#like I’ll just use sparkling wine instead

[bereft-of-frogs]

Tbh that Pablo Hidalgo post is stressing me out haha because my personal philosophy is to minimize both invented terms and too-specific real world cultural phrases but I’ve always been secretly afraid that everyone actually hates that and secretly cringe every time I use…idk ‘glass’ versus whatever fake word some EU writer invented 😆

Like that’s where he lands by the end of the thread too but I’m totally going to have to block that post because every time I see it it starts the screaming in my brain

[angelatmidnight1]

A Helping Hand

A/N: This is just a self-indulgent fic I'm using as a springboard for another one. I'm in a Gale/Karlach/Astarion high right now. I'll get back to requests as soon as I can, and I hope you like the story!

Fandom- Baldur's Gate 3.

Pairing- Starts with Gale x Karlach (platonic, ler!Gale and lee!Karlach), and ends with Gale, Karlach, and Astarion (platonic, ler!Karlach, ler!Astarion, and lee!Gale).

Word Count- 2,532.

Warnings- Situated in Act 3 so potential for spoilers, also tickling and swearing.

Gale finally shows Karlach how to cast Mage Hand, another avenue of touch, and she’s thrilled by the doors it opens up. He invites her to explore touch with him and doesn’t account for her using it for more playful, nefarious reasons, like tickling. And, just when it couldn’t get any more chaotic, Astarion invites himself in on the fun, too…

“That’s it, Karlach. Try the incantation again.”

Gale spoke from behind the tiefling after he guided her hands into the right position. She was very warm to the touch, but touching her didn’t burn. Her engine was a source of curiosity for him ever since she’d joined the party way back when. But, instead of indulging that curiosity, he’d promised to show her how to cast Mage Hand. Karlach had gotten the incantation down more or less. He just had to make sure she had her hands in the right place. Magic was just as much a physical thing as a verbal one in Gale’s experience. 

Karlach rigidly held her hands in position and repeated the incantation. “Veniam Iuva Me..” Her eyes brightened when the spectral hand emerged in front of her. “I got it!”

“Excellent,” Gale smiled. “Now, with a flick of the wrist, or a thought even, the hand will do as you command. You can pick things up, throw them, push the unfortunate goblin to their death…”

Karlach wasn’t fully listening; instead, she flexed and curled her fingers, and the mage hand mirrored her. “Yeah. Woulda been nice to have one of these when I got back to the Sword Coast.” She replied. “At least I’d have been able to touch something..”

She guided the hand across the Elfsong Tavern and picked up a tankard. She brought it back over to her and took a sip of the ale, exhaling deeply. “Aw, man. A girl could get used to this..”

Gale chuckled and picked up his own glass of wine. “Learning cantrips are only the beginning of a lifelong journey with magic. Cheers to taking that first step.”

Karlach happily clinked her tankard with his glass. She took another sip, her eyes sparkling with genuine wonder and curiosity. “So, I can touch anything with this hand, right?”

“Most things,” he corrected. “The mage hand can take damage just as our own. So, you couldn’t grab, say, the blade end of a sword. But you could wield said sword as an extension of yourself. It’s very handy in that regard.”

“Gods, the puns.” Karlach snickered. “And yeah, I’ll be sure to have one of these around when we beat the Absolute’s ass. But uh, I was thinking more along the lines of being able to, you know, hold someone’s hand? Maybe caress a face or two?”

“Of course. Here, if you’d like, you can explore the mage hand’s capabilities with me.” He finished his wine and stood in front of her. He extended his own hand. “I’m more than willing to offer myself as a test subject in the pursuit of knowledge.”

“Really? That’d be awesome!” Karlach brought the hand to Gale’s, palm to palm. She interlocked her fingers and the mage hand, as well as Gale, followed suit. “Thank you, Gale.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Gale allowed Karlach to explore his hand with the spectral one, watching it stroke across his fingers. The barbarian hummed in thought and moved further up his arm. 

“So, what does this feel like?” She asked, moving the touches up to his wrist. “Doesn’t beat the real thing I suppose. But it is nice to have options.”

“Well, it’s very similar to the touch of another, minus the warmth of course.” Gale turned his palm towards the floor so she could go up his arm. “Maybe it is a lighter touch, too. Almost feather like..”

“Yeah?” When she reached his upper arm, she curled the fingers on the mage hand, gently squeezing into his skin. Gale fidgeted a little bit and exhaled through his nose. She raised a brow. “What? That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, quite the opposite, actually.” He chuckled. “Bit ticklish is all.”

“Huh.” Karlach hummed again, continuing to kneading into his upper arm. She smiled. “I didn’t really pick you as the ticklish type, with you being all proper and scholarly and whatnot.”

“Y-Yehehes, well…” Gale chuckled a bit more and tugged at his arm, but the mage hand held strong. After a few more attempts, Gale managed to get his arm free. “I can say with confidence that ticklishness doesn’t have a face. Why, even the strongest warriors can be��hey!”

 Instead of going for his arms again, Karlach brought the mage hand towards his torso, prodding into his side. Gale again jumped away from the ticklish touch and giggled louder. He backpedaled and wrapped a protective arm around his torso. “Now, Karlach,” he warned. He suddenly felt a bit playful and grinned. “Choose your next actions carefully. Should you try to tickle me again, I will have no choice but to retaliate.”

He stepped further away from her, his hands glowing with magic. Karlach followed after him, snickering. 

“Oh really?” Karlach challenged, returning the grin. “Heh, I’d like to see you try!”

Somewhere else in the tavern, sitting on his bed, was Astarion. His brow was knitted together in concentration as he sewed up a split seam on a shirt. Not his shirt, but Wyll’s. Now that they were back in Baldur’s Gate, Astarion believed looking the part was a high priority. He wouldn’t stand for his companions walking around in tattered clothes. Ideally, he’d find a clothing merchant and just steal their stuff, but he was willing to pace himself. He flinched when there was a sudden roar of laughter, Karlach’s laughter, and he grumbled under his breath. Did she always have to be so damn loud?

“Karlach, can you keep it down?” He called sharply. He refused to look up from what he was doing; he was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to sewing. “Some of us have important things to do, and I need to concentrate.”

But instead of quieting down, Karlach’s laughter only got louder. A thud accompanied this wild laughter, and Astarion’s patience waned. He got up with a heavy sigh, putting his work on his end table. Then, he followed the source of the racket. 

When he got to the next room, Karlach was prone on the floor, laughing her head off. Gale sat beside her with a smug smirk. Karlach’s mage hand was gone, and there was a purple aura emanating off of her: Gale’s variation of a Hold Person spell. Instead of completely immobilizing her, she was able to squirm around, though she didn’t get very far. The first place he squeezed was her hips, a terribly ticklish spot, and he was still kneading into them when Astarion entered the room. 

“I warned you,” Gale was saying as he skittered his fingers across her torso. He honed in on her sides, and her loud laughter calmed into not as loud giggles. “We could’ve handled this civilly, but you forced my hand!”

Karlach squealed and wrestled with Gale’s hands, but her laughter had weakened her, and she was honestly having a blast. “Fahahahaha! I-I’ll gehehehet youhuhuhu bahahack! Youhuhuhu juhuhust wahahait!” 

“Unlikely,” Gale snickered. “But I do admire your resolve.”

That’s when he summoned another mage hand and used it to poke at her ribs. Karlach’s frantic giggling mingled with snorts. Astarion fondly shook his head as he watched from afar. 

“Having fun, darlings?” Astarion soon spoke over Karlach’s laughter. He stepped further into the room. He was initially annoyed,  but Karlach’s laugh was highly contagious. He had to expend a good deal of effort not to giggle along with her. “I was wondering why Karlach was laughing so hard. I figured someone told a joke, fell on their arse maybe. But no, you’re just…tickling her. Adorable I suppose, but why?”

Gale looked up, joining the mage hand in pinching and scritching over Karlach’s ribs. She yelled and rolled from one side to the other, trying to dodge the hands. “Because I made the generous offer to teach her a spell, and she decided to turn on me,” he explained.. “I responded in turn by giving her a taste of her own medicine.” 

“So I see,” Astarion hummed. “Well, I’d tell you two to keep it down, but that’s impossible with her hyena call. Maybe you’d like a hand?”

“NAAHAHOHOHO!” Karlach protested, shrieking when Gale’s hand jumped to her armpit. She immediately brought her arms down, trapping his hand, and her laughter went up two octaves. Gale continued to wriggle his fingers along her armpit, but having her arms down didn’t make it easy for him. He sent the mage hand to wrestle with her arm to try and pull it up. Gale regarded Astarion with a quick glance, nodding. 

“I certainly won’t turn down the help—”

“Not you, Gale.” Astarion scoffed. He walked towards the duo. “Why, our poor fiery friend is in stitches, and you have the advantage of having literal magic at your fingertips. Helping you wouldn’t even begin to even the playing field..”

 Gale’s gaze snapped back to the spawn. He halted his tickle attack, giving Karlach a break. “Now hang on, I wasn’t the one that started this.”

“But you are the one indirectly causing the noise, in a manner of speaking.” Astarion stepped with a purpose towards them. “I couldn’t even sew in peace.”

“That hardly seems fair!” Gale protested. Since he spent a lot of effort keeping Karlach in place and now had his sights on Astarion, both his concentration and his spell slots waned. That didn’t stop him from popping up from the floor and pointing a warning finger at him. “Don’t you dare, Astarion!”

Karlach  wrapped both arms around her torso as they bickered. She didn’t mind tickling in the slightest, but Gale wasn’t going to weasel his way out of her well deserved revenge. Especially when she now had a partner in crime. While she was laying on the floor, she grabbed a fistful of the end of Gale’s robe and pulled him down with her. Gale screamed and, before he knew it, Astarion was on him, too. 

“Get him!” Karlach shouted, easily tangling the wizard up in her arms. Astarion smirked and knelt beside them. He waited until she pulled his arms over his head to poke into his sides. Gale flinched and tried to lean away from the poke, but he only leaned further into Karlach’s arms.

“Nohoho no no! AhAHah! Wahahait!” Gale yelped and squirmed as Astarion continued to prod into his sides, his frantic giggles already threatening to jump to laughter. “Two against one is nohohot fahahir!”

“Who said anything about fair?” Karlach grinned and clawed her way down his forearm until she could burrow into his exposed armpits. Gale bucked and giggled harder, trying and failing to bring his arms back down. “Nope, you’re not getting out of this one, Gale.”

Astarion climbed on top of Gale’s kicking legs, fingertips fluttering into his sides with more purpose. The wizard twisted from one side to the other, but his fingers stayed on him. “You really thought I’d help you? And end up on the receiving end of Karlach’s fury?” Astarion snickered. “No, my dear. Unlike you, I know how to pick battles that I can win, haha.”

“Y-Youhuhu opportunhistic leehehehehech!” Gale squealed and curled in on himself when Karlach circled her thumbs along the outer curve of his armpits. The barbarian smirked, following the curve of his back and ending with swipes of her claws at the back of his ribs. Gale yelled and jerked forward, only to press his back into her chest when she kept scribbling. 

“Where ya goin’~?” She giggled. She let go of his arms for the moment so that she could use both hands to attack his rib cage. Gale immediately brought his arms to his sides and batted at her wrists. 

“Awahahahay frohohohom youhuhuhu!” He yelped and squeezed at her wrists when she tickled faster. “KAhahahaha! Lehehehet mehehehe gohohoho!”

In truth, Gale enjoyed tickling every now and again. It’s not something he’d go around talking about, but he definitely appreciated a good laugh. But Karlach and Astarion together were probably the most mischievous ticklers on the Sword Coast. If anything, they fed off of each other’s skills. Astarion had the dexterous fingers and teasing taunts, and Karlach had the strength and boundless energy. Together, they left Gale a laughing mess.

“Why? We’ve only just started,” Astarion teased, gently pinching the sides of his stomach. Gale jolted and belted out a laugh. Astarion did it again, earning another frantic laugh, and he grinned knowingly. Gale’s arms flailed as he tried to grab the spawn’s hands. 

“NOHOHO AHASTAHARION!” Gale wrestled with his hands, now full-on laughing. Astarion clicked his teeth as he tried to keep tickling his tummy. He gave Karlach an expectant look. 

“Ahem, little help here?” He asked, having to halt his tickle attack in favor of trying to move Gale’s hands. Karlach stopped tickling his ribs and reached over both men’s arms.

“Right, I’ve got ‘im.” She looped her larger arms around Gale and drew him back into her chest. Gale continued to squirm until his arms were trapped under hers.

“Thank you,” Astarion chuckled. He smirked at the wizard in front of him and made a big show of flexing his fingers. “Now, where were we?”

He put one hand on Gale’s tummy and Gale flinched again, nervously giggling. 

“Nohohot thehehre…” Gale jumped again and squealed when the spawn flexed his fingers. “AHAhastariohohon! Anywhehehre buhuhut thehehehre!”

“My, so sensitive..” Astarion continued to gently flex his fingers against Gale’s tummy, chuckling more at his squeals and cackles. “I’m hardly touching you. Our resident wizard is just a magical bundle of nerves, isn’t he?”

“Sure is,” Karlach grinned. “But hey, who said you’re gettin’ all of the fun?” She readjusted her hold on Gale, now using one arm to keep him against her chest. She joined Astarion in squeezing and poking into Gale’s tummy, and his loud laughter echoed throughout the tavern. 

Astarion wrapped his legs around Gale’s to not get thrown off but, even then, he almost went flying. Karlach laughed along with Gale as she alternated between the side of his stomach and just above his hip. 

“Gods, I love your laugh,” she giggled. “It’s so fuckin’ cute.” Despite her strength, even Karlach had to make sure she didn’t let go of him. Gale bucked and cackled in her hold.

“NAHAHAHAHA! DOHOHON’T TIH-AHAHA! AHAHA!” Gale struggled to get a full sentence out; he could only laugh himself silly as he leaned into Karlach’s shoulder. 

Eventually, the duo eased off of him. Karlach let go of his arms, and Astarion slowed his tickles down to gentle pokes and stroking. Gale inadvertently slid down Karlach’s lap, finally able to bat at Astarion’s hands.

“Plehehease, truhuhuce…” He gasped, sighing with relief once Astarion finally stopped. The spawn snickered.

“Alright, alright, I’ve had my fun. I’ll leave you in the capable hands of our mutual friend.” Astarion patted Gale’s stomach and climbed off of his legs. Once he was gone, Karlach pulled the wizard up into a seated position, holding him close.

“No hard feelings, right Gale?” She asked, rubbing her warm hands over his torso. Gale exhaled and shook his head. 

“Not at all. I believe we settled our score,” He replied, leaning further into her warmth. “Astarion, on the other hand…” 

[tadpolesonalgae]

Blurbs

Below, you will find:

Revelling + Amren Swimming + Koschei Overstimulation + Azriel* Bad Memories + Feyre

Revelling w/ Amren

I’m not sorry by DEAN

Her blood red lips split in a feline grin, “are you sure about that, lamb?”

A shiver of excitement thrills down your spine at the name—her preferred blood type. “I wouldn’t have said it were I not entirely sure, Amren.” You know your eyes are sparkling with playful challenge, but she makes no move to haul you from the ballroom. Instead, she leans back against the wall, watching you with those sharp silver eyes of hers.

“I think the wine is making you dumb,” she croons, making you frown. “I’m perfectly aware. Besides, you’ve had more than me,” you counter, flicking your eyes pointedly to the glass in her elegantly pointed hand, the red liquid reminding you of the blood she so used to adore.

Her smile is coy, and she raised the glass to her lips, taking a slow sip while you watch intently. “I don’t think I should need to remind you, but I am much older than you. I know how to handle my alcohol.” She gives you a look that says unlike you.

Your features twist into a frown and you make to push off the wall, “fine.”

Silver eyes flick to you over the rim of her wine. Your own lips fashion into a playful smile, “I’ll find me fun elsewhere, then.”

Swimming in Koschei’s lake

Leni by GoodBooks

Talons made of death wrap around your torso, and you freeze. He’s caught you.

Limbs tremble, muscles spasming as your very world is ripped out from beneath your feet.

“What are you?”

The voice is unlike anything you’ve ever heard: a deep, animalistic rasp, sounding like rock against rock and you can picture how sparks would fly.

“You’re not one of the fae. What’s a creature like you doing in my lake?”

Your breathing catches, words a distant thought as your vision blurs. “I’m sorry,” you raps, whimpering. “I’ll never come here again. Please just— let me go.”

He hums, and it sounds like he’s smiling. The claws tighten, dragging you deeper into the lake, your gills flapping as you fight to keep your breathing regular, even as you squirm in his grip. “Please. I had no idea this was your lake. I was trying to escape the hunters. Please, I’m sorry.”

He’s quiet for a little and you brace for the crushing impact of his grip but it never comes. Instead, “show me.”

You stiffen in his grip, warily opening your large, dark eyes—eyes made for darkness, yet that are unable to breech his. “Show you?” You ask softly, trying not to stammer or stumble.

A noise like leather stretching sounds, and you have the every feeling he’s smiling. “Show me your hunters.”

Overstimulation w/ Azriel

Damaged by Blood On The Dance Floor

Pleasure rolls across your skin, waves of heated sunlight cresting over you again and again.

Your toes curl as he doesn’t let up, head tipping back into the pillows as his cock touches that spot deep inside of you. His shadows build over your clit and your vision turns blinding white, colour fading as the darkness flicks and nips at the sensitive bud.

Words are stolen from your lips, dragged into his own mouth as he swallows your sounds greedily. In the back of your mind, you’re aware of his quiet whispers, saying you’re being so good, that you just need to give him a few more, that if you can manage to get up onto your hands and knees maybe he’ll go a little easier.

Of course they’re all sweet lies. He’ll be working on you until the sun is rising over the city, spilling into your room like how he’s spilled deep inside your heat again and again. So much that it’s dripping down your thighs, staining the sheets as he pumps you full.

But sunrise is still hours away, and you haven’t even reached double digits yet. He’s going to work you to your breaking point, and only then will he allow you a moment to rest. A few minutes if you’re really lucky.

Aching arousal warms your belly at the thought—knowing you’re free to yield to him entirely, and he’ll take care of you.

Memories of the Hewn City w/ Feyre

Rise by Skillet

Flame singes the hairs of your arms, and you bolt upright, breath curling in the cold Night air.

Vision goes blurry as the memories crush down on you.

The door flies open, and instantly she’s at your side, comforting you, holding you tight, hugging you against her. “Hey, it’s okay sweetness. You’re not there anymore. You’re with me.” She cups your cheeks, “look at me. Look at me, sweet thing.”

Your lower lip wobbles but you manage to look at her through teary eyes, skin still stinging with the phantom pain of a leather whip.

She smiles gently, stroking your skin with such aching reverence. “You’re out. You got out, remember. You’re with our court now,” she smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “My Court.”

You cry more, but for a different set of reasons. Sobs wrack your body, ravaging your lungs as you remember the burning flame, the crack of a whip, the stink of blood and the acrid tang of urine in air. “It was so real…” you stammer quietly, sobbing into her arms as the nightmare lingers, skin aching with memories.

She can do nothing but hold you, keeping you wrapped in her warmth. You’ve made it clear you don’t want her to remove those memories, but it’s so difficult to watch you wake like this night after night.

Still, she won’t go against your wishes.

She’ll keep you close, and hold you until the sun comes up.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming

[forest-hashira]

also fuck it LEMME GET A DRABBLE TOO WHY NOT….. >:3 kenji + flying ehehehehe 🤓🤓 mwah mwah congrats once again <33

EEEEEEE TY LOGAN!!! kissing u on the forehead ily smmmmm 💜 the randomizer i used rlly said "hmmmmm. i know this is for logan. give her The Boy" AHAHA so i hope u enjoy ur lil romantic gojo drabble 🥺

“Toru?” you called, stepping into the apartment you shared with your boyfriend; the lights in the entryway were off, and it seemed like only the kitchen was dimly lit. Odd, you thought, knowing he usually steered clear of the kitchen. You’d had a long day at work, though, and decided not to dwell on it. Instead, you toed off your shoes, tucking them away into their proper spot, and hanging your keys on their designated hook by the door before stepping further into the apartment.

Before you made it more than a few steps, though, Satoru was in front of you, a bright grin on his face and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. “Hey, sweetheart!” he greeted cheerfully, though he dialed back his enthusiasm a bit when he saw the exhaustion that weighed your body down. “Bad day?”

You gave a small shake of your head. “Just long.” You gladly accepted the flowers as he offered them to you, leaning in and closing your eyes for a moment as you gave them a sniff. “Thank you, baby. The flowers are nice.”

“I made dinner, too,” he told you with a smile, placing a hand lightly on your back and guiding you towards the dining room.

“You… cooked?” Satoru tried his best, you knew he did, but cooking was not his strong suit, which is why he was generally relegated to prep tasks when he helped you in the kitchen. Because you loved him, you’d eat at least a few bites of whatever it was he made, but you were already mentally running through your options for places to call and order something for delivery.

“No, I know better than that,” he replied with a small chuckle. “I’m not very good at cooking without supervision.”

As you stepped into the dining room, you saw that the table was set, with candles lit in the center, and this time it was your turn to laugh. The dinner your boyfriend had “made” for you was still in its little white takeout boxes, each box placed neatly in the center of a plate, with chopsticks and a glass of wine on either side – well, you thought it was wine at first, but them you noticed the bottle of sparkling grape juice Satoru had placed between your place settings.

“It looks delicious,” you said, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Thank you, Toru. I really appreciate it.”

Just then, your stomach decided it was the perfect time to make the most ungodly gurgling noise, making heat rush to your cheeks with embarrassment.

“Maybe you should stop appreciating it and start eating it,” Satoru teased, kissing your cheek and taking the flowers from your arms. “Sit, eat. I’ll put these in a vase and then join you.”

Finding no reason to argue, you did as he said, taking your seat at the table and picking up your glass, taking a small sip of the sparkling beverage as you turned to watch your partner move around the kitchen, looking over your small collection of vases before picking one, carefully trimming the stems of the flowers, then placing and arranging them in the vase once it had enough water in it.

You’d never felt luckier to have him in your life.

for my 100 followers milestone event!

[berryhobii]

i’ve been really into street racing.

hobi is reader’s boyfriend and he takes us out to the track one night to be the count down girl.

maybe you can have him go up against one of the other boys. maybe one of them tries to taunt hobi by flirting with us.

you can decide whether he wins or not but either way he gets some lovin’. also you can dictate if it’s just a kiss, heavy petting, or full blown smut.

i’m not super picky; i just wanna see some rivalry and fast cars😭

Hi! Thanks for your request! I don’t know much about cars or street racing outside of movies so I don’t know how accurate most of this is but I did my best! I really hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think! Much love🩵🩵

~

The summer air was surprisingly cool against your brown skin. The sun had disappeared hours ago, making way for the beaming light of the moon to illuminate the dark overpass.

Everyone was off in their own worlds, beers and wine coolers being tossed back and discarded on the concrete, joining multiple cigarette butts and condom wrappers.

Pulling your compact mirror out of your purse, you double checked your carefully done makeup. Hot damn, you looked fine as hell. This was a special night. It was only appropriate that you looked your best.

“Princess.”

Snapping your mirror closed, you were met with the panty dropping image of your boyfriend in all his leather clad glory—leather jacket, fingerless gloves, even a pair of leather pants that made his bulge look particularly delicious. This outfit alone deserved a blowjob. Good thing you sprang for smear proof lipstick.

As if he could read your mind, he snapped his fingers to get your attention, your eyes reluctantly lifting to meet his. “My eyes are up here, princess.”

You smirked, reaching out to hook a finger in his belt loops to pull him closer. You leaned your head back to stare alluringly into his own, your cat like lashes fluttering. “Well my eyes are down there so I guess we’re at an impasse.”

He rolled his eyes at your vulgarity but you knew he wasn’t really annoyed at you, his own smirk tugging at his lips.

He cupped your cheek, thumb stroking over your plump bottom lip. At the movement, your mouth wrapped around the digit, giving it a light suck. He could feel his own cock jump at the sight but he couldn’t let himself get horny here. Not now. No matter how tempting you were.

“Aish, you’re impossible. Save it until after the race.” He sighed but not before pressing hard on your tongue making you gag a little. That tiny display of dominance went right to your cunt, the thin panties you were wearing already soaked through.

“I’ve been saving it since we left the house.” You purred, your index finger trailing along his bulge through his pants. He shivered and cursed under his breath. You were dangerous—very very dangerous.

“Hey Jung! Maybe you should be more worried about blowing the race instead of getting blown by your girl!” The deep voice of Kim Taehyung called from the other side of the overpass. Laughter reigned from his posse, his hooded eyes sparkling with mirth at calling out his rival.

Your eyes glanced from them back to Hoseok who was already glaring at the man he would be competing against tonight. No one got under Hoseok’s skin like Taehyung did, that smug bastard was still riding the high of winning the last race which left them tied.

Tonight, Hoseok would wipe that cocky smirk right off that rich boy’s face.

“Hey baby, why don’t you come over here with a real winner? I’ll show you a good time.” He whistled at you, eyes locked in a fierce battle with Hoseok. He was taunting him, loud and clear in front of everybody. Hoseok didn’t mind a little trash talk but he drew the line when people disrespected you.

You knew Hoseok better than anyone and you could tell by his face that he was reaching his breaking point.

Standing from the hood of his car, you brought your hand to his cheek to turn his face to you. “Hoseok, baby.”

That fire was burning in this eyes, that unflappable spirit and unwavering confidence that you fell in love with spreading like liquid fire through his veins.

“You get out there and win. I want to rub that bastard’s face in it.”

The sneer on his lip was gone, replaced by a wolfish grin, one that told you he was ready to go.

Gripping your ass over your mini skirt and giving it a hard squeeze, he pulled you closer to his body, the heat radiating from him sinking into your bones.

“I will, princess. Then I’ll come back and fuck you on the hood of this car.”

You smiled, poking his nose with your finger. “I’m looking forward to it.”

~

Soon enough, the atmosphere had changed from a casual hangout to electric chaos, nerves buzzing and the crowd practically bursting with anticipation.

Taehyung gripped the steering wheel of his car, looking over through his passenger window to Hoseok who was staring ahead. He must have felt Taehyung’s stare because he turned his head, their eyes blazing with a surge of emotions.

Neither of them wanted to lose. Losing meant no bragging rights. Losing meant inferiority.

Losing was not an option.

The corner of Taehyung’s lip turned up, his foot pressing on his gas pedal, his car roaring in challenge. A psych out method that Hoseok wouldn’t fall for. He didn’t have time for Taehyung’s games.

Flipping Taehyung off, Hoseok focused back ahead to where you were stepping from the sidelines to stand in the middle of both of the rumbling cars.

Your lace up heels, mini skirt, and crop top combo was driving him crazy, the pure sex appeal that dripped from you sending the crowd into a frenzy. The wolf whistles and claps were only riling Hoseok up more.

He was gonna win. Not only for himself but for you.

Your heart was thudding in equal parts excitement and nerves. This was your first time doing this and despite the job being relatively easy, you were still nervous. Everyone knew you were Hoseok’s girl. How would it look if you started the race and then he lost? Racing was his pride, his passion. You didn’t want to mess this up.

Then you captured the gaze of the man you loved through his windshield. He flashed you that beautiful smile along with a wink and all of a sudden, those nerves disappeared.

Taking a deep breath, you raised the flags in both of your hands. Their engines revved, the crowd growing more and more excited. Casting Hoseok a final glance and mouthing a ‘good luck’, you brought the flags down.

Foots on the gas, both cars sped off with a deafening screech of their tires. Dust whipped around you, tiny rocks hitting your skin and the crowd cheering loudly for who they wanted to win.

You turned around, barely catching sight of their tail-lights as they sped on the course and out of sight.

All you could do was wait.

~

Taehyung glanced into his rear view mirror, Hoseok coming up on his left. Blocking his path, Hoseok was forced to slow down a little to prevent crashing into Taehyung. Taehyung smirked; maneuvers like that was his strong suit. He blocked his competitors and secured his win. It’s how he’s beaten Hoseok all of those times before. Hoseok was a good driver but he was too careful.

Taehyung was a fierce competitor with an amazing car but even with all of that, he was impulsive, hasty and too cocky. That’s where his weakness was.

Little did Taehyung know, losing wasn’t on Hoseok’s agenda today. Today, he would let loose.

Taehyung looked into his rear view again, finding Hoseok trailing further behind him.

“Ha. Giving up, Jung? Smart.”

Around the final bend, the overpass just in sight, Taehyung was feeling confident about winning this one. He’d win and then he’d watch Hoseok’s pretty girlfriend become absolutely devastated. It would be too easy.

He would relax and cinch this win.

Just a few hundred yards from the finish line, Taehyung began to slow down just a little. Hoseok was too far behind to catch up anyway. He could cruise into this win.

Hoseok took a deep breath, just the thought of you waiting for him enough to give him that last burst of confidence he needed. Shifting gears, he slammed on the gas, the needle on the speedometer flying from 90 to 140 in seconds. Like a bullet, Hoseok flew past Taehyung.

Taehyung could barely react, pressing on his own gas in an attempt to regain his lead but it was too late. The cheers of the crowd hit his ears but they weren’t for him.

You could have cried seeing Hoseok’s car cross the line with Taehyung just milliseconds behind him. You couldn’t even hear the people around you, focused solely on your boyfriend who had stepped out of his car.

His eyes frantically looked around, searching for the one person who he knew would be waiting for him.

You ran the best you could in your heels into his open arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he spun both of you around.

Pulling away, you cupped both of his cheeks, letting out a watery laugh before connecting your lips in a desperate and yearning kiss full of joy, love, and overwhelming pride.

“I won, princess. I won.” He said against your lips.

He won.

~

“Ooooooo shit, fuck me harder with that fat cock baby! It feels so good!” You moaned/screamed as Hoseok’s thick cock pummeled your walls in back shots so deep that you could feel him in your stomach. Tears streamed down your cheeks, drool leaking from your mouth and forming tiny puddles on the hood of his car. You could feel yourself ready to burst, all of the pent up energy and adrenaline from the race still coursing through your veins.

After his win, Hoseok immediately drove you two to an empty parking lot and then he was on you. He kept true to his promise, pulling you out of the car and hauling you up on the hood before eating you out like a madman. He didn’t even remove your panties, simply moving them to side before diving into your succulent cunt.

Hoseok cursed, working his hips back and forth faster than his car, the squelch of your walls spurring him on faster. Your creamy cunt was making the filthiest noises along with your pleasure fueled babbles and pleads.

The cool hood of his car was doing nothing to alleviate the heat radiating off of you, your nipples rubbing against the surface to the point where they hurt a little bit but it was only adding to the mind numbing pleasure.

“Yeah? Hold that ass open for me.”

Reaching your hands back, you spread your ass cheeks for him, giving him a view of your twitching ass. Gathering some saliva in his mouth, he let spit dribble from his mouth down to your little hole. He rubbed his thumb over the tight ring of muscle making you whine out. There was no warning, no gentle touches, no preparation before he shoved his thumb right into your ass, hooking it and using it as a type of leverage on forcing your ass to clap against him.

Your mouth dropped in a silent scream at the feeling of the sudden intrusion, the new sensation hurtling you towards orgasm. You felt so fucking full, both of your holes stuffed and your knees quivering as they threatened to give on you.

Hoseok must have sensed it because he grabbed one of your legs and propped it up on the hood. Not only did this position open you up more, it let him reach so much deeper, the tip of his cock rubbing against your gspot with every stroke.

You choked out a moan, head lifting and your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your pleasure crested.

“I’m gonna cum Hoseok! Fuck I’m gonna cum! I-I’m…!” You slurred, nails scratching the paint off and leaving thin marks in the metal.

His thumb dug deeper, cock reaching unexplored places of your pussy. “Cum princess. Shit shit shit.”

You both reach your highs at the same time, your walls constricting around him and milking him for everything he had, his cum coating your squishy walls. Your head banged forward on the car, shivers going down your spine despite the heat of the night.

Your chests rose and fell as you tried to regain your breath. You felt Hoseok’s hand travel up your shoulder to grab your face, peeling your sweaty body off the surface. He craned your head backwards, bringing his lips down on yours in a feverish kiss. You hummed, your tongues dancing and licking at each other.

“Congrats on your win, baby.”

“Thanks. Do I get my prize now?”

You laughed because he was so ridiculous but so were you. That’s why you fit together so well.

“Get in the back, loser.”

[fanficshiddles]

Eternally Mine, Chapter 14

‘I think I’m still stuffed from yesterday’s meal, I don’t know how I’ll fit in another one today.’ Claire groaned as she fell flat on the bed, waiting for Loki to button up his shirt.

‘I’m sure you’ll manage once you get a sniff of dad’s Christmas dinner. It’s amazing.’ Loki grinned.

‘Oh I am looking forward to it, you’ve talked it up so much.’ Claire said. 'I'm just not promising that I won't fall into a food coma afterwards.'

‘I’m really honoured that you wanted to spend Christmas with me yesterday, instead of with your parents and Louise.’ Loki said as he finished buttoning up his shirt.

‘Of course I wanted to spend it with you. Our first Christmas together, just the two of us. I’m glad your dad was happy to have us today instead of yesterday.’ Claire said as she rolled onto her side to watch Loki’s devilish fingers folding down his collar.

‘Dad tends to prefer going all out on Boxing Day, says Christmas Day is for relaxing and doing nothing. He will have gotten a Chinese takeaway last night, I know it.’ Loki chuckled.

‘Fair enough. He’s probably had enough from dealing with you as a kid on Christmas day anyway.’ Claire smirked and sat up.

‘Cheeky.’ Loki growled at her.

‘It’s a shame Louise isn’t coming back until New Years. It would’ve been nice if she’d been able to join us too.’

‘I know, but I bet she’s delighted she’s managed to get home for Christmas this year.’ Loki smiled.

‘Yeah, she is.’ Claire nodded.

‘Though Chris is going to be a nightmare today, I can just feel it in my bones.’ Loki huffed.

‘What makes you say that?’ Clarie frowned.

‘Well, Louise won’t be there. So he’s bound to be in a pouty mood in the first place. He’s going to be a pain in the ass, mark my word.’

‘I’m sure he won’t be too bad.’ Claire laughed.

-

Loki was right. Chris was in a bit of a brooding mood, though still not as bad as he used to be before he and Loki reconciled. He was just a bit snippy before dinner now and then, making the others do a lot of eye-rolling. Though he was still much better to be around than he used to be.

Loki managed to escape for a short while to go help Lucius in the kitchen with the last preparations for dinner. Leaving Claire with Chris in the living room with some wine. Though she had hoped for a bit of alone time with him.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a photo album. Chris raised an eyebrow at her when she scooted across the sofa to sit right next to him, with the album on her lap.

‘What’s this?’ Chris asked.

‘Some old photos I wanted to show you. Thought you’d like to see them.’ Claire grinned and passed the album to him.

Chris put his wine down and curiously opened up the album. Claire saw his face light up instantly when he saw Louise in the picture. It was of her and Claire when they were teenagers, at Claire’s birthday party.

He slowly flicked through them and laughed at some of the goofy pictures.

‘Louise had an emo phase, did she?’ He chuckled.

‘Wasn’t really a phase… I think if she hadn’t met a certain someone, she likely would be looking quite different to how she is now.’ Claire said quietly.

In the pictures for a good few years Louise had different colour hair or strips of various colours. She also had earrings and looked to wear a good amount of make-up, that she did really well.

Then there was a picture when they were a bit older, it was a family meal for what looked like Christmas. Though Louise didn’t look quite the same, the sparkle in her eyes was gone and her hair was her natural brunette, she no longer had earrings in either or wore much make-up aside from a bit of foundation.

Chris noted that the guy sitting next to her at the table was blurred out.

‘I love this photo because it was our last proper Christmas meal together, though for obvious reasons I needed to blur him out…’ Claire explained.

Chris flicked over the page and there were just two pictures left, though they both showed Louise not looking her happiest like in previous pictures. An underlying sadness.

‘The light in her eyes disappeared when he came into the picture…’ Chris growled and closed the album.

‘Certainly did… Though look at this.’ Claire pulled her phone out and flicked through her photos, she showed Chris a picture she took of him with Louise at the Christmas ball. They were dancing and the picture clearly showed that sparkle back in her eyes.

Chris didn’t realise that Claire had taken sneaky pictures of them dancing, but he adored the picture. The way Louise was looking up at him with her arms around his neck while they danced made his heart flutter.

Claire flicked to the next picture, one that he knew she took as she had them both pose together.

‘You can see her eyes are full of life again and the light is back when she’s with you.’ Claire smiled.

Chris swallowed a lump in his throat and the biggest smile spread over his face.

‘Wow, you managed to get him smiling, at last.’ Loki teased as he walked into the room.

Chris glared at him and picked up his wine glass. ‘Seeing pictures of Louise, of course I’m smiling.’ He huffed at his brother.

‘Come on through, dinner is ready to be served up.’ Loki chuckled.

Everyone went through to the dining room and the smell was making Claire’s mouth water. More so when Lucius gave her her plate, it looked incredible.

‘Sorry Loki, you did a brilliant dinner yesterday but this looks to be even better.’ Claire said as she picked up her cutlery to begin once Lucius sat down.

‘I’ll take second place as a win, because dad’s Christmas dinners are always fantastic. Like I said.’ Loki said as he reached over to squeeze her knee.

During dinner they all chatted about what they got for Christmas and other various things. Though after they finished eating, the conversation turned a little heated.

‘At least there won’t be a hunt this time.’ Loki said, when they’d just been speaking about rogue vampires.

‘What do you mean there won’t be a hunt?’ Chris raised an eyebrow at him across the table.

‘You can’t possibly be holding a hunt?’

‘Why wouldn’t I? It’s tradition.’

‘You already had one at Halloween, don’t you think that’s more than enough?’ Loki argued.

‘That wasn’t the proper hunt. Of course I’m planning one.’ Chris argued back.

‘Have you told Louise this? What would she think?’ Loki hissed at him.

‘Do not bring my soulmate into this. She knows what I am and what I do.’ Chris growled.

‘So, you have told her? That you’re going to be kidnapping innocent humans and tossing them into the woods so they have to run for their life, till they’re caught by viscous vampires that will tear into them?’

‘It’s not all going to be innocent humans there.’ Chris snapped, trying to justify it.

‘Boys, that’s enough.’ Lucius said firmly.

‘No, dad. He’s being ridiculous if he thinks that Louise will just turn a blind eye at this. Right, Claire?’ Loki’s voice was getting higher and higher.

‘Don’t bring me into this.’ Claire said as she sunk into her seat and tried to hide behind her glass of wine.

‘If you don’t tell Louise, then I will.’ Loki yelled at Chris.

‘You have no right to. I will tell her. Not that it will effect her, anyway.’

‘Of course it will! It effects all of us vampires, plus our partners. What kind of message are you giving the hunters if they find out you’ve kidnapped a bunch of innocent humans again? There’s always an influx of hunters that come here after the hunt. And it’s your fault, every damn time!’ Loki shouted at him and slammed his fist down on the table.

‘I’m outta here. I thought you were trying to accept me for me, but clearly not.’ Chris snarled and stood up abruptly, the chair screeched across the floor behind him.

‘Thanks, Dad. It was lovely… Thank you, Claire, for showing me the pictures.’ Chris said as softly as he could before he quickly downed the last of his wine and stormed out of the room.

When Loki, Claire and Lucius heard the front door slam shut, Claire and Lucius both groaned and face-palmed.

‘You couldn’t have just avoided that subject for one day?’ Lucius sighed and shook his head as he began gathering the dishes up.

‘It doesn’t matter what day it is, he’s in the wrong.’ Loki huffed and folded his arms over his chest.

‘We all know he is trying lately, but getting the hunt out of him is going to be a tough one.’ Claire sighed, she was trying to be sympathetic to both. She understood where Loki was coming from, of course. Though she also knew that it wouldn’t be easy for Chris to change his ways completely so soon.

-

Chris was furious, he went for a fly around the city, looking for someone to bite. He eventually found one, a rogue hunter that was walking alone from a meal out. Not exactly an innocent human, though he didn’t know for sure if the hunter was one that just went after bad vampires or not… but he couldn’t wait any longer.

He swept down on the hunter and took her out easily and quickly, because she was intoxicated and unsuspecting. Though he still felt on edge and pissed off after the feed, it did help a little bit.

‘It needs to happen. It’s tradition. Louise will understand, I’m sure of it.’ He said to himself as he paced back and fore over the hunter’s body. ‘What if Loki’s right, though? What if she hates me for it?’

He growled in annoyance as he stopped and ran a hand through his hair.

‘I hear you’re in a bit of a dilemma.’ Came a familiar voice from behind him.

Chris turned around and narrowed his eyes at Toshi. ‘Of course you’d appear. If you don’t mind, kindly fuck off. I’ve had enough of a lecture from my brother tonight.’ He snapped.

Toshi folded her arms over her chest and shrugged. ‘If you don’t want to hear my plan to help your hunt go ahead, that’s fine.’

She turned on her heels and started to walk away.

Chris clenched his jaw and ran a hand down his face with a sigh. ‘Toshi. Wait... Let me guess, Loki messaged you to find me and stop me from hunting?'

Toshi stopped and turned around to face him with a little smirk. 'Close. Claire messaged the group chat saying that you two had been bickering over the hunt.'

Chris ran a hand down his face with a groan. 'That damn chat you girls have.'

Toshi laughed and walked closer to him.

'Look, I get you want to keep going with the tradition of the hunt. I won't try and stop you if there's no innocent humans taken.'

'Like you'd be able to stop me anyway.' Chris gloated as he folded his arms over his chest.

'Perhaps I could, perhaps I couldn't. But I think deep down you'd rather do it a better way, a way that wouldn't risk anything with Louise.' Toshi said knowingly.

Chris just glared at her for a minute, then his phone pinged. He pulled it out and took a glance. It was a text from Louise.

L: Hey, heard things were a bit rough at dinner with your brother. Just checking in that you're ok? x

Chris slid his phone back into his pocket and looked at Toshi, who was waiting patiently with a hand on her hip for him to say something.

Chris sighed. 'What did you have in mind?'

[mrs-johansson]

Strangers in the night - Scarlett Johansson x Fem!Reader

Part 19:

“Hey, guys,” heard Scarlett’s voice at the front door. I smoothed out my dress and my hair before waking out of the kitchen. “What a beautiful house,” I’m guessing that was her mom. “Right? She has great taste,” oh she’s hyping me up.

They all walked in, her three brothers and two sisters with their parents. “Hi,” I said nervously with a smile. Scarlett swiftly moved to my side, wrapping an arm around my waist. Her mom was the first to come up to me and she had a smile on her face which seemed genuine and kind. “I want you guys to meet my girlfriend, Y/n, but you probably know her already,” said Scarlett. “Of course we do. It’s so nice to meet you, darling. I’m Melanie,” I held out my hand but she moved to hug me. “Oh yeah, that’s better,” I chuckled as I hugged her back. Scar’s hand still lingered on my lower back making it really hard to focus on her MOTHER. “Y/n!” Rose came running from the living room then she realized her family was there. And she still came to me, holding her hands up. I picked her up and she looked at her relatives. “Hi,” she said with a big smile. “Everything okay in the living room?” I asked and she nodded. “I just want more juice.” “How about after dinner? You can have more of that tomato bread,” I brushed a piece of hair out of her face. “Okay,” she sighed and leaned her head on my shoulder.

Scarlett’s dad was the next person who introduced himself and damn he was tall. “Hello, I’m Karsten,” he held out his hand. “Y/n, nice to meet you,” I said and shook his hand. “Hi, Grandpa!” Rose excitedly greeted the man before they high-fived.

I met each of her siblings, and I wouldn’t have thought Hunter and Scarlett would look so much alike. “Shall we go to the table?” Asked Scarlett and they all agreed. She settled them in and I left to the kitchen with Rose still on my side. “Don’t you want to be with them?” I sat her on the counter just until I got the drink out of the fridge. “No. I want to stay with you.” “Go in there, I’ll bring the food out,” Scarlett walked in. “You can’t leave me with them, I just met them,” I spread my arms. “And they already think you’re the nicest person,” she left a kiss on my cheek. “Mama?” Spoke Rose. “Yes, baby?” Scarlett opened the fridge. “Y/n is my mama too?” My mouth fell open and I glanced at Scarlett. We shared a look before she stood by my side. “Uhm…” She started. “Would you like… that?” Scarlett cleared her throat, nervous even to look at me. “Yes!” She clapped her hands and I swear I had tears in my eyes. “Okay, okay… Why don’t you see what Uncle Hunter is doing?” She took her off the counter and she happily walked out.

“I’m sorry, this was so sudden…” Scarlett started to apologize but I didn’t let her finish instead I wrapped her in the biggest hug. “Oh okay…” She chuckled, hugging me back. “She is the cutest kid, you don’t have to be sorry about anything,” I could feel a tear sliding down my cheek. “I’m so happy she feels happy with you. I still have to talk with Romain though. And thank you for being her new mommy I guess,” she pulled back taking hold of my hands, kissing my knuckles. “It’s the biggest honor.”

We brought in the appetizer and some wine, put Rose into her chair and we started chatting. “I already said to Scarlett, you have a very lovely home Y/n,” said Melanie, and I smiled. “Thank you. One of my architect friends designed everything. “It’s pretty great work,” Karsten looked around. “Thanks,” I said.

The prosciutto quickly disappeared and a bottle of wine was shared between most of us.

I brought out the main dish and everyone was happy to see beef roast with crispy baked potatoes and some different veggies. “Wow this looks amazing,” Scarlett mumbled to herself and I smiled at the sparkling look in her eyes. I got some on Rose’s plate and cut up the meat and the potatoes. “Thank you,” she said as soon as I put the plate in front of her. “You’re welcome.”

“So how did you two meet? Scarlett only told us about a mystery woman,” Hunter smiled at his sister. “We accidentally bumped into each other around November last year,” Scarlett said. “I still think it wasn’t an accident on Scarlett’s side though,” I shrugged with a cheeky smile. “Okay… That’s… Alright, it wasn’t a full accident,” I turned my head toward her and honestly I was shocked that she admitted it. “But we talked for a couple of months after that and then I finally asked her out,” smiled my amazingly beautiful girlfriend.

They asked me all sorts of questions and I was happy to answer all of them. I had nothing to hide from her family and I wanted them to know that I love Scarlett with all my heart. And also Rose.

Later in the night after they left and we put Rose to bed, we cleaned up the kitchen. “How do you think it went?” I asked Scarlett as she put the clean plates away. “Couldn’t have gone better. They love you for sure,” she said and I smiled. “That’s great.”

I finished everything and I got the bottle of wine that was half empty. Poured into two glasses and sat on the counter. Scarlett wiped her hands and took one of the glasses and stood between my legs. Her left hand rested on my thigh, caressing the exposed skin. “Dinner was nice, if you get bored of this acting thing you could be a chef,” she said and took a sip of her wine. I chuckled at her words and shook my head. “Hopefully I don’t get bored of this.” “Yeah, I kinda hope that too,” she shrugged and downed the whole glass of liquor. “Wow, wine is not for thirst you know,” I said and she put the glass down, her hands going straight to my waist. She pulled me closer, my legs sneaking around her waist. “You look good,” she leaned close, her eyes looking between mine and my lips. “I taste good too,” I gave a kiss just on the edge of her mouth. Her pupils were wide and the way her jaw clenched just drove me crazy. Scarlett never held back the lust she felt and not gonna lie that was incredibly hot. My hands trailed up her arms right to her neck. I put my glass down from my other hand and started to slowly massage the back of her neck. “I hope you’ll be like this even when we’re 50,” Scarlett murmured, the tension just growing and growing. “You don’t have to worry about that,” I finally pulled her into a kiss, deepening it immediately.

Scarlett squeezed my waist, the fabric of my dress tightening around me as she fisted it. The kiss soon becomes sloppy and desperate. She pulled the dress up to the top of my thighs and I swiftly pushed myself up and she rolled up the dress from under me. I pulled away and Scarlett was desperate to remove my dress, throwing it to the floor.

Scarlett’s eyes fell to my breast and before I could think she started kissing all over my chest. A quiet sigh fell from my lips and I tilted my head back so she could have more access. “I love you so much,” she mumbled against my skin and soon started sucking on my pulse. My breath hitched as I tried to speak but I forced it out tho. “I love you too.”

I looked down at her breathlessly as her eyes met mine just before she took a tit into her warm mouth. I gasped and my hands moved on their own accord, slipping fingers through her hair as she sucked and lightly trailed her teeth over my right tit before moving onto the left. I was trying my best to be as quiet as possible but it was very fucking hard.

I grabbed her left hand and pushed it between my legs, hoping she would get the message.

And thank god she did, because her fingers found the hem of my underwear and literally ripped it off, throwing it to the dress. I groaned and threw my head back. “Be quiet.” She demanded and I just leaned my forehead against her shoulder, whimpering under her touch.

She swiftly laid me down on the counter, pulling me to the edge of it by my thighs. Planted kisses along my thigh before her tongue licks a long stripe over my slit. I grabbed onto the edge of the marble counter, gripping it till my knuckles turned white.

Her eyes remain on me as she explores every inch of me with her tongue. I threw my head back when she sucked on my clit a bit before pulling away.

I looked down and met Scarlett's lust-blown eyes as she sticks her ring and middle fingers into her mouth to coat them in saliva before slowly easing them into me. My back arched against the counter, feeling my muscles tightening. “Fucking hell,” I groaned. She lowered herself to take my clit back between her lips, sucking as she stimulated with curling her fingers.

And then it hit me. I felt like I’m gonna break the counter from how hard I was holding on to it. My thighs naturally tried to close up but Scarlett forced them apart, the muscles flexing on her biceps. “Come, baby, come” she whined and that’s all I needed to push me over the edge. My body was shaking while Scarlett lapped up every drop. I swear to go I don’t ever want anyone else to do this to me if it’s not her. She gives me earth-shattering orgasms and I fucking love them.

I breathed heavily, trying to find a normal rhythm. “You okay?” Scarlett’s soft hands slid up my thighs and stopped on my hips. “Honestly?” I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes. “I feel like I'm in heaven.”

***

The next day Scarlett insisted on cooking and my parents and Léa were happy to finally meet her. Mostly my dad though.

They asked kind of the same questions from her and I just basically fell more and more in love with her. She was literally perfect, yes she was stubborn and sometimes thinking that she’s the only one who’s right but we can look past that.

Everyone went amazing and I was just happy that they know how joyful my life is because of her and Rose. My mother was surprised that Rose and I got along so well but I guess it didn’t help how much she pressured me into having kids soon.

Later that night we were laying in bed, watching Dateline as usual. “So our 6 months is gonna be this Saturday and I thought I could post then. What do you think of these?” I showed her two pictures and she nodded. “Nice.” “You sure you’re okay with this?” I asked, leaning against her front and she wrapped an arm around me. “Yes, and I’m gonna say yes every time you ask.” “Okay, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable with all this social media think. Besides, after that I’m still only going to post your pinky or something, but like… you know if there’s like a picture that I think everyone needs to see, I don’t know… us at a premier or something. We need to think about these. You don’t have social media, so I’d like to hear your thoughts.” “Whatever you want,” she said and I looked up at her. “Scar, I’m serious.” “So am I. As long as I don’t have to do all this technical stuff, I’m great,” she gave a kiss on my forehead and went back to watching the show. “Well yeah, you’re not the best at that,” I mumbled with a smirk, and the next thing I knew she punched my side, making me jump a little. “You know I’m right.” “I guess you could say that.”

***

Liked by chrisevans and 10 356 289 others

y/n_cole: my love, you’re all I’ve wished for in this life❤️ everything is better with you. everything is better since you. i will never forget the moment I realized i love you and I’m the happiest that our paths crossed in this crazy world. I love you endlessly✨ 6 months and counting🤍

chrisevans I’m the happiest for you two❤️

y/n_cole way too obsessed with the idea😆

florencepugh biggest power couple in Hollywood hands down💁‍♀️

y/n_cole speaking facts there!

sarcjo_for_life deep down we all knew Scarlett was fruity… I’m just happy Y/n is her girl🔥

[senorabond]

WIP Wednesday! Rumor Has It Update

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

I am *hard* at work writing the next chapter. In fact, it's turning into two chapters' worth of smut.

Here is a little sneak peek at what you've got in store for Chapter 8:

“You’re in charge of this; you decide what we do or don’t do, and how far this goes.” He walks around to face you, and you’re surprised to see how gentle his eyes are. They’re round and sincere, serious but not stern. You can’t wait to see them looking up at you from between your legs.

“Understand?”

You nod and he cups your face, running the pad of his thumb over your mouth and parting your lips.

“Use your words, cariño. I need to hear it.”

“I understand,” you say, then drag the tip of your tongue against his thumb. He lets out a pleased hum. 

“Good. Now, tell me your rules.” His other hand strokes your lower back, sending shivers up your spine.

“Oh. Um, I – I don’t know,” you stutter. 

He drops his hands and takes half a step back. “We’re not doing anything until you set the rules.”

“But–”

“This is important, cariño. I’ll give you a moment to gather your thoughts.” 

And just like that, Javi’s walking away from you and sitting on your couch. What the hell is happening here? 

He’s right, of course, damn the man. You want to be mad, but don’t know what to be mad about – how respectful he is? Letting out a deep sigh, you go back to the kitchen and pick up your glass of wine. 

“Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?” Your voice comes out a bit more sarcastic than intended, and the sound of Javi’s throaty chuckle from the living room makes you bristle. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” 

The man sounds so calm and unfazed you want to throw something at him, but instead, you pout like a grown up and pour another glass. You set it on the small end table to his left and start pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. Stuck in a quandary like this, you used to be able to call Marcus up and talk it through, but that sounds as appealing as lemon juice in a paper cut right now. Besides, even if Marcus would help you get laid, he’s probably busy with his girlfriend.

Sighing, you sit down next to Javi and face him. In this position, the hem of your dress rides all the way up to your hip, but you’re in no mood to be modest. Javi takes a sip of his wine and turns slightly in your direction. He puts an arm along the top of the couch, and you try not to notice the way his suit jacket opens, revealing his broad chest sloping down to hint at a soft belly. His thighs splay invitingly, and you bite your bottom lip. 

“Cariño?” Javi’s eyes sparkle with mischief. 

“Right. The rules.” You set your glass of wine down and try to focus. Javi waits patiently, but you can see his fingers toying with the fabric on the back of the couch. He’s just as anxious to get this part over with.

“Rule number one: nothing at work. Ever. Not even after hours or in the parking lot. Nothing.” 

Javi nods in stout agreement. 

“Rule number two: it’s just sex. We’re simply two consenting adults with insane chemistry, privately enjoying the hell out of each other’s bodies.” 

“Enthusiastically consenting,” Javi smirks, and sets his glass of wine down so he can stroke your thigh. The hunger in his eyes is distracting, but you manage to pull your thoughts together one last time.

“And lastly, but most importantly – rule number three: what happens undercover stays undercover.” 

Javi’s hand stills on your thigh and he looks at you curiously. “You mind expanding on that a bit?”

“Our cover is just that; a story, playing pretend. We don’t let it blur the lines of whatever we do outside of the investigation. We have to compartmentalize.” 

Javi takes a moment, considering what you’ve said, then nods. Looking you over, he slides his hand up your thigh and leans in, closing the space between you on the couch. 

“I guess that means we better get out of these clothes.” 

I'm so, so, SO excited to finish this chapter and get it posted for you!

If anybody is interested in my writing "process," I'd be happy to write about that. I have ADHD, and I've learned that I'm a very visual thinker, and discovering a process or method over the last 6 months has been a fun journey.

Here is the song that's been playing on loop for me while I've been writing this particular chapter. I have no idea how to embed the Spotify player, but that link should take you to the song Do It For Me by Rosenfeld.

[indigostreaking]

oh sorry! that’s okay! instead can i request one about how each of them says i love you for the first time? ❤️

I love this even more! 🥹

Josh:

The two of you were lying on a blanket in a field, talking about anything and everything. You loved listening to him ramble about seemingly nonsensical philosophical theories and anything that lead to. You got lost in your own thoughts, just listening quietly as you basked in the sun, when you felt two eyes glued to your face. You opened yours slowly to see Josh had rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows just to stare at you. “You’re such a creeper sometimes,” you giggled as he feigned offense. “You we’re falling asleep while I was talking and I’m a creep?!” He asked incredulously. You scoffed, “I was not asleep!” He scooted closer, leaning in to kiss you gently. “You were, but it’s okay. I still love you,” he finished with a kiss to the tip of your nose and your mouth fell open. “What? I love you, and It’s not like you didn’t know,” he said plainly. “I’ve been in love with you since our second date—” “When I let you pick the movie and you picked 2001:A Space Odyssey?” You interrupted with a snort. He nodded and you laughed again. “I love you, too, ya goof,” you replied with a smile.

Jake:

After a particularly enthusiastic romp in the sheets, Jake plopped down beside you in bed with both of you panting to catch your breath. “I love you,” he said it so confidently and matter of factly, and he watched you carefully take in what he’d said. You shook your head, this couldn’t be real. “Hey, look at me, y/n,” he sat up and leaned over you, cupping your face and guiding you to look at him. “I. Love. You. I am in love with you, y/n,” he repeated, making sure you heard him. You turned your face, just enough to kiss the palm of his hand. “And I love you, Jakey,” you replied as the butterflies crashed around in your rib cage. His cheeks flushed and his smile widened. “Good,” he said sweetly before pressing his lips to yours.

Danny:

“Need any help?” Danny asked as he came up behind you, placing a hand on each of your hips as you placed the finished plating the meal you had been working on. “Actually, if you could open the wine,” you inclined your head towards the set table where the wine was waiting. “You know you don’t have to put in all this effort for me,” he replied as he easily popped the cork from the bottle and poured two glasses of white wine. “I know, but I wanted to,” you stated plainly before sitting the plates down on the two placemats. Danny pulled out your chair before taking the seat beside you, and you waited for him to take the first bite, hoping you had gotten the recipe right. His eyes practically rolled back in his head as he said, “Oh my god, I love you.” Your eyes widened and you froze for a moment. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to let it slip like that,” he stammered. Your heart was racing, but you still couldn’t form words. “I had a whole night planned with reservations at that place downtown, and—” he began to explain, but you cut him off. “Danny, I love you, too,” you couldn’t hold back your smile, especially when his cheeks flushed pink. “You do?” He smiled back with a sparkle in his warm brown eyes. You nodded sincerely, “I really do.” He stood abruptly and pulled you to your feet with him, wrapping his arms around you as he whispered against the top of your head, “I love you so fucking much..”

Sammy:

Watching Sam scramble around packing and preparing for the upcoming tour was exhausting. You knew what you were signing up for when he asked you to house sit and dog sit, but all the instructions seemed never ending. “Sam,” you said loudly, trying to bring him back to earth for a moment. He turned to look at you, smiling because of course he’s smiling. “Rosie and I are gonna have a great time, just us girls,” you replied with a smile. “And I’ll try my best to keep the plants alive, but—” you began before he cut you off, finishing your thought for you. “But no promises, I know, babe,” he laughed as he stepped towards you and took your face in his hands, pulling you in to a kiss. A car honked outside, and your heart sank. “Time to go,” he shrugged, “I love you, and I’ll see you in a few months!” He turned and grabbed his suitcase and bass from their spot by the door. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, and chased him out the door. “Sammy, did you just..” you trailed off as he turned to flash you a toothy grin. “I guess I did,” he replied with a shrug and a knowing look. “Well, I love you too!” You yelled after him as he kept walking towards the waiting van filled with his brothers. “I know,” he nodded before climbing in and blowing you a kiss as they backed down the driveway.

[the-al-chemist]

Artemis Hexley: The Wilderness Years

Chapter 9: The Dinner Party

A/N: it’s Artemis’ birthday, and she enjoys a grown-up way of celebrating it. Warnings: mentions of canon-typical bigotry, alcohol, some awkwardness, bridezilla Penny.

The dinner party had been Chester’s idea. Artemis would have been happy spending her birthday having a few drinks at the Three Broomsticks or the underground nightclub in Charing Cross that Andre had introduced her to, but she was hardly going to say no to Chester offering to cook for her and her fiends.

“It’s too special an occasion to do what you would do any other weekend,” he had said. “After all, there is a lot to celebrate.”

This was true. Not only was it Artemis’ birthday, but Chiara had just finished her final exams for her Healer training, Tonks had reached her six-month anniversary of being a fully fledged Auror, and Penny’s boyfriend Lewis Parkin had recently proposed to her during a weekend in Paris. The last of these pieces of good news had been the one that had so far dominated the evening’s conversations. 

“Seriously,” Tonks muttered to Artemis, once the pair of them had slipped into the kitchen to clear away the plates and fetch more wine. “If I ever become that nauseatingly mushy over anyone, you have my permission to do me in.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I mean it. Just put me out of my misery.”

Artemis picked up a piece of chicken from an otherwise empty plate and fed it to Fergus, who was sitting on the countertop looking hopeful. She shrugged.

“I dunno. She doesn’t seem miserable,” she said, with a glance over her shoulder. “I think she’s just really happy and excited.”

“Exactly, it’s sickening.” Tonks grinned. “I’m joking, obviously. I’m happy for her, it would be just nice to talk about something else for ten minutes, that’s all.”

“Is everyone like this about weddings, do you think, or is it just Penny?”

“Might just be Pen. You know what she gets like about organising parties, and this isn’t just any party. This is the party.”

“I guess,” said Artemis. She grabbed two wine bottles - the fancy red one that Chester had brought and the cheap pink one that was Tonks’ favourite - and nodded her head at the door. “Come on. We should go and be excited with her.”

“I’ll try, but if she starts talking about writing her own vows again, I might actually spew.”

Thankfully, Penny was not talking about her vows, nor any other part of the wedding ceremony itself. Instead, the discussion had turned to aesthetics, with Chiara listening politely and Jae looking incredibly bored as Penny chatted away.

“Well, I still haven’t quite decided what colour I want you all to wear,” she told Chiara, her engagement ring sparkling in the light as she moved her hands, “but it will either be pale pink, sage green, or maybe sky blue. In any case, it will definitely be a pastel shade. Bea won’t be happy, if it were up to her you’d all be wearing black, but she always looks so pretty in lighter colours, and it will be a summer wedding, so pastels make far more sense. I much prefer them, anyway.”

“And that’s what matters,” said Chiara. “It is your wedding, we will just go along with what you want. Don’t mind us.”

“Mind me!” Tonks blurted out. “I definitely want some kind of say in what I wear. What if it doesn’t suit me?”

Penny giggled. “You can suit anything, Tonks. You’re a Metamorphmagus.”

“Yeah, but-”

“I’m going to go looking at options with Andre next weekend, but I think I know what style I want for you,” Penny continued. “Probably mid-length, strapless-”

Artemis wrinkled her nose. “Won’t the dresses fall down if they haven’t got any straps?”

“- with a little bit of tulle under the skirt to give it some sort of shape. And then you all will have little bouquets of daisies to carry, because daisies are my favourite flowers.”

Tonks looked across the table at Jae, who appeared to have fallen asleep with his eyes open. “What’s your favourite type of flower, Jae?”

Jae puffed out his cheeks and exhaled before answering:

“Probably self-raising.”

The rest of the guests chuckled, and Chiara shook her head, her pale eyes rolling and lips twitching gently. 

“Will you have a daisy bouquet, too?” she asked Penny, who nodded emphatically.

“Yes, but mine will be bigger, because I am the bride.”

“Really?”  Tonks’ eyes widened in faux-surprise. “You should’ve said something before.” She winced as Artemis kicked her under the table. “Ow! What was that for?”

“And I want my dress to have daisies on, too. Maybe little ones embroidered on it or lace with a daisy pattern. I’m not quite sure yet, but I definitely want it to be white,” Penny sighed. “I know it’s a bit dishonest, but I have always wanted a white wedding ever since I was a little girl, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t have one just because of one very small technical detail. After all, it’s 1995. No one is actually a virgin anymore.”

Lewis Parkin, who Artemis had yet to hear utter a single word all evening, looked at his new fiancée and blinked slowly, his expression one of mingled endearment and exasperation. Across the table from him, Kingsley was paying close attention to his glass, whilst Chester shuffled slightly in the chair next to him.

“Anyway,” he said loudly, reaching across the table to pick up his glass of red wine, “I was hoping that now everyone is here again, we might toast the birthday girl.”

Everyone else hurried to pick up or charge their own glasses, except for Artemis. Once the full wine glasses were all held aloft, Chester spoke once more.

“Not only is it Artemis’ birthday today, but earlier this week she received an incredible job offer.”

“Oh, Artemis, that really is wonderful news,” said Penny, beaming from ear to ear. “What job is it? Curse-Breaking?”

“Personal secretary to the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports,” Chester informed everyone, and Penny’s blue eyes and mouth formed perfect circles. “Which is rather impressive, considering that she is only twenty-two, and didn’t even apply. He selected her personally.” Artemis tried and failed to not roll her eyes at Chester’s proud tone. “Then again, she is always impressive. So, here’s to Artemis.”

“To Tiny,” said Kingsley, with a nod in Artemis’ direction.

“To Artemis,” the others chorused. They all  lifted their glasses and sipped their wine, except for Tonks, who winked theatrically at Artemis.

“To enabling a man’s gambling addiction until he offers you a prestigious job role,” she said, before taking such a large gulp of her drink that she half-emptied her glass. Artemis laughed.

“I mean, it wasn’t just that,” she explained. “Fine, maybe it’s a bit of that, but also it’s because he was really happy with the dragon challenge. Said it was the best entertainment he’s had for a long time, much better than the lake challenge, because no one could actually see anything that was going on.”

“Ten points to Artemis, none to Thomasina Thistlethwaite,” said Tonks, and she held out her palm for Artemis to high-five, which she did. “A win on all counts.”

“When do you start?” Chiara asked, and Artemis shrugged.

“Not sure. I haven’t actually taken it yet.”

“Why not?” Penny frowned. “Does it not pay very well?”

“It does, I just… I haven’t made up my mind yet, that’s all.”

“There’s no rush,” said Chester. “Ludo doesn’t need an answer until after the final challenge, so there’s plenty of time to think it through properly and make up your mind based on the other options available.” He took a sip of red wine and rested his arm on the back of Artemis’ chair. “I think you will probably end up going for this one, though.”

Artemis laughed. “You do, do you?”

“Absolutely. This is an excellent opportunity and a strategic career move. Plus, I doubt that any other position will give you as much money or stability.”

“I dunno how much stability it will give me,” said Artemis. “I mean, this is Ludo Bagman we’re talking about.”

“True, but there are far worse people to have as your boss. Trust me, I know,” Chester said darkly. “I spent my first three and a half years at the Ministry working for Dolores Umbridge.”

A collective groan of sympathy and disgust echoed around the table. Kingsley shook his head and shuddered, and next to Artemis, Tonks stiffened in her chair. She looked nervously between Penny and Chiara, the latter of whom’s face a passive mask, but her already pale knuckles had whitened as she tightened her grip on Jae’s hand. Artemis’ eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to change the subject, but before she could say anything, Lewis Parkin spoke for the first time that evening.

“Umbridge…” he repeated. “For why do I ken that name?”

“She’s the one pushing the new lycanthropy bill,” said Chester. “If she gets her way, all werewolves will need to declare their condition so that people know about it when they’re hiring someone for a job or considering renting a property to them.”

“It’ll never happen,” Jae half-scoffed. Though his voice held no tension, his jaw jutted slightly. Chester did not seem to notice this, for he tilted his head one way and then the other and continued:

“I think it might, actually. Umbridge is awful, but she is also very shrewd, and she’s picked her timing well, given what happened at the World Cup-”

“Those weren’t werewolves, though,” said Artemis. Next to her, she could feel Tonks bristling. “You can’t take what-”

“I’m not taking anything. I’m just saying that it’s a clever move, politically speaking.” Artemis glared at Chester, and he sighed. “Consider it. Last summer it got out that a werewolf had been teaching at Hogwarts, living at the school with people’s children all year, and no one knew about it. Then, at the World Cup, all these maniacs in masks start coming out of the woodwork, and we can only speculate as to who was underneath those masks. You can see why now more than ever, people may be interested in having legislation that gives them the right to know exactly who’s living next door to them. I’m not saying that it’s the correct course of action, but-”

“It sounds like you are.” 

“I’m not, Artemis. I’m just playing Devil’s Advocate, that’s all,” Chester told her, and he placed his hand on her knee and squeezed gently. “People who are scared will do all sorts of things if it makes them feel secure, and right now, lots of people are scared.”

There was no point in trying to argue, but Artemis was not placated. She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered sullenly at her wine glass. A tense sort of hush had fallen over the table, one which was broken by the sound of Kingsley’s low, gentle chuckle.

“You know what I’ve been scared about recently?” he asked, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Who would be cooking this evening. The last time I was invited here for dinner, I was served beans on toast.”

Almost everyone let out laughs that were as much relieved as they were amused. Artemis shook her head.

“It wasn’t just beans,” she corrected Kingsley. “I grated cheese, too.”

“Of course, how could I forget? I also recall being offered a mixture of red and white wine to drink.”

“Red and white mixed?” Jae’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s almost criminal, Hex.”

“In my defence, I was very young and I didn’t know anything about wine at the time. I still don’t, really.”

“Right,” Jae grinned. “And what about your cooking? Do you know more about that now, or are you still limited to a diet of ‘things on toast’?”

“Actually,” said Artemis, sitting up straight in her seat and raising her chin, “I’ll have you know that I can make four different types of potatoes now.”

Jae clapped his hands three times slowly before reaching for his glass and raising it.

“Always impressive,” he said drily. “Forget birthdays and job offers, this is the sort of thing we should be drinking to.”

Artemis pulled a face, but she still picked up her own glass.

“To potatoes,” she said as she raised it to Jae.

“To never letting you cook for me.”

“We can all drink to that,” Tonks said, and she finished the second half of her wine in one gulp. 

The rest of the group laughed and toasted again, and this time, Artemis joined them, giggling as she finished her glass of the expensive red wine. It was probably quite good, but as she still did not know much about wine, it could just as well have been Tonks’ favourite pink one.

The rest of the night passed without further political discussion or tension, with the guests preferring to talk about less potentially controversial topics. It was not until the very end of the night, after Penny and Lewis had already left and Tonks had fallen asleep on the sofa, that the topic of the Ministry’s werewolf reforms came up again.

“I’m really sorry about earlier,” Artemis said as she bade Chiara and Jae goodnight at the front door. “Chester would never have brought up the werewolf stuff if he had known…”

Chiara shook her head and smiled sadly. 

“It’s okay, Artemis. I’m used to it,” she told her. “It’s really not a problem, he was only talking about the new laws they’re passing.”

“It’s just a vote. They haven’t been passed yet.”

“And they won’t be,” Jae said stubbornly.

“Actually, they probably will.” Chiara sighed. “Chester’s right. Umbridge and her supporters, they’ve really picked their moment. Everyone has been so afraid since the Dark Mark went up at the World Cup. People are terrified about what that might mean for the future. It’s easier for the Ministry to distract everyone by scapegoating werewolves, so that’s what they’ll do.”

“They won’t.”

“Yes, they will, Jae.”

“What does that mean for you?” Artemis asked, her eyebrows furrowing deeply. “Will you have to put your name on this list?”

“Probably.” Chiara’s front teeth grazed her lower lip. “My landlord would almost definitely kick me out of my flat, though. And I’m not sure that St Mungo’s would want me working there if they knew, either.”

“Hardly anybody knows about you,” said Jae. “You could lie and get away with it.”

“Maybe, but then if I get found out, it won’t just be St Mungo’s that I’d lose out on. Breaking the law like that, I could lose my license to work as a Healer altogether.”

“But you’ve just worked so hard to finish the training. You’re so good at Healing.” Artemis shook her head. “That’s not fair!”

“It isn’t. But then, neither are so many things,” said Chiara sadly. She blinked before smiling again. “Don’t listen to me. I’m just scared. And maybe Jae’s right. Maybe it won’t pass, who knows?”

But the look in her eerily pale blue eyes made it clear that she knew exactly what would come to pass. Artemis watched her and Jae walk away down the darkened street and returned to the kitchen feeling far less carefree than she had left it. She barely noticed the earnest tone of Chester’s voice or the wrinkles in Kingsley’s forehead as the two men talked quietly by the sink until they saw her enter and immediately fell silent.

“You look worried, Tiny,” said Kingsley. The very sound of his deep and melodious voice made Artemis feel less worried, and she shrugged. “Sickle for your thoughts?”

“Nothing I think is worth as much as a Sickle,” she told him with a wry smile.

“I couldn’t disagree more.”

“Would you like to stay for one more drink, Mr Shacklebolt?” Chester asked, but Kingsley shook his head.

“As much fun as this has been, I think I have had far too much to drink as it is. I’m too old not to suffer for my evening’s fun in the morning these days,” he chuckled. “I think I’ll leave you two young people to continue your conversations without me. I’ll see myself out.”

He shook Chester’s hand and hugged Artemis, who rose onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Once he had left, she looked around the kitchen.

“Did you clean as well as cook?” she asked Chester, who laughed.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” 

“I’m not, I just… Thanks. This was all really kind of you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s your birthday, Artemis,” said Chester. “And I had Kingsley to help with the cleaning.”

“Right,” Artemis nodded. “You sounded like you were getting along well.”

“We always get along well.”

“That’s not... What were you two talking about?”

“Nothing substantial. Work, mainly. Very boring stuff.”

“How true,” Artemis grinned mischievously, her head tilted to one side. Chester sighed and shook his head before stepping towards her.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, quietly. “And I think that maybe we should live together.”

Artemis blinked. “Where?”

“Wherever you prefer. I could move in here with you, or you could join me in my overpriced flat. Or we could find somewhere new together. Maybe in Cardiff, it’s cheaper than London and closer to home.”

“But London is your home.”

“I mean home as in where I grew up. Portmeirion.”

“Oh, right,” Artemis said. She nodded, but frowned at the same time. “What about Tonks?”

Chester laughed out loud. “What about Tonks?”

“She’d be here all alone.”

“Tonks is a big girl, Artemis. She will cope with living alone. Or she could find a new housemate. Someone you can actually charge rent to,” Chester suggested. He raised one eyebrow. “Well? What do you think?”

Artemis did not really know what to think. The house she had grown up in had always been dark and dingy, a house rather than a home, and she co-owned it with the brother she no longer wanted anything to do with. Her choice to move back eighteen months previously had been one made out of necessity rather than desire; after leaving school she had sworn that she would never live there again. She should have been jumping at the chance to leave. The problem was that leaving the house now meant leaving Tonks, abandoning her there the way she had been abandoned as a little girl and left largely to fend for herself.

But Tonks was not a little girl, like Chester said, and perhaps she would not have to be by herself at all. She could live here with someone else, and Artemis knew who might want to do just that. After all, right now, Chiara was scared, and scared people needed to feel secure. And if Artemis could do something to give her that security, she would do it in a heartbeat.

So, she decided to ignore the small voice in the back of her head that was telling her that she wasn’t ready, that she was also scared, and nodded.

“I think it’s a good idea,” she told Chester. “Yeah, we should do that.”

Chester smiled, and kissed her gently. 

“Excellent,” he whispered. “It’s late. Shall we go to bed?”

“You go. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Once Chester had gone upstairs, Artemis opened the door to let Fergus in from the back garden, conjured a blanket to place over the sleeping Tonks, and extinguished the candles that were still flickering on the table. Without them, the house seemed darker than ever, so dark that she could not even see where she was at all. She could have been anywhere in the world, and yet she was here. Still here.

Maybe that little voice had been wrong, she thought, as she padded upstairs. Maybe she really was ready to leave.

[starringbaguette]

Goncharov (1973) is a fucking masterpiece and here’s why

There is literally so much to be said here but I’ll boil it down to the three points I’ll be making: music, color, and the 4th wall.

The first and shortest is the usage of music in the film, and specifically, the organ and bells. The organ itself is a rich sounding instrument and usually accompanied by an orchestra or vocals or some other sound, but in Goncharov, it stands alone and by itself every time we hear it. Same as the bells, usually a symbol of announcement or disrupter in movies, it is instead used as a defining musical piece. They are both characteristic.

This is clearest in the first three or so minutes of the film. First, the bells play in almost high splitting notes, it leaves your ears ringing and in contrast, the organ kicks in, low and sonorous. Then the bells and organ fade and orchestral music begins to play as we are revealed the first scene in the movie. What’s interesting here is that when one plays the other is cut out, reinforcing that these two instruments are not instruments themselves, but characters, and they tell a story. In fact, we never hear the two of them play together until the very end when the credits begin to roll against a dark screen. 

The second is color, which we know to be obvious, but its relevance is primal to the arcs of the characters and the story itself. 

When the orchestra kicks in and the movie starts, it is nighttime and illuminated by cold moonlight and dull flickering candles on windowsills, no lightbulb in sight. It’s starts off feeling like noir film, with shades of grey as a silhouette of a man runs across alleys and under branching trees along the sidewalks. He too, is dark and colorless. 

The daytime this early on is no better. While still highlighting the beauty of the costal city, it is soulless and lifeless despite direct contrary evidence against it. It isn’t until we are introduced to one of the main characters (Andrey) that suddenly color is abundant. The greens of trees glimmer, the light that dances across wine glasses sends rainbows crashing against sand-colored walls and shining stone sidewalks, the ocean is a sparkling blue that blends into the deep horizon. But, there is no red, not yet.

The next 10 minutes continue is the bright, iridescence of color before we finally see the first speck of red- which is where another character pops in, though we do not know it until five minutes after the scene. Goncharov, fresh off the boat and arriving in a familiar marketplace, wears a dark suit despite the heat of the sun, with a deep red dress shirt, a poppy tucked into the side of his hat. 

From there it snowballs. Red seeps into almost every scene, growing more and more prominent in high tensions and whenever Goncharov makes an appearance, or whenever Goncharov, Andrey, and Katya are in a scene together. Red almost takes over entirely during Katya’s betrayal. There, the three of them are bathed in it, a red sun behind both men dousing them in almost scarlet silhouette, and Katya beyond them bathed in blood that does not entirely blend in to her dress. The walls are red, the carpet is red, and where there is not, the blood covers it. 

Red as a color has intense symbolism: love, lust, anger, passion, danger, just to name a few. It as an extreme without measure and consumes and swallows what it will, it is overwhelming in power- and it fades almost entirely at the end.  From that scene almost two thirds into the film, that intense color bleeds away quickly in stark contrast to the beginning 10 minutes.

Curiously, though, red does not disappear from either of these three. Instead, Katya’s lipstick is a grotesque blood red, Goncharov wears the same red dress-shirt, and Andrey carries an old, dying poppy in his suit jacket (presumably the one we see tucked in Goncharov’s hat when we’re first introduced), they are marked by what they have done and what they will continue to do until the end.

And this is where we reach the final point, the 4th wall and how Goncharov (1973) breaks it to enhance the story and its tragedy. 

We come back to the beginning of the movie. The first scene. In it we are doused in monochrome shades of gray and the dark silhouette of a man running away from something- the dull rings of midnight hour an accompanying sound to the frantic strings of an orchestra.

No longer silhouette but still a faceless man, he falls to the floor, he scrambles, fumbling on hands and knees as he tries to crawl away from an unseen assailant. 

In his last moments he pleads for mercy and cries out for help, but the camera does not move from his face and his eyes do not move away from the camera. He looks to us for help. He begs the audience and in his final moments before he drops out of frame, there is betrayal in his eyes. We are accomplices. We have let a man die.

As the opening scene, it is bold to break the 4th wall in this way. We have seen what we were not meant to, and we have held back mercy we didn’t know we had until too late. 

There are many more instances of this where a character will stare directly into the camera for a moment, bringing us in to the scene. But none are more important than this. 

Goncharov confronts Mario for the first time in a study. Mario sits behind an old desk and Goncharov stands in front of him. There is an unknown man who stands to their right, and he bares remarkable resemblance to the man killed in the opening shot. He looks nervous, his eyes flicker back and forth between Goncharov and Mario. A clock in the corner of the room gets louder with each resounding tick.

Mario grins and nods towards Goncharov, who holds his gun at his side. The camera suddenly switches views so now Mario grins at us, nefarious. His eyes connect with ours, “you know what happens next” he says. The gun fires but the camera does not move.

End scene. 

This pivotal moment at the end of Act 1 addresses the audience as accomplices to the first man’s murder in the opening scene, and even further than that, it creates within us a vicious omnipotence for the rest of the story. 

While most of our experiences with fourth wall breaks in cinema have been for humorous reasons, Goncharov (1973) brings us in to partake in the tragedy, because now we know what happens next. Rewatching the film makes that moment all the more cruel because there is no one moment a character can stop what is happening, there is no one moment we can stop what is happening. 

Goncharov falls into a downward spiral. Katya begins her plot against her husband. Andrey is a helpless accomplice as are we, but the blood is on his hands and not ours. 

We see this prominently between the sole interaction Andrey and Ice Pick Joe have with each other. 

They seize each other up, faces blank and unreadable, they stand alone on the street at sunset. Red, once again, a primary hue in the roses and poppies that surround them. The camera switches between the two. We look down at Joe, from Andrey’s POV and then we look up at Andrey from Joe’s POV. Finally, we settle on a wide shot of the two of them.

Joe: “Beautiful day, it’s a shame it’d had to end like that. Though, I must say, I never expected this of you.”

Andrey: “And I’m surprised you had expectations at all. I’m also surprised by the nerve you have, to say it to my face.”

We switch now to Andrey’s POV with Joe looking down on him, this time. He stares directly into the camera. 

Joe: “And you have some nerve, existing the way you do.”

They continue a short bout of back and forth conversation before separating on terse words and furrowed brows. Almost unnoticed, Goncharov (1973) has broken the 4th wall again, in a far more subtle “blink and you’ll miss it” approach. 

In another film, there would be no need for this POV and it would have stayed a wide shot. But here, Joe calls out the audience for how we exist and consume the film as both bystander and collaborator, so far removed from the equation but somehow arriving at all the right answers.

It’s easy to miss on the first watch, and easier still if you have no idea that they’re breaking the 4th wall, but the characters and the story challenge the audience in ways I haven’t seen recreated to this mastery since. Though, Moonrise Kingdom (2012) comes close from what I’ve seen so far.

All in all, Goncharov (1973) is a masterpiece and love letter to the art of storytelling all the way from the music, to color, to how we approach tragedy in breaking the 4th wall. There is probably much more to say that I have missed but this is all I wanted to talk about because this entire movie is just (chef’s kiss) fucking beautiful.

[louisianaturra]

Carlton wine room, Carlton

It was my mum’s bday. She loves this place. I do too. It wasn’t that long ago that I was here and had every intention of reviewing it, however too much time passed. So I was happy that we were returning, another chance to critique this well renowned establishment.

Walking in, it’s bustling. Mind you it’s only 6pm, and it’s already busy. Like I said ‘well renowned establishment’. The host was quick to greet us at the door and tell us where our table was. The walls are white, black lights and wooden stools. Nothing offensive here. Classic, clean. We were led upstairs to another section that has round booths, sounds trashy but again it’s classic, kind of New York style.

Our waiter was personable, lovely and attentive. My partner and I arrived a little later than others, however she was quick to serve us a glass of champagne to match the table. Good guess. I love champagne. Carlton wine room is all about sharing. The food is prepared to be enjoyed and dissected by all at the table. I know it sounds bossy, but I usually take charge at places like this. People get overwhelmed and worry about who will like what. I just order as varied as possible to include everyones taste preferences. Most people appreciate it, others may get annoyed. Oh well. We ordered some oysters, Tasmanian. Good, some a little frozen, but of quality. We then ordered an anchovy on fried bread with whipped ricotta and pickled cucumber. We had one vego, the waiter offered to replace the anchovy with a mushroom. My sister in law said it was delicious. Ours was a beautiful starter, thin crispy bread with a subtle mix of salty, sweet and sour. Lovely.

Next was the eggplant dish, this was bursting with flavour. Mint, chilli, currents, with a creamy finish however had texture. The other dish was the asparagus, with an avocado sauce and salmon roe. The roe bursts little salt pop rocks into your mouth, and the avocado balances the dish nicely. I would have preferred less roe, a little overpowering.

The next dish was an obvious favourite, so much so that my partner and brother agreed to order another after the main. This was the stracciatella with pickled mushrooms and chive oil. I cannot describe the decadence of this dish, to look at yuk. To eat, an absolute delight. Look past the frog swamp, grab a potato focaccia( hand made, light and fluffy) and dig in. You won’t regret it.

By this point I had a few Awericanos and a Chardonnay. I decided to order some sparkling, the waiter brought me the champagne from earlier… I didn’t realise until 3 glasses in… whoops. This was also when I realised that we had been waiting over 30mins for our mains…

Our mains were pork and chicken. The pork was served in a mustard style sauce, it was good, however I am a terrible judge of pork. It reminds me of human.. too graphic? Sorry. The chicken had big chunks of bacon, mushroom and a lovely red wine jus. The chicken was cooked perfectly, juicy and well seasoned. There was also a side of grilled zucchini and ricotta. A lovely palate cleanser.

My sister in law ordered the rigatoni with smoked ricotta, tomato and basil. Before it was ordered I very politely said to the waiter that last time we ordered this the pasta was under cooked and cold. She looked at me sarcastically and said ‘okay I’ll tell the chef to COOK the food this time’. I realise it may have come across as snooty, however I wasn’t being an arsehole and her response was uncalled for. Give me shit behind my back instead. Mind you this wasn’t our original waiter. Figures. When the dish came out, the pasta was al dented however it was cold again… disappointing.

The dessert is worth ordering. I never ever think twice about ordering a rum baba. Seems old school and out of fashion. The Carlton wine rooms rum baba deserves an award. For The booziest rum baba in town. They present it as a slice of cake, rather than the original muffin shape. It also works perfectly as a share dish, everyone just grabs a spoon and digs in to the booze soaked sponge. An absolute triumph.

The Carlton wine room is a great night out. The service is impeccable, the food is well priced and appears to be served with love and passion. There were some gaps, however the positives override any issues. I highly recommend the rum baba, but be warned, if you are driving… you may blow over the legal limit. Take a taxi.

[estellamiraiauthor]

Oooh oooh ooooh can I add the Japan version?

- If you’re drinking in Japan, it’s likely going to be at an izakaya, which is more similar to a pub than a bar in that it also sells food, but is really just kind of it’s own thing. American-style bars exist but mostly only in areas with a large foreign population or in expensive business districts. Some British and Irish pubs also exist but are also largely patronized by people with international backgrounds.

- A “snack” is a smaller drinking establishment that usually only has a very basic food menu and a limited selection of alcohol (mostly Shochu, see below). Most are run by women, and serve as much as places for people to socialize as to drink. These are NOT hostess clubs or “cabaret clubs”… most of the women who run them are older, and many are immigrants. They’re not sex workers, but largely provide conversation. Hosts and hostesses are not always sex workers either, although the line is a bit blurry.

- The types of cocktails commonly served in Japan don’t always match what’s popular in the US at least. You rarely see something like a martini or a cosmopolitan on the menu at an izakaya, but creme de cassis and Campari are popular mixers. Vodka and gin are popular; some izakayas dont even have tequila or rum. You usually can’t order a specific brand; most places only have one type of vodka so you can order a vodka soda but not necessarily specify that the vodka is Absolut or whatever. Some higher end places do offer multiple brands; those would be listed on the menu.

- sake (which is called “Nihon-shu”; sake just means “alcohol”) is mostly popular among older men. I really only drink it at business functions when an older manger orders it for the table. You usually CAN order it hot, but it’s more commonly drunk cold. Sake bombs are not Japanese. I’ve never seen sake used in any kind of cocktail here, it’s just drunk straight, like wine.

- Shochu is another local type of liquor, there are different types like barley, rice, sweet potato, and soba (or my favorite, Shiso) shochu. It can be drunk on the rocks or mixed with hot or cold water, sparkling water, or tea.

- “sours” or “chu-hi” are a popular cocktail that isn’t really considered a cocktail (they’re usually in their own category on the menu, while a gin and tonic or a screwdriver would be under “cocktails”). The word “chu-hi” comes from “Shochu highball,” but some are made with vodka instead of Shochu. It’s basically carbonated water, fruit juice or artificial fruit flavor, and alcohol. Yum!

- Most places only serve one type of beer on tap, or might serve two types made by the same company (like Suntory Black Label and Premium Malts). Kind of like most restaurants don’t serve both Coke and Pepsi in the US…. They have a contract with one specific company. They might sell other companies’ beers in bottles. Some craft beer places have lots of beers on tap, but even then there will probably be only one “major” brand if any.

- Wine bars and some higher end French or Italian restaurants will have a wine list, but at the average izakaya or bar, your choices are house red or house white!

- Alcohol prices are always listed on the menu. It seems weird and shady to me in the US when they don’t. You also don’t tip bartenders, waiters, anyone.

- Not Japan-specific but also adding to the above posts that a person’s tolerance can differ GREATLY based on the type of alcohol. I drink vodka, gin, and Shochu fairly regularly, but don’t drink beer that often. So even though they have about the same alcohol content, I’ll be completely fine after a shot of gin, for example, but feel a little woozy after the first beer!

Alcohol tips for newbie writers (or non drinkers!):

At bars, people who order “chasers” after their shots are ordering something to wash down the taste of their shot with. This can be juice, soda, more alcohol, or even pickle juice

Hard liquor is generally sold in stores as shots (tiny bottles), fifths, liters, and handles or in ml (50, 100, 200 etc)

Most people can’t finish an entire fifth of hard liquor (vodka, etc) on their own without being very ill

Conversely, many people can finish an entire bottle of wine on their own without being ill

Liquor can be “bottom shelf” or “rail” or “well” – all synonyms for the cheapest version of alcohol a bartender has. Bars generally keep several “levels” of alcohol stocked

You order a drink with the alcohol first, then the mix – e.g., a “vodka soda” or a “Tito’s and tonic”

When you “close out a tab”, you pay for all of the drinks you’ve had that night. Either the bartender already has your card (you “opened a tab” earlier) or it was quiet enough that they just kept an eye on you and tallied your bill up at the end

“Doubles” are drinks or shots with double the standard pour of alcohol

In the US, most shots (pours) are 1.5 oz by default. 

Mixed drinks (gin and tonic, vodka lemonade, cosmos, etc) are generally made up of 1-2 shots and a mixer 

If you don’t specify which type of alcohol you’d like in a mixed drink (vodka cranberry, for example) the bartender will put whatever the “house” liquor is – and this depends entirely on the establishment. A dive bar will pour rail by default, whereas a nicer tavern might make all vodka cranberries with Tito’s

PLEASE TIP YOUR BARTENDERS THEY WILL REMEMBER YOU I PROMISE

[prose-priest-potentate]

In the Interim

Fic on Ao3: Here

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Chapter 3: Do Cursed Men Dream of Wolf Teeth?

That night, Izek sets himself up outside instead of sleeping in the spare room of the Marticov’s house - like he did last time. Then, it had been to guard Mari asleep in the wagon, but this time she’s miles away. Imrath would much rather Izek sleep inside like everyone else - surely he'd be more physically comfortable, and safer from whatever wanders the fields at night… 

So he compromises. He asks to camp out with him, and they set up as they usually do on the road. 

He is grateful for some normalcy again. Sitting by a fire, chatting, is something they do. It's easy. 

Not that you’d think that, given the face Izek pulls when he sits down instead of crawling straight into his blankets. “I’ll take watch. You should sleep.”

Imrath pauses, looks at him, then furrows his brows, “Don't be so eager to send me to bed - it’ll hurt my feelings.”

Without missing a beat, Izek says, “Get stronger feelings.” But then raises a very judgemental eyebrow. “Aren't you exhausted from babysitting all day?”

“Not really. I’m used to it.” When his only response is an expectant stare, he continues. “I couldn't do too much back home,” he gestures to his eyes - pink and red where they should be brown and gold, “til I learned to see, so I looked after all my cousins in the nursery for years.”

Izek curls up his lip. “Sounds miserable.”

“I do have an impressive number of children's stories memorized.” Izek looks distinctly unimpressed. Imrath shrugs. “Either way, today was a lot of fun. I’ve missed being not serious all the time. Able to relax, for just a second.”

“Relaxed.” Izek leans back on his hands, snorting. “You were handsy, is what you were.”

When he looks over, Imrath looks concerned and red, and his white scales are turning pink. “Hopefully not too bad - I’ve been drunk in a while, but surely-”

“Had to peel you off every twenty minutes.”

All his feathers fluff out. He’s curled his tail all the way back around his own side. Izek’s seen him shy, but not flustered. Oh that’s funny. “I didn’t do anything inappropriate, did I? I’m sorry.”

He considers milking it - dragging out Imrath’s embarrassment for fun. Maybe it’s the reflection of the firelight, or maybe it’s a mean sparkle in his eye. He crosses his arms and sighs. “You were pretty all over me.”

Imrath stares at him, pupils shrunken to slits. He’s gone pale around the blush. Surprisingly - quickly- he moves in close, reaching toward Izek’s face. “Shit, did I-?” 

Izek flinches back and Imrath’s hand freezes, but he’s staring around Izek’s collar, squinting and leaning. Checking.

Checking for WHAT, exactly?

“It wasn’t that bad! Hells.” He’s quick to drop the joke. “Just… clingy.”

Imrath blinks. He finally looks away from Izeks’ neck. Meets his eyes. Blinks again. “Oh. Just clingy? When Izek nods, and starts to explain all the leaning and nuzzling, Imrath breathes deep. “Blazes, Izek. You had me worried I’d made an ass of myself.”

“No more than usual.” No amount of meanness can really cover up the confusion that lingers on his tone, but Imrath is back in his own seat. He’s still curled up, kept to himself, and twiddling his thumbs, but content.

They relax a bit after that, and move back to their usual, safe territory: Imrath tells him stories from his childhood and Izek tries to reciprocate, they compare all the monsters they’ve fought in the years before they met, which wine they preferred, Stefania’s cooking, and anything else Imrath can think of. 

As they talk, pieces of memories start to filter back in and Izek fills in the places that blur when he asks - Imrath translates as much of his “riddle” with the raven as he can remember. They briefly get distracted teaching Izek curse words and threats in Draconic - his accent is terrible, but he’s got the intimidation factor perfect.

 Imrath is only more relieved as he remembers the afternoon properly. He could live with the embarrassment of being a little more sappy than usual, as long as he’s sure he managed not to make Izek too uncomfortable. 

When he says so alongside a self-depreciating chuckle, Izek only stares. He does that sometimes - stares at Imrath like whatever he’s said is some puzzle. And Imrath usually lets him ponder. 

He can’t lie, but he can leave an unasked question unanswered. 

He yawns, and doesn’t bite his jaw down to hide the teeth - Izek has never seemed uncomfortable with the fangs and claws, he doesn’t need to be palatable. “Come on, the ravens are on watch, let’s both get some sleep.” It’s a paper thin excuse to change the subject and end the night, but Izek lets him have it. 

They settle in.

______________________________________________________________

His dreams take him down familiar roads tonight. Imrath wanders, eyes open, with only the memories of what he felt filled in by what thinks he should be seeing. The distances are always dark. Always Thymari dunes or Barovian trees, where he has seen little else. The northern dales make their appearances, as do the snowscapes of the spine of the world. He had particularly enjoyed those nights.

Some little creature make a noise. Scraping at the corners of his dream. When he looks, there are no briars to hide it. Huh.

The noise continues without pattern. He swears he hears a familiar voice behind him, but his god is not there when he turns. 

Who else would be in his mind? 

Beside him, close, Imrath feels something move. It startles him awake, breath coming quick as he blinks up at the clouds where stars should be. 

The movement beside him calls his attention. A jerk of the head. Hard breathing. 

Izek is flinching. Fighting. Having a nightmare. Imrath is up and on his knees quickly. He hovers, checking that no monsters have snuck in, no vampires lurk, no magic swirls that isn’t meant for grapes - but no, thankfully, it is just a nightmare. 

His instincts settle, and he is left with his friend struggling against himself. He hates the awful way Izek’s jaw is clenched and he’s straining. Even the man’s boots have pushed up his covers and dug trenches from whatever he’s fighting. 

Imrath starts talking to him, the way his parents soothed him his whole life, “Hey now, you’re okay. It’s okay.” It’s all he knows to do. He’s as gentle as he can be, reaching out to touch Izek’s chest to try to wake him slowly.

As soon as Imrath’s fingers touch him, Izek jerks awake and he sits up swinging. Flames lick up his arm so fast that Imrath can barely squeeze his eyes shut before the fireball engulfs his face. 

“Fuck! Imrath!” 

Izek’s voice is louder by far, rougher than even his usual voice from sleep and aggression, and his hand is rough where he has a fistful of shirt, but Imrath isn’t overly concerned - wafting away the last bits of flame with one hand and the other around Izek’s wrist, trying to rub some sense back into him. The fire doesn’t hurt that much (besides his poor eyes that are still stinging), but the claws will if Izek doesn’t recognize him quickly.

“You’re okay! It’s just me, Izek.”

Anyone else who isn’t coming to from panic or blinded by the flash of fire in their face would see the stuttering of Izek’s fist, ready to maim, with fire still flickering as it slowly dies down, held back and hesitating as Izek realizes that the man he has pinned in the grass is Imrath and not the maw of wolf teeth from his dreams.

“Shit. What the Hell were you doing?!” Izek, heart racing, temper flared, but himself once again, lifts Imrath up and shoves him back down roughly. Stay down. “Don’t you know not to wake people up-” He starts to say when they’re having night terrors but he cuts himself off, “Idiot!”

He leans back up onto his knees, huffing and puffing, glaring daggers, but Imrath barely listens. Quick to sit up and finally able to blink his vision back in, he reaches toward his friend - original concern not lost in the scuffle.

“Forget that, Izek. Are you okay? Here-” Izek flinches away from him. Unhappy about it, Imrath’s crest feathers pin back against his head. Whatever, Izek’s cagey. He gets it. He readjusts and holds out his palms.

Izek looks at the offered hand and rolls his eyes. He stands like he’s ripping himself away from the whole idea and looms - fists and claws at his sides flexing, posture rigid. “Of course I’m okay. I didn’t get hit in the face with a ball of fire!” He’s too rough when he grabs a horn, forcing Imrath’s face around to check the scorch marks on his face. Imrath just raises his eyebrows and stares up. It’s nice to be able to. But Izek, first concerned, now stubborn, and always angry, refuses to look away from his task of manhandling the dragonborn.

“I’m fine. I breathe fire.” 

Izek yanks on his horn again, forcing his head back so that Imrath can be glared at properly with all the frustration in his miserable body. If looks could kill, and all. 

“You’re not fireproof.” He grabs Imrath’s cheeks with his demonic hand and rubs a claw at one of the smoldering scales on his cheekbone. Imrath, for all that it might still be sore, is deeply and wholly distracted by staring up at Izek in this rare moment when he can. 

Holy fire, he’s pretty.

He feels the heat rising from through his chest and hopes that it doesn’t light up his face the way it ususally does. Regrettably, he breaks eye contact and stares out over the vineyard - letting himself be checked over until Izek is satisfied that nothing is too out of sorts. Izek snorts. Whether he notices his fluster or not, Imrath doesn’t want to know.

“Heal yourself.” He doesn’t let go when Imrath looks back up at him, deadpanned and unenthused. He really doesn’t need to waste the magic for it, but Izek is immovable. 

Imrath rolls his eyes and pokes himself in the cheek with as much childish compliance as he can manage in the gesture, mumbling his god’s words. A familiar warmth washes over him - like light of a sunray through a stained glass window, and the blisters recede. A few of the worst scales curl up, shed, and grow back. 

Satisfied, Izek plops back down on his covers and stares off into the dark at nothing. 

Imrath watches him sit, then watches him brood. He does it a lot; this suffering in lonely silence. This self-policing of his emotions, tempering his rage like a sword. Imrath wonders if perhaps Izek will harden himself one too many times and shatter one day. He wonders if he makes a nuisance of himself when he tries to be gentle with everyone here - if it grates on his friend’s patience when he tries to care.

Imrath stares, zoned out, at the grass, and takes a catalog of himself: grogginess from interrupted sleep is creeping back in, grief is quick to seep back in like a leaking boat now that the wine is gone, and he is damp. Barovia is wet in its chill, with a cold that seeps and soaks instead of ripping like the wind at home.

Barovian night is all the wrong noises. None of the comforting whoops of distant hyena clans having a good night, no drum-beat clicks from the giant bats, no subsonic hum from churning magma in his bones. Just rabid wolves and haunting birds and bats’ cries that are too high pitched. Imrath sees them fluttering around, so small and so frantic compared to the war-mounts they have at home. He glances over to the back of Izek’s head. His pretty curls that just barely touch the collar of his shirt now. His shoulders are still tense. Too still. 

He can never keep himself quiet for too long.

“Mine are worse than they’ve ever been. More than just bad dreams these days.” Imrath curls himself up in a tangle of limbs so that he can rest his cheek on his arm on his knee. Still watching. Always looking, when he can. “I don’t usually wake anyone up with them, but Wixen is usually wandering around somewhere anyway.”

Izek doesn’t respond in any way, but his white knuckle grip on his own forearm is less harsh, so Imrath keeps talking. He tells him all about the silly nightmares he had as a kid; the years of blindness coming back even with his eyes open, getting lost in the desert, falling off a bat, tripping off the great ramp… all the usual stuff. They’re quiet for a while, with Imrath’s tail flipping slowly back and forth over his own boot. Content enough now that the adrenaline has faded and the exhaustion of the day returns.

“This one was werewolves.” Izek’s voice cuts through the alien white noise. It makes Imrath jump a bit as he comes back to reality. He sees the tail end of Izek waving his human arm at his opposite shoulder. The night he got mauled. Imrath nods. 

“Mine are about you guys dying.” Izek’s lip curls up, but he nods too. He stares off in the same direction that Izek is, watching as some small animal scurries around by the house. “It’s easier when everyone is nearby. I can check.”

“Is that why you slept out here?”

Imrath shrugs, “I didn’t want you to be out here all alone.”

Izek falls silent, but Imrath isn’t expecting a response. He knows Izek isn’t super comfortable with his affectionate declarations, but cannot lie about it. Besides, Izek deserves to be touched gently and spoken to with care. It is part of the truth Imrath is fighting for.

Eventually, Imrath lays himself back down to finish what he can of the night’s rest. Izek stays up, lost in his own thoughts for yet another restless night. Soft hearted fool that he is, Imrath keeps the end of his tail laid against Izek’s leg. He isn’t pushed away or abandoned, so he counts it as a success, though, in the last vestiges of his consciousness, he thinks he feels him snort.

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[awriterparacosm]

The End

When you are born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire, but it’s not. If anything, knowing what I did now, I wanted nothing more than to distance myself from my past. To cleanse myself of such negativity and pain that burned to the depths of my soul. I tried to not think of Julian and what happened to him, the event that turned my once religious family away from God and the church altogether. I liked to think that mom still truly believed, she was just hurt. Oftentimes, people who were hurt lashed out at those who didn’t deserve it. I myself found it hard to grieve in the face of a world that moved on as quickly as it did, but perhaps that’s how things were meant to be. We are designed to be robust, to get through everything. To forgive and forget, to put things in the past and move forward with a clean slate.

These were my thoughts as Kaia stepped into our shared apartment, removed her drenched coat and hung it over the back of a chair in the kitchen. The weather outside was howling and thundering, wreaking its wrath unto the world which was much akin to my mood. Kaia picked up on it immediately, pouring us each a glass of wine and taking her seat close beside me. Without hesitation, I took the glass from her and consumed its contents. “You really aren’t in a good mood today are you? I told you that you shouldn’t have given up smoking for lent,” she said. She was right to an extent. I was in desperate need of a cigarette, especially after the conversation with my parents. “I spoke to my parents again,” I said casually, taking another healthy sip of my wine. It had a fruity flavour and was smooth, a direct contrast to the cheap wine used for communion, especially if the budget was tight. “They’re still not coming? I’m sorry, Rafe.” I shrugged my shoulders indifferently, there was little I could do and I wouldn’t force them to attend my ordination. I would pray for them instead.

What happened next had my nerve endings on edge. Kaia placed her hand over my knee, slowly tracing her fingers along the inside of my thigh. I caught her hand swiftly as it inched up, halting its movements immediately. Our eyes locked and I could see her hazel hues sparkling from the wine and something perhaps more playful. She was captivating in all the right ways but I was on the cusp of my ordination. She knew as well as I, the vows I needed to take, that while we’d engaged in consensual sex before, this was not something that could keep happening and yet when she pressed her mouth to mine, I felt the call of the void. “L'appel du vide,” I said, breaking our kiss. “Tomorrow I will become a priest. I’ll never look into your eyes again.” “Then let this be the last time,” she said and all words were forgotten between us.

She made light work of my trousers, taking her place on her knees before me. Although it didn’t mean anything to me, I believed that love was a sacrament meant to be taken kneeling. My head fell back against the sofa and I basked in the sensation of her lips and tongue. I fought my own suffering and perhaps brought it on as the wanting came in waves. If this were to be my last night, I would make it worthwhile. On this last night we tore into each other, teeth biting, lips kissing. The only sounds to be heard were our combined heavy breathing and groaning as I moved deep inside of her. Kaia was especially loud during sex and I put my fingers in her mouth to silence her as we transcended into that next place.

The time had come and all my plans were slowly falling into place. After today, I would be recognised as a priest and formally take over from father Paul who had reached a point in his life where he needed to step down from mass. He would still remain involved in the administration of the church but would take a more reserved role due to his age. I was lucky to be in the position I was in, and I found myself thinking of it all as I stepped into the church to attend mass in my ceremonial garb for the ordination ceremony. I wore a white tunic with a violet stole that hung loose around my neck. I could feel every eye on me as I took my seat besides Kaia. Normally I would sit with family till I was called, and a small part of me hoped my parents would change their mind and attend after all, but I couldn’t allow it to affect me. My mind needed to remain strong and unbending. Mass was over in what felt like a few short minutes and before I could think, the ordination process had begun. I was called forward and accepted by Father Paul and then the bishop. The people in the congregation affirmed my election by applause which was followed by the profession of a homily. I remained as calm as I could in the house of God as the bishop recited his prayer along with what was expected of me as a candidate. I knelt before the bishop, his hand upon my head as he along with the congregation prayed once more and called upon the Holy Spirit. The bishop performed the ancient right of anointing of the hands which symbolised that I was now a servant to the people of God and I would from this moment forward lead them.

Following mass I had many people from the congregation come and congratulate me on my acceptance into the priesthood, a long conversation with Father Paul and the bishop but the only people I really wanted to congratulate me were the ones who brought me into this world and they weren’t here. To rest was to receive all aspects of the world without judgement, and before Kaia could come over and congratulate me herself, I slipped out of the church, wasting no time as I ran to my truck and navigated through the stormy weather of the garden district of New Orleans. I didn’t know what I would say to my parents yet, I just knew that I had to see them. It didn’t matter that I was still in ceremonial garb, I needed to do this for me. I needed to say what I’d been itching to say for a long time. Words that I had pushed deep down within myself to keep the peace, but when I arrived at my old family home, I found blue lights flashing and two police trucks parked outside. I raced up the porch steps to be stopped by the police, but when I affirmed who I was, it became clear there was a new lead uncovered into the death of my older brother Julian.

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How to Plant Snapdragons | 2

Task Force 141, Keegan, & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Language and a . . . bit of violence WORD COUNT: 2.8k

It was a failure.

Of course, it would be a failure.

You were chased by the rooster whose steps were as long as his fucking legs, like an ostrich on a stampede with you being the poor hamster in his way. He tried to grab you, which you dodged. You rejoiced, proud of yourself but then a bigger man slammed onto you, pinning you on the ground before you could take a couple of steps outside the building. You weren’t even sure where the hell Ghost came from. You were so sure only the handwash was after you, but damn, it was kind of nice to be in his chokehold.

Kind of nice was an understatement.

God, the man was built like a freaking fridge or a bear. Heavy, big . . . rock hard. And his thighs, ooh, his thighs that were choking you right now, felt just right. You wanted to run your hands on them, maybe even leave a bite, or lick his abs and down his crotch. Now that you think about it, weren’t you a bit too close to it?

A good day to be alive.

What would he feel if you moved a little closer, though?

But enough of that for now.

You wheezed in his grip, panting and grunting, maybe you had overestimated your strength against this beast and finally decided to pat him. After a couple of seconds, he let you go. You gasped for air, rolling on the floor to sit up and rubbing your throat. “God, I thought you were gonna kill me for good, sir.” You looked up at Ghost and smiled, but it was quickly removed from your lips when he grabbed the back of your collar and pulled your sorry ass to your feet.

“Keep doing shite and I’ll give Shepherd yer pretty little head.” He glared down at you, not letting your uniform go, like you were some poor, wet kitten full of snot and fleas he found in a gutter. Mayhaps, with a bit more training, he could make you a soldier who could kill, instead of a babbling chicken or an annoying puppy who would bark only to get attention.

"Ey, come on, Lt." You waved a hand in defense. "I'm just doing my daily exercise." You grinned, eyes sparkling innocently.

Somehow, you reminded him of Johnny, noisy and annoying. But the lad knew when to shut the fuck up and knew what to do, just as he was trained to be. You, on the other hand, do you even think before you talk and act?

Were you so dumb to say yes to serving in the military so you could be pardoned for an accidental massacre or robbery or did you fucking go to KFC and slap the shit out of a waiter with a tray when they couldn’t get your order right? Maybe, you broke into your professor’s house after they failed you in a test and burned the poor person in their pajamas. Because even though you did not look like you could punch someone without breaking a few bones first, you looked insane enough to pour wine on someone and set them on fire, then cackle at the top of your lungs.

Ah, then again, with the way you acted, it seemed you were forced into this labor instead.

“How do you think Shepherd will react if we kill her?” Soap questioned, raising a brow at the Lieutenant.

“Uhm, I’m right here,” you pointed at yourself, lips parting at the oddly casual tone in his voice. But then again, these guys were probably used to killing. Other than reading their profiles, you had heard stories about them from that one American—what was his name again? Well, you couldn’t remember but he was in Phillip Graves’ company. Man talked shit about the military, then proceeded to compliment the 141, especially the big boy with the skull face and why he was to be feared.

But, heh! The skull face looked silly in person—fucking hilarious and ridiculous even. It made you think, how was the dude even breathing with that thing on? You could imagine him sweating buckets underneath those layers and looking like he just had a shower after taking them off. Fuck, you could even imagine how he would smell—a mix of dirt, sweat, blood, and gunpowder. And maybe, add some musk there because in all the stories you had read, it was almost musk.

Did that sound appealing? No. Did you still think he was hot because he was having his secret shower underneath those clothes? Yes. Did you stutter? No shit.

Because, your honor, it looked good on the guy, like how Soap could look good in a freaking mohawk. Like, like, that trending Ghostface on Instagram and TikTok you watched before you were thrown in prison, which people found hot when they were spreading blood on the bathroom mirror but it was just food coloring. It was stupid, like why were they making a mess in their bathroom like some dumbass snotty brat that smelled of piss but you found it—

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit, do you have a mask kink?

The skull face looked scary. That was what made it hot.

The one with the skull face had the body of a refrigerator with a washboard glued on it, a package in front, and some good cakes on the back. That was what made him hot.

And there was this roughness and authority in his voice that you could wake up to, with him on top of you while he had a knife in his grasp and pointed at your neck and you’d say thank you to him.

Shiiiiiiii—

“Well, what would the General do if we kill you, lassie?” Soap asked again, turning to you.

If only this guy weren’t handsome, you would have already slapped him to oblivion. But alas, you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy such beauty. And his balls also looked too good to crack. Not that you had seen it, just an assumption. Which you, maybe, intend to find out if it was true. Just maybe, though.

You shrugged your shoulders. “How the hell would I know?”

“Wait,” Johnny squinted his eyes, leaning a bit too close for comfort, but if you think about it, it wasn’t so bad. You wished he'd move closer. “Are you perhaps . . . Shepherd’s sugar baby?” he whispered the last two words.

Ghost frowned under his mask and stared in disbelief at the Sergeant.

Your stomach immediately flipped and you felt your mouth water at the thought. “What the fuck—” You pursed your lips to stop your breakfast from going up your throat.

Ghost quickly let you go.

“Or not,” Soap claimed, raising his hands in defense and stepping away.

“That fucking—” You clamped your hand over your mouth and waited for your stomach to calm down. “That’s disgusting! That’s—eww, like, ugh.” Like thousands of spiders ran on your skin, you shivered in horror. "Yuck. You might as well torture me than have any sort of relationship with the old man!”

“Isn’t he the one who pulled you out of prison?” Soap questioned, crossing his meaty arms over his equally meaty chest.

You gazed at him as intently as you could. “Yes, and that’s it.”

Except the old man said otherwise and that was why you were here in the first place.

“Enough of this.” Ghost grabbed your collar once again and began dragging you away.

“Where are we going, sir?” You asked, trying to look at him, but the way he was holding you made it almost impossible. But hey, this was nice, not having to walk. You let your legs go limp and let him carry you. He also didn't seem to mind.

"Price ordered me to train you."

"Ooh, brilliant." Johnny grinned, his face bright with excitement, contrary to your pale face.

You stomped your feet on the floor, which made the Lieutenant halt, and you lunged onto Soap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, shaking your head. "Nuh-uh, nuh-uh, I'm not ready to break bones."

Soap looked down on you, and hoo, Long Live the fucking King—he had never wanted to look in front of the mirror so bad to give himself a high five and say, 'ya lucky son of a bitch, having a lovely koala clinging onto yer good arse, eh?'.

Now that he thought about it, being in the military for so long, he wasn't able to meet someone cute very often. But he also didn't expect that when he finally met a cute girl, she'd be having a sentence for whatever crime she did under her belt! Tsk, tsk, tsk. If only he could remove that ankle monitor and hold your legs instead.

But he was raised a gentleman and would stay a gentleman.

"Sorry, Bonnie." Johnny smiled, eyes becoming soft and hands carefully held your waist so you wouldn't slip off. "Orders are orders."

Sometimes, you wish these men in 141 weren't such gentlemen. Captain Price, upon observation during the past week, acted like a good ol' father who came back from the convenience store to get milk and strawberry ice cream instead of the bourbon his sons forced him to buy.

Johnny was quick to vibe with, loud and noisy, and funny. Bright as the sun and puppy eyes. Kyle was easy to get along with as well, he was calm and gentle, but was mostly dragged into Soap’s nonsense which made him a bit violent when annoyed. Then, there was Simon. The man barely says a word and when he does, it was mostly snarky, smartass comments, and he appears and disappears like his sobriquet all the fucking time, and seemed to be cool and collected.

But you had heard enough stories to know these guys were more than that.

So, sometimes you wish these men weren't gentlemen—excluding the Captain, he can continue being the gentleman of all gentlemen for all you care—because surely when a girl clung onto a guy like this, they'd feel something. Anything. And then, they'd be bewitched, both body and soul. Or maybe, you had just read too much smut and fanfiction and those things just don't fucking happen in real life.

Soap’s chest felt good, though. And his abs and his hands on your waist. Hallelujah.

Your lips puckered. "Roger that." You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he leaned down, still holding you and carefully placing you down to your feet.

You blinked at the unexpected gesture. You were sure he'd just drop you down and push you away from him because even though they could be gentlemen, they still had limits and boundaries.

You couldn't help but grin. "Thank you, sir!" You beamed, patting his shoulder, before turning your back towards Ghost. "Now if you will, Lt. Please, drag me again, so I won't have to walk anymore."

Johnny chuckled and shook his head. Maybe, he was starting to get used to your shenanigans.

Simon huffed and rolled his eyes, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Walk, soldier."

"Eh, come on!"

"No."

The other rookies were already in the room when you three arrived and the lively atmosphere quickly faded as well. Johnny guided you to stand with the rest of the newcomers and joined Simon in front, who had already begun speaking.

Based on his tone, he didn’t like what he was doing, even for a bit.

Both guys on your left and right shot a glance at you. Scanning you from your hair that was neatly combed back, hairpins keeping the locks that didn’t want to stay in place, the shirt and shorts you changed into for physical training, and down to your legs. They gazed back up to your face again, looking so pure and innocent, if not for those chapped lips and bloody eyebags. The face of someone who totally wouldn’t commit a single crime. So, why the fuck did you have an ankle monitor?!

The guy on the left moved away from you. There was no good in associating himself with a criminal after all.

The guy on the right, well, he grinned and turned to you as soon as Ghost stopped talking, extending his hand to you. “Want to partner up with me?”

You look at the guy. Tall, appeared to be around your age, but a bit scrawny. Maybe, with more training, he’d be as big as the Lieutenant. But seriously, you had a tough luck. You were planning on grabbing a skinny rookie who looked like he just happened to get lost here. Because with an option like that, you could strangle him and blurt out some logic and luck. But other than this guy, the other rookies quickly scattered away from you.

You couldn’t even forfeit because your superiors would make your ears bleed and bend you in thousands of possible positions instead. And if you lose, they’ll make you run laps, which was the last thing you wanted to do in the morning.

You smiled and took a position. “Sure, why not?”

Well, maybe this extra was just taking pity on you. Nothing bad about that.

But now, you were too lazy to even think about shits and plans, and the guy who was having a field trip staring at your ass and legs.

Johnny elbowed Ghost and in a low voice, he asked, “Ye think she’ll be able to take that lad?”

“If she plays her cards right, possibly,” Simon replied and paused, sighing. “If she had the right cards.”

“If she can’t win against that one, then she won’t survive in the 141.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Simon raised a hand and shouted, “Start!”

For the next few bouts, you were repeatedly thrown over your partner's shoulder and twisted in a position not even Ghost had done to you, all the while looking blank and uninterested. You even had time to check your nails.

“So, what got you in prison?” asked the guy you partner up with, loud enough to make everyone else’s eyes turn toward your direction.

“Oh, brilliant,” Soap scowled and crossed his arms, “we got another condescending kid to teach a lesson.”

“What’re ya all just standin’ there?!” Ghost yelled, his loud voice booming in the gym. The others flinched and quickly shifted their attention back to their partners. Then, he raised a brow under his mask, confused as to why you remained on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling and panting heavily. Had you received too much beating that you became airheaded?

You sighed and pushed yourself up from the floor, getting up on your feet. The man didn’t make a move to attack you—dumbass, as if that made him look a gentleman after he threw you around like a ball—and so, you straightened up. “I guess, everyone thinks I’m a threat, huh?” you asked in a soft voice.

“Oh, did that come off as rude?” The guy scratched the back of his neck and laughed as if that would end that all. But he knew, he had already gotten people’s attention.

“Hey!” Soap approached them, glaring between you and the boy. The softness that you had seen in his pretty eyes earlier was long gone. “If you two don’t move your asses, you can go run outside now.”

“Ah, sorry, sir, it’s just . . . I guess, it’s time to speak of my case if it’ll make others more comfortable around me. “ You paused and sighed. Soap kept silent as he watched you square up and lift your chin. “My ex, he framed me for his murder. I couldn’t do anything about it, because he knew someone in the court. I . . .” You sniffed, looked down at the ankle monitor, and blinked rapidly.

Oh, shit, was all Johnny could think and glanced over his shoulder to look at the Lieutenant. She’s innocent, after all.

Ghost could only meet Soap’s gaze, before shifting his gaze on you.

On the other hand, everyone else in the room was staring at you, contemplating, feeling guilty about the story they heard.

“Damn, are you alright?” the guy put a hand on your shoulder, which makes you look up.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You smiled and put a hand on his arm. “If that makes you a bit comfortable around me now, I’m glad . . .”

The guy grinned. “I’m glad, too—”

“You’re a fool.” You drove your knee on his crotch with all your might and repeatedly without hesitation.

Johnny’s mouth dropped and his eyes widened, almost looking like they were going to pop out of their sockets. While, an unusual grimace appeared on Ghost’s face, making him thankful for his mask.

You grinned so wide and cackled.

You did not have the right cards. You had a wild card.

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