfect. And they had both been waiting for this day for far too long.

As Teddy scanned the high street of Hogsmeade once more, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of Victoire running toward him. Her blonde hair whipped around her in the autumn wind. She was radiant. Just as he was about to take in the cool pool blue of her eyes he was knocked back into the lamppost as she wrapped around him in a big hug. Their laughter mingled together as he leaned in to kiss her lips in a proper greeting.

"Hi." She breathed, their faces still close together. His hands now placed on her slender waist.

"Hi." He smiled back.

"Did you wait long?"

"Yes, it's been months of waiting."

"You exaggerate. It's only been weeks."

Teddy looked down at her laughing face and wondered if he should counter with his real thoughts of how waiting months, weeks, or even days without her was too much. Maybe she should drop out of school right now and they live as bohemians across the continent. He thought the better of it though and simply grabbed her hand and led her inside to the Three Broomsticks.

Vic found a small table in a corner of the pub while Teddy went to get the drinks.

"So, how's the castle? Did you get those Celtic ruin translations finished?" Teddy asked as he returned with the two butterbeers.

"Oh, it got finished. Not sure any of it was correct though." Vic accepted the bottle and after a beat gave Teddy an incredulous look, "You know, I don't really understand the point of having an older boyfriend if you can't help me with my homework. I can't believe you took a completely different set of NEWT courses than me."

Teddy took a long sip of his butterbeer before replying "My apologies, should I give you Titus Whinchley's floo address? I'm pretty sure he got O's in Ancient Ruins and Arithmancy."

"Oh Merlin, don't even joke about doing that. Titus Whinchley is more boring than Binn's lecture on goblin uprisings."

"And you already have a boyfriend, of course."

"Oh yes, that too."

Teddy and Vic both leaned into each other when - "Oi! Teddy!"

A blur of dark hair ran into view and dropped himself into the empty chair at their table. "You didn't tell me you were visiting today! Can you get me a firewhiskey?"

"No, James" Teddy stated firmly and gave James Potter a pointed look. "Get lost."

"What? No! Come on! Haven't you missed me?" James leaned back in his chair and propped his feet onto the round wooden table.

"Ew, James get your muddy boots off the table! That's so rude!" Victoire exclaimed as she kicked the chair from underneath her cousin and he tumbled onto the hard floor.

"I'm just being friendly," James said as he stood up and rubbed his bottom. " Are you two going to be one of those gross couples that just snog all the time and call each other the most sicking nicknames?"

Teddy rolled his head back and stared at the ceiling, wondering what misdeed he did in a past life to be cursed with James Potter's existence. "Only when we're around you."

James gave out a snort in disgust and bounded away out the door.

"He misses you, you know," Vic said as she took a sip of her drink. "Or at least he did last year. He was pretty down without you around. I overheard him talking to Professor Longbottom about how school seemed pointless without his best friend."

"I'm his older brother, not his best friend."

Vic looked up at Teddy with a smirk on her face as he took another sip of butterbeer. "I don't think he sees the difference."

Teddy disguised his choke as a cough.

After they had warmed themselves with drinks and each other's company they ventured to Honeydukes where Teddy and Victoire indulged in an assortment of sweets. Vic insisted she needed more sustenance for studying. "You can't get through NEWTS without sugar quills, everyone knows that." Teddy never needed an excuse to buy more chocolates.

As they strolled the aisles, James Potter materialized out of thin air, and Teddy caught sight of a familiar shimmery silver material that James was wading up and placing in his school bag.

"What are you doing with the cloak?" Teddy asked shaking his head in disbelief.

"Dad gave it to me."

"I know, but what are you doing with it in Honeydukes? You're not shoplifting are you? I'll buy you anything you want."

"Nah, I was just waiting for Fred. I've been trying to get the jump on him all day. He pushed me into the lake yesterday, you know."

Teddy ran his hand through his hair which changed from his normal bright blue to duller yellow. "Just don't cause trouble OK? I'm here to hang out with Vic, not babysit you."

"Do you have the map?"

"No, why would I carry around a map of a school I don't go to anymore."

"I know Dad gave it to you."

"Yeah, because my dad made it."

"So did my grandfather. You should give it to me. Don't even think about giving it to Al. He won't do anything fun with it."

"I gave it back to Harry after I graduated."

"Why would you do a thing like that?"

"As I said earlier, I don't need a map for a school I no longer attend. I'm sure Harry will give it to you eventually."

"Why won't he give it to me now?"

"He doesn't trust you."

"Why didn't you give it to me then?"

"I don't trust you either."

"Oi, Vic, your boyfriend is boring" James turned to Victoire. Victoire just rolled her eyes and pushed James out of the way.

"Come on, Teddy let's make our purchases and leave. I need to go to the bookstore." Vic swished her hair over her shoulder and marched toward the cashier. Teddy gave James a parting pat on the back and followed Vic to the front of the shop.

At the bookstore, Victoire looked for a present for her sister Dominque while Teddy looked over a selection of ink wells. "She loves all those cheesy romance books but I think it's time to refine her palate. Maybe The Alchemist's Daughter's Diary?

"Isn't that also a cheesy romance novel?"

"Oh Ted, you know nothing of the classics."

As Teddy rounded the corner of shelves he walked straight into another shopper causing him to drop ink down the front of his robes..

"Hey, Teddy, when you and Vic have kids will I be their uncle or cousin?"

Teddy looked widely around the store. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"What running into you everywhere you go?" James asked innocently, "Nah, it's just a small village and there isn't much to do."

"Don't you have friends to hang out with?"

"Archie is in detention and Ellie is helping her dad in the greenhouse. Splinter is trying to flirt with Peggy and it is decidedly too painful to watch. But for real: Am I an uncle or a cousin?"

"You have a friend named Splinter?"

"You're ignoring the question. Uncle or Cousin?"

"You're nothing. What are you talking about?" Teddy grabbed James' should and steered him in the direction of the door as Vic purchased two books for her sister. "This is literally my first date with Vic and we are teenagers. We aren't even close to talking about kids. At this point, I'm lucky if we'll make it to Christmas at the pace you keep disrupting our time together."

"Ah, she's used to me." James shrugged off Teddy's hand and turned to face him. "Are you coming to my match next week?"

"Of course I am, I told you so in my last letter."

"Good, it's my first ever match on a real team. I want to make sure you see me win. "

Teddy was never sure if James' confidence was an act to rile people up or if he was genuinely that sure of himself. Teddy advised James to go back to school soon before curfew and joined Vic at the register and to pay for the ink that he had spilled.

"Do you think that kid has ever had a thought he didn't immediately have to shout out loud?" Teddy asked Vic while they watched James skip up the street and tackle his cousin Fred, he was distracted with the latest Firebolt 300 in the window of the quidditch shop to notice James, into a bale of hay.

"Maman says Auntie Ginny needs to reteach him proper conversation techniques."

"I don't think the Potters believe in your mother's standard of etiquette."

Vic just shrugged and continued to lead Teddy up the street until they reached the path past the train station that led back to the castle. But just as their lips were about to meet in a sweet farewell, a familiar voice rang out.

"Teddy! Victoire! I -" Teddy swished his wand and James froze on the spot.

"I'll unfreeze him on my way out," Teddy told Victoire as he tightened his grip around her waist. "I didn't want him to ruin our goodbye again"

"You know" Vic whispered as their noses started to touch. "As head girl, I can ensure that he is in detention next Hogsmeade visit."

Teddy chuckled as their lips met. "Great, I'm sure he'll do something to deserve it."

And just like their parting in September as he kissed Vic deeply her warm soft touch made his skin tingle and his hair turn bright pink with happiness.

"Still thinking about calling Titus Whinchley?

"Shut it"

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

#teddy lupin #victoire weasley #teddy x victoire #tedoire #james sirius potter #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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isleofsodora · 2 years ago

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The Hooded Heroine (ch. 2 au)

The sun was beginning to set West in a seemingly endless sky while countless torches lined a great and mighty castle walls, the huge structure casted looming shadows and made the castle look even more cold and ruthless.

Multiple Royal Guards circled the front gates with either axes or swords on their hilts, while others patrolled the palace walls to keep watch for any trespassers sneaking about, and up near a high balcony a young woman peered down from her bedroom bay window, silently wishing that she could be free like the Brotherhood boys.

The girl sighed before she crawled off the balcony’s carved marble railing and walked back into her massive bedroom, which sported rich mahogany furniture and a bed that could easily sleep three large Øxxen boars, the light balayage girl was exhausted after such a long day of nothing but lessons and bitter teachers.

The young woman finally made up her mind, grabbing her cloak from her massive wardrobe she changed her outfit, casting aside her tight white dress, changing into a simple tunic and leggings. Opening the balconies doors she leapt out onto the castles sculpted overhang, staying out of sight and closed the windows before descending down multiple steps, her splendid white cloak fluttered behind her as she drew up her hood, slipping along till she snuck into an underground passage, moving swiftly like a Starling falcon.

Thomas belched happily as his stomach was now full of roasted Mândrakê and veggies, the other members of the Brotherhood were happily chatting away, several platters of full corse meals now housed hundreds of bones and other food scraps, nothing soothed the boys spirits than visiting the towns public pub.

“This is the life! Innit Percy?” Thomas gloated and slung his arm around his best friend shoulders, Percy gulped down his mouth full of Rümm and grinned brightly, “yeah! Your grab today was the best one yet!” The green cloaked figure chirped and held up his mug, Thomas hummed and raised his as well, patting his best friends shoulder.

The whole group was chatting happily until the doors to the glum looking joint slammed open, the whole chatter and bustle of the place silenced as a group of Royal Guards entered in, someone had tipped off that the entire Brotherhood was at the Sclērœdermâ Pub.

Thomas felt his eyes lock with the lead Royal and his heart thumped, in an instant everything turned to chaos, the midnight black haired boy feverishly scooped the silver pieces into the satchel and bolted away from the table, clutching onto his best friend as the Brotherhood all scrambled towards the back, fleeing from the charging Royals.

Chairs and tables banged and bashed to the ground, Ben zipped around the bar and Bill followed close behind, soon bottles of Bęur and Rümm were being hurled at the Royals, glass and liquor splashed everywhere while the twins howled with laughter.

Thomas barked for the twins to move it and they skated into the grease covered kitchen, knowing that there was an exit through the back corner. Ryan smashed through the barricaded back door and both Thomas and Percy rushed out behind him. “Thomas!” Ryan gasped when he looked around the narrow alleyway, Thomas whipped his gaze left and right and seen several Royals blocking either side, they were trapped like Mÿce.

“Go! To the roofs! Go!” Thomas shouted and hauled Percy up as the Royals charged them, Percy yelped as Thomas shoved him up along the cluttered wall but refused to give up, Ryan hurriedly reached the top of a tin laden roof, he looked over the edge with wide dark blue eyes, “grab a hold of my hand Percy!” Ryan shouted and Percy desperately reached for his hand while Thomas was still underneath his best friend, straining to keep Percy above his head, Thomas grunted before he stole a peek downwards, and seen a Royals armored cladded hand barely miss his ankle.

With a mighty heave Thomas lifted Percy up enough for Ryan to grab his pudgy palm, but Thomas lost his balance suddenly, he gasped as the tower of loosely stacked crates began to sway, everything cluttered against the wall began to topple, Percy looked over the edge of the roof just in time to see his best friend crash onto the dirty cobblestone below.

“THOMAS!!!” Percy screamed as his best friend was captured and pinned to the ground, Thomas grunted as his cheek was smashed hard into the pavement while rough edged ropes were tied around his wrists, there was nothing that he could do to wiggle out of this one.

“Spread out and find them! Take this Møndrâketē to the gates!” A Royal officer ordered and Thomas was roughly hoisted up by the collar of his soot covered cloak.

Thomas kept his head down but had a smirk on his face, they may have caught him, but Percy didn’t know that Thomas had slipped the satchel into his trousers, at least he and the others would be able to survive another day.

Soon many gasps could be heard when the two Royals yanked Thomas around the corner, the Prince of the Gallows had been caught, and there was nothing that the onlookers could do, no one noticed someone dressed in a white cloak following silently behind.

One of the Royals pulled Thomas by his beautiful midnight black hair down along steamy passageway, the young man growled in pain until a slab of brick crashed down behind the small group, crumbling into pieces. The second Royal whipped around with a raised spear but no one was there, Thomas caught a glimpse of someone on the rooftop above but couldn’t see the persons face.

Thomas was yanked harshly again before someone landed down in front of them, Thomas felt his eyes widen when he saw how beautiful the persons cloak was, one Royal suddenly rushed the stranger with the poised spear, without moving the white cloaked figure did some sort of motion with their hands, the Royal suddenly crashed flat on his armored back, the wind was completely knocked out of him from the force.

The white cloaked stranger began to stalk closer to the other Royal, Thomas seized the chance and suddenly turned on his heel, head butting the Royal who kept pulling his hair, Thomas knocked off the mans helmet and the Royal crashed to the ground.

Thomas twisted back around and the cloaked stranger stared from under their hood, the strangers face was covered with dark shadows from their raised hood.

“Turn around,” the stranger gruffed firmly and Thomas nodded, he felt his restraints loosen and before the cloaked stranger could leave Thomas grabbed the persons wrist, “c’mon! Follow me!” He said boldly before running back the other way, nearly dragging the cloaked figure with him.

Thomas ran as fast as he could taking a back route to the Brotherhoods hideout, praying that his best friend and the others made it out okay. The young man stopped by a seemingly blocked entrance and rapidly looked around, with lost breath he whispered, “don’t tell anyone about this place,” he growled and the white cloaked figure raised its hand, motioning that they wouldn’t tell.

Thomas faintly nodded before slipping into the tight space, the white figure felt themself go right then left, left then right again, by the time Thomas walked into the Brotherhoods secret hideout full of various clutter and junk, the stranger didn’t know how Thomas could navigate through the dark like that.

The blue cloaked figure glanced around before cupping his hands over his mouth, producing a strange clicking sound and to his relief he seen Percy, Ryan, Bill and Ben peek above a clutter of broken crates with various cloths casted across, like a make-shift barricade.

“Thomas!” Percy cried happily and leapt over the mass of objects, Thomas smiled and sighed with relief, “Percy!” He cried back and rushed forward with outstretched arms, the two nearly crashed into each other but neither of them cared, they were just glad that they were both okay.

Ryan stood fully up with a warm smile on his face and the twins began to egg at the two embracing friends, “oi! If ye keep actin’ like that ye minas well room tegetha!” Ben chortled and Bill snickered, Thomas shot the two a piercing blue glare and the twins immediately zipped their jowls shut.

Percy noticed the white cloaked figure and arched a confused brow, “Thomas? Who’s that?” The young dark brown haired boy pointed, Thomas nearly forgot all about the stranger that saved him from the Royals, the midnight black haired boy turned back round, looking the stranger up and down, who was staring silently from under their beautiful white cloaks hood.

“Right…now who exactly are you?” Thomas peered down the shorter figure, the white cloaked figure shuffled in place nervously before grasping onto the edges of their white hood, the Brotherhood boys all watched as the stranger lowered their hood to their shoulders, Thomas felt his sky blue eyes widen with surprise.

“Y-you’re…you’re a girl?!” He felt himself gasp as he continued to stare at the beautiful young female standing before the small group, the other young men couldn’t believe it either.

“U-um…hello,” the young girl cracked a nervous grin and Thomas felt a bit of blush tint his cheeks. “My names Hannah by the way!” The young female nervously smiled but all Thomas could do was stare with wide blue eyes, well, that’s what all the other boys could do too.

“A-and I’m…T-Thomas…” the blue cloaked boy stuttered, his eyes traced Hannah’s smooth face and she didn’t have a skin complexion anywhere, she looked just like a pure white snow Dovenillę.

Hannah’s wavy light balayage hair fell around her shoulders while her fierce golden brown colored eyes shone brightly, all the boys seemed transfixed to the white cloaked girl standing in their secret hideaway.

Ben and Bill both glanced at each other from either side of the Brotherhoods leader, right before a devious idea sprouted in their skulls, “so she’s the one who saved your arse, isn’t that right, Thomas?” Bill cooed and Ben roughly jabbed Thomas’s side, the taller boy stared with an appalled brow right before the twins howled with laughter.

“Ohoho! Oh poor Thomas!” Ben cried out, “gettin’ squeamish an’ dainty countin’ on a girl comin’ teh save you!” Bill added in next and Thomas felt his cheeks deepen in shade. “No! No! No!” The blue eyes boy protested, “it’s not like that at all!” Thomas shouted while swinging his arms about, trying not to let the twins pin him down on this one.

“This is too rich fer us! Thomas is called the great Prince of tha Gallows! An’ still needs a girl to save his arse!” Ben and Bill whelped with laughter, the older boy growled with a reddening brow before he suddenly lundged for the twins in a fit of anger, tackling the two and roughly crashed to the ground, Hannah stared with wide eyes as Ryan did his best to pry Thomas away from the two younger boys.

“Thomas please! Calm down! They’re kids y’know?!” Ryan grunted as he gripped tightly around Thomas’s torso, the blue eyed boy glared and roughly elbowed Ryan in his midsection before wrestling with the two soot covered twins. “Take that back! Take it back!” Thomas shouted in anger, nearly clubbing the twins with clenched fists.

Percy and Ryan were finally able to tug Thomas away from the trickster twins, Ben and Bill both glared as they wiped the dust off their dirty faces and clothes, but they both knew that they went too far this time. “Ben. Bill. Apologize. Now.” Percy said with unwavering eyes, the two young boys glanced down, shuffling in place and scuffed the ground with their dirty heels.

“Aye…sorry Thomas…” Bill mumbled before Ben slugged his brothers shoulder, the two then stared each other down, “sorry Thomas,” they both said in unison and the blue eyed teen sighed, dipping his head curtly before looking back over at Hannah.

“Thank you Hannah for your help, but this is no place for a woman, I’ll escort you out-“ “WAIT!” The white cloaked girl blurted and the other boys all stared with wide eyes, “w-wait…I…wanted to make a proposition,” Hannah glanced at each young man but locked her eyes with Thomas’s.

“And what’s that?” The black midnight haired boy tipped his chin up, staring the young woman down, Hannah didn’t break her focus as she keep her eyes locked with his, “I want to join the Brotherhood.”

#thomas and friends au #thomas the tank engine au #thomas the train au #fantasy au #fanfiction #creative writing

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adarede · 2 years ago

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average day for average member of society:

wake up at 6am, eat liver and onions for breakfast. read a national daily newspaper and a provincial daily newspaper.

7am: go for a run, wearing a replica football team shirt, a man's base layer top, and tracksuit bottoms.

7.20am: have a shower. shave. die hair using permanent hair colourant. apply body moisturising lotion, deodorant, self-tanning product, face cream, perfume, mascara, liquid foundation, lip gloss, and nail varnish.

8am: take the car in for an MOT. have a new exhaust fitted in a fast-fit auto centre.

8.30: purchase a caravan

9am: go ten-pin bowling

10.10am: visit a DIY shop and purchase some butane gas, a sheet of MDF, a patio set, and some luxury vinyl tile flooring.

10.30am: go home and get started on a light spot of DIY, while enjoying a canned stout and an electronic cigarette.

11:45am: suddenly remember that today is your day with the kids, and call Geraldine the nanny in a panic. She reassures you that she collected Annie and Jasper at the normal time, and took them to the soft play centre. tell Geraldine to invoice you for the soft play centre fee, and let her know you'll meet her there at 12:15.

11:55: rush to the shops on your bicycle. purchase a selection of soft toys, a child's sit and ride toy, some disposable nappies, and a high chair (you can't remember if you already have one).

12:25pm: meet Geraldine and the kids at the soft play centre. apologise profusely for your tardiness and propose a hot pub lunch to make up for it.

12:30pm: call directory inquiries, asking for the number of the nearest pub, then call that pub to ask if they serve hot lunches. they do, so you make a reservation.

12:50pm: arrive at the red lion in Geraldine's car, with your bike balanced on the roof. bemuse the staff when you present your own high chair for Annie to sit in. Annie reminds you she is 4 now so can use a big girl chair.

enjoy a lovely hot pub lunch, with a draft bitter for yourself, a spirit-based drink for Geraldine, and both fizzy drinks and fruit juice for the kids.

2pm: ask Geraldine to drop you off home, since your car is still being serviced. Geraldine's car breaks down, so you call the AA (calling directory enquiries first, because you can never remember phone numbers. Geraldine looks disapproving, and you make a mental note not to mention you've called directory enquiries to get her number before too). give the kids the soft toys you brought earlier, and attempt to entertain Geraldine by doing tricks on your bicycle. "well, at least you brought your helmet, I suppose," is all Geraldine says, and plays games on her phone without looking at you. you pretend you didn't want her to in the first place, to maintain your dignity in front of your children.

3pm: take the opportunity to call your solicitor to make an appointment to update your will.

3:20pm: purchase dental insurance over the phone. this reminds you of your poor elderly mother in her nursing home, so you call the florist to arrange a delivery of flowers there.

4pm: the AA arrive, and luckily the car can be fixed on the spot. you make it home at 20 past 4.

4:30: the kids complain of being bored, so you take them to the pet shop down the road. they manage to convince you to purchase a hamster and a bag of dog treats; the latter is for feeding dogs in the park, they tell you. this inspires you to buy some wild bird seed as well, to feed the birds in your back garden. you make a mental note to buy the necessary materials to construct a bird table tomorrow morning.

5:15pm: you get home and start cooking dinner. the kids lose the hamster immediately upon getting it home, but they find it soon enough in the corner of your sleeping bag - you have it set up in the living room in order to be better prepared if burglars break in, since you anticipate them entering through your french window.

5.45pm: dinner is quiche, veggie sausages, a pre-packaged salad, and some instant mashed potato. Jasper informs you he is on an all-meat diet at the moment. you worry that he has been watching too much alpha male youtube; you thought youtube kids blocked that kind of thing. he is only 6, after all. you tell him that quiche is a kind of animal, and salad is meat too, since it's the flesh of a plant. Jasper starts crying, and you discover that he didn't know meat came from animals. None of this makes sense to you. You hear a scraping sound coming from the kitchen, and see that the hamster has been eating your newly laid vinyl flooring. You put the hamster, with a handful of muesli, in the cardboard box your latest wine delivery came in.

6:05pm: the kids have located the fromage frais in your fridge and have eaten 6 by the time you get back to the dining room

6:10pm: you corral the kids into the living room and put on a blu-ray to watch. the hamster slowly chews through the box in which it had been placed. you leave the kids to it while you go up to the attic to dig out an animal cage. in the attic, you see your action camera, interchangeable lens camera, and digital compact camera, and get lost in a reverie, imagining all the wonderful photographs you could take with them.

6:30pm: come downstairs again armed with the cage, an acoustic guitar, and a fishing rod, and retrieve the hamster from its latest location (dangerously close to chewing through an unused inkjet printer cartridge).

6:45pm: suddenly remember you still don't have a car, so purchase the necessary train tickets to take the kids back to their mum's house.

6:55pm: change into a formal jacket and trousers, a tie, and a hat; the dating agency called yesterday and you have a date tonight in london.

7:05pm: get the kids and the hamster out the door and take the bus to the station. give the kids a craft set each; you keep them by the door just in case of surprise journeys.

7:13pm: run to catch the train. due to skill and practice, you do not fall over as you sprint in your high heeled shoes.

7:47pm: get off the train, and take a taxi to drop the children off at their mother's house. leave the kids to give their mother the gift you purchased yesterday for her of a shower head and some knitting wool. ring the doorbell and get back in the taxi before anyone answers the door. you see the door open just as your taxi turns the corner at the end of the road.

8:03: catch the next train to london. arrive at 8.30 at king's cross, and take a taxi to the bar at which you are meeting your mystery date. touch up your make-up using your phone screen as a mirror.

8:40: stop at a tesco express to buy a cooked pastry based savoury snack, some hand-rolling tobacco, and a lamb shoulder. buy some condoms, and then, hedging your bets, buy some tampons too.

8:50pm: arrive at the bar, and weave your way through the crowd towards a woman standing alone with her back to you, wearing a cocktail dress. she turns, and you recognise Yorickina from the picture given to you by the agency. She smiles, evidently recognising you too.

"what are your hobbies," she immediately asks.

"i do enjoy package holidays covering a range of foreign destinations," you say, put on the spot. what is a hobby, anyway? "oh, and slimming."

Yorickina looks sceptically at your noticeable belly. you slightly lift your shirt, showing that beneath there is concealed your emergency supplies kit, which contains hair gel, gin, a greetings card, and a canned lager. in fact, despite appearances, you have a very trim figure.

"What's your favourite mode of transport," you ask Yorickina. "Oh, ferry, for sure," she replies. "Although I do enjoy travelling by coach".

You feel your heart speed up: could Yorickina be your perfect counterpart?

"May I buy you a drink," you ask. She accepts a double vodka, and you get yourself a draught cider. "i mostly spend time tending my horse," Yorickina continues, "but I also enjoy purchasing computer peripherals."

"Oh, but that's fascinating!" you exclaim. "I tend to spend most of my money on watersports equipment e.g. windsurfing equipment, but I also enjoy a spot of golf on the weekends."

You spend a very enjoyable couple of hours getting to know Yorickina, but before you know it, she says she has to go home. You convince her to stop by a kebab shop with you on your way back to the station. It has started to rain outside, but luckily Yorickina was carrying two umbrellas.

on the train ride home, you check your schedule for tomorrow. You have to pick up your car in the morning, and the surveyor is coming over to value your house in the afternoon. And once you have your car back, you will be able to collect your caravan and start planning your next holiday. You look up the cost of a marriage licence.

You get home at around 11.30pm, and settle into your armchair with a whisky, various selected popular brands of sweets, and a cigar. You read a couple of chapters of your e-book.

at around 12:15, you get up, brush your teeth and have another shower, and set up a duvet and pillow on your sofa (the sleeping bag on the floor is but a decoy). you send a flattering message to Yorickina, before turning off your phone and tucking yourself into bed. you blissfully drift off to sleep, dreaming of ultra low sulphur diesel and wide, empty toll roads.

#fanfiction #of the retail price index basket of goods #op

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