#she said no guests!! have some fucking decorum!!

[sydneys-adamu]

rlly carmy. rlly. ur just gonna desperately ask your wife what’s wrong and watch her walk completely out of the room when she doesn’t tell u? literally twist ur whole body specifically to watch her walk out?? right in front of your pretend girlfriend?? in front of my salad???

30 years no parole someone eat the key

[zapreportsblog]

❝army of ivarrsons❞

✭ pairing : ivar the boneless x reader

✭ fandom : vikings

✭ summary : ivar has always thought of himself to be a failure of a man, his legs did not work like an normal man, his prick did not work. The only thing he was good for was being a prince and a warrior though he wasn’t all that good at being even those in his eyes, but then along came a woman. One so pure, so beautiful she looked to be a goddess amongst men. And with those sweet words she spoke “I will bare you many sons ivar the boneless.”

✭ authors note : I have requests closed as y’all seen but it’s only temporarily, haven’t really been up to writing and seeing as how I had many ideas in mind for stories I thought fuck it let’s try again

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the great hall of Ivar's family estate, illuminating the long wooden table laden with bread, cheese, and freshly caught fish. Ivar sat at the head of the table, his older brother Sigurd to his right. As usual, Sigurd couldn't resist testing his patience.

"Good morrow, brother," Sigurd teased, a wicked glint in his eye. "Have you finally learned how to eat without spilling half your breakfast on your tunic?"

Ivar clenched his jaw, determined to keep his composure. Their sibling rivalry had existed for as long as he could remember, and it showed no signs of waning. He forced a strained smile. "I'm making progress, Sigurd, unlike some."

Before the exchange could escalate further, the heavy wooden doors of the great hall swung open with a thunderous crash. A thrall, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, stumbled into the room. The hushed conversations ceased, and all eyes turned to the intruder.

Ivar rose from his seat, ready to reprimand the thrall for her lack of decorum, but before he could utter a word, she dropped to her knees, her head bowed low.

"Forgive me, my lords," the thrall panted, her voice trembling. "I bring urgent news."

Ivar exchanged puzzled glances with Sigurd. Urgent news was a rarity in their peaceful corner of the world. He gestured for the thrall to continue.

She raised her head, revealing wide, terrified eyes. "Freya herself has come and blessed us. She walks among us."

The words hung in the air like a spell, and a collective gasp swept through the hall. Ivar's skepticism wrestled with the growing sense of anticipation. Gods did not simply descend from the heavens to walk among mortals.

Before he could question the thrall further, the great hall erupted into chaos. The guests and servants rushed toward the entrance, shoving past each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse of the so-called Freya. Ivar, however, moved reluctantly through the crowd, his curiosity piqued despite his reservations.

And there she stood, in the center of the throng, an ethereal vision that defied belief. Freya, if that truly was her name, had luscious hair that billowed in the wind, eyes that seemed to hold both otherworldly wisdom and untold mysteries. Her face was mature but agelessly youthful, her features mirroring the very essence of a Viking legend. It was as if the stories of the gods themselves had come to life.

The hall was filled with awe-struck whispers as people fell to their knees, proclaiming that the gods had indeed come to pay them a visit.

Amidst the reverence, Freya's gaze found Ivar's, and she offered him a serene smile. A shiver ran down his spine as their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them.

"We have much to talk about," she said, her voice carrying a mysterious weight that left Ivar both uneasy and captivated.

As the crowd continued to kneel and worship the divine presence before them, Ivar couldn't help but wonder what secrets this so-called Freya held and how her arrival would reshape their world.

Ivar stood alongside his older brothers, Sigurd, Hvitserk, and Ubba, each of them caught between awe and skepticism as they gazed upon the enigmatic woman who claimed to be Freya. The hall had fallen into reverent silence, save for the murmurs of those who dared to question her divine presence.

"Are you truly the goddess Freya?" Sigurd finally ventured to ask, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Freya, or the woman who bore her name, smiled, but her response held an air of mystery. "My face holds many names, Freya may just be one of them."

The brothers exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of her cryptic words. It was Ubba who stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the ethereal figure before them. "Why have you come to bless us, then?" he inquired, his tone respectful but inquisitive. "If I may ask without sounding rude."

The woman, who had introduced herself as (Y/N), let out a melodic laugh that echoed through the hall. "Rude? Not at all, dear Ubba. You see, I am here for Ivar."

Ivar's heart skipped a beat as all eyes turned toward him. He had been prepared for many things this day, but not for such a direct and unsettling revelation. He struggled to find his voice. "For me?"

(Y/N) nodded, her enigmatic smile never faltering. "Yes, for you, Ivar. If you were to accept me into your home, I would bear you many healthy children."

The words hung in the air, pregnant with meaning and implications that Ivar could hardly fathom. The weight of her gaze bore down on him, as if she could see into the depths of his soul. It was a proposition unlike any other, one that would reshape not only his destiny but that of his family and people as well.

Sigurd couldn't suppress the unease that gnawed at his heart. He looked from his brothers to (Y/N), his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why him, and not one of us?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

(Y/N) met Sigurd's gaze with an unwavering serenity. "You are all favored by the gods," she began, her voice carrying an air of wisdom. "But Ivar, he is favored above all. The accomplishments you will face, the children you will bear into this world—they will be great, but not as great as his."

The revelation left Sigurd and his brothers exchanging troubled glances. It was a difficult truth to accept, that their destinies were preordained and that Ivar's path would surpass theirs. But even in the midst of their uncertainty, (Y/N) offered a glimpse of hope.

Ubba, ever the one to voice the unasked questions, spoke next. "If you are truly Freya," he began cautiously, "then how come you are here with us and not your husband, the Allfather? I do not wish to be rude, but you are married to Odin, are you not? Yet you speak of carrying my brothers' children."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes holding a mixture of fondness and sadness. "Odin and I have long since split," she explained. "But for the sake of the other gods, we remain faithful to one another—just not in the way one would think."

The brothers exchanged another set of glances, their minds trying to grasp the complexities of divine relationships and the implications of (Y/N)'s presence in their lives.

Amidst the questions and uncertainties, Ivar felt a wave of insecurity washing over him. He couldn't help but voice his doubt, his voice laden with self-deprecation. "You should choose one of my brothers or someone else," he said, his tone laced with a mix of humility and resignation. "They are able men and can do all the things a woman would need in a man. You don't deserve a cripple like me."

(Y/N) turned his head gently, making him meet her gaze once more. Her smile remained, unwavering. "But yet I chose you."

The words held a weight that Ivar struggled to comprehend. In that moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood the depths of the path that lay ahead, one where gods and mortals intertwined in ways he had never imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Ivar found himself giving in to the uncharted territory that (Y/N) had brought into his life. The same night they met, they wed an impromptu ceremony all of Kattegat’s members and held a extravagant feast of celebration.

Now, in the dimly lit chamber, amidst the cheers and laughter, the newlyweds were about to partake in the bedding ceremony. Ivar couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he apologized, his voice tremulous. "I'm not very good at this," he admitted, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

(Y/N) leaned in close, her eyes holding a comforting reassurance. "You'll do just fine," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "I've seen how your first time went, my dearest ivar. It is normal to be nervous, especially when it's not the one you truly want."

Ivar felt a surge of relief wash over him. Her understanding words eased his doubts, and he let himself surrender to the passion that simmered between them.

Throughout the night, their love-making was fervent, passionate, and filled with a longing that transcended mere physical desire. The hours blurred together, and the dawn found them entwined, their bodies and souls intimately connected.

The next morning, Ivar awoke with a grin that was unusually happy for the stoic prince. Ubba, his older brother, noticed the change in his demeanor and couldn't help but inquire, "Did something happen to Sigurd, brother?" He assumed that Ivar might have witnessed their brother's misfortune or a rejection.

Ivar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing of that sort, brother."

Not long after both brothers had been joined by Floki - a member close to their family especially their father and seen as another father figure to ivar, for breakfast, the trio exchanged casual conversation, and Ivar's newfound happiness was hard to conceal. In the midst of a seemingly mundane conversation about the weather, Ivar couldn't contain himself any longer.

"I must share some news," he declared, his voice ringing with confidence. "Last night, I performed well in bed. Every round, to the very end."

Ubba, caught off guard, nearly choked on his mead. Floki raised an eyebrow, intrigued but nevertheless proud by the sudden announcement. "Is that so, Ivar?"

While Ubba struggled to contain his astonishment, he managed to offer a hearty congratulations to his brother, even if a tinge of bitterness lingered. The doubts that had plagued Ivar, the assumptions made by his brothers, had all been dispelled in the passionate hours he had shared with (Y/N).

It had been just a week since Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, but the news that swept through the village was enough to send everyone into celebration. (Y/N), still affectionately referred to as Freya by the villagers, was pregnant with the heir of Ivar, the prince of Kattegat.

Upon hearing the news, Ivar wasted no time in throwing a grand feast to celebrate this momentous occasion. The great hall was adorned with banners and torches, and the long tables were laden with the finest foods and meads. It was a joyous occasion, and the entire village turned out to celebrate the impending arrival of their future leader.

Throughout the festivities, Ivar's attentiveness to his wife was unmistakable. He was by (Y/N)'s side at every turn, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them. If she desired a drink, he would fetch it for her or have a thrall pour it with haste. When she wanted more meat, he ensured her plate was overflowing with it. And when she complained of stiffness in her shoulders and back from the long hours of celebration, he was there to ease the tension, his strong hands working wonders on her weary muscles.

Everyone could see the happiness that (Y/N) brought into Ivar's life, and it was evident in every glance, every gesture, and every tender touch between them. Despite the brevity of their marriage, their connection was undeniable, and it had only grown stronger with the promise of a child.

As the night wore on, and the revelry continued, Ivar found himself in a state of contentment he had never known before. With (Y/N) by his side and the prospect of fatherhood on the horizon, he couldn't help but look to the future with hope and excitement. The people of Kattegat watched their prince with admiration, knowing that he was not only a formidable leader but also a devoted husband, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his heir.

The months had went by swiftly and soon the long-awaited day had arrived. The air in the room was filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as (Y/N) prepared to give birth to Ivar's heir. The labor had been long and exhausting, pushing (Y/N) to her limits, but she persevered with unwavering strength and determination. Ivar stood by her side, providing constant support and encouragement, never leaving her sight.

As the hours turned into eternity, the cries of pain echoed through the room. The midwife worked diligently, guiding (Y/N) through each contraction, offering words of comfort and reassurance. By her side, Ivar held her hand tightly, his eyes never leaving her face. He could see the strain etched upon her features but admired her resilience in the face of such intense pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the moment arrived. The cries of a newborn filled the room, and tears of relief streamed down (Y/N)'s face. Ivar's heart swelled with joy as he looked upon the tiny face of his firstborn son. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, as if the gods themselves had blessed this moment.

"I am truly blessed by the gods," Ivar whispered, his voice filled with awe. "For I have a wife, the fairest of them all - the goddess Freya herself - in my arms, with my firstborn son, an heir. I never thought I would find such happiness, but I am grateful that I have."

(Y/N) smiled weakly, her eyes shining with love and exhaustion. She reached out a trembling hand to touch Ivar's cheek, her touch filled with tenderness and gratitude. "And I am blessed to have you, my dearest Ivar," she whispered. "You have given me strength and love beyond measure."

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, overshadowed by the miracle of new life. Ivar and (Y/N) found solace in each other's arms, cherishing the precious gift they had been given.

The midwife gently placed the newborn in (Y/N)'s arms, and Ivar marveled at the sight. His heir, his legacy, lay peacefully in his mother's embrace. There was a newfound sense of purpose and responsibility that settled upon Ivar's broad shoulders.

As he looked upon his wife and son, Ivar knew that he would protect and cherish them with all his might. He, a warrior feared by many, had found his greatest joy in the form of his family. With a heart filled with love and gratitude, Ivar vowed to be the father his son deserved, and not the man his own father had been.

Six years had passed since the day Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, and in that time, Ivar had become a force to be reckoned with. At the age of twenty-four, he had accomplished more than he had ever dreamed of. He had conquered lands, brought riches to Kattegat, and solidified his reputation as a formidable leader.

But it wasn't just his conquests that defined his success; it was the growing family he had built with (Y/N) by his side. Their firstborn, Arvid, had been a source of immense pride for Ivar, carrying the weight of being the heir to the throne. Following Arvid, twin boys named Audun and Axel had joined their family.

Their blessings continued with the birth of a daughter, Astride, who brought a new kind of joy into their lives. And after Astride, more sons had followed: Ase, Bodil, Dane, Ebbe, Eir, and Inge, each one a testament to the love and connection between Ivar and (Y/N).

Now, with the passage of time, the couple found themselves on the brink of another exciting chapter in their lives. (Y/N) was expecting once more, and this time, they had received the news that they were to welcome another set of twins into their growing family.

The prospect of more children filled Ivar with a deep sense of pride and fulfillment. He had not only achieved great success in his endeavors but had also created a legacy that would continue to shape the future of Kattegat for generations to come. With (Y/N) by his side, he looked forward to the challenges and joys that lay ahead, knowing that their love and the family they had built together were the greatest treasures of all.

[axelsagewrites]

Daemon Targaryen*The Restaurant

Sugar Baby Series Part one of five, next parts linked at bottom

Pairing: Modern!Daemon x reader

Platonic: Cregan Stark, Sara Snow, Jace Velaryon

Summary: After a horrible night at work the reader finally gets some good news

Warnings: bitchy customers

Word count: 2370

Masterlist Here

Moving out was one of the best decisions you had made. Moving in with your best friend Sara Snow gave you the freedom you always craved but with one slight problem; being alive is fucking expensive.

Being a server was not as easy as many seemed to believe. You worked at the Dragons Den as a server which was the most exclusive restaurant in Kingslanding. Even to work there you needed connections.

Luckily for you Sara had managed to get a job as a host through her friend Jace, who is admittedly still denying his major crush on her, and lucky for you both the grandson of its owner, Rhaenys Velaryon. When a server position opened, she instantly referred you and Rhaenys, who interviews all her staff personally, seemed to take a liking to a girl trying to be independent.

You'd think working in a fancy place would mean the guests would have more decorum. However, you would be very wrong. It was as if rich people got off on causing problems for the staff. Dealing with their ridiculous requests was one thing but what was worse was when the Hightower’s came in. They seemed to get off on the fact they knew the owners, despite Rhaenys not really caring about their existence but not wanting to restart another family drama. Alicent always sent her food back at least twice while Otto constantly tried to wiggle down the bill despite constantly trying to flex his watch or car or whatever else you pretended to care about.

When you walked in the restaurant tonight the sorry look Sara gave you from the host stand made you internally groan. "Is it seriously my turn again?" you asked her as you clocked in at the tablet at the host stand. 

"Aly had them last time and Cregan is one write up from being fired and I cannot risk that," you loved Sara's half-brother, you really did, but if he skipped his turn one more time you were ready to fight him in all his 6ft jacked glory. "C’mon do it for me," Sara said, batting her eyelashes dramatically at you. 

"Ugh fine," you groaned as you tied your hair up, the lobby currently empty thankfully, "How many of them and when?" 

"4 of them at 6.30," Sara grinned at you as you finished getting ready and putting your apron on, "Not sure who's coming with them, but it was made under Alicent so only one way to find out," 

The beginning of your shift was normal, peaceful even. Your first three tables had all left a 25% tip, so you were already perky to say the least. That was until you watched Sara walk your worst customers over. Alicent had brought her husband, for once, as well as her stepdaughter of the same age. Rhaenyra had always been lovely to you, but it was rare for her to come at the same time as Alicent. However, what really caught you off guard was the newest silver haired man. 

You knew practically all the customers by name from the sheer amount of gossip you got from Sara who seemed to know everything about everyone. However, you had never seen him before, but your eyes were locked on him as he slinked across the restaurant, his lilac eyes scanning the room. Definitely a Targaryen you thought. You were knocked out your thoughts when you accidentally met his eye and turned away quickly, pretending to look for menus as you disguised your blush. 

“He’s smirking btw,” Cregan chuckled at you from beside you at the server station and you quickly hit him with a menu before turning to go to your demise.

"Hi, my names (Y/N) and I'll be your server tonight," you greeted as you placed down the menus. "Can I get any of you started with drinks before I leave you to look over the menu?" 

"Could I have-" Rhaenyra had started but was cut off by Alicent who finally looked up from her phone. 

“This tables dirty,”

The fun begins. “I can move you to another- “

“No this will do,” she cut you off, “took that long to be seated in the first place,” you saw how Rhaenyra shrunk in her chair and how Viserys refused to meet your eye, “Water for the table, lemon, a whole lemon sliced not just two silly little slices,”

“Of course, ma’am,” you said, pretending to jot down the nonsense she always sprouted.

The only one not sulking or avoiding your gaze was the mystery man who was glaring at the oblivious bitch, “I’ll have the salmon, whole potatoes not mashed, peas not green beans, extra sauce but hold the lemon on the fish,” she said her words quicker than the speed of light but luckily the kitchen had pinned her ridiculous order to the board so you just scrawled ‘that bitch’ on the note pad which had become the code for her. “He’ll have the duck, hold the sauce,”

“But I like the sauce,” Viserys finally piped up however quickly looked away like a scorned child.

“It’s bad for you heart,” she glared at him before turning back to you, “Well aren’t you gonna ask them what they want?” she said gesturing to the embarrassed Rhaenyra.

You nodded and turned to her as she gave you her order with an apologetic smile. Finally, you turned to the mystery man, finally getting to have a good look at his perfectly sculped cheek bones and that intoxicating smirk he wore, “I’ll have the alfredo; however, it comes,” he said, shooting Alicent a smile when he ordered. “Thanks, dear,” when he looked back at you, you struggled not to blush as you wrote the order.

“Okay guys I’ll be right back with your- “

“Why don’t we have any water?” Alicent cut you off and it took everything in you not to force feed her your notepad.

Forcing a smile onto your face, “I’m just about to get it- “

“Okay then,” she rolled her eyes and turned back to her phone.

As you turned to leave you heard the man speak again, “She’s not a magician you know?” the man’s voice said but you had no time to eavesdrop as you had to rush about to do the hundred other jobs your manager demanded you to.

Aemond used to be a cool guy, even if at times up tight, when he was just a bartender. However, when he got promoted to manager through total skill, totally not complete nepotism, a stick got shoved so far up his ass he was now able to taste it. “Quick steps, quick cheques,” he quipped as you rushed past, sweat practically dripping down your forehead with your now full section.

The dinner rush was hitting hard tonight and even Cregan, the phone addict he was, hadn’t checked his phone in the past couple of hours. However, he had managed to tell you as you grabbed food from the pass that the man at your table was Daemon Targaryen and he had just relocated back to Kingslanding after running the Targaryen headquarters in Riverrun. You weren’t exactly sure what it was the Targaryen did, something money related or maybe tax, but whatever it was it made them the richest family in Kingslanding, something Alicent and her father were quick to gloat about.

The rush seemed to give you the superpower to carry all four of the desserts at once to your most demanding table. “Who had the cherry tart and ice cream?” you asked, desperately trying to not crumple from exhaustion.

“Not shocked you don’t remember considering it’s been 20 minutes,” Alicent grumbled.

Tears threatened to prick your eyes, but you refused to give her the satisfaction, “Sorry the kitchens backed up tonight- “

“I don’t need your excuses,” she cut you off.

You took a deep breath before asking again, “The cherry tart?” you asked, your arm starting to waver.

“That’s mine,” Rhaenyra said, and you sighed in relief as you sat it down.

Then the same thing happened with the chocolate cake which Viserys refused to claim till your third ask. “Cheesecake?” you said for the third time.

“That’s hers,” Daemon snapped as he took the plate out of your hand and thrust it in front of Alicent who was blissfully unaware on her phone. “Then that’s mine, sorry bout that love,” Daemon said as he took his plate out your hand.

“Its alright sir,” you said, desperately trying to stay composed. “Enjoy,” you said before rushing off, picking up a check from a table that had just left and heading to the server stand to press it into the computer.

When you opened the check your eyes screwed shut, tears seconds from falling as you punched in the tip. $12 on a check of $198. You rushed to press the numbers before practically running into the kitchen.

Cregan was leaning in the corner, practically inhaling some stolen fries when he looked up to see tears falling from your eyes, “What’s up?” he asked as he rushed over to you, fries in hand, “Fry?” he asked holding out the plate.

“12 bucks on nearly 200,” you spat, shoving the salty fries in your mouth, “I’m barely gonna break even by the time I tip out tonight my first tables were great but everyone’s being so cheap tonight,”

“Time to lean- “you heard a smug voice perk up from behind you. your eyes screwed up as you tried not to swing on Aemond as he spoke, “-time to clean. Don’t you have a table?” Aemond said as he went to stand beside Cregan when his face fell, “Are you okay?” he asked, his managerial face finally falling.

“Just fucking peachy,” you spat as you grabbed another fry before rushing out of the kitchen leaving the cooks to yell at the new manager in your leave.

You had two tables left: an old couple and the Targaryen’s. The old couple left you thirty on 180 which while not great was better than twelve bucks however at least they didn’t bark orders at you all night. As you waited for Alicent to wave you over you debated whether this job was worth it all. The clicking across the restaurant made you lean over to the not worth it side, but you weren’t quite ready to quit yet, rent was due tomorrow and who knows maybe Daemon was a generous tipper and would get the bill.

When you dropped the cheque at their table your stomach dropped when you saw Alicent throw it at Viserys. When you went to punch it in you genuinely considered how much you could withdraw from the ATM before he caught you. $9.21 on a $289.79 tab.

“Night folks,” you smiled as you dropped the check back, Aemond watching you from the kitchen window.

“Did you get your tip?” Viserys asked as he slipped the card back in his pocket.

How much jail time would you get for slapping a millionaire, you wondered. “Yes. Thanks sir,” you said with your fakest smile which oddly seemed to leave him satisfied before you rushed off.

“Can I go?” you asked Aemond through the kitchen window. He tried to stutter out a no but when he saw your eyes water he finally agreed, and you rushed to clock out and thrust money into the tip out jar. You were left with a whole $20 bucks from that 10-hour shift. Plus, your hourly wages which were honestly just laughable despite how high end this place was.

Sara tried to ask how it had gone but you brushed her off as you grabbed your jacket from the coat check and practically ran for the door when you saw the Targaryen’s approaching. The air was cold against your skin, your cheap jacket doing little for you as winter approached. You walked a few paces down from the restaurant to the bus stop and crouched down, leaning against the wall to catch your breath waiting for the bus which was always late.

There was no one around to see your tears fall so you let them. After all they were the only warm thing around. When you heard footsteps, you quickly whipped them off your cheeks and stood up, not about to get mugged as well as this night went. “What did he tip you?” your head whipped round to meet the sorry eyes of Daemon Targaryen.

“Its alright,” you tried to say but he insisted, stepping closer. You looked up at him, his face perfectly lit by the moon and streetlamps, “9 bucks,” you half laughed, your eyes rolling as you turned away. “It doesn’t matter. Some nights are just shit,”

You heard him ruffling in his pockets but didn’t turn around. Being murdered by a millionaire might be fun you thought. “Here,” you turned round at his voice, but he was already pressing the money into your hand. “You don’t deserve this shit,” he said, his hand still holding yours, “Get out you still will,”

“There’s nothing else for me to do,” you said, keeping your hand in his larger one. If not for your tears this might have been a cute moment.

“I doubt that doll,” he said before looking up the street, “That your bus?” he asked, and you nodded. “Get home safe love. And keep that to yourself alright?” he said, and you nodded as you slipped the cash into your pocket without counting.

“See you around?” you asked as the bus pulled up.

“Definitely,” he nodded before turning to where a sleek black car began honking at him, “Gotta goes love. Night,”

“Night,” you said despite him already being away. you quickly got on the bus, paying from your lousy tip money before taking a seat up the back of the bus.

You quietly took out the money from your pocket to count it, your eyes scanning the bus to make sure no one had moved to sit further up the bus as you counted, “Holy shit,” you whispered under your breath as you counted the bills. 3-hundred-dollar bills and a slip of paper with a number on the back.

Call me when you quit – D.T.

Part two here - Part three here

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila

[lucienarcheron]

Instincts - II [ Elucien ]

Part One | My darling Marci @foxfairyreads​was kind enough to draw some art to accompany the fanfiction so please check it out here! It’s our girl Elain testing Lucien’s will to live by just breathing 😌

This part definitely took on a much more humorous route so enjoy my favorite awkward idiot mates <3 |

Jurian and Vassa watched him quietly from across the living room.

Lucien had simply walked into their manor and slid into the chair he was currently still occupying in silence, just staring at the ceiling.

It had been over an hour.

“Do you think he’s having a mental breakdown?” Jurian whispered to Vassa who shrugged.

“He did spend the night there. Do you think something happened?” she whispered back, and it was Jurian’s turn to shrug.  

Looking at each other once more, the two mortals-but-not-quite-mortals picked up their chairs and moved closer to him.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Jurian called out and Vassa jabbed him with her elbow, shooting him a glare. 

“Lucien, did something happen?” Vassa asked more gently.

It took a moment but Lucien finally looked at his two friends, his face matching his hair, and said hoarsely, “Pants.”

His two friends blinked. 

“Do you...need new ones?” Jurian asked after a moment. Vassa shot him an exasperated look but Jurian only held out his hands with a shrug.

“What’s wrong, Lucien?” Vassa asked calmly. “Are you okay?”

It took Lucien another moment before he ran a hand down his flushed face and croaked out, “No.”

“Well spit it out, we’re not getting any younger here.” Jurian said with a scoff and Vassa jabbed him again.

“For once, can you have some decorum?” Vassa snapped. “He’s clearly going through something.”

“I’m trying to annoy him into saying something! It’s been over an hour and he’s like the living dead then the only word he says is ‘pants’!” Jurian replied. “What am I supposed to think?”

“If you’d just shut your big fat mouth for two seconds he might be willing to say something —”

“You’re the one who is arguing with me instead of asking him —”

“I did ask him but you won’t give him a chance to answer, you big buffoon —”

Lucien heard them but he wasn’t really listening. The shopping trip of woe flashed through his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and then finally wheezed out, 

“Elain.”

His friends froze.

“What about her?” Vassa asked carefully, her tone hushed in excitement.

"If you’ve somehow managed to have your pants off in front of her after two years of this odd limbo, we really need to talk tactics.” Jurian said, shooting him a look. “Did she see you in all your naked glory and faint from lust?” 

A heartbeat of silence passed. 

“Jurian.” Lucien said and finally looked at his friend as Vassa bit back a smile.

“Yes?” his friend asked with a grin.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Vassa snorted as Jurian scowled. 

“Agreed.” she said, patting him on the thigh then focusing on Lucien. “What happened with Elain? Is that why you stayed there last night and all day today?”

Lucien’s eyes went back to the ceiling, seeing but not seeing. 

“So I went to see Feyre and Nyx.” he began.

“Yes, you said.” Vassa urged on, scooting closer.

“I stayed for dinner. She ignored me as usual.”

“Sounds about right.” Jurian said and Vassa smacked Jurian’s knee.

“I went up to my guest room. I was getting ready to relax and read a book.”

“As one does.” Vassa commented and Jurian rolled his eyes.

“Then I — I felt her get distressed.” Lucien says quietly, his eyes still on the ceiling. “I was in front of her room before I even realized and then heard her sobbing...I thought it was because of me.”

“If he doesn’t get to the point quicker, I’m going to punch him in the face.” Jurian mumbled to Vassa and she shoved him, sucking her teeth. 

Turning to Lucien, she gently said, “Lucien, why would she be sobbing because of you? You haven’t done anything to her.”

Lucien paused and turned to look at Vassa. “You know why I would think that.” he said then his gaze went back to the ceiling. “But it wasn’t like that. She was really upset over a book.”

Jurian opened his mouth but Vassa pinched him, jerking her chin to the now small smile on Lucien’s face. 

“A book?” she asked, coaxing him and Lucien closed his eyes, the smile widening slightly.

“Her favorite fictional character died and she was planning to murder her sister.”

Vassa blinked and Jurian shot her an exasperated look.

“We — we talked.” Lucien continued. “And then... it ended with plans for me to teach her basic self-defense.”

“Oh?” Vassa asked and shared an excited look with Jurian who was nodding along.

“But before we train,” Lucien began and his expression tightened, heat rising through his body. He swallowed then continued, “She needed to buy pants. She’s never worn pants before.”

A beat of silence passed then Jurian snorted. “Now it makes sense.”

But Vassa smiled and moved even closer to Lucien. “Did you take her to buy pants?”

“So many pants.” he whispered, almost in agony. “She tried on so many.”

And indeed, Elain had. 

The two had left the house separately, agreeing that there was no need to let anyone know they would be going out together. No need at all. It would be completely accidental if they happen to meet in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. 

Lucien had been thrilled at this notion — if only due to the fact that when he met up with Elain and found her smiling at him, he was close to dissolving into a puddle of mush. 

“So where do we start?” Elain asked him, cautious optimism radiating off her as she walked next to him. She was dressed in a lovely soft orange dress, fitted to her figure in a way that Lucien couldn’t bear to look at for too long. He wondered if she realized how tempting the matching ribbon in her hair would be to him. If he didn’t watch himself, that simple ribbon would bring him to his knees. 

“I scoped out a few stores that have a variety you can choose from.” he said with a small smile. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted them fitted or a little looser or —” Lucien waved a hand, cutting himself off as his face heated.  “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

Elain smiled, roses blooming on her cheeks. “I’m not sure either. I guess we’ll see when we get there.”

“I guess so.” he said and the two walked quietly. 

An internal war had broken out within his mind as they walked, both shy, both stealing glances at each other and looking away.

Should he ask her something? Should he let her ask the questions? Should he flirt? Lucien stole a glance at her again to find her watching him curiously. 

“What’s wrong?”

Elain shook her head, still watching him. “When did you have time to scope anything out?”

“I’m an early riser.” he said with a small laugh. “Besides, I’ve really enjoyed exploring the city each time I visit so I know my way around.”

Elain sighed happily as she looked around. “It is a wonderful place to be.”

“I sense a ‘but’ there.”

“But...it’s only one place.” she said with a chuckle. “I’ve been here for two years and while I’ve enjoyed every moment...the world is so much bigger.”

Lucien nodded knowingly. “That it is. I think you would enjoy visiting the other courts if given the chance.”

“You’ve spent time in all of them, haven’t you?” she asked curiously. “As emissary?”

He was pleasantly surprised by the question and wondered exactly how she knew this. “Yes. Each court is fascinating in its own way but the ones I appreciate the most are Day and Dawn. They’re both very beautiful and very welcoming.”

“I would love to visit those courts. All of them actually! But I know Helion is a good friend to this court so I would like to start there at least.” 

“He’s a good male too.” Lucien agreed and asked his next question because it was Helion they were talking about. “I’m sure he’s flirted with you, hasn’t he? He’s one of the high lords that is very inappropriate, especially if he’s comfortable.”

“Would it make you jealous?” she teased then her face quickly fell. “Not in a bad way — I’m just kidding —”

But Lucien chuckled and waved her off.  “No one can really be jealous of Helion flirting. He flirts with everybody.”

He felt her relax at his response and watched as she looped a strand of hair between her fingers. “He hasn’t — just so you know. But he’s been very kind whenever we meet.”

“Even if he did, you don’t owe me an explanation.” he said with a shrug, and Elain’s brows furrowed in interest then she nodded.

A moment of silence passed again between them, instinct drawing them closer to each other as they walked.  

Giving him a small coy smile, Elain raised a brow. “Has he flirted with you?”

And Lucien chuckled, shooting her a grin. “Why? You jealous?”

She laughed softly. “If he flirted with you and not with me, maybe. More offended really.”

Lucien laughed then shook his head. “Interestingly enough, no. He’s always been extremely polite with me so I think he has a gut feeling we wouldn’t be his type or too into it.”

Elain chuckled softly then brushing a hair from her face, she gazed up at him curiously. “You’ve also traveled outside of Prythian, right?” she asked, her gaze curious again. “What’s been your favorite place to see?”

“That’s so hard to answer.” he said with a small laugh but she smiled at him and her elbow brushed his so he continued, “The continent was very interesting because it was so different. It had a lot of sights that I’ve never seen before.” 

“I’ve always wanted to see the flowers in the continent.” she said, and Lucien had to breathe through his nose to calm himself at the slight pout of her lips. “Did you happen to notice the flowers there?”

Lucien debated how honest he was to be with her. Rubbing his neck, he gave her a sheepish smile. 

“I...I did.” he answered, going with his gut that she’d appreciate the truth. Elain tilted her head to observe him. “After Feyre told me about your love of gardening, I made it a point to pay attention. In case you ever asked.”

“Oh.” 

And that dreaded silence followed again. Lucien winced slightly then blew out a breath. He would attempt to flirt instead.

“Then you went and ignored me like I was diseased for two years.” he continued dryly, and Elain made a choking sound next to him.

“When you say it like that —”

 “ — So I went out of my way to step on any flowers that came in my path after that.” he added with a shrug and Elain gasped, stopping him with a death grip on his arm.

“You did not!”

Lucien’s lips twitched as she glared at him, but he was also keeping an eye on the hand now touching his. “I may have.”

“You did not crush flowers because of me.”

“Kicked around the dirt a little too. Might have killed a few innocent ladybugs.”

Elain paused, squinting at him in outrage then shoved him with a scoff when he started laughing. 

“You’re annoying.” she mumbled though there was no heat in the words as she flushed. 

“Thank you.” he replied, and half bowed mockingly. “I’ve been told it’s one of my best traits.”

“You should redefine the word best, flower murderer.”  

Lucien put a hand over his heart. “I take offense to that. I merely put them to rest. They are now resting in peace.”

She snorted, shooting him an amused look. “Yeah, if you consider trampling them to death resting in peace.” she said then mumbled, “Plant killer.”  

If Lucien didn’t know any better, he’d say she was flirting right back. 

So he decided to be honest again. 

“Actually…” he began and paused in front of a shop, Elain stopping with him. “I had gotten you flower seeds from the continent because I thought you would be interested.” 

Elain’s fingers fisted the sides of her dress as she swallowed, glancing down at her feet then back up at him. “You — you did?”

“Yes.” he replied and again, gave a sheepish shrug. “But you didn’t seem to particularly enjoy my other gifts and I didn’t want to make flowers a negative thing for you as well.”

Time seemed to pause between them as Lucien watched her expression shift through the different emotions she was practically shouting at him. Doubt seeped in. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have been this honest. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed his luck. 

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable —”

“I don’t mind your gifts.” she said quietly, effectively muting Lucien.

His heart went haywire. He probably needed to sit down. 

“I see.”

“I still have them all. And your jacket.” she added, twisting the fabric of her dress. She looked up at Lucien with flushed cheeks then looked down again. “I — I have them in my closet.”

Lucien swallowed, his own face heating. “Well.” he started and rubbed his neck again. “That’s nice you didn’t toss them into the river. I’m sure it would’ve confused the fishes.”

Elain huffed out a laugh, wringing her hands, and he felt her embarrassment radiating off of her. “You’ve been thoughtful.” she said quietly. “I have not.”

Lucien’s expression softened and he gently touched her elbow. “I understand why it has been the way it is.” he said quietly. “But I’m glad you kept them.”

“Me too.” she said softly and gave him a small smile that Lucien returned. 

Letting himself memorize her features in the few seconds he had before it turned creepy, he tried not to flush too terribly. Clearing his throat, he gestured with his hand to the store they were standing in front of.

“Here we are.” he declared. “I figured we can start here then go whenever else you wanted if you didn’t like the selection.”

“I’m sure I will!” she said and smiled widely as she looked into the shop window. “You’re always so well-dressed. I trust your taste.”

Lucien blanked out.

“You’ve — “he cleared his throat, cursing himself for the heat coursing through his body. “Thank you.”

She’d noticed. He’d have to be extra mindful of what he wore next.

Elain smiled at him knowingly and went ahead, stepping into the shop.

Lucien took a moment to calm himself. “Get a grip. Get a grip. Get a grip.” he mumbled. She had just complimented him. It wasn’t a big deal. They were just words.

Words he never thought he’d hear in over two years. They had graduated from full sentences to full conversations to compliments in one day. He prayed to whatever gods were listening that he survived this trip.

Taking a deep breath, Lucien followed Elain into the shop and became immediately aware of her surprise when the shop owner greeted him warmly.

“Lucien! It’s good to see you.”

“Seraphine, a pleasure to see you as well.” he said with a smile then gestured to Elain. “I’m sure you know who this is, of course. Elain, this is Seraphine — Seraphine, Elain. My ma — this is Elain!”

Lucien flushed and avoided Elain’s gaze, staring directly at Seraphine whose knowing look was too knowing for his own liking.

“Yes, of course.” Seraphine said, smiling at Elain. “How can I not know our High Lady’s sister whose green thumb has blessed our city.” 

“That’s very kind of you to say.” Elain replied, her cheeks blooming. “It’s not much. I’ve been enjoying it.”

“As those who you work with enjoy it as well!” Seraphine boomed and Lucien smiled when Elain beamed under the compliment. “How can I help you both?” 

Elain looked to Lucien with a shy smile, and he gestured for her to go ahead, his smile growing. 

With a widening grin, Elain leaned against the counter and spoke in an excited hush, “I would like to buy some pants.”

Lucien bit his lip to hold back his chuckle at the childish excitement emitting from her, but Seraphine laughed. 

“I wish all my customers were this excited to buy pants.” she said, and Elain laughed. “What kind are you looking for?” 

“Well, I’ve never worn any before so...all kinds?” she replied then looked to Lucien again with a small smile. “Lucien is going to help me learn some self-defense so we can start with something to suit that.”

“Ah, comfy training pants it is then. Come with me! I can show you a few different ones and see what you like.” she said with a smile and started moving. “Shirts too, I’m assuming?”

“Yes, please.” Elain replied, following her then turned back to Lucien. “Nothing to get in the way though, right?” 

“Right. Seraphine knows which are most comfortable. You’re in good hands.” he said, his smile gentle. “I’ll be here whenever you’re done.”

Elain gave him an excited thumbs up then followed Seraphine who was very enthusiastic about providing her with options. Lucien watched with raised brows as the selection quickly went from training clothing to pants and shirts of all colors and styles. 

“Try on the training ones first.” he called out when Elain ducked into the changing room. “Then you can see the others.”

Her hand poked out from behind the curtain with another thumbs up and Lucien chuckled as Seraphine slid up next to him.

“So.”

And the one word had Lucien rolling his eyes. “Not a word. To anyone.”

The shop owner laughed and then patted him on the shoulder. “I’m honored you brought your mate to me for her pants expedition.” she said then winked at Lucien. “I think you’ll like the choices.”

Lucien groaned softly as Seraphine walked away with another laugh. He had successfully avoided actively thinking about Elain in pants all morning. He did not need to think about her in tight pants. Or loose pants. Or no pants as she was currently undressing in the changing room.  He squeezed his eyes shut and thumped his fist to his forehead. Of course, Seraphine would make fun. Of course. Everyone who knew them would. 

“Get a grip.” he mumbled again. How many females had he seen in pants? This shouldn’t be a big deal.

But she’s your beautiful mate. And you will get the privilege of seeing her in pants for the first time before anyone else. 

“Get a grip.” he practically snarled at himself then quickly shook his head and cleared his throat. 

It would be fine.

But then the curtain shuffled and Lucien’s eyes snapped over to where Elain stood, hesitating and half hidden. 

“I feel...a little exposed.” she mumbled with an embarrassed smile and Lucien’s expression softened.

“Do you want me to look away? You can just tell me how you feel in it. Seraphine has a good eye too.”

“No!” she quickly said then flushed. “I want your opinion.”

She had no idea the cord she had struck by saying that and Lucien tried not to tremble because of it, so he gave her an encouraging smile.

“I’m sure it looks great. Let’s see it.” 

Elain stepped out, dressed in dark, fitted training pants alongside a matching fitted shirt that stopped at her hips, and every single part of Lucien’s mind and body short-circuited.

“What do you think?” she asked with a shy smile, her hands fidgeting with the edge of the shirt. 

Lucien tried not to gape at her, his brain going faster than his mouth ever hoped to catch up. He wasn’t sure where to look exactly. Her curves that were usually delicately noticeable in dresses but were now very accentuated in the tight material? Her legs? Her chest?

The shirt hugged the swell of her breasts in a way that Lucien knew with absolute certainty, that he was being punished. That in this moment of agony, he was truly being tortured. Which was exactly what this shopping trip had turned into with this one-stop: torture.

But then Elain turned slowly. 

“I like that they are fitted but don’t feel too tight.” she was saying but Lucien’s eyes had zeroed in on her plump ass that he had never seen in this light before and it was just too much for him.

This was too much. This trip was clearly a mistake. He desperately needed to sit down.

Seraphine had slid up next to Lucien silently. “You better curb that scent of yours before you scare off my customers, you hormonal nitwit.” she mumbled out of the corner of her mouth then smiled at Elain. “It looks great! What do you think, Lucien?”

Lucien swallowed as Elain turned to him with an expectant smile. “I — I — It looks great.” he wheezed out and Elain’s brows furrowed. He cleared his throat, his face flushed. “Pants suit you. As long as you’re comfortable moving around for basic training, it’ll work out perfectly.”

“Why don't you try squatting in them, Elain? Make sure you can move around comfortably. See how you feel!” Seraphine asked with a coy smile, her gaze on Lucien’s face. 

Panic coursed through Lucien at Elain’s excited “Okay!” because if there was another thing he didn’t need at this particular moment, it was her squatting in those tight pants.

“I don’t think that’s —” and the sentence died in his throat as Elain did a squat then raised again, only to squat once more.

Lucien’s knees nearly buckled under him. He was a drowning man — a starving one — who had very carefully locked away his hope of a relationship with his mate for years. This was all too much for him. 

Her conversation. Her smiles. Her little laugh.

Her pants.

She had been beautiful in dresses. Absolutely breathtaking. 

But in fitted clothing? She would be his undoing. 

“It still feels good! It doesn’t make me feel like I can’t move.” she said and aimed to do it again, but Lucien held up a hand. 

“Don’t — “he croaked. “Please don’t do that again.”

Elain blinked in confusion then her expression cleared as she straightened, her own face reddening. 

“Oh.” she said quietly then giggled. “Sorry.”

Lucien shook his head, closing his eyes momentarily then opened them to give her an apologetic smile. “You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s fine.” he said hoarsely. “The important thing is that you like them. Do you?”

“I do.” she said with a smile and turned to Seraphine. “I think three sets of these in different colors should be good.”

The shop owner nodded with a grin. “I’ll get them ready for you.” she said then gestured to the changing room as she walked away. “Why don’t you try on some other outfits? Lucien should see you in the different ones we picked out.”

“Should I?” Elain asked with a coy smile, glancing at Lucien. “Are you alright with seeing other styles?”

“Gods, you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” he mumbled, and Elain’s laugh had his heart swelling three sizes. 

She shrugged innocently. “I’m just trying on some clothes.” 

Lucien shook his head, laughing softly even as his face heated, his fingers unbuttoning the top of his tunic as he pulled at it to give himself some air. “We’ll see how cheeky you are when we start training and you can barely catch your breath.”

But Elain was staring at him now, her flushed cheeks giving away where her eyes had zeroed in on. Lucien smirked.

“Do you want me to try on some clothes too, Elain?”

She blinked then pursed her lips. “No.” she said quickly. “I have more to show you. Take a seat.”

“Bossy.” he muttered and his smile turned into a wicked grin when she flashed him a smirk over her shoulder, walking back to the changing room. Lucien took the time to truly admire her figure from behind before she slipped behind the curtain. Taking a deep breath, he finally slid into the waiting area chair. 

They were playing games now, it seemed. 

And once Elain stepped out in the second outfit choice, Lucien found out very quickly exactly how dirty Elain liked to play her games.

Making a noise similar to a wounded animal, Lucien sank lower in his chair as he finished recalling exactly how Elain sauntered out of the changing room in another tight pair of pants. And several more after that. With shirts that hugged her body like paint. 

A moment of silence followed.

“Do you need a moment of privacy to adjust your pants, Lucien?” Jurian asked innocently and Vassa finally burst out laughing. 

Without looking at either of them, he flipped them both off. 

“But this is so good!” Vassa said with a grin. “She’s flirting with you! She’s having fun.”

“I know.” Lucien replied, smiling tightly. “But I’m unsure of how I’m supposed to handle training with her in those fucken pants.” 

Jurian rolled his eyes at Vassa as Lucien let out another wounded animal noise.

“You wear some tight pants too.” Jurian suggested dryly and Vassa nodded eagerly with a laugh.

“With no shirt.” she added. “She won’t know what to do with you.”

Lucien chuckled and ran a hand over his face once more. “Buckle up, then. She wants to come train here — “

His friends gasped.

“Away from the Night Court?” Jurian asked with raised brows.

“You think they’ll let her?” Vassa asked, brows furrowed.

“I’d like to see anyone try to stop her.” Lucien said, his eyes flashing. “She decides where she wants to go and if that’s with me, I will not allow anyone to stop her.”

“Oof, those mate instincts really kicking in, huh?” Jurian said with a grin.

 Lucien spared him a glance then rolled his eyes. “Those mate instincts mean we will be on our best behavior.” He said then pointed threateningly at his friend. “Jurian, that specifically means you.”

“Yes.” Vassa agreed and patted his shoulder. “You need to bathe and then stay hidden. She doesn’t have to see you. Or smell you.”

“Agreed.” Lucien said immediately with a laugh and Jurian glared at them both.

“Rude.” He huffed, crossing his arms. “You’ll see. I’m going to charm her so well I’ll end up being her favorite by the end of the day.”

“Good luck with that.” Vassa said with a dry laugh. “I’m sure once she sees Lucien in his tight pants, she won’t be looking at anyone else.”

And Lucien grinned, thinking of the multiple cardiac arrests she had caused him today and the sweet, sweet agony of it all. “That, my friend, is the goal.”

It only seemed right he returned the favor. A little payback never hurt anybody.

[mrfancyfoot]

~WIP Wednesday~ Patchwork+

I've been working on a companion piece to Patchwork Plots to home a slightly different flavor of brain rot that has taken hold (I HAVE been working on Patchwork as well, it's just being difficult with a chapter split up and needs some cleaning bc the length got out of control). I read about Raphael's fucking jingle boots and self-insert friendfiction and cackled. The dynamic between him and Evie (that is, torturing Raphael) works far better than I first thought it would. It actually came about from writing an upcoming chapter for Patchwork and going, "Well, this is fun. >:] "

For the Raphael side of the tumblr fence (first of all, hello, I'm thrilled to be here), Evie's my AuDHD f!OC modern-girl-abducted-by-the-nautiloid who picked up a random spellbook that asked her if she wanted a fox tail+ears in exchange for some random spells and went "hell yeah!" So Raphael's favorite terms of endearment have changed a bit (context for the below). Patchwork's been extremely indulgent and ridiculous and this will continue with more of the same, though potentially somewhat darker (though Patchwork already has some darker undertones, so maybe just...more of the same). I've totally already written a chapter about the friendfiction.

I'm still working on a name for this fic and determining when I want to throw it on AO3 since it will branch off from the main fic in a few chapters, give or take.

First freebie drabble-chapter below! It's about shoes...and culture.

Raphael x Evie (f!OC)

Warnings: None Rating: G / SFW

“Why are you-?”

Raphael observed as, with much exasperation, the fox precariously balanced on one foot while prying off her shoe, then hopped to the other to repeat the action.

Footwear in hand and frown upon face - none too thrilled about being abruptly summoned again - she turned and padded her way on her toes to the entrance of the room and tucked them by the door.  Barefoot before him now, she crossed her arms.  “It’s rude to be in someone’s home with your shoes on,” she said as though it was a most obvious, plain as day explanation of behavior.

Raphael found himself speechless.

He wanted to chide her for the odd behavior - he’s clearly wearing shoes in his own home - but it’s a sensible rule of decorum that he now found himself wondering if he shouldn’t, himself, extend to more guests.

Irked by even the brief moment of internal conflict, he opted instead to ignore the interruption and carry on with their business.

“Now, then…”

[not-a-fever-dream]

The one thing I love about being behind with these is I have chapters to catch up on. These two just keep getting more adorable to me as I go on! Now, all my as I read commentary is kept under the cut!

These two playing footsie. I love it.

He ceased his ministrations and raised his eyebrow gently. “You okay, sweet girl?”

I’m completely in love with you, Bradley. “I’m okay,” you turned and kissed him softly, confusing him with the change of tone after you practically devoured him moments earlier.

I SCREAM.

“You want them to find us with your head between my legs?”

His eyes twinkled, flooding with mischief. “I love how you think I would be embarrassed by that.”

He is so gone. I love it.

It’s how he got the scar on his hip he named after you.

It was jagged and deep, and he loved it.

Like seriously gone

“You know, if I had a family to tell, I would have told them already,” and for a guy that was orphaned at 18, he looked awfully smug about it.

Going for the jugular I see. This convo is rough but needed. The way she folds though when he calls her his girlfriend.

Rooster concurred. “So, I’m not your pal,” he counted on his finger. “And I’m not your buddy… who is Bradley Bradshaw to you?”

“You’re everything,” you told him simply and he was. A fond smile crossed his face, and you thought maybe he was satisfied with your response.

Okay, well I melted, too.

“God, you’re hard work,” he playfully rolled his eyes. “Come on, let me fuck you senseless to celebrate this new arrangement,” in a true feat of strength, he stood and hoofed you over his brawny shoulder as you giggled all the way to the bedroom. Was hard to argue when he laid it out like that…

UGH PLEASE.

Annie was almost bursting with excitement. The same could be said for Rooster beside you, although he was containing it a little better than your sister. Annie beamed. “Be our guest, the table is yours.”

You looked at Rooster and he gave you a fond smile, encouraging you. “Bradley and I are…” you started, kind of lost in his hopefulness. His eyes were so warm and reaffirmed just how in love with him you were. The arm he rested on the back of your chair moved to sweetly massage the nape of your neck. But he wasn’t going to help you. This was your news; he was just there to support you.

Also, Annie is really making it hard for reader. Lol What a sister move.

“I’m okay,” you kissed his temple as Annie yipped with joy and you threw your hands up. “Nana, I hate to swear, but Annie, you’re an asshole. This could have been done any other time.”

But you know what I'm happy they know now, too. Even though I'm nervous about Viper.

“Do you think he loves you? Because of the way he looked at you when you made your little announcement inside? Sweetheart, he looks at you like you hung the moon. I was watching him while Nana was ordering him around the lounge room, and decorating the tree. He can’t keep his fondness off his face, darling.”

I love how obvious they are even if they're oblivious that they're so obvious.

“Grandpa… Bradley isn’t my companion. This isn’t just a passing fling,” you looked up at the overcast sky above you, grey and stormy, while Viper remained quiet and you added, “I see my future with him.”

He hummed. “I think he sees his future with you too,” Viper conceded. “I sincerely think that Bradley is deeply in love with you. Maybe more than you realise he is.”

I feel as fond of these two as they are about each other.

“Come on, let’s not let Bradley sweat. You know I’m going to give him a hard time though? He doesn’t get to sail through anymore.”

You sighed. “Poor Bradley.”

“Yes. Poor Bradley,” Viper grinned wide. The old man was going to enjoy this.

Bradley will never know peace. Lol I love that her family already loves him and then there's just this added layer of him loving reader just a bit more. Poor Brad Brad attacked with the feels because of Liv. That's so nice of her to say to him, though. Feels like he doesn't get that reminder enough.

“Some decorum please, Bradshaw?”

I DIED. HAHAHAHAHA

"When I least expect it, you just floor me,” he stifled a laugh.

“Someone has to keep you on your toes, right?”

I really love these two. AND OMG THAT END! HE SAID IT!!!!

the relationship experience - five

four.

Things continued well for the next month weeks or so. Rooster would come to your place most nights straight from work, domesticity at its finest. You’d cook, watch tv, tease each other unmercifully and you’d fuck until you fell asleep, wrapped up together until he snuck out quietly the next morning. You continued playing the same cat-and-mouse game around your friends. You knew they were starting to wise up that you were pretty much inseparable but never gave them the benefit of the doubt to arrive and leave together or be found away from the group at the same time.

You owed Natasha a lot to help throw your friends off the scent, but she couldn’t do much about you two flirting quietly together or if the longing looks you’d be swept into. Bradley Bradshaw just got more handsome every time you looked at him. It was criminal.

Keep reading

[rosethorns10]

For Better or Worse

18+ | Minors DNI

Summary: Secretly dating, you and Levi are invited to a wedding of two mutual friends. As the festivities begin, you both are celebrating in your own way.

Featured: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith (briefly), Hange Zoë (briefly)

________________________________________________________________

A formal gown, heels, and your hair up in a stylish bun, you looked so beautiful as you stood there and mingled with the wedding guests. Small talk was being made - only to pass the time and wait for the ceremony and your friend, the bride, to show up. After a few minutes, you found a seat near the front. 

From across the way, a pair of steel-blue eyes glanced at you every so often. He was sitting with his friends – acquaintances, as he put them – and then said something to Hange. She looked over at you, and you looked away as she stood up.

You looked around at the décor: White, gold, and black. How formal and chic everything looked. 

Please, don’t come over here. For the love of shit, please don’t come over here.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Turning, you saw Hange standing there with a big grin on her face. Internally groaning, you happily inquired, “What’s up, Hange?” Hange invited, “Sit with us!”

With them…

With him…

“Are you sure?” you inquired meekly, and she grinned and said, “Yes! Levi sent me over.” “Oh? Well, how surprising,” you mused as you stood and gave up your spot. She looped her arm around yours and took you across the aisle, warranting unwanted glances. 

Once you arrived, Erwin scooted over and teased, “I’ll let you and your girlfriend sit together, Levi.” “Tch, she’s not my girlfriend,” Levi retorted as he crossed his arms, and you sat down and murmured, “He’s right. We’re not dating.” 

How troublesome it would be if we actually admitted we were.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he muttered under his breath as Erwin and the others talked, and you nodded your thanks and whispered, “You look handsome.” He rolled his eyes, and you smiled and looked straight ahead.

The music began playing, and everyone stood. After the vows were said and the ceremony sealed with a kiss, you watched as the happy couple walked down the aisle and out the door. Slipping out to get some fresh air, you entered the corridor and sighed. 

That was too much pomp and circumstance for your liking. But, you need to escape from his gaze. He had looked at you often during the ceremony, and his hand was struggling to not grab yours. It had felt like he was going to forego decorum and allow his lustful side to come out then and there.

As you turned the corner, you heard, “Oi.”

Turning around to look who was behind you, you were shocked to find Levi standing there. White cravat, white, long-sleeved shirt, black suit, and black shoes, he had a stern look on his face. 

What now?

“Yes, Levi?” you squeaked, your demeanor now demure. Walking towards you, his shoes click-clacked on the stone floor as his eyes pierced into your soul. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked sternly, and you replied immediately as you were nearly filled with panic, “Nowhere. I’m just looking around.” 

Now in front of you, he rolled his eyes and said, “Come with me.” “Why?” you inquired curiously, and he took your hand and led you down the corridor without a word. Turning another corner, he suddenly pushed you up against the wall and kissed you. You sighed with relief; his walls finally came down. As his arm wrapped around your waist, his tongue entered your mouth. 

He didn’t need permission from you. 

As much as he fucked you, why would he ask you?

“Fuck, you made me fucking wait. How cruel do you have to be, huh?” he muttered between kisses, and you gave him a coy smile and replied, “Well, it drove you crazy, didn’t it?” 

“Tch, cheeky,” he whispered as his cool fingers lightly ran over your bare skin, sending tingles down your spine. “If you wanted me to sit with you, you should’ve gotten me yourself instead of Hange,” you whispered as he kissed down to your neck, and he pressed up against you and asked, “And have Erwin and Hange teasing the fuck out of me while asking you personal questions? No.”

You smiled from his consideration and remark, and he moved the collar that hid his love marks and kissed your neck. Your head lolling to the side, you whispered as he kissed again, “You made it difficult to find a dress that covered your marks, babe.” Licking your neck, he “hmph”ed and replied, “Well…it’s your fault. You’re too damn irresistible and taste good.”

“Levi? (Y/N)? Where are you two? Pictures are being taken!” you heard Hange’s voice echoing the corridor as her heels click-clacked on the stone floor.

Shit.

Wrapping his cool fingers around your wrist, Levi took you to one of the rooms and closed the door. As he locked it, you looked around as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. 

Of all places...it had to be a storage room with cleaning supplies. A dusty room with cleaning supplies. We’re gonna get in trouble for this.

Taking his jacket off and putting it on one of the chairs, he immediately went over to you and whispered, “Tch, the place is filthy. Bend over. We don’t have a lot of time, and I’m not going to fucking wait until this night’s over.”

“Bend over? Where?” you asked rather innocently, your mischievous demeanor breaking through just for him. Impatiently, he pushed your head down onto the table. 

His hand on the back of your head and then moving to the back of your neck, he whispered in your ear, “Here, you naughty girl. Fuck…you in that dress…you look so fucking beautiful. Enough playing around. Hange will find us sooner or later, and I’m not going to be found midthrust with you trying not to cry my name. Try to stay quiet.” 

“Between you and me, Levi, I think you’re the louder of us,” you teased, and he asked, “Is that so? Wanna make a bet with me?” “Bet?” you asked as you turned your head to look at him, and you saw a smirk on his face. 

That smirk was just for you and no one else. How lucky you were.

Giggling, you inquired, “What’s the bet?” Quietly, he replied, “I bet you’ll be screaming my name by the time I’m done with you.” “Or, you’d be saying mine,” you teased as you licked your lips, and he said, “Bet I won’t. I bet you’ll say my name way before I say yours.” “Bet,” you replied as he raised your skirt and saw you were already starting to soak through your panties. 

“How wet you are,” he mused as he pulled your panties down, and you sighed, “To be honest, this is kinda hot.” As he worked to get his cock out, he asked, “Yeah? Well, how bad do you want me?” “Bad enough,” you whispered, making him smirk. For someone with a height and physique as his, he had surprised you the first time with his length and girth. He truly lived up to the Ackerman name.

Stroking it, he murmured alluringly, “Do you want it?” “Yes, Le…Sir,” you replied, catching yourself. “Faltering already?" he teased, "Tch, you’re used to saying my name. I think I’ve broken you in. Now…” Pushing two fingers into your cunt, he began to fuck you like that. 

Pleasure trying to take control of your body, you gasped, “Sir, nnngh… Not that.” Smirking, he whispered, “I like you calling me “Sir.” Now…” He quickly thrust his cock into you, nearly making you cry out. His hand on your coccyx, he made your back arch as he growled, “Fuck, you’re tight. Baby...” As you adjusted to his size, you could only let out a whimper. 

Thrusting at his usual pace and grabbing your hips, he growled, “You wore that fucking dress and did this.” “Well… Fuck, it’s your fault.” you breathed, and he asked, “How the hell is it my fault?” “I told you I’d be wearing it, and you were the one who said it suited me. Didn’t I warn – ah, damn it. I’m not gonna lose this fucking – “

He thrusted deeper and harder, breaking your sentence. Nearly forgetting your bet, you gasped, “No…damn it, Le…” “Say my name, baby,” he ordered between thrusts, and you shook your head and groaned, “No.” 

Damn it, I’m not going to fucking lose to him.

Pulling your head up and bringing your lips to his, he kissed you and whispered, “Say my name. It’s all right. Lose this bet, and I’ll cum inside you.” “I’ll be damned to lose this bet, babe,” you whispered, and he growled, “Damn it. You were so damn close. Just say my name.” You shook your head furiously, and he thrust into you so hard that you ended up crying out, “LEVI!”

Trembling underneath him, you had coated his cock to its base. Your hair now somewhat of a mess, your body was in control of itself as it had left your mind in the dust. 

Damn him... I... I - Fuck, I lost.

“There’s a good girl,” he murmured as he let you back down, and you gasped, “Levi…” “What, baby?” he panted as sweat rolled down his face, and you groaned, “Damn it, I lost the bet.” “I knew you would,” he breathed before thrusting past your cervix. 

Your cheek against the table, you were pounded senseless as your body acted on its own. Your mind was blank, and you felt swimmy headed. “Fuck,” you heard him growl, and you lost all control and began crying his name.

Levi…Levi…Levi…

A few more thrusts, and he groaned and smacked your ass. “Stay right there, baby… Fuck, this won’t be the last time today we’ll fuck,” he breathed as he held onto you, and you sighed, “I knew it. You wouldn’t resist.” “Oh? Well…” he groaned before pulling out, and you moaned and turned around. 

Your eyes widened, and a “Holy shit,” left your lips.

Larger than usual, thicker than usual… No wonder he couldn’t wait any longer. If Erwin or Hange had seen him like this, seen that, they’d pick at him like no tomorrow. 

Kissing your lips, he whispered, “I love you. You know that, right?” Smiling, you nodded and murmured, “Yes, I do. I love you, too.” Taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, he said, “Good. Now, excuse me.” You nodded and took care of yourself as he took care of himself. For someone so rough, he was still such a gentleman.

When you two were ready to go, he took your hand and said, “Dance with me this evening.” “In front of everyone?” you inquired softly, your mind racing as your heart pounded against your chest. 

It’d mean he’d be confirming the rumors were, indeed, true. 

A rare gentleness overcoming his usual expressionless expression, he wrapped an arm around your waist and murmured, “Yes, in front of everyone. I’d be damned to let anyone flirt with you this evening. You’re mine.”

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒��/𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏!𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝙴𝚡𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎) × 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊/𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏! 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝙰𝚄, 𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏 𝙰𝚄

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙾𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗, 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟻.𝟹+𝙺

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙻𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚙 (𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜), 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚎𝚡𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 (𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐), 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗) 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘, 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐, 𝚂𝚞𝚋! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @brie02 @rvse-miingi @couchpotatoaniki @deja-vux @a-soft-hornytiny @daniblogs164

♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡

"Anything else we can get for our most valued regulars?"

The two men waved their hands dismissively at the friendly and energetic owner of the establishment, thanking her for the drinks that were already provided while assuring her they were perfectly content.

"Well if you shall need anything don't hesitate to ask." She reminded them before walking away to attend the other customers and see that everything in the club was running smoothly.

The two men held up their drinks and clinked them against each other before downing them as if it was mere water. Slumping back into the comfortable french style chaise lounge sofa, the shorter mafioso let out a soft and relaxed exhale of breath.

"Well I'd say the whole operation was an absolute success. Don't you agree Yunho?" He tilted his head towards the more impotent one of them, the male swirling the contents of his newly poured drink around his glass cup.

"Indeed. Well done Wooyoung." He raised his glass towards his friend in acknowledgement before bringing the rim of the cup up to his lips.

The two men briefly scanned the spacious hall, occasionally waving or even winking at the more familiar faces that they had become very much acquainted with, sometimes even on a more intimate level that remained a naughty secret between them. Being admirers of beauty and anything aesthetically appealing, they of course had their gazes on the stage that encompassed the majority of the room. Their eyes never failed to take in the gorgeous dancers that were currently moving their bodies to the music playing in the background, some of them showcasing their more erotic side through spins and turns on some of the poles that were placed at various corners of the stage. That sight was always a welcoming one by all the men who went inside the high class club.

"Damn. Who is that?" Wooyoung pointed in the direction of a certain dancer who had caught his attention.

Following his finger, Yunho widened his eyes when he saw who it was that Wooyoung had spotted. She was indeed very captivating. Her movements were very sensual and completely fluid, it was more than obvious her technique was precise. Even her hair seemed to dance along with her body. She'd effortlessly spin around the metal pole as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her. Although she was placed towards the back, she seemed to dominate the stage alone with her presence. She just exuded charisma and eroticism that no doubt had many of the males growing a little problem in their pants thanks to her, Wooyoung and Yunho being no exception. They became lost in the beautiful and fascinating female, falling her charms as if her dance hypnotized them.

It was Yunho who snapped himself out of it when he took a closer look at her face and felt like something was off.

"How old is she? She looks a little... too young." Despite having been involved in the criminal world for years, having seen and committed many illegal acts, Yunho was not tolerant of anything that involved the exploitation of individuals who were too young for such a life.

Realizing he was right, Wooyoung shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat. Calling over one of the male waiters, Yunho had to inquire about her.

"What can you tell me about the pretty face right over there?"

Seeing who he was referring to, the male server chuckled.

"Oh. That's Y/N. She's new here, started a few weeks ago but she's already conquered a lot of admirers as you can tell."

Indeed, as they looked around, most men had their eyes trained on her, no doubt imagining what she'd look like if you removed the lace bustier top and butt hugging leather shorts.

"How old is she?" Yunho got to the point.

Understanding what he meant, the server quickly dismissed his fears.

"I don't know exactly but I know for sure she's very much an adult. I'd say very early 20's, although I get that with that innocent looking baby face many wouldn't believe it. Folks seem to dig that though. Angelic face, sinful body? No wonder men are lusting over her."

Glancing over at their respective friend, the two men shared a small smirk between each other before settling back down to continue admiring the pretty girl.

"If you bosses would like, we could arrange a private show with her for you." The male staff offered but Wooyoung shook his head.

"No no, I don't think that will be necessary."

But he found that his resolve would soon come crumbling down when the young female took notice of their gawking towards her. Although she had never seen them before, she enjoyed the way their eyes were raking her body. She made sure not to break eye contact with them as she performed her next set of moves, which became a lot more sultry and risque in nature. She purposefully bent down or over more so her ass and tits would be the main focus of their staring.

"Fuck. I'd love to bend that ass over my lap." Yunho bit down on his bottom lip as one hand slowly rubbed the top of his thigh when she sent a flirtatious wink his way.

"Then why don't we make it come true?"

Calling for the male staff's attention once more, Wooyoung pulled out a large bill and placed it on the empty tray he was holding.

"I think we're going to take you on that offer, that is if the lady doesn't mind."

The staff couldn't help but snort.

"Trust me, I don't think she would mind one bit."

Ushering them to follow him, the male staff led them through the crowd of people that were gathered at the main showroom and down one of the hallways. Wooyoung and Yunho were surprised when instead of taking them to the upstairs private rooms, their guide instead took them down stairs.

"We don't actually tell most people this but our best and most expensive private rooms are actually down here and not upstairs. We only reserve them for V.I.P guests. And there's a bonus.."

The male staff typed in a code into the keypad that kept the entrance to the room locked and opened it up for them to let themselves in.

"There's absolutely no cameras, no rules, and you don't have to worry about anyone hearing anything." The man slyly told them as he walked off and told them to enjoy themselves.

Looking around, indeed the room was even better than the upper ones they had often rented. Not only was it bigger, it had a full bar for them to enjoy, there were multiple couches and they even mounted a pole in the middle of the room. Lilac curtains were strategically placed around to decorate the room which looked marvelous against the blue LED lights that illuminated several parts of the room so everything inside would be clearly visible. They could even make out a faint scent of lavender and vanilla, no doubt infused with pheromones to further enhance sexual arousal.

"No rules he said.... perfect." Wooyoung grinned as he made himself comfortable on one of the couches.

"Just because there are no cameras doesn't mean you can behave as you like. Remember that she'll probably only be here to dance for us and nothing else." Yunho reminded him.

"Relax old man, you know I would never touch a woman without her consent. Lucky me, I'm still handsome .... and rich." Wooyoung laughed slightly as he pulled out a bundle of money from his pocket causing his friend to roll his eyes.

"And what makes you think that is going to entice the young lady to suck your dick? If anything, she'll prefer someone younger and not some... geezer." He poked fun at his friend who looked at him with an unamused face.

"Look who's talking boomer." He scoffed at him.

Both of the men put an end to their small bantering when the door suddenly opened and in came none other than the very object of their fantasies, her stiletto heels clicking against the marble floor. She eyed them up and down with a curious expression, the corners of her mouth curling up just subtly.

"Hello there beautiful." Wooyoung leaned back and took in her figure.

"Good evening gentlemen." She greeted them as she shifted her weight from leg to the other one, her hands placed on her hips respectively.

"Y/N is it?" Yunho inquired as he tried to keep a little more decorum and tried not to stare too much at her.

"Unless you'd prefer to call me something else." She grinned at them with a smoldering expression.

"I'd love to call you mine." Wooyoung put his thoughts out there for the other two occupants in the room to hear, shocking and embarrassing one while the other seemed delighted to hear him say that.

"Wooyoung! Control yourself." Yunho nudged him with his elbow, warning him not to try anything stupid or foolish.

"And tell me then handsome, just how do you want me?"

Both men whipped their heads at her question, wondering if they heard her right.

"Umm- excuse me?" Yunho wanted her to clarify what she meant.

The young dancer took slow and careful steps closer to them, beginning to round the table that stood in between her and the couch they were seated in.

"On my knees, on all fours, against the wall, or laying down, just tell me what position you want me in." She was completely unafraid as she now carefully sat on the table right in front of them, spreading her legs just a little bit, daring them not to gaze in between them which they both ultimately failed in doing.

She was driving them crazy, making them lose every last bit of self control they had. And the way she'd innocently bat her eyelashes at them was not helping their case, it only served to fuel their growing lust for her even more. Wooyoung was about to speak up, but Yunho of course stopped him.

"No-no honey. We just wanted you to keep us some company." He wanted to slap himself for sounding so old fashioned.

Y/N tilted her head at his explanation.

"Keep you company? You mean like this?"

Not expecting her to get up and suddenly straddle his lap, Yunho's eyes shot wide open when her chest was practically pressing against his face. Y/N gently caressed the hair around his temples, not so subtly grinding herself on his tent that was hardening even further. His friend next to him was equally surprised and jealous that it wasn't his lap that the young lady chose to situate herself on.

"Is this what you wanted?"

When Yunho shifted under her and stammered out an incoherent babble of words, Y/N took hold of his hands and placed them on her hips.

"It's ok baby. You can touch me if you want. I don't mind." She encouraged him with a sweet smile on her face.

"I'm not sure I want to..." As soon as he said that, he regretted his words especially after seeing the disheartened look on Y/N's pretty face.

"Well I know for a fact I do so give her to me if you don't want her."

She let out a squeal when she was suddenly pulled of Yunho's lap and instead perched upon one of Wooyoung's strong and muscular thighs. He couldn't stop smiling as his hands rubbed against the sides of her waist.

"So tell me what's a gorgeous and young lady such as yourself doing in a place like this?" He was genuinely curious as to why someone like her would seek out work as an exotic dancer.

"Well it definitely brings in a lot of money, but I'm not going to deny that I do enjoy the attention and stares of some of the patrons like to give me." She answered, her hand reaching over to loosen up the tie around his neck.

"Oh, so you like being a little exhibitionist?" Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"God yes! But my ex boyfriend wasn't a fan of my occupation, hence why he left." She let out a tiny huff at the information.

"Well if you ask him he's an idiot for that. I know if I had a sexy girl like you, I wouldn't mind showing her off a little. Let others admire her like the goddess she is."

As he said those words to her, Wooyoung's fingers slowly peeled the straps of her top off her shoulders, his tips tracing along the outline of her collarbone. Y/N didn't budge when she felt Wooyoung's lips kiss across her shoulder and the side of her neck, she merely tilted her head to the opposite side so it would give him more access to suckle along her smooth skin. Yunho watched all of this with an aching hard on and clenched fist as he realized it could have been him in Wooyoung's position at that moment.

"Truthfully I don't miss him, he was very controlling anyways, but I gotta say...." She bit down on her lip, a bit unsure about continuing her sentence.

"It's ok baby. You can tell us anything you want." Wooyoung assured her as his teeth tugged at her earlobe.

Sucking in a breath she didn't know she was holding, Y/N spilled her secret out.

"I've just been a lot more horny ever since I started this job and I don't have anyone to fuck me like a slut. God I just want a big, fat cock to tear my pussy apart."

Both men looked at each other and exchanged a few suspicious glances before returning their attention back on the girl on Wooyoung's lap.

"Are you horny right now darling?" He asked her as his hand came to the front of her top and started undoing the buttons that ran through the middle.

"If I say yes, will one of you fuck me?" She turned her head to look at Yunho, not wanting him to feel left out. Her hand even reached over so it could brush along the tent in his pants, which he welcomed graciously and even allowed her to palm his hard on as she pleased.

"Oh honey, if you want, we'll both fuck you." Yunho finally spoke up after a long time of staying silent, scooting his body closer to her.

"Please do." She begged them, eyes looking like a pitiful little pup.

Undoing the last button, Wooyoung peeled the top off her, both men releasing groans when her breasts came into view. They looked so soft and smooth and it took everything in them not to take one in each of their mouths and devour them. Getting off of Wooyoung's thigh so she could sit right in between both men, Y/N took one of their hands and set them right on her mounds.

"Touch me, please. I want your guys' hands all over me."

Each one of the men began to squeeze at her tits, Wooyoung opting for a more rough approach, even pinching at her nipples, while Yunho took his time in massaging her flesh, thumb rubbing circles on her hardened peak. Y/N was already loving the two opposite dynamics both men were giving her, it was exactly what she'd been craving in a long time. She threw her head back when Wooyoung stooped down to take the breast he was currently toying with into his mouth, teeth tugging at her tiny bud. She was releasing heavy breaths as he continued to suck at her tender skin, eyes closing as she began to get lost in the pleasure. She nearly whined when she felt Yunho take his hand off her breast, but it was caught in his mouth since he moved his hand from her chest so it could cup her chin. Tilting it towards him, he began to kiss her hungrily. She gratefully welcomed the intrusion of his tongue in her mouth, letting it slither inside of it, taking complete control of her.

Taking advantage of his friend moving his hand away, Wooyoung moved so he was sitting right in front of her. Y/N pryed her legs open so he could be easily accommodated between her body. He moved his mouth to latch onto her other breast, giving it the special attention its twin had already received. He became a little harsher as he began to plaster marks on the underside of her boob and on the top of them. Each time he sank his canines down onto her skin, Y/N would emit a semi pained whimper that was muffled by Yunho's tongue as it swirled against her own wet muscle. Moving further south, Wooyoung began dragging his tongue down her sternum until it reached her belly button. Coming face to face with her leather shorts, Wooyoung grabbed the sides of the fabric before swiftly pulling it down her legs. Y/N shuddered when a small waft of cool air breezed over her wet heat.

"Fucking hell, what a nice and wet pussy you have little lady." Wooyoung stared in amazing at her shining folds that were inviting him to dive in and feast upon their sweet juices.

Pulling away so he could glimpse down at the lady's intimate place, Yunho moaned deeply when he saw what his friend was looking at.

"Fuck we've barely done anything and you're already this wet for us? You flatter us baby." He chuckled as he went back in to continue their makeout session.

Wooyoung's fingers slid around her folds, teasing her as they grazed over her slit, always stopping before they touched her clit. Y/N was yearning to be touched and she did not appreciate the older man's teasing. Yunho of course noticed since her needy whining was being spilled into his mouth.

"Is that a promise?" Wooyoung challenged.

"Wooyoung stop making her wait and eat her out before I shove you to the ground and I finger her cunt until she's squirting all over your face." He warned in between kisses.

Pulling back with a snarl, Yunho stared menacingly at his friend.

"Fucking eat her pussy or I'll get my men to hold you down and make you watch as I fuck her."

Shrugging off Yunho's threat, Wooyoung latched his mouth onto the young female's mound and started fucking it with his tongue. Y/N couldn't help but gasp as Wooyoung's skillful and experienced tongue swirled and sucked along her folds. He made sure to focus most of his attention on her clit, nibbling down on it while making sure he didn't accidentally grazed his teeth onto them.

"You like the way Wooyoung is eating you out baby?" Yunho asked as his large hands cupped your breasts once more, squishing them together as his thumbs toyed with your nipples.

"Yes! Shit! He's amazing!" She gasped out when he gave her a particularly long suck to thank her for her praises, a cocky grin forming.

"Heard that Woo? The little lady is enjoying it." Yunho gushed as he brought one breast up to place kisses on it.

Wooyoung responded with a moan against her pussy, his hands spreading her legs as far as they could go so he could lap reach every inch of flesh with his tongue. He left no place untouched as he practically smothered his face into her juicy core. Y/N's body started to tremble as she felt herself being thrown over the precipice. Yunho kept holding onto her as she began cumming on Wooyoung's face.

"Fuck- oh shit!" She cursed with scrunched eyes as an intense orgasm took over her senses.

Wooyoung didn't detach his mouth from her core until he made certain that she had released all the juices she possibly could, which ultimately ended up swallowed by him since he could not leave a drop to waste. When Y/N came to her senses, she still felt as if she was in a permanent high.

"I've never came from someone eating my pussy out. That was the first time anyone has made me orgasm from one." She admitted rather shyly.

"That's probably because you've only had amateur assholes perform oral on you honey. I've got years of experience. I know what a girl wants when she's getting her sweet pussy eaten out." Wooyoung boasted as he sat down next to her.

"Well I think it's only fair I show my gratitude to you both right?"

Sliding off the couch, Y/N got on her knees and beckoned the men to stand at each of her sides. Lifting her hands up, she began to palm their clothed cocks. She could only imagine how big they were since they already felt pretty packed even in their confinement. Although it was a little hard doing it with one hand, she managed to unzip both of their pants and slowly dragged them down their thighs until she was blessed by the sight of their mature cocks springing forward, fully erect and waiting for her to touch them. Her mouth was agape as she took one in each hand and began pumping them.

"God you're both so big."

Both men let out small laughs at her reaction.

"What? Never seen cocks like ours before baby?" Wooyoung asked.

"Not in person and I've always wanted to be fucked by sizes like yours."

Her hand continued to stroke their lengths. She even went as far as to spit on both of them so it would be easier to glide her hand along their shaft. Although Yunho was definitely the bigger of the two, packing a monster sized cock, Wooyoung was also pretty endowed and she had no doubt that with his cocky attitude he definitely knew how to use his dick in the best way possible. She couldn't help herself and actually brought both of their tips to her mouth. Her tongue alternated between licking Wooyoung's head before giving attention to Yunho's, both of them hissing when they felt her tongue on them. Y/N did not shy away from even slurping one both of them at the same time, opening her mouth as much as it could to fit their heads inside and sucking them in.

"Oh shit! You're such a dirty little girl." Yunho muttered out as his hand came down to pet the top of her head.

"Tell me are you always such a whore for your other customers?" Wooyoung's tone had a slight hint of jealousy at the thought of someone else getting the special treatment they were getting.

"Hmmm no. None of the other people have ever interested me. You guys are the first that made me wanna get a little naughty." She confessed with an innocent smile before taking each of their balls and giving them a few harsh sucks, coating them generously with her saliva. Although it was more than arousing having their young companion jerk them off simultaneously, even giving their slits a couple licks every now and then, the men knew they wanted a little more. They wanted to corrupt the woman in front of them and make a mess all over her.

"You wanna get even more naughty baby?" Yunho's voice dropped down 2 tones as he began taking his shirt off, Wooyoung following suit.

"Yes." She looked between one of the men and then to the other, nearly drooling when she saw their fit abs come into her view.

Lifting her up, Yunho effortlessly sat her back down on the couch.

"Want us to fuck you?" He continued to ask as he and his friend finished stripping themselves out of their clothes.

"Yes! Please fuck me." She encouraged, beckoning them over as she got on all fours for them.

"Well I don't know about you, but I really wanna see what that pretty mouth of hers does, especially after getting a sneak peak." Stepping over to her face, Wooyoung rubbed the tip of his cock along the top of her lip.

Y/N giggled as she took Wooyoung's length in one of her hands once more, pressing kisses along his head. She was so distracted in playing around and teasing Wooyoung that she didn't notice Yunho had placed himself right behind until she felt his bulge rubbing along her ass cheeks.

"I hope you don't mind sweetheart, but I wasn't expecting to get so lucky to be able to fuck a pretty girl such as yourself tonight so I'm afraid I brought no condoms...."

Y/N gasped when she felt a long finger insert itself into her ass.

"So I'm going to have to settle for fucking this other hole of yours." He circled his finger around her hole to further stretch her out, eventually adding a second finger inside her.

"If that's all right with you of course."

Y/N responded with a moan and pushed her butt further back so his fingers could sink deeper in her.

"I'd say it's more than ok with her. Look at how desperate she looks." Wooyoung lightly giggled, tapping the head of his cock against both of her cheeks.

"Open up."

Following his orders, Y/N allowed him to slip himself into her warm and wet mouth, unable to help but groan when he pushed half of his length in.

"What's wrong baby? Can't fit all of me inside?"

Taking it as a challenge, Y/N hollowed her cheeks even further and pushed herself forward until her nose pressed against his pubic bone. Although she choked slightly when she felt him hit the back of her throat, she was still able to swirl her tongue around him and properly accommodate him.

"For someone so young, you sure do seem to have a lot of experience." Wooyoung pointed out as his hands gently caressed her stuffed cheeks.

"That's cause she's nothing but a whore."

Y/N clenched around nothing as she heard Yunho's degradation, humming against Wooyoung's length as she felt his long fingers collect some of her slick and used it as a makeshift lube to spread around her asshole. Making sure she was all prepped and properly stretched out, Yunho took his sizeable dick and very slowly pushed himself into her ass, wanting to savor how her tightness hugged every inch of him. His head was thrown back when he stuffed her ass full of his cock, nails digging into her cheeks as he held back the urge to ram himself brutally and tear her ass up. When he did not move for a few seconds, Y/N grew impatient and pulled herself off him only to stuff him back inside.

"Don't make our pretty baby wait by being gentle Yunho. Can't you see she's desperate to have you break her apart?" Wooyoung smirked as pulled out of her mouth only to force himself back in, holding her head in place before releasing her. Y/N gagged around his cock, a tiny slick of drool falling out of the corners of her mouth.

"Is that what you want? Want us to be rough with you?"

Yunho got a response in the form of a moan around Wooyoung's dick and a tightening around his own cock .

"Ok shit! Yunho you better start fucking her cause I can't hold back anymore."

Not caring to wait and see if his friend would follow his instructions, Wooyoung gripped the back of Y/N's head and started bucking his hips into her mouth. Garbled noises that were muffled by Wooyoung's intrusion were spilling forth out of her, which were further intensified in range when the male behind her likewise started moving.

"Oh shit! You're so tight, you feel amazing little lady." Yunho praised as he slammed his hips onto her ass, watching it smack against his skin and wiggle every time he pounded back into her.

Y/N whimpered when one of Yunho's hands snaked in between her thighs and began to rub circles around her clit, further boosting the feeling they were giving her. With one of them fucking her face and the other one ramming into her ass, she felt so full and stuffed to the brim and she absolutely loved it.

"You enjoying this honey? Are you enjoying as two older men use you as their fuck toy?" Wooyoung's question was met by a loud vibration of her whimpers around him, his cock twitching at the feeling.

"Of course she's enjoying it. She loves getting used and treated as nothing more than a cum bucket." Yunho groaned in a raspy voice. His fingers which were moving earnestly around her bundle of nerves moved to strike them, making their recipient shudder when more stinging slaps were placed on her mound.

Tears of pleasure were rolling down Y/N's eyes as she was being fucked past her limit by the older and dangerous criminals. Never in her life did she actually believe such men like them would fulfill one of her deepest fantasies, yet here she was, gurgling and swallowing around one huge dick while her ass was getting torn apart by an even bigger cock. Not to mention Yunho was making sure she'd be tipped over the edge again as he worked his fingers on her clit, alternating between rubbing harshly against it before slapping it once more. During one of these hard smacks, she began crying out as her body began spasming and bursting out in pleasure, her juices spilling out of her.

"Oh fuck! She's cumming already." Wooyoung's words were becoming more slurred as he felt his own high fast approaching.

"I know. I'm gonna cum-" Yunho grunted as he plunged himself faster in her, his low and deep moans mixing with Wooyoung's higher pitched ones as both men used their pretty dirty dancer to push themselves over the edge, their relentless pace only helping to elongate the orgasm the girl under them was having.

"Fuck! Fuck!" Pulling out with a hiss, Yunho wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped himself furiously until white spurts of cum were being plastered all over her ass cheeks. He didn't stop until he made sure to paint her butt with all the cum he had to give.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung held her head in place as he fucked his own cum down her throat.

"Swallow it all you dirty whore. I don't want you spilling out a single drop. Got it?" He ordered as he spilled his seed into her mouth, which Y/N promptly swallowed as he said to. She kept eye contact throughout the entire process of having him rut his hips against her face, his mouth agape and blurting out swear after swear as he emptied himself in her mouth.

A popping sound was made when he pulled out of her, saliva plastered all over her lips which were red and swollen after the rough treatment they were put through. Both men slumped down on the couch to catch their breath and collect their senses. Yunho was the first one to gain his energy back and began to look for something to clean up, luckily finding a few hand towels near the mini bar. Coming back over where the other two occupants were, he began wiping off the leftover cum on Y/N's ass.

"You doing ok babe?" Yunho wanted to make sure.

"I'm doing wonderful, thank you." She giggled when Yunho pressed a light slap on her ass at her response.

After making sure to clean up properly, Yunho and Wooyoung gathered their clothes and began dressing themselves again while the exotic dancer simply sat there and watched them, lip poked out in a pensive thought.

"Will I see you guys some other night?"

Yunho and Wooyoung looked back and forth between each other and at her.

"Do you wanna see us again?" Wooyoung asked, his hopes getting up.

Y/N smiled at him.

"Of course I do. Just be sure to bring condoms next time. I'd really love to feel you both destroy my pussy next time."

The men chuckled at her bold words.

"Oh baby, it'll be our pleasure."

♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3

A certain redheaded tabloid journalist tracks y/n down at work. Y/n finds out how persistent she is when she makes her an offer she just can’t refuse. 

Trigger warnings: Christianity, stalking, survivor’s guilt

You made it out alive, and that was more than could be said for some. 

Your consolation prize was a ghastly scar on your hand that you kept bandaged up as to not scare small children. You did get some worker’s comp after all; enough to pay for your medical bills and a little extra to make up for the lost workdays. All things considered, you were the lucky one. Four people lost their lives that day and three more were injured far worse than you. You should have felt grateful to be alive.

But somehow that was even worse. You got a couple stitches and some time off. It wasn’t worth four people’s lives. 

Your therapist explained it to you very gently. You were experiencing a phenomenon known as "survivor's guilt". She encouraged you to join a support group, get outside and familiarize yourself with your new experiences. 

This was good advice and all, but yours was the newest, hottest crime. You couldn't go anywhere without being hounded by reporters looking for whatever details you had somehow left out. Dr. Bloom encouraged you to take some time off work until the media circus died down, but you had bills to pay.

"I feel like there should be some rule about re-opening a restaurant within a week of it being an active crime scene." Charissa observed as she wiped down a table. "If anything, it's a health hazard."

"Are you serious?" You scoffed. You'd been tasked with refilling the salt shakers. Appropriate, because there was plenty of salt to go around. "Demand for this place has never been higher. Everyone wants to see if the blood is still on the carpet."

"Hooray for capitalism." She rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna be okay, [F/N]?"

"'Okay' is a very relative term." You forced a laugh. "I think I can make it through the shift if that's what you're asking."

"Aren't you behind the bar all evening?" She asked.

"Yeah, but that means I'm trapped." You folded your arms. "First thing you see when you walk in is the waitress who survived the- what are they calling him?"

"The Baltimore Butcher." She answered with a voice full of vitriol. "Do you think they ever consider the ramifications of giving literal murderers these weird superhero names? Like, no wonder we get copycats, they treat these guys like celebrities."

"Holy shit, right?!" You slammed the salt shaker down on the table. "Y'know, last night on the news, they used the creep's graduation photo and kept saying that he was a good Christian young man with a lot of prospects."

Charissa stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I saw that. And how he was 'corrupted' by crack cocaine. Once again, blaming a drug that was used to villainize poor Black neighborhoods in the 80's as some kind of corrupting agent."

You nodded furiously. "Instead of understanding that Christianity is a violent imperialist religion that lets violent white men absolve themselves of any guilt."

"And they knew it wasn't crack." Charissa added. "I heard that shit was completely uncut. You know he spent a lot on it."

"And I will say this until the day I am put in the goddamn ground," you tensed up. "The only reason the fucker escaped is because he is white."

"Hey y'all." Another waitress walked in for her shift. "What are we talking about?"

"Cocaine." Charissa answered. “Also white privilege.” 

"Great." She said dismissively. "Hey [F/N], can I scoop up that bar shift? I could really use the tips."

"Madison!" Charissa scolded. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What?" Madison shrugged and glanced at you. "I didn't get any paid time off. I need the money."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Charissa scowled. "Are you seriously joking about her trauma?!"

"It's fine, she can have it." You rolled your eyes, then turned them to Madison. "Just know you're the reason I have survivor's guilt."

"Well now I feel bad." Madison frowned.

"Good." You and Charissa said in unison.

It was sort of comforting to get back to the script. Almost nostalgic. It provided the illusion of normalcy in an incredibly abnormal new reality. 

You approached the first table in Madison’s block, hoping for a new beginning. A young woman with fiery red hair sat alone by the window. 

“Hi!” You greeted, with a smile as genuine as you could muster. “My name is [F/N], I’ll be your waiter tonight.” 

The woman smiled back. “Evening.” 

You couldn’t tell what, but something was off. Perhaps you were trying too hard to force normalcy. Or maybe it was the borderline predatory way the woman was looking at you; like a shark following a trail of blood. Either way, the vibes were rancid. 

“Can I start you off with a drink or is water okay?” You ask. 

“Could I possibly trouble you for a glass of chardonnay?” She asked, lowering her eyebrows. 

“Of course.” You nodded and reached for your pen. 

“Actually,” She corrected herself. “If you could bring a bottle and two glasses, I’m expecting company.” 

“Absolutely.” You scribble the order down on your notepad. “Do you have a preference?” 

She thought for a moment. “Oh, dealer’s choice. Whatever you prefer.” 

You soon returned to her booth with a bottle of your favorite chardonnay and two stemmed glasses. You poured a small bit in one glass to let her taste. 

“You have wonderful tastes.” She complimented, filling her glass. “It’s very delicious.” 

You rocked on your heels. “Would you like to place your order now, or do you want to wait until after your guest arrives?” 

“Actually,” she repeated, filling the other glass. “My guest is already here.” 

She slid the glass across the table and gestured to the other seat. 

You felt stupid, but there was no way to avoid this. You couldn't just not do your job. She cornered you by the confinements of your profession.

"I really can't, I'm on the clock." You said, apologetically. The wine beckoned you. "I'm sorry, maybe another time."

"Oh, bummer." The woman placed her chin in her hand and pouted. "Well, I'm sure there's something that would make your boss look the other way."

She glanced down at your bandaged hand, then met your eyes. "The bandages are a dead giveaway, [F/N] [L/N]."

You then noticed a wire sticking from her pocket. Undoubtedly some kind of recording device. You looked at the ground. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave."

"But who will drink all this wine?" She asked, raising her glass.

"Ma'am." Your voice hardened as you tried to bite back an overwhelming rage. "Please leave the restaurant. I'm not going to ask you again."

Your manager, Matthew, passed by. "What's going on here?"

"This waitress is being very rude." The woman complained. "I ordered chardonnay, and she brought me chablis."

"Chablis is a type of chardonnay." You corrected. Even you found it strange that this was the hill you were willing to die on. "She asked for my preference, and I prefer the unoaked varieties."

Matthew looked confused. "Well, she's right."

You gestured to her pocket and he caught on immediately. He narrowed his eyes. "Ma'am, please leave the premises or I'll be forced to call the police."

The woman stood up, rummaged through her pockets and slapped a handful of bills down on the table. She then proceeded to drink both glasses of wine and walk away.

Matthew looked at you apologetically as he collected the bills. "Are you sure you want to be here tonight? I can call in someone to cover for you."

You shook your head and grabbed the bottle by its neck. "No, it's okay. I appreciate the concern but I really just want things to go back to normal."

"Hey!" A woman from the adjacent table called out. You prepared to immediately recant your statement about not going home.

"We like chablis." The woman said, gesturing to herself and her friend.

Her friend joined in. "And if that nosy reporter lady isn't gonna drink it..."

You glanced at Matthew, who shrugged. "Sure. It's yours."

The women exchanged delighted looks as you placed the bottle on their table. Matthew handed you a couple of clean glasses and you began to pour.

"For this wine, I suggest any of our wonderful seafood dishes." You explained, your cheeks stinging with a smile. "It also pairs quite nicely with chicken and game bird."

"Thank you." One of the women said. "If you don't mind, we'd like to take a look at the menu, please."

"Of course." You nodded. "Just flag me down whenever you're ready."

"This is why I put you behind the bar, by the way." Matthew gently scolded you as you collected the soiled glasses.

"Didn't you hear?" You said. "Madison needs the money because we can't all have paid time off."

"You should have come to me first." He sighed. "She has no right to say those things to you."

"Never stopped her before." You shrugged.

"I'll talk with her after the dinner rush." He said. "Just... try not to get cornered tonight, okay?"

"I'll do my best." You answered, flatly. “Because that’s definitely something I can control.” 

The rest of your shift went smoothly, or, as smoothly as could be expected given the circumstances. The nosy reporter was right, your bandage was a dead giveaway. You had to dodge a couple of questions, but most people had enough decorum to know the wound--metaphorical and literal--was still fresh. 

You said goodbye to Matthew and Charissa, collected your things and walked out to your car. You put the key in the ignition, only to find your gas tank was completely empty. You had just filled it that morning. 

You bit back a scream and fought the urge to slam your head against the steering wheel. Throwing the door open, you mentally prepared yourself to either make a long trek to the nearest gas station, or beat someone up.

“Looking for this?” A smug voice said over the cicadas. 

You turned around and saw the nosy reporter from before holding up a canister. A deep, blistering fury overtook your face as you slammed the car door. “You siphoned my fucking gas?” 

 “It’s not like you left me with much choice, [F/N].” She crossed her arms. “You’ll get it back once you answer my questions.” 

You threw your head back in disbelief. “You’re Freddie Lounds, aren’t you?” 

“I see I’m not the only one who does my research.” She said, looking a bit impressed. “How’d you know?” 

“It’s the first thing that comes up when you search ‘unethical crime journalists Baltimore’.” You answered. “There’s a whole flair dedicated to you on the subreddit for murder survivors.” 

Freddie seemed proud of herself. “Need a ride?” 

“I’d rather drive off a cliff.” You said, honestly, before turning around to leave. 

“Where are you going?” She walked after you. 

“To get more fucking gas, you evil bitch.” You shouted back. “Are you gonna follow me to the BP too?” 

“Look, I heard what you were saying to your friend.” She called out. “About white privilege.”

“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “It’s the same privilege that allows you to siphon a stranger’s gas and sit in a parking lot all night without getting arrested.”

“And I agree with you.” She hurried to your side, her chunky platform boots clacking against the asphalt. “They did you dirty and they’re shooting themselves in the foot by not listening to you.” 

You turned around and threw up your arms. “Why didn’t you just lead with that?”

“I invited you to sit down over a bottle of wine, did I not?” Freddie chuckled. 

“Cornering me at work is not a gesture of goodwill.” You huffed. “And I actually do want to put my story out there, but all you’re accomplishing by stalking me is guaranteeing you won’t be the one to do it.” 

“Are you really in a position to be that selective?” Freddie smirked and placed all her weight on one hip. 

You groaned. “What?” 

“The Baltimore Butcher is still out there, and you won’t be the hot new victim forever.” She grinned sadistically. “Soon enough, him or some other psycho is going to strike, and your fifteen minutes of fame are up.” 

“Good. Then I can go back to living my life.” You said. 

“But what if his next victim is a Christian?” Freddie grabbed your shoulder. “What if the next person who narrowly avoids getting their throat slashed decides to go on record and say that he doesn’t represent ‘real Christianity’?” 

You went quiet. You hadn’t considered it, but the thought of anyone downplaying his faith as a motivation made your blood boil. You looked into the man’s eyes and saw a person driven to kill for his god. A god he shared with the crusaders, conquistadors and slavers. 

“...but it does. Christians colonized half the planet for--” 

You stopped yourself when you saw Freddie’s smile. 

“You want to get on your soapbox, now’s your chance.” She bit her lip. “Take control of the conversation while you still can.” 

“Fine.” You spat. “I get off work tomorrow at four.” 

Freddie shoved the gas can into your hands. “I’ll see you then.” 

[hansoulo]

you’re just a bottomless pit

part one of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW - explicit language, allusions to violence, discussions of mild harassment, mentions of being royalty, kissing, choking, light non-descriptive smut, slight elements of dubcon, boba’s a big dick gotta be what you have amirite

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this is empire strikes back boba when he was just fucking around and finding out so i took a lot of liberties with canon don’t @ me. i offer u this picture as a helpful visual aid. merry christmas xx

༓ series masterlist ༓ 

Darth Vader was to be a house guest, and you promptly dunked your head underneath your bathwater.

The perfumed pool burbled for a few seconds while you groaned, listless and in the throes of dramatics, but your attendant only clucked in sympathy. Mila was long accustomed to your disdain for the Imperials who had come to occupy more and more of the palace. So, it seemed, was everyone except the Imperials.

After a long moment you emerged from below the water, droplets of it clinging to your face and trailing into your mouth. “Another Lord?” you asked incredulously, groaning even louder when the servant nodded.

You swam the two short strokes it took to go from one end of the small pool to the other, then floated bare on your back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. “Is he the one with all the strange…” motioning towards your mouth, you made a vague gesture. “Apparatus?”

“I believe so, your Highness.”

Humming noncommittally, you let your gaze trail off for a moment and stood rightside up again before returning to the bath’s edge. Its intricate tiles were cluttered with bottles, little glass tinctures and oils and soaps that all wrapped themselves around the room in a heady, heavy incense. You inhaled deeply and sighed. Lord Vader with the strange apparatus.

You couldn’t remember a time before your father, the sovereign ruler of Quas Killam, was a puppet for the permanently stationed General and a yes-man for Emperor Palpatine. Then again, you supposed it wasn’t really his fault his planet just happened to be Mid-Rim and full of exactly what the Empire needed. Being a yes-man was probably the only thing keeping his planet intact during the civil war that was supposedly raging right now.

But it was hard to feel sympathy for a man who dressed you up like a paper doll and never let your mother talk.

A soapy sponge was brought up against your back, smelling of lavender. Closing your eyes, you let Mila’s motherly hands scrub at your shoulders and arms until the skin tingled in a pleasant burn.

You picked at the tile grouts with a polished fingernail, head swimming with rows and rows of grey uniforms and white shelled armor. “Wonder why they’re here this time,” you said, speaking softly to no one in particular.

“Princess, if I may...” the older woman began.

“You may.”

“I believe they’re building another weapons factory to supply the Empire, in the north fields. Lord Vader was invited to oversee its induction.”

You kicked your legs lazily in the water, half-asleep and lulled into slowness by the refresher’s warm steam. “And I suppose he’s bringing along an entourage?” you asked, already knowing the answer. They always did, those Imperial sorts. It was just a question of how many and for how long they decided to stay, having taken any real power from your family royalty years ago after they’d discovered the trinium mines your planet was known for.

Your title had rotted of its relevance, made even lesser by the fact that you were the youngest daughter of seven. Your infant brother was being groomed for ventriloquism and you, you were being groomed for obsoletion.

Mila’s hands, roughened by years of laundry and lye soap, rubbed warm oils into your skin. “There was talk of a bounty hunter, your Highness.”

Your eyes shot open.

A bounty hunter?

 ⫸ ——— ——————————————————————————— ⫷

You saw him a few weeks later, in the flurry of transport arrivals and mindless, droning ceremony. It was only a flash of his helmet, but it was enough to keep your imagination spinning for days.

Whispers from entreating servants and talk from stormtroopers that couldn’t keep their mouths shut had informed you of his reputation, his station, and his name. Boba Fett.

A particularly loose-lipped security droid regaled you with rumors of his being hired by Lord Vader, hunting a man named Han out in the Outer Rim. Quas Killam was on their way, apparently, good for information and heavy on the underworld dealings you’d always been shielded from. Truthfully, you didn’t much care. You knew no one got close to the Empire without blood on their hands. Whether they be kings or bounty hunters.

When you actually talked to the man, having been caught trying to eavesdrop on the chamber meeting he happened to be exiting the moment you leaned your ear against the door, any delusions of decorum were shattered the moment he opened his mouth. “Out of the way.”

You bristled, gathering up your skirts in a huff as you stepped away. Rude.

He was taller than you thought he’d be. Taller and broader than he looked before back on the cargo bay, a mere smudge in your peripheral vision. Now that he was alone save for you in the cavernous hallway, his words echoed on the marble tile. So much for espionage.

“My father’s in that meeting,” you replied shortly, putting on airs and doing your best to look like your mother, regal and cold.

Boba only stood there, thumbing the notches of his blaster until he caught the thin sparkle of the diadem crowning your head. A scoff, dismissive. “Then out of the way, princess.”

It wasn’t the title that bothered you. After all, it’s not like he was wrong. It was the way he said it. It was… it was patronizing! Condescending. Absolute inappropriate to a person of your station.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, more than a little attractive.

You shifted your weight onto one hip, scowling. “Don’t call me that.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, static-y and made even rougher by his helmet. “What? Princess.”

Stars, you heard that word a million times a day for a million different reasons. His saying it shouldn’t have felt so warm in your mouth.

Before you could volley back a reply, something equally biting and smarmy, the double doors he stood in front of began to groan open again.

“Better scram, little one.” Boba jerked his head towards the sound of your father’s advancing footsteps. “Daddy’s coming.”

⫸ ——— ——————————————————————————— ⫷

You often dreamed about what it’d be like to leave. Your title. Your station. All the bloody bores that came along with it.

But you had never even been outside the palace grounds. Probably never would, unless your father found someone willing to marry a low-ranking princess and hoisted you over their shoulder, a piece for a game you were never taught and never allowed to play. You’d already resigned yourself to that fact and half-way convinced yourself you were okay with it. But prisons were still prisons. Even if they were made of silk.

On the eve of Lord Vader's departure, everyone in the palace was preoccupied. Your father was most likely schmoozing some Imperial officer. Your mother, in bed with yet another headache. Your governess spent the day preening over your younger brother and your handmaiden was nowhere to be seen. You had a sneaking suspicion she was with one of the guards in a dark hallway.

So you slipped out behind a servant’s entrance and looked for a place to breathe.

Hardly anyone knew about this part of the palace gardens. It was sequestered behind so many winding footpaths and barely-oiled gates that the security droids never bothered patrolling past the main entrance, making it simple to duck underneath the overgrown hedges. The air was quiet; heavy-scented with all the flowers that had been planted and forgotten, left to grow wild across the footpaths and be crushed underneath your feet.

You used to come here quite often, when you were younger and it was easier to slip away. There were long spaces in your memory made of cotton, with hazy sun-soaked afternoons and the fountain that somehow still spouted out streams of cold water from the hands of a statue, some relic of an ancient ruler who had long since died. It was only a small courtyard, made smaller by the thick surrounding hedges and large chunks of cobblestone, but it felt like a whole galaxy to you.

A few minutes passed, then an hour. Two hours. A long, slow, summer stretch of day that just confirmed the fact of your irrelevance. It was filled in only by the mindless reading of your holopad and a few short naps. But better out here alone than stuck back inside, surrounded by those insufferable stormtroopers.

Maybe you spoke too soon, because a few seconds later you were toe-to-toe with Boba Fett, your back pressed to the garden wall. Stars, you didn’t even hear him walk in.

You’d think by now you would have learned to be more careful. Listening and being listened in on.

The helmet tilted up and then down, examining your sour expression. Rolling your eyes, you slumped against the ivy-covered brick, still smarting from your encounter with him a few days prior. “Why are you here?” A haughty, affected wave of your hand. “Were you sent here to fetch me?”

The man straightened out, stepping back from you with a broadening of his already broad shoulders.  Chips in his armor reflected tiny bits of sunlight, little silver speckles on green armor that looked even greener surrounded by wild flora. He hunted people for a living, so the fact that you were made quick work of didn’t really bother you. Still, it was a bit disappointing. Having to go back to the palace was the last thing you wanted.

“The king was concerned for your safety.”

Oh for Maker’s sake. “You mean he was concerned for his reputation.”

“I was told to find you-”

“-and bring me back so I could sit in a parlor and be supervised like a child.”

“Princess,” he sighed.

There was that word again.

A heavy swallow bobbed the lump in your throat, your chest flushed and littering the space between your bodies in a low buzz. You narrowed your eyes, not trusting your own head for something more articulate, and spit the question out. “What?”

He motioned towards the footpath, one hand resting on his belt. “Let’s go.”

You only crossed your arms with a raise of an eyebrow, mind floating an acknowledgement that you were very much acting like a child who needed to be supervised.

“I don’t make a habit of tracking down spoiled royalty.”

No one had ever called you spoiled before.

It was sort of refreshing.

The man cut an imposing figure, you’d give him that. With the helmet and blaster and… armor and such. You weren’t even entirely sure you remembered to put on real shoes before coming out here, still slippered and in stocking feet. What a pair you must’ve made. Incongruous.

You cocked your head and leant against the wall with the fabric of your dress swishing out around your ankles. Caught by warm, humid winds, its layers separated themselves into thin sails before falling down together again. Rhetorical questions were blooming alongside flowers. “Are spoiled royalty below your paygrade, then?”

A tip of his helmet said yes, yes they are.

You supposed as such, with the sort of reputation he had. Skilled bounty hunter. Feared mercenary. Expensive and coveted.

A lap dog.

Maybe there was more in common between you than you thought.

Another breeze whistled past, but the man in front of you was silent. “Well,” you finally spoke, brushing away the imaginary dirt on your dress. “I don’t make a habit of following around strange men, so we’re in a bit of a bind.”

There was an edge in his voice when you moved to walk away, a gloved grip snaking up and resting a deadweight on the back of your neck. You pushed up against him. Lothcat and mouse. You were both, but he was too. “I’m not telling you again, Princess.”

If he called you that again you were sure something would happen. What that something was you had no idea, but the epithet, mocking as it was, felt too good soaking in your sternum for it not to be a catalyst.

A breathy smirk left your lips when your hips canted downward and the gauzed fabric of your dress caught on his cuisse plate. “If I didn’t know any better,” you whispered, reaching to flatten your palms across his chest, “I’d say you almost enjoyed chasing me.”

The hand on your nape tightened and his leather fingerprints dug unspoken threats into your skin that simmered, burning up and down your spine. You faked a pout. “Shame you already caught me, isn’t it?”

The grip surrounding you loosened just slightly, letting your back slide down the garden wall whose ivy-covered stone dragged at your bodice back. A small voice chirped up in the back of your head, chiding you for dirtying the delicate fabric before you willed it away, done with listening.

Boba almost growled. “Don’t push your luck.”

“My, my,” you clucked, shaking your head. Your fingers trailed towards the edges of his helmet and traced stripes where his brow bone would be. They were gold. For vengeance. “Aren’t we feeling insolent today?”

The man underneath the beskar scoffed, the palm that was at the back of your neck now wrapping itself around your outstretched wrist and pulling your hand away. You let out a quiet whine of protest, both at the loss of contact and just to see what it might do to him to hear it. When he stiffened, leaning away with every muscle seeming to tense and release and tense again, you were unreasonably pleased. There was still red blood underneath all that red paint.

Boba’s voice was clipped when he finally replied; the vowels came through strained and raspy. “I could say the same for you.”

Yes, he probably could, couldn’t he?

Then again, maybe your two wrongs could cancel out into being right and not at all compromising.

It’s not like you really did anything erroneous. Well, besides the running away part. But that was par for the course for you. All that was new was… him. And his hands. And his being alone with you. Which could possibly be construed as something wrong and compromising but how wrong could it be, really, if neither of you did anything?

Of course, this all hinged on neither of you doing anything. Compromising.

“Take the helmet off and I’ll go with you,” you offered, knowing how juvenile you sounded. You just wanted to see if he’d hear you. If he’d listen.

He did.

Boot spurs clinked as he stalked towards you, closer than he was before. It was invasive; almost chest to chest with no room for breathing as you were pushed up against the wall again, and you were met with the revelation that whatever you were toying with was probably a really, really bad idea.

Static filled your ears from the husk of his vocoder. “You know I can take you back whether you want to or not.” The roof of your mouth went dry and you remembered how Boba’s palm spanned the entire back of your neck, cradled delicately by leather fingers. He could crush your throat in one hand. Squeeze until you went limp. You wouldn’t be able to stop him. “I don’t need your permission.”

Your thumbs reached up to the lock mechanisms on either side of his head anyway. “I know.”

Fire felt good when you were close enough to be warmed by it. Whether or not you’d be burned was left to be seen.

The helmet lifted with a soft click.

Truth be told, you’re surprised he let you do it.

You dangled the helm almost carelessly by your hip, curling your fingers around the lip of it whilst your other hand stayed hovering near his face. He looked a bit older than you imagined, mid-thirties maybe, scarred and stern-looking. Handsome.

You should’ve stopped while you were ahead but all you wanted—stupid, stubborn, and yearning for a plaything—was to feel the black curls cropped close to his ears. Which probably counted as compromising.

Without the modulator Boba’s voice was deeper, the rumbling kind of richness that was used to giving orders and used to having them followed. It bore down on you as a concrete weight. “I’m not a kind man, princess.”

He forgot that you were used to giving orders too.

The coarse material of his collar chafed your palm as you held it, gripping a lifeline, and tilted your mouth up to his ear. The softness of your voice disguised your intention. It sounded innocent when you whispered it. Gentle, even. “I never said I wanted you to be.”

His lips bruised you and tasted like salt.

It was all tongue, teeth, barely cloaked violence, pressed until your throat felt raw and your heartbeat dropped below the ground to join whatever was left of your dignity. When your knees buckled, a gloved hand settled large between your shoulder blades.

You didn’t think your first kiss would be like this.

Hypothetically it would have been clinical, fumbling and awkward in your own inexperience. Out in front of a crowd somewhere after you met the eyes of a stranger at the altar. Or maybe in secret, like it was now, with a tryst of boyhood and a peck on the cheek.

Boba Fett was a stranger, but he wasn’t a boy. And this wasn’t a peck on the cheek.

You didn’t realize he had lifted you up by your hips until you were placed back down again, his having crossed the few steps from the wall to the nearby fountain with arms firmly wrapped around your middle and not so much as a strain of his hips. His strength should have scared you. It did scare you, a little, but the same hands that had gripped the blaster still at his side were deceptively gentle around your waist. You let yourself be brought down by his bended knees.

“Easy there,” Boba said, still crouching on the ground beside you as you slowly lay back on the lip of the waterwork, white noise burbling from the quiet fixtures. The flat, curved slab surrounding the shallow pool was wide enough that you needn’t worry about balancing, speckled gray stone warmed from weather and soon by skin. There was one moment where Boba allowed you to catch your breath and then it was gone, knocked out of your lungs in another assiduous touch.

“Poor thing,” he mocked, sardonic even as he cooed gently into your open mouth. Your back arched in an unwitting presentation and blood pounded a drumbeat in your ears. All you could see was Boba; his face and his shoulders and his arms braced beside your head, leaning over your horizontal form. Like you were prey. Maybe you were. “What would your father say if he saw you like this?”

He wouldn’t be able to say anything. Would stand there, mouth agape and his eyes doing that strange bulging thing it always did when you did anything besides sew embroidery squares. Fainting wasn’t out of the question. It would be ridiculously fun to watch.

You huffed, chasing Boba’s mouth with your own when he shifted above you. The midday sun hung high, edging the bounty hunter’s tanned face in white. You could see your own eyes in the reflection of his pupils, could smell his warm skin. His canines scraped your collarbones. Everything was fast, blurry, and burning.

Stars above.

The whole situation was ridiculous. Twenty minutes ago you’d never been kissed on the mouth and now you were letting a killer-for-hire grope you like you were a back-alley harlot.

It wouldn’t end well. You’d curse after he left and hate yourself for letting him stay, because his staying would be brief and shallow and cruel, but right now, lying on the edge of a fountain with sunshine on your neck and a low voice in your ear, staying was the only thing you wanted him to do.

What an egregious lapse in judgement.

What a beautiful, electrifying lapse in judgement.

“You’re so—” a slurred pitchiness invaded your vocal chords, coating everything in bitter syrup. Your jaw was starting to numb from unforgiving lips. “—so rude,” you choked out, mind struggling to find footing amid its own dizziness. You felt like an overheating droid, full of bad code and faulty wiring that made your words and your actions discordant because even as you insulted the man, your hands were curling around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Always so rude, so… so mean to me. Makes me want—” you panted, voice breaking off into a whine when a calloused palm slid across the back of your thigh, “...want…”

His accent curled the consonants into a dance. “Want what, Princess?”

Expectant in their heaviness but teasing a smile in their lined corners, Boba’s eyes were the color of charred umber. Squirming in his arms, you nosed your face into the junction of his collarbones. “Want you,” you finally mumbled, admitting it in one long, pathetic exhale.

His promise had sharp teeth.

“You can have me.”

[tjlikesprettythings]

@thatwaxlion: Also, wouldn't mind to see a jealous Dani from you! No, I wouldn't mind it all. In fact, I hereby declare my prompt request.

I have answered your request, once again, I should really be working (perks of working from home) but I’m having too much fun writing these so enjoy my friend!

Prompt: Jealous Dani Dani stood beside the window of the Conrad hotel ballroom, scanning the crowd of the charity fundraiser where their suspects are expected to make an appearance. She had to wondered if ever since Bright joined the team they find themselves in these high society events more and more, as if the killers are attracted to his background.

It was no shocker that Jessica Whitly was on the guest-list of this particular fundraising event and so naturally Malcolm and herself were able to get in unnoticed, and Gil offered to escort Jessica. Dani tried to keep her smile from blooming, recalling the look on Jessica Whitly’s face when Gil appeared in his tux, the woman looked like she could use a drink, practically parched from the way her mouth fell open. She had to admit, Gil definitely filled out a tux just fine.

Jessica’s quick recovery was pointed to her next, “Dani, you look absolutely ravishing, gosh that color is fabulous on you.” As she looked her up and down, Dani’s orange full sleeve silk ensemble with the deep V cut and wrapping accent on the waist that framed her body perfectly before billowing out at the hem with a split up the middle, was not only elegant but very alluring. Her Hair was pulled up to a high ponytail completed with some statement gold pieces. She had thanked Mrs. Whitly graciously though she did find the attention a bit uncomfortable. 

What she had failed to notice in her spying of her boss and Whitly matriarch was the way Bright’s eyes swept her from head to toe, if he thought her ensemble to the Taylor wedding was something, then he wasn’t prepared for this. He swallowed the lump in his throat and a familiar burn in his stomach as he walked up to join her.

But that was the point of tonight, to stand out and appeal to their suspects. They deduced that this duo worked in a team of charming couples who targeted wealthy men and women of high society, seduced them, blackmailed them and then cleared up the loose ends by killing them.

JT ran operations from the van, opting to stay out of a ‘monkey suit’ as he put it. Keeping an eye through the security cams and listening in on their comms. She scanned the room filled with guests decked out to the nines and wait staff as they walked the room with wine glasses, champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres. She found herself rolling her eyes, of course rich people made a party of helping the less fortunate. 

She finished her sweep only to find a very attractive brunette talking to Malcolm at the bar, she turned up her comms and listened in. 

“I haven’t seen you in one of these in a while,” She said waving to the bartender for a drink. 

Malcolm chuckled and nodded, “yeah, not really my scene. I only attend when it is absolutely necessary.”

Dani could tell they knew each other, there was a familiarity in the way she spoke to him, “I imagine Jessica is the absolutely necessary factor here.” She teased as she took a sip of her wine. “Well I’m glad that she forced your hand, I’ve been wanting to run into you again.” Dani rolled her eyes again, this woman was obviously not subtle about her motives. 

Dani knew Bright was an attractive man, pair that with the fact that he had millions to his name he would be a catch to most women, she just assumed that he kept to himself because of who he was and of course he didn’t exactly scream fuck boi bro. But She also knew that he could be incredibly charming when he wanted to be, that every time they walked down the street to get back to the precinct or to grab a coffee or tea women would appreciate his style, his features, the fact that he was both welcoming yet dangerous. 

Most of the time she didn’t think about it because she had his full undivided attention, even if he excitedly bumped into someone he’d quickly apologize and turn back to her. She didn’t realize that his attention being occupied by someone who very obviously knew him, and there was a hint of something more would make her feel...uneasy. 

She cleared her throat, to which Malcolm instantly looked in her direction and locked eyes. Shit, she forgot that he could hear her too. She pulled her brows together and scratched the back of her ear, looking away. It was JT who intervened and she decided she owed JT lunch.

“Damn, who knew Bright had game.”

This time Gil cleared his throat from where he was standing with Jessica on the other side of the room. To which JT whispered a “Sorry boss.”

Dani hid her smile behind her hand, as she pretended not to watch him and his yet to be named brunette. She didn’t know why but the way he chuckled and the way her hand reached out to brush the lapel of his jacket just annoyed Dani. Apparently personal space wasn’t a thing for this woman. 

“How is your father doing these days, Alice?” Malcolm asked focusing the subject back to small talk, the kind he detested but what could be done. 

Ah so her name was Alice, Dani scanned the room but really her eyes were focused on the profiler, what was the point of this exchange anyway, they were here to do a job, not to flirt and catch up. She didn’t know where her attitude was coming from and that added to her annoyance.

Alice shifted uncomfortable and shrugged as she pushed some of her hair behind her shoulder, “You know the usual, making sure to control every aspect of my life. He wants me to get married and settle down, I’m not good enough for the family business but I certainly can help it with an advantageous union.”

Dani just scoffed which earned her another look from Malcolm but there was something in his smile as he turned towards Alice. “How very antiquated of him, I’m sure he sees that your charms could be put to better use.”

Alice beamed at him again, eyes hooded as she took a step closer, “that’s for sure, you want to revisit how charming I can be?” She whispered close to his ear.

Malcolm smiled but his eyes were on the stand out beauty in orange across the room. He was enjoying Dani’s very apparent uneasiness in his re-acquaintance with Alice. Alice had gone to the same boarding school as him. While most kids didn’t bother with him after his father, Alice like Vijay was willing to be his friend.

“I know you can be...charming, but better be on my best behavior tonight.” Malcolm said as he took a step back from her. Alice can also be very pushy as he recalled. 

Alice just chuckled, “You have to admit, we used to have a lot of fun. Sure you don’t want to just disappear for a bit, this party is a bummer anyway...”

Dani’s mind instantly wandered to his ‘I’ve had sex, plenty of sex’ and even then she was a bit uncomfortable by his confession, now she was very uncomfortable by this whole exchange. Did this woman have no boundaries? The man said no, just leave it alone and have some self respect.

JT chimed in again, “Well damn bro…again who knew you had this much game!”

“Don't take game, if it’s being practically thrown at you,” she found herself mumbling before she realized what she was saying, to which she heard JT snicker. 

“Savage Dani…”

She cleared her throat, “can we focus on the task at hand instead of Bright’s sex life.” It was as if she lost all control of herself as she walked over to the bar, making sure that there was an extra sway to her hip when she approached them.

“Hi,” she found herself say as she stood beside Malcolm, looking innocently between Malcolm and Alice. 

Malcolm caught off guard only for a second smiled and introduced her to Alice, since she wanted to play this game, he figured why not. He didn’t much enjoy these things but this would be the exception if he could rile Dani up just a bit. “Alice, this is Dani.” He said as his hand seamlessly wrapped around Dani’s small waist, the dress she wore left both little and a lot to the imagination. He could feel the warmth of her body through the silk. 

Dani’s heart thumped, as she fell into her role, “Alice, very nice to meet you.”

Alice eyed Dani up and down and then finally she smiled, “Ah so this is the reason you are on your best behavior.” Alice didn't seem to care for decorum in this situation, behaving like a true spoiled heiress, Dani thought, this kind of behavior in the Bronx would not be tolerated even if you were a strong independent woman. 

Dani narrowed her eyes then smiled, really she felt like she had no control over her actions because the next thing she knew she was saying, “only until we get home.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly as he cleared his throat, “Alice you’ll have to excuse us, I see my mother and I know she was asking for Dani earlier.”

Alice’s red lips curved up as she nodded, “well what do you know Malcolm Whitly is officially off the market, many a heart will be broken to know this. Nice meeting you Danielle.” She said as she walked away. 

Dani’s hands fisted at her side, no one called her Danielle. When she felt the gentle squeeze of his fingers on her waist as he released her, Dani suddenly came to herself. She closed her eyes and waited and on que, JT was laughing in her ear. 

“Well that’s one way to take care of that.” Gil said as he watched the whole exchange. Jessica on the other hand seemed to have enjoyed the show very much, even if she couldn’t hear anything, she got the gist of the situation. There was something so very normal and charming about women bickering over her handsome son.

Dani cleared her throat and scrunched her face, “sorry, thought this would make the point.”

Malcolm licked his lips and squinted at her, “what was the point again?” He wasn’t sure before but now he could clearly see it...she was jealous...to some extent anyway.

Dani pressed her lips together, and drew her brows in, WHAT was the point? Why was she in his business anyway. But to save face she simply shrugged, “to get back to work, you know look for the killers.” She rolled her eyes as if to say ‘duh’ but internally she was screaming with embarrassment, this is not how she behaved normally. She blamed Malcolm Bright for this.

Malcolm bit his lip to keep from laughing, he honestly was enjoying this too much, and her annoyance making his heart leap with joy, because that meant she was jealous. Something about Dani being jealous for him even if it was irrational and primitive made him feel...good. It brought to their relationship another layer, it gave him...hope.

[dhwty-writes]

Chapter 19 - Golden Gowns and Eventful Evenings

I have no excuse, so I will just post this and run 

Jaskier and Geralt attend the banquet in Goldfurt together. 

prologue | previous | next

Read on AO3

Being the biggest city between Yspaden and Mirt, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Goldfurt exceeded any and all expectations Jaskier might have had before returning after his twenty-year absence. Being governed by his brother-in-law, Janina’s husband no less, it shouldn’t come as a surprise either that they exceeded them in the wrong direction.

Truth be told, he did not remember a lot about the city from his pre-Oxenfurt days. Of course, they had been obligated to visit the banquet every year, both as neighbours as well as the family of the future Countess, but Jaskier had been barely thirteen the last time he had attended the festivities. The only thing he remembered from that visit was his short-lived infatuation with one of Goldfurt’s squires. It had promptly ended when said squire had basically wiped the floor with him in the training yard during their one and only interaction.

After that unpleasantness he had gladly given a rather wide berth to the city and the castle at its centre. Jaskier had even managed to forestall the unhappy reunion for another year due to a cough at the most convenient of times.

This year, however, there was no excuse in the world that would have made it appropriate for him to stay away. Not with his title, not with his renewed betrothal to Lady Alina. Not with the two newest additions to his household, he was supposed to parade around like a pair of exotic animals.

Jaskier ground his teeth as he tugged at the sleeves of his shirt. ‘Melitele’s tits, I’d gladly attend the dinner if I could leave Ciri and Geralt in Lettenhove,’ he thought bitterly. But that would not only be a grievous insult, it would also rouse more suspicion and rumours than they already did. ‘Best hide them in plain sight.’ And if something unforeseeable were to happen, they could also make a quick escape.

Due to these unforeseen developments, the lack of information had posed quite an obstacle. If there was one particular lesson the twenty years with Geralt had taught him, then it was that ignorance in the face of danger could be fatal. And while one might assume, that a witcher’s lifestyle was much more deadly than a Viscounts, Jaskier would gladly go and fight a dozen ghouls with nothing but his lute, instead of entering the vipers’ nest that was Goldfurt.

Extensive reconnaissance—consisting of squeezing as much information as possible out of his three sisters—had revealed that he might actually have better chance with the ghouls. The silk doublet his servant buttoned up would do little against daggers in the dark or libations laced with poison. Not that he expected his kin and kinfolk-to-be to try and murder him at a dinner party, of course. He expected them to have some decorum at least.

Still, he had entered the city knowing fully well that he was anathema to at least half a dozen invited guests, not least of all their host. On the other hand, which relative of his wife was not anathema to Filip Firkalt?  None of them, that was which. It had been one of the primary sources of their entertainment in the past days.

It was no secret that while he and his sisters nursed a precarious love-hate-relationship, the loving aspect was completely lost on the in-laws. The source of that animosity, of course, lay in the title he now bore. The moment his disappearance after his graduation from Oxenfurt had become public knowledge, both of his brothers-in-law had begun vying for what was rightfully his, Kerton with his heir even more so than childless Goldfurt. The fact that he had returned to rob them of what they had already considered theirs, was just another strain on their relationship.

Another of the lessons Geralt had imparted to him, was the importance of a plan. So, not only had the four Pankratz siblings spent their evenings mocking the stupidities they had been forced to endure by the hands of the men in their lives the past two decades, they had also conspired how best to pay them back within the confines of propriety. Two of them, at least. Janina and her blood-tear mourning garb had only been the appetiser for the main course that was to be served at the banquet tonight.

Or rather, it should have been. For the first vital life lesson he had learned on the Path was that every plan, no matter how good or bad, immediately went to shit upon the first contact with the opponents. Theirs had been no exception to the rule. The memory still made him clench his fist in anger. The disrespect shown to him and his sisters by not riding out to greet them was one thing. But he should have punched Goldfurt in the face when he first had called Geralt a dog. ‘Right then and there, castle peace be damned.’

“M’lord?” the attendant fussing over his cuffs called his attention with a meek voice. “Begging your pardon, but you have to let go of that fist, m’lord.”

“Oh,” he replied dumbfounded as his eyes travelled down to the rings he was holding in his hands. “Of course.” Slowly, he uncurled his tightly clenched fingers, while she slipped the signet ring as well as the embellished buttercup ring in place.

Jaskier stared blankly at his mirror image, fighting the urge to smile at the sight of him clad in Lettenhove ochre and muted autumnal colours. It would be the last time to dress for such an occasion before winter undoubtedly would settle in but a few days. He would be in need of a level head as much as a stoic façade for this evening. No matter how much he wanted to shout out his delight over his delivery from the straightjacket that had been his mourning garb. He wouldn’t have a lute to do so anyways, so there was no point in it.

In any way, there was no bard required this evening. He needed to be the Viscount de Lettenhove instead, protecting all those who had sought shelter at his home and hearth for the winter. ‘Geralt chief among them all.’ The witcher had protected him for nigh twenty years of his life, after all. After all these years of watching helplessly as villagers, nobles, and innkeepers had made Geralt’s life miserable, he was finally in a position to repay him. And it was high time that he did so.

“Will that be everything, m’lord?” the servant asked with a coy smile.

“Yes.”

He bowed obediently, still lingering. “Shall I be waiting for your return?”

Jaskier spared him a short considerate glance. He was quite an attractive fellow, although far too young. “Best not,” he answered, doing his best to keep the contempt from dripping into his voice. It wasn’t directed at the servant anyways. “It will be rather late, I’ll wager.” He certainly wasn’t desperate enough to take a man to ben who might not be offering his companionship for his own volition but because of ill-directed instructions he’d received.

Besides, he had a witcher to get to. The servant bolted from the room and Jaskier quickly followed, but not before grabbing the bundle on his bed.

His witcher had been billeted at a ridiculous distance to Jaskier’s own rooms in quarters which found themselves in a distressingly poor state. Well, nothing in Goldfurt Castle classified as ‘poor’ exactly, but in comparison to the usually upheld standard, it was scarcely better than the rug on the floor he’d been offered at first. The unfairness of it all made his blood boil.

Geralt, on the other hand, remained as unfazed as Jaskier was accustomed to. He had even kept him from running back to make good on his first impulse to bestow their host with a bloody nose. Instead, he had praised the quarters and assured him that he would be just fine, before ushering him out.

‘Maybe,’ a treacherous voice in the back of his head hissed, ‘he’s even glad to get away from you.’

Jaskier gnawed on his lower lip. He couldn’t even fault Geralt for that. His own welcome for his oldest friend had been anything but warm and he was well aware of the coldness freezing the air between them. ‘He still hasn’t apologised,’ he reminded himself. ‘Stubborn mule.’ Instead, Geralt had hurt him even more, albeit unknowingly so. Not that that made it hurt any less.

The same door that had slammed shut behind his back a few days prior blocked the path before him now. Jaskier didn’t allow himself a second thought and swung it open. “Ger—” He was with one foot over the threshold already, when he suddenly remembered and the fear of finding Geralt in bed with Marin stole his voice.

“My lord?”

He appeared to be in luck. Geralt was alone in the chamber. And nearly naked. The only strip of fabric on his person was a towel slung low around his hips and the shirt in his hands, his hair still damp from a bath.

“Uhm,” he said eloquently, while he desperately tried to get his thoughts into order. Unfortunately, he did not manage before his mouth started talking without any cerebral input: “You’re not wearing that,” he blurted of all things.

No ‘Good evening, Geralt’, or ‘How are you enjoying your stay, Geralt?’, or even ‘Fuck, why can’t we go back to how it was before, I’m slowly losing my mind, Geralt.’

No, it was 'You're not wearing that.'

If ever there was a moment for the skies to part and the gods to strike him down with a well-placed bolt of lightning, this was certainly is, right before 'You don't want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting.' What was it about the witcher that made him so exceptionally stupid? Whatever it was, if the gods could hurry up and erase his existence from this earth, Jaskier would be much obliged, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, nothing happened.

Nothing of that sort, at least, because something happened and that was Geralt slowly glancing down at the towel and up at Jaskier again to deadpan: "I wasn't going to."

"Good," Jaskier's mouth ambled on.

He had to hand it to Geralt, the fact that he didn't so much as raise his eyebrows before moving to put on the shirt was undoubtedly one of his greatest displays of discipline so far.

"You're not going to wear that, either," Jaskier continued, slowly regaining control of his words again.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice impossibly honest. As if there was nothing wrong with the black shirt and breeches, he had worn on the day they’d arrived.

“Because,” he quipped and tossed him the bag he was carrying, “you’re not going as a witcher tonight. This is my brother-in-law’s banquet; we have a reputation to uphold. You're my friend and anyone who knows me, which is everyone here, is well aware that the only way my friend is dressed in anything but the finest clothing would be over my dead body. I'd never allow you to stand out for your tastelessness and considering that you don't appear to have a fashion sense for yourself, I'll gladly provide you with assistance."

"Hmm." Geralt cleared his throat and said: "I need to change if you want me to wear that." He flourished the expensive clothes in his hand.

"Right." Jaskier took a breath to steady himself. But somehow, his feet didn't move.

He raised his gaze with an amused expression on his face. "You need to leave the room, my lord, unle-" The expression on his face changed rapidly as if he was just realising what he was saying.

The barbed retort was already on the tip of his tongue: 'Why, Geralt, are you offering I stay to watch?' But the image of him and Marin kissing was much too present in his mind as it was, so Jaskier bit his lip to keep it from escaping. 'He's not mine to keep,' he reminded himself. 'Never has been, never will be.' "Right," he forced out and turned around, "I'll wait for you in the hallway." He wasn't sure either of them would survive the dinner otherwise.

Jaskier did his best to keep from fidgeting and pacing while he waited outside, which was no easy feat considering the nervousness and hum of energy building within him. Normally, he wasn’t prone to fits of anxiousness. Tonight, however, there was so much that could go wrong, so much that would ruin everything, so much—

Mercifully, the spiral of dread was interrupted by the quiet lock of a door behind him, accompanied by Geralt politely clearing his throat.

“Finally!” Jaskier meant to say as he turned on his heel. What got out was more of a garble: "Hngh." Geralt looked... dashing. There was no other word for it, truly. Well other than 'otherworldly beautiful and I can't decide whether the outfit choice was the best or worst idea I had in a long time and shit, I really should have taken that into consideration; he's not yours to keep, Jaskier, get it together, gods damnit!'

Yeah, dashing was much easier than that. Blue suited him, but Jaskier had already known that. He had chosen the outfit for their last ball together as well, after all. But in contrast to that disastrous outfit, the witcher wore clothes that actually fit him, instead of too small things Jaskier had pulled out of his bag. And on top of that, the witcher had the audacity to smirk. "You approve, my lord?"

"I do," Jaskier managed without embarrassing himself further. "We should go," he decreed. "The Count and Countess will make their appearance soon; it is considered terribly impolite to arrive after them."

"And you're only aiming for impolite?" Geralt teased.

Jaskier frowned and quickly looked down to hide a smile. It was true, most of the meticulous planning by him and his sisters prior to this visit had been to be as impolite as possible while still operating within the socially acceptable norms. Janina and her blood-tear mourning garb had been only the beginning of what would undoubtedly come to a head this evening.

Judging by the quiet snort beside him, he wasn’t quick enough. “Geralt,” he spoke up a few moments later.

“My lord?”

He grimaced slightly. “You probably shouldn’t call me that tonight. It would only… raise suspicion.”

The witcher frowned deeply. “And what should I call you then?”

“Julian,” he said simply. “That’s my name, you know.”

“I thought you resented that name.”

‘I do,’ he thought. “I mustn’t,” he answered and continued on into the dining hall. A large part of the nigh two hundred guests had already arrived and heated the room up nicely, in spite of the freezing temperatures outside. A plethora of voices filled his ears, the kind of pleasant buzz that usually promised an eager crowd Jaskier could sail upon. But he couldn't, so now the mix was irritating, fraying his nerves. And it smelt. Not quite enough to actually stink, but that would come soon enough with the fragrances mixing with sweat and food.

All of the sudden, Jaskier pitied Geralt. He knew the witcher had much finer senses than he did and if he was nearly overwhelmed-

A nigh unnoticeable touch at his elbow made him whip around. He stared directly at Geralt's face. "Are you alright?" the witcher asked quietly, concern etched onto every fibre of his body.

"Quite," Jaskier answered stiffly, letting his eyes sweep over the crowd until he spotted Ciri and Józefa at a table directly beneath the dais. “Let us join my lovely sister and cousin, shall we?” the Viscount announced with a bright smile frozen on his face as he crossed the threshold, a gentle hand on Geralt’s elbow to ensure he would follow.

There was no announcement, no herald making their arrival known, yet at least half a dozen heads turned their direction immediately. A hushed whisper spread through the ballroom with each of their footfalls, like ripples on a still lake during a rain shower that turned into a thunderstorm. A few moments passed, none of the attendants quite sure how to react—Julian Pankratz’ return had been surprising to all, disconcerting to most, and relieving to none.

Then: “Julian Pankratz!” a booming voice cut through the backdrop of murmurs, the crowd parting to let the speaker through. “I didn’t think you’d have the guts to show your face here.”

Jaskier’s lips curled into a true smile for but a moment when he recognised him. “Dawid,” he greeted his former friend, wincing slightly when he pounded on his shoulder, “I wouldn’t have if I had known you’d be here.”

The knight laughed at that, slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him along. After that it was as if a wall had broken down. The journey to their places was torturously slow, continuously interrupted by former friends and lovers, now married and introducing their heirs, enemies and strangers, who sought to curry favours, or just regular attendants who just wanted an excuse to gawk at him.

They had almost made it, the end of their table already in touching distance, when another petitioner approached. It was a young boy, a squire, Jaskier guessed, dressed in Goldfurt’s livery, who bowed deeply. “My lord, my lord Goldfurt sends his regrets for the unfortunate seating situation,” the boy said with a wavering voice. “I am to let you know that there unfortunately is not enough space to accommodate all of your family as well as your witcher.”

Jaskier did not have to look up at the half-empty dais to know it was a blatant lie. “Unfortunate indeed,” he replied curtly.

“However, his lordship asked me to inform you that you yourself are welcome to join him at the high table, as are the two maidens who share his blood. And that you may rest assured, my lord, the witcher will enjoy himself just fine where he is.”

"I thank you kindly," Jaskier answered primly. "If you would do me the favour of relaying a message to her ladyship, now? Tell my sister, what is good enough for my witcher is good enough for me. I do not wish to add any additional strain to our familial relationship than there already is with our presence, which is why I am sure I will enjoy the festivities just as well down here as up there."

The boy stared up at him with wide eyes. "Lady Goldfurt," impressed upon him again. "If possible, in the presence of Lady Kerton." He nodded hastily and disappeared.

When Jaskier turned around with a sigh he was met with Geralt's dark expression. "What?"

"Do you think it advisable-"

He waved his hand around tiredly, continuing his path to Józefa and Ciri. Fuck, he was exhausted already and the banquet hadn't even started yet. "Do not worry about my wisdom, Geralt, I know more about these affairs than you do."

"It's not your wisdom or intelligence I question, I know you have both aplenty. It's your foresight. I do not know you to be a patient man."

"And I am not, but luckily it is not of the essence in this case. I am aware we tread on unfamiliar territory for you, but I grew up here. I am well aware of how far I, Julian of Lettenhove, can go before truly insulting someone. Lucky for us both, it is much farther that either you, Geralt of Rivia, or I, Jaskier the bard, could hope to. If anything, it will reflect poorly on our host to deny me my designated place over such a petty squabble. It will earn us sympathies!"

"What will earn us sympathies?" Ciri's eager voice asked.

"The fact that you will have to make do with this entirely new place for you, cublet, that is not at the side of the host of such a lavish gathering,” Jaskier replied and bowed with a flourish, taking her hand to kiss her knuckles. She giggled. “Madam, what a joy it is to see you. Truly, you are the jewel that crowns this evening; your beauty outshines the rising sun after a moonless night.”

“Thank you, Lord Lettenhove,” she answered with a perfect curtsy, during which the skirts of her dress flared out. Lettenhove ochre, just like his doublet, he noticed, and her dark hair plaited in an updo that must have taken hours to complete. It left no doubts as to where she belonged. She glanced up at him with a malicious glint in her eyes. "Do you know the best part?" she whispered.

He leaned down to her. "Tell me."

"The skirts are so wide, I could still gut a man in it."

Jaskier blinked in surprise; it was the quiet chuckle form Geralt that got him to finally break into laughter. "And what a good thing that is," he assured her.

"Fiona," Józefa chided softly. "I told you not to say that in nice company."

“Of course, cousin,” Ciri replied with a mischievous grin, “I would never.”

"Thank you," he said, rolling his eyes and winked at Ciri. He couldn't stop the feeling of pride welling up within him, but at least he could stop himself from hugging her by approaching his sister and kissing her hand as well. "You, madam, are just as dazzling as our young cousin. I fear I shall be blinded after this night, surrounded by so much beauty."

Behind him he heard Geralt whisper to Ciri: "What answer?"

"I just insulted him politely," Ciri answered just as hushed, evidently very proud himself. 

Józefa huffed and crossed her arms under her chest. She was wearing an expensive red robe with orange embroidery and primroses etched on the edge. "You are a woeful waffler, brother. But you look good, too. Nice and proper."

"Nice and proper indeed," Jaskier replied and straightened his impeccable doublet. "You think I can fool them into thinking I am just as much of a stuck-up prick as my father was and as they are?"

"Hmm," she hummed and cast a quick glance around. "I think you already have. Maybe yell at a few servants or refuse to speak to any of the ladies if the topic is not their beauty if you really want to drive the point home."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Working on it, sister dearest. I'm working on it." He clapped his hands and smiled brightly. "Well, let's get comfortable, shall we?" he chirped and pulled the chair back for his sister and Ciri in turn.

When he turned to Geralt and quirked a curious eyebrow when he still found him standing. The witcher looked back and forth between Jaskier and his two wards before shrugging. Geralt pulled back his seat with the mockery of a bow. 

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Thank you, my friend," Jaskier said with a subtle touch to Geralt's shoulder as he sat down.

"You're welcome. Julian," he said, as if he was probing out the taste of the unfamiliar name in his lips. A moment later he grimaced, as if it was particularly disgusting.

Jaskier was almost about to tease him about him when the great doors opened and Lord Goldfurt walked in with Janina on his arm. His sister looked magnificent, if he dared say so himself. While she usually didn't indulge in the luxuries that her advantageous marriage granted her, Jaskier was sure that she was wearing the most luxurious dress she had donned since her wedding. It was in dark and subdued tones, almost dark enough to count as mourning, that screamed "Lettenhove" at the same time.

Jaskier smirked. It had been a brilliant idea on Justyna's part.

The unhappy pair stopped before the dais, Janina stone-faced and Filip with a smile that fooled no-one. "My dear friends," he greeted them, "I am overjoyed that I am able to greet all of you once again at the beginning of this new year. May it bring prosperity and health for all of us. Especially my estranged brother-in-law, Julian Pankratz who has finally ascended to his rightful place as Lord Lettenhove. It's an honour and a pleasure to finally host the famous Pankratz siblings again. A shame that you are missing one of your matching set. What do you say, Julian? A toast of the famous poet!"

Jaskier rose from his seat to the thundering applause and bowed exaggeratedly. Somehow, this was the most calming thing he had done in months. "Thank you, thank you," he placated. " I fear neither honour nor pleasure are the words our hosts usually describe us with." It roused a laugh from the crowd. "But, for the sake of this tradition, we will behave.

"I am thrilled, though I am entirely undeserving of the praise. Here's to my sisters, who are more beautiful than a bouquet of larkspurs. To the Count of Goldfurt, our gracious host. It is my utmost joy to finally be reunited with my family and my home. To Redania! And to his beautiful lady wife, my sister, Janina of Lettenhove."

He could practically feel the temperature drop in the hall as soon as he had uttered the last words, all eyes trained on Goldfurt to see how he might react. He practically didn't react at all, besides begrudgingly raising his goblet to his mouth and taking the tiniest of sips. "To home," he agreed reluctantly, "and my lady wife."

Janina, on the other hand, barely contained her grin and drank a big gulp. "To home," she said as well and the toast echoed through the hall, slowly reciprocated by all of the guests. The toasts were mixed with murmurs of confusion that died as soon as the food started to appear.

The banquet itself was a dreary affair as noble banquets often were, especially if the people at your table were of the quiet sort. And what was Geralt if not the quietest of them all?

Still, Jaskier delighted in pointing out the Counts, Barons and knights to Ciri. Between Józefa and himself they managed not only to call up old history lessons of their neighbours and their connections to Lettenhove, but also a fair share of gossip as the first course was served: fish. Oh, and what fish it was. Platters upon platters of smoked cod was passed in front of them, along with roast pike and fat carps in beer sauce, accompanied with little pastries of perch, trout, and salmon.

It was good. No, divine even. Not as good as Ana's cooking at home, but that was hard to beat. Apart from that it might be the best food he'd eaten in years.

"Did you know," Józefa stage-whispered and leaned over to him, "that three years ago Goldfurt's aunt was found in flagrante with Dergetten's elder sister?"

Jaskier gasped, pretending to be scandalised. "You're kidding. That old bag?"

"What's in flagrante?" Ciri wanted to know and Geralt choked on his food. "Jaskier, what's it mean?"

"Umm," he felt his cheeks grow hot. "You know what? Geralt will gladly explain that to you." The witcher shot him a mean glare that betrayed that, no, he absolutely would not. At this point he decided that it was best to change the topic. "Do you see that old knight over there?" he asked and discreetly pointed at the table across the dance floor from them. "He's supposed to be a dragon slayer."

Geralt snorted disbelievingly, and Jaskier shrugged. "Oh, we all know he's a liar. He's got the dragon's wings hanging in his hall, I've seen them. If you ask me, it's a bat he killed. And not even an especially large one."

Ciri giggled at that and Jaskier happily continued to dish out child-appropriate rumours as the next round of dishes for them to choose from was paraded around. It was poultry next, roast chickens, chicken pastries, scalloped chickens. But also, a dozen herons, little carrot-nests with fieldfares, and truffled capon. And all along the wine flowed freely. Est-Est was brought out by the barrel, as well as dry reds, sweet whites and even the odd sparkling wine in between. Normally, Jaskier would have indulged happily, but he had the feeling that he should keep a clear head for the evening. Besides, he had monitor Ciri's alcohol intake, who readily charmed the servants into slipping another sip into her watered-down wine.

They had just advanced to the main courses—fourteen suckling pigs, two dozen roast veal, eight whole boars, a handful of oxen, with thick gravy, cooked and fried and braised roots and an overabundance of cabbages. White cabbages, red cabbages, pickled cabbage, cabbage salad—oh, how he missed Toussaint in the winter—when some puffed-up peacock playing at being a poet swaggered onto the dance floor. Jaskier huffed and crossed his arms, pointedly ignoring Geralt's bemused stares. 'The bardlet isn't even good,' Jaskier noted and forced himself to stop listening, else he might work himself into a rage over the blatant display of negative talent, that's what it was—

Geralt relieved a servant of her pitcher to refill both their goblets. Upon seeing Jaskier's questioning expression he shrugged. "Might make it more bearable for both of us," he explained and nudged the cup towards him. "This night I won't suffer sober."

He laughed hoarsely and clinked their cups together before taking a large gulp. "To sobriety, then."

"To banquets," Geralt added and glanced over to Ciri, "and no more surprises."

"What are you two talking about?" she wanted to know.

"The last banquet we attended together," Jaskier answered, steadfastly trying to ignore how his heart hurt at the thought. "It's where... we met your mother."

"Oh." She perked up at that, although her eyes seemed to grow sadder. "Was it... was it similar?"

"No," Jaskier said, just as Geralt replied: "Yes."

They blinked at each other for a moment before looking away. Jaskier tried to ignore the curious look Ciri gave him before she was distracted by Józefa again, the gods bless her soul. He was sure the little princess wasn't listening anymore and he was even more sure that Geralt was well aware of it, when the witcher growled: "The music was better."

"Excuse me?" he squeaked. Quickly, he cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" he asked again

He leaned over to him and Jaskier eyed him warily. "The bard's shit," he hissed. "Can't even carry a simple tune."

Well. That wasn't untrue. But hearing it from Geralt made him nearly spit out his wine. "You think all bards are shit," he responded as soon as he had recovered from his coughing fit.

"Bull-fucking-shit," Geralt growled. "I like your singing well enough."

He raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You called my singing a fillingless pie."

He shrugged. "And I still think that's true. Tasty crust," he impaled a piece of pie on his fork, "no filling." He pointed his fork at Jaskier. "Pretty voice, empty lyrics."

"Oh, so you think I have a pretty voice?" the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Anything else about me that appeals to your artistic eye?"

"Hmm," Geralt answered and raked his eyes over Jaskier's body before quickly hiding his smile behind his goblet. Not quickly enough, though. His cheeks grew hot with the blush and he frowned darkly.

'Stop it,' he commanded himself. 'No use reading meanings into something where nothing's there.' He drained his water glass. He was is desperate need of a clear head, for he was quite aware that the heat coursing through his body was not merely caused by the many people getting drunk in the room.

At least he could distract himself with dessert being served: sweet pumpkin pies and baked, stuffed apples, red berry groats and oat biscuits with honey and cinnamon. Jaskier was quick enough to snatch the cup of mulled wine out of Ciri's hands, but could hardly protest the platter laden with all different kinds of sweets—not when his plate didn't look any different.

He passed the goblet he had just salvaged over to Geralt, who just scoffed. "Oh, now he's ripping off your songs," the witcher grumbled. "Ridiculous."

Jaskier sighed. "Let him." He knew there were enough impostors; he had stopped caring years ago.

"He's not even getting the lyrics right."

"I thought they were empty anyways," he remarked and popped a biscuit into his mouth.

"Not the point."

"Jaskier," Ciri interrupted them, "they're starting to dance."

He frowned as he saw Goldfurt leading Janina onto the dance floor to signify the end of the dinner. He sighed as he caught Lady Alina's eye on the other side of the hall. No doubt he would be expected to share at least one dance with his betrothed, for propriety's sake.

"I suppose you should join them, Julian," Geralt quipped and crossed his arms as they watched Justyna and Damian join them on the dance floor.

"I suppose I should."

"Well?"

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe later. For the moment, allow me to abuse your presence to hide from my duties." He watched his two sisters dance when another thought hit him: "Wait, how do you know that the lyrics are wrong?"

Jaskier could've sworn he saw a blush creep up Geralt's cheeks as the witcher grumbled something unintelligible and hid behind his tankard again.

"Geralt of Rivia," Jaskier gasped indignantly, "are you trying to tell me, you memorised my songs?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

“I—” Jaskier began, only to be interrupted by Józefa: “Julian,” she called his attention. “I believe you should honour the Lady Alina with a dance.”

“Fine,” he ground out and rose to his feet.  “I believe I have to surrender you to my sister’s care for a while, so I fear our conversation will have to come to a close for the moment.”

“Pity,” the witcher grumbled and leaned back in his seat, obviously not finding it a pity at all.

Jaskier laughed as if he had just told a joke. “Do try to enjoy yourself, my friend.” He winked, though his heart sank. “I’ll be back.”

He wasn’t quite sure if he should be relieved or not to leave the witcher and his sour mood behind, though he was sure that his own mood grew worse with every step. Eyes and whispers clung to him all along the way, although he pretended not to hear.

He couldn’t deny them their right to gossip; they were landed gentry after all, what else were they supposed to do with their pitiable lives? He’d just prefer that gossip to be limited to him and not the newest two additions to his household.

He had been hesitant, at first, to bring both of them to Goldfurt. Truly the last thing on earth they needed was more attention on Lettenhove. But after some long talks with Józefa they had come to the conclusion that there were rumours anyways. Not bringing the two of them along would look even more conspicuous.

In the end, he wasn’t the one who found his betrothed, for she beat him to the chase. “Lord Lettenhove,” she called for his attention.

“Lady Alina,” he did little to mask his surprise. “You’re just the one I was looking for.”

“Were you now?” She raised her eyebrows. “No doubt for the same reasons as I do.”

“And which might those be?”

“To satisfy my brother’s demands that we socialise, of course,” she replied and raised her fan to hide her exaggerated yawn. “Is there not a question you should ask me?”

Jaskier bowed gracefully. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

“You may.” She barely even bothered with a curtsy before she let herself be led to the centre of the dance floor. The spent about half of the dance in icy silence, before Lady Alina finally spoke up: “So, are the rumours true then?”

“Rumours?” he feigned ignorance.

She snorted. “Do not insult me, Lettenhove. We both know that you are well aware what I am talking about.”

Of course, he knew. The whole society talked about nothing else but Fiona Nowak’s parents. There was a myriad of different stories where she came from and why she was in Lettenhove now, many of which he and Józefa had planted themselves. The most wide-spread, however, was the only one that he had actually tried to extinguish: “If you want to pretend, you’re more stupid than you actually are, fine. Let me be frank, my lord. Is young Miss Nowak your bastard daughter?”

He locked his jaw. “Those rumours are none that I encouraged,” he answered curtly.

“That does not answer my question.”

“And yet it is the only answer I will give on that matter,” he insisted. He had no wish to discuss the matter any further, so he was not quite sure what made him continue talking: “Though it is true that she is very dear to me, as is her safety. I would do anything to keep her safe.”

“How admirable,” she responded drily. “Though again, I would have thought the cleverness of your sisters runs in the family. I am disappointed to see that it doesn’t.”

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Ouch.’ Were he a man easily slighted, he would have taken offence. In reality, though, he was only impressed. “Are you well acquainted with them, my lady?”

“With some better than others. Did you know that I spent a few years in Nowigrad?”

He tensed up and she laughed.

“Of course, you did. You avoided the city like the plague back then.” Lady Alina smiled politely. “Well, Jolanta sends her regards.”

He frowned. She had never told him that she knew his former fiancée.

“She also lets you know that another friend of yours is growing restless with… this.” She made a vague gesture at the gossiping nobles around them.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I could not say, my lord, I am but the messenger.” The music stopped and she stepped back from him immediately. “I believe we have satisfied our duties. Good night, my lord.”

Even after leaving his fiancée in the arms of another, the dancing did not stop. Instead of his feet tracing patterns over the floor, his words took over as he found himself getting sucked deeper and deeper into the deadly dance of deception that was so popular with all nobles. Whenever he spun, trying to step off the dance floor of politics he found himself in the slippery grasp of yet another opponent. Chief among them, of course, were his sisters.

"Despicable old bag," Janina hissed, still eyeing the dowager Baroness he had rescued her from. "She's rotten to the bone."

"A Dergetten through and through," he agreed. "Józefa told me she’s the reason Lady Zibold came down with that horrible stomach sickness two years ago."

"Really, Julek?" She rolled her eyes. "You, churning the rumour mill?"

He shrugged. He had never claimed to be above these petty squabbles; he was landed gentry, after all, what else was he supposed to do with his pitiable life?

He spun away from her, soon to be embraced by another lady. All the while he danced, he could hear the rumours continue to spread like wildfire.

“Did you hear Lettenhove had the witcher bring his bastard to his keep?” he heard one nobleman whisper.

“She’s supposed to be the daughter of some whore,” another quipped.

“Don’t be a fool, Alma, she’s the Countess de Stael’s daughter; remember how she retreated to a temple for a few months a decade ago?”

“No, she has elf blood in her veins, it’s why he hid her.”

On and on the whispers went and Jaskier couldn’t help but roll his eyes at them. Not a single one of them got even close to the truth. He supposed he had to be grateful for that and he couldn’t resist the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw her. She was hand in hand with Daria, sweeping over the dance floor and disturbing this dancing couples in the process.

He spun a web of lies to evade a landed knight’s curious questions and found himself on the dancefloor again within the blink of an eye, Justyna in his arms.

"I am glad to see her so joyous," he said with a fond smile as Ciri and Daria swept past them again, nearly knocking Janina and Goldfurt over in the process. "Both of them." His smile widened even more when he saw her keeping her husband from reprimanding them. 'You can't hide from me, Janka,' he thought triumphantly, 'she's gotten to you just as much as to the rest of us.'

Justyna hummed her approval. "She's a sullen child, is she not? I feared she might faint during our first meeting."

Jaskier sighed. "She's been through a lot, Konwalia. She's seen so many bad things, worse than anything you or me can imagine, and she's just a child."

He stepped away to bow to her as she spun away from him. When he pulled her close again, she averted her gaze. "Maybe I didn't give you enough credit. Maybe you might be able to understand."

“Maybe I might be,” he agreed cautiously. “Where’s Julek, by the way? I don’t think I’ve seen him in hours.”

"He's— Miss Nina put him to bed. He was... not feeling well."

"He's a quiet boy."

"He is. Easily overwhelmed, too. He doesn't smile a lot either. He's a good boy, though," she assured him quickly.

"That I do not doubt," he said and smiled. She didn't return it. "Justyna?" Her gaze flickered away nervously as she tugged on her sleeve. It was a bad habit their father had beaten out of her even before he'd left. It worried him. “You—I am aware that you think me unable to comprehend your worries, and maybe you are right and I am. However, I hope that you would still confide in me after all these years. If there is anything short of murder and treason within my power to help you and yours, I will do it, without hesitation.”

She kept silent for a few more moments, looking uneasy. "It's Damian," she told him quietly. "He believes him a changeling."

He huffed disbelievingly. “A changeling?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “That’s what he settled for after accusing me of adultery first. He does not believe that a son of his could be this—”

“Inadequate?” Jaskier offered, well-acquainted with that particular paternal sentiment.

“He is not what he wants his son to be. Not courageous, not knightly enough, while Daria is—not enough of a boy to be precisely that.”

“And isn’t that a familiar tune?” Jaskier sighed quietly. “I am sorry your son takes this much after his namesake.”

“I am not.” She raised her chin defiantly. “For I love his namesake, just as I love my son.”

“I am glad to hear that.” The song ended and they both took a step backwards. Jaskier reached down and gently lifted her knuckles to his lips. “Worry not, my lady. For the time being, you are guests in Lettenhove, protected by my castle peace. And I happen to be quite fond of cowards, monsters, and inadequate children.”

Her expression softened. “I know you are. Thank you, Jaskier.”

He squeezed her hand briefly, before excusing himself, in desperate need of a drink—and a conversation with a certain witcher, he believed. The ballroom floor was as dangerous a terrain as it had been the whole evening, but Jaskier deftly dodged those who threatened to converse with him before collapsing in the chair next to Geralt. "Finally," he sighed and gladly took the goblet his witcher handed him.

“Did you have fun, Julian?” Geralt asked him and Jaskier raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“Did I look like I was having fun?” he countered.

“I am sure there was quite a number of attendants you managed to fool.” The unspoken ‘but not me’ hang heavy in the air between them and for a moment he allowed himself to bask in the familiarity of that. Jaskier closed his eyes, the noise and smell and lights draining away with every heartbeat until he could pretend it was just the two of them in a lonely clearing, sharing a skin of sour wine. Just them, just friends, just a witcher and his bard.

The illusion was sundered all too soon by a voice they had suffered all too long for one evening already. "Good sirs, might I persuade you to make a request?” Jaskier opened his eyes again and found himself staring into the young and bright-eyed face of a bard whose hopes and dreams were surely about to be crushed. The boy smiled widely and bowed. “Along with a bit of constructive criticism, mayhaps?"

Jaskier exchanged a quick glance with Geralt and, slowly and deliberately, set down his goblet as he waited for the answer he knew would come: "You changed the lyrics," Geralt stated, "not for the better."

"And how would you know?" the bardling asked with too much enthusiasm and tilted his head to the side. He gave them both a thorough look before gasping with excitement. "Oh, I know who you are! You're the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. And you-" He turned to Jaskier and his eyes grew wide. "Master Jaskier!" He bowed deeply. "It's an honour to meet you, truly it is. I have studied all of your work, sir, I am one of your greatest admirers."

He did his best to hide his pained expression with a smile. "I fear I do not go by that name anymore. I am old and weary; it is time for the new generation to get a chance. Viscount Lettenhove, if you please."

“Of course, my lord. And, if I may be so bold: wise words, wise words indeed,” the bard preened, too caught up in his speech to notice Geralt’s elbow landing in Jaskier’s ribcage or the wheeze that escaped him at that. "Might I humbly request a piece of advice of you? It would honour me greatly, no matter—”

"You may," he interrupted him and shot a glance at Geralt. "Stop singing other people's songs."

"But-"

"Don't interrupt him," Geralt growled.

“Thank you, my witcher,” Jaskier said and twirled his goblet in his hand. “See, young man, here’s the issue: you may be a bard, might even call yourself a strolling minstrel, and yet you are living off another’s hard work. I do not begrudge you for it; repeating songs you have heard certainly is a way to make your living. Mind you, however, that a poet, a troubadour, a veritable minstrel is, first and foremost, an artist.”

“But—” the bardling laughed nervously. “But I do not paint pictures.”

“Evidently,” Geralt grumbled just as Jaskier asked: “Don’t you?” He sighed and took a sip. “I certainly did. My experiences were my canvas, my emotions my paints, my aching heart my brush. Which is why I cannot sing the songs of another. How can you aspire to give a true performance, pour your heart and soul into it, if you don't even know what you're singing? You're still young, so go out into the world while you still have the chance. See if you don't find something that's worth singing about."

"How will I know that I have found such a thing?"

"Oh,” he stared into his goblet, “you will."

"But what is it? Will my heart stop when I spot it? Will—Will I lay my life on the line for it? Is it something worth dying for?"

"No," Jaskier said softly, "your life will stop, that much is true; but it isn't something that ends so much as something that begins. You will know when you have found something worth singing about, when you find something worth living for."

Next to him, his witcher choked on his wine.

[qvid-pro-qvo]

Coul you do Emily Prentiss x reader with the prompts : I noticed / and : Call me if you need anything

Please? And thank you, I really love what you write❤️

thank you, friend! <3 emily prentiss x gender neutral reader.

word count: 1827

rating: e for everyone, because halloween isn’t just for those who wanna get spooked (this is pure fluff, but descriptions of anxiety). 

You would think, with the things you see and hear on a daily basis, you’d be okay with horror flicks. That they wouldn’t get to the root of you, spook you to your core. But the fact is that you’re a wimp, and when push comes to shove you’d rather watch something happy any day of the week.

But, of course, that’s not the occasion. It’s Halloween. It’s meant to be scary, meant to be spooky, and so arriving at Garcia’s means prepping yourself for close to the worst night of your life.

You’re the first to arrive, incredibly early almost on purpose (after asking, of course). A movie won’t start with just one of the invited guests over, and you’re kind of hoping you can make a breakaway before the opening sequence. But Garcia’s pulling something baked out of the oven, and the smell is divine.

“I made popcorn, and we ordered pizza, and I’ve got some M&Ms to pour in to the popcorn so that they melt and become a huge chocolatey mess,” Penelope croons at you as you come in, and she’s so excited you can’t help but be, too. The worry about being scared fades away. You end up helping her pipe on some white frosting, and soon your creations rise up from the proverbial dead. Sugar cookie mummies. It’s incredible. It’s hilarious. It ends up with icing on your nose and smiles on your faces, and when Derek and Reid arrive it’s almost like the party already happened.

“You have frosting in your hair,” Derek laughs, reaching up to brush it out, and you can’t help but grin.

“Maybe I’m becoming a mummy, too.”

But unfortunately, all that joy fades away when you realize that the movie is going to start sooner rather than later. After all, JJ arrives with Emily, and the two of them signal the end of the welcoming party.

Emily Prentiss. The bravest of them all, and the team member you’ve had a raging crush on for… about as long as you’ve known her. She looks stunning, tonight, but with your hands wringing and her eyes on you as they do, you can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking about.

Your mood starts to dour, just a little, and as it does you notice Emily shooting you looks across Garcia’s kitchen, brow furrowed. It happens a few times – she grins at something someone else has said, turns to you with that brilliant smile, and it falters. Just a little. It makes your heart race. She has to be judging you, she has to be – she can smell fear a mile away, and you’re radiating it, and not the good kind that comes with a good jump scare, but the kind that lingers.

Fuck horror movies. That’s the lesson, you suppose.

You don’t want to admit your fears. Not here. Not in front of the bravest group of people you’ve ever met. Not in front of Em. So, you keep quiet, almost silent, until the migration towards the couch happens.

“I need to, uh, use the bathroom,” you quickly stammer out. A moment alone might help with the way your throat closes up. It’s with that you vanish around the corner to where Garcia’s toilet is, and the door closes softly. You can hear their giggles and laughter even through the shut door, Penelope’s voice echoing around you, and stare at yourself in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together,” you say. It’s firmer than you thought you could manage. As you look into your own eyes, you can see what they see, surely. Someone just on this side of scared.

“Fuck,” is the last word, and with a couple of deep breaths in and out you open the bathroom door.

Only to run into Emily Prentiss herself.

“Sorry!” you blurt. “Uh. Didn’t realize I was hogging it. Didn’t think anyone noticed I slipped away.”

Emily just smiles, and it’s so warm. In the lights that Garcia has hung around her bedroom, her hair looks a myriad of colors, all fading to that deep black. She’s fantastic, and incredible, and you know it’s your nerves that’s got you like this. Usually you can maintain decorum. But she doesn’t seem to mind.

She’s smiling after all.

“I noticed,” she says, at first with that same smile, but her voice is soft enough that no one on the other side of the wall overhears. Your mouth goes dry at that, and you chuckle, but she’s not laughing. She’s just looking, her brow furrowing a bit as she glances towards where the others are and then back at you. “Are you all right? I just… came to check up on you. You seem…”

“Yeah,” you quickly say. “Just, uh. I…”

And that’s when it all comes crumbling down. Your eyes flick towards where the rest of the team is laughing, sitting, chatting, and you’re simply here, trying not to think about how to make a break for it as soon as possible.

“Oh.”

At first you think you imagine it, the softness of Emily’s voice. But when your eyes flick back over to her, your lower lip bitten to shreds, she’s simply offering a smile, and her hand reaches up to squeeze your shoulder. “Not a horror buff?”

It’s so kind. It’s so gentle. You almost want to melt into it, but your dignity, or what little you have left, keeps you in check. You just nod, and she twists her lips a little, glancing back towards where the laughter is coming again. Derek, this time.

“No, it’s… it’s not my favorite,” you admit, but quickly stammer out an explanation. “I’m okay! Really, j-just, uh. Making it. I’ll be fine, once the movie starts.”

That’s not true. Not true at all, in fact, you can hear the film score start up and already you’re trembling. But you try to put on a brave face, and because it’s Emily Prentiss, your friend, your teammate, she sees right through it.

“Do you want to stay? You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”  

That makes you pause. Your spiral into embarrassment halts, and now it’s your turn to furrow your brow.

“What?”

She just gives you another smile, this one almost secretive. She leans forward, too, and your hands start shaking again. For a different reason. “Well, between you and me, horror’s not my scene, either. And so, I was thinking, if you wanted to be each other’s alibi…”

A million things swim through your brain. That can’t be true, first of all. She’s Emily Prentiss. How can horror not be right up her alley? The adrenaline, that kind of thing. So if that’s the case, then she’s bluffing. Lying even. But why? Plus, didn’t she go see that thing with Reid and Garcia the other night? Why would she pretend not to like horror when it’s so obvious that she –

She just keeps looking at you. Smiles, and…

Oh.

Because she’s your friend. Because she cares for you. She gives you a way out. She smiles and laughs and looks to you all night because she’s concerned.

She’s doing it for you. And your little crush, your little thing you push aside during cases and debriefs and moments alone, it comes at you full force.

Your heart warms, and your hands stop shaking, and you look at Emily Prentiss like the lifeline she is. Your breath comes out all at once, too, a sigh of relief, and when you nod, she nods, too.

“Perfect. Just follow my lead, yeah?”

You find yourself following, a little in a daze. It’s like a whirlwind, what just happened, your thoughts and her actions, and when you turn the corner the others are already fixated on the film.

“Sorry, guys,” Emily says with a soft groan. Her hand lifts up to cover her stomach, and she rubs it, almost like it’s an instinctive reaction. “I think something I ate didn’t agree with me.”

JJ and Derek’s eyes immediately shoot up, but Garcia and Reid are enraptured with what’s taking place.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks.

“Do you need a ride? I can take you home,” JJ follows up. She’s basically halfway to standing when you step in, surprising yourself by the steadiness in your voice.

“No, I’ve got her. You guys stay and watch the movie.”

“Are you sure?” Emily asks, turning to look at you, and you just smile at her, concerned and trying not to look so gleeful about being concerned.

“Yeah, Em. I’ve got you.” Your hand reaches to rub at her back, and together the two of you make your way towards the door, with various solutions to Emily’s ailment being shouted at you guys from those who’re seated.

“Call me if you need anything from my car!” JJ shouts out, and that’s the last thing you hear. Soon the door is closed and the noise from behind you fades with a click.

Immediately Emily lifts herself up. You feel… exhilarated, more adrenaline than a scare could ever give you, and Emily lets out a soft chuckle.

“I should be an actor, right?” she asks, nudging you with her elbow, and you don’t even realize how close you’re still standing to her until her touch presses into your stomach. You don’t move away, though, and your hand is still on her back.

She doesn’t pull away either.

“Oscar-worthy performance,” you tease back, and she just throws her head back with her laughter, shaking her head and tucking some hair behind her ear. “Thanks for getting me out of there,” you add, and when she looks at you again, her brown eyes are soft, warm.

“Of course. Halloween isn’t just about horror flicks and getting scared. No one should have a bad Halloween night if they don’t want to.” For a moment you think you’re imagining it, the warmth, but then her arm reaches to link with yours as you make your way to the staircase.

“What is Halloween night about?” you ask her, on your way.

“I mean, horror is a part of it,” she admits. Her voice doesn’t get dreamy, but the sound of it reminds you of the way that spices and pumpkin smell. “But. Fall weather. The way that the leaves look on the trees. Getting cozy with… with someone you care about, and… I don’t know. Eating candy enough for two.”

She looks at you when she says getting cozy, and you almost trip over your feet.

Be brave, you tell yourself, and when you clear your through your voice is the brightest it’s been all night.

“Well. Maybe together we could… get cozy? And eat enough candy for four.”

The moon is high above the two of you as you leave the building, your laughter echoing on Garcia’s street. You don’t know where she’s planning to go after tonight, but for that moment, you hope it’s anywhere with you.

[pixieposts]

Febuwhump Day 7

AO3

Todays prompt was “Poison” and so I have brought you the Empire Siblings!

Specific TW’s are:

Poison

Major Character Injury

Gratuitous Swearing

"Sweet!"

Beau smirked, reaching out to snag the last two flutes of fancy elvish champagne.  The server gave them a barely concealed look of disdain before turning on their heel and striding away.  Caleb sighed as he took the glass, clicking it against Beaus in a halfhearted cheer.  The flavour was light, the bubbles dancing across her tongue and down her throat.

"You ought to at least try for some decorum, they already think the empire is full of savages here" She shrugged as he took another sip, deciding to ignore the little barb.  

"Fjord said they'd meet up with us once they're done checking everything out right?  So, like... I guess we should just wander, keep an eye out?" Caleb nodded at her; his cheeks were already starting to go a little pink from the bubbly wine.  Some people just couldn’t hold their booze.  They started to wander the party, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.  They had only been wandering a few minutes when she started to get bored of the quiet.  None of the fancy Drow partygoers seemed too interested in talking to a pair of Empire humans... guests of the Queen or not.  

“So, do we think this is like... an actual plot against the Queen, or totally a trap?  Cause I’m leaning trap honestly”  

Caleb didn’t respond initially, so she turned to ask him again or see what the heck had distracted him.  He was standing next to her still, but he was leaning hard against a pillar, glass clutched in his free hand.  His face had gone a sickly shade of white, making the circles around his eyes stand out.  She felt the familiar thrill of fear as she snatched the glass and took a sip.

Poison.  

“Fuck, fuck fuck okay.  Fuck”  

She threw his arm over her shoulder and made for the nearest door, relieved to find that it led to an empty garden.  She half-pulled, half-carried him to a marble bench, pushing him down lightly.  

“Okay, okay shit um... gotta get Jester or Caduceus”  

She paced in front of the bench, eyes darting back to Caleb as she tried to decide what to do.  She could run in, hunt on of them down and drag them out here... but then what if the poison got him before they got back?  Did they have diamonds to bring him back?  Could they do it in time?  

“Beauregard”

Shit, he sounds awful

“Yeah man, I’m working on it, don’t freak out”

“I think you are the one freaking out”

“You're fucking poisoned dude!  Of course, I’m freaking out!”

“Take a deep breath” his breath was rattling in his chest and it made her nauseous “go find someone, if I die then I die, we have a job tp do”  

Fucking asshole.

“You better not fucking die, you promised not to leave”  

All she heard was him coughing as she turned on her heel and strode back into the ballroom.  She would find Caduceus, get Caleb back up and they would get this dealt with.  

Then... she would find the fucker who tried to take her brother away, and they would fucking pay.  

[ohsweetflips]

maybe i’m my own greatest fear (a taz grad/fitzrain fic)

A/N: i'm still trying to get the grasp of writing taz grad fic, but after episode 6 i couldn't not fic this. also my brain just keeps bouncing back and forth between loving fitzroy/argo and fitzroy/rainer so i guess i multiship now!!! reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

also title from sorority noise’s “art school wannabe”

summary:

“This promotion? Great, wonderful! A villain? Not so good.”

“And… why?”

“Because I’m not one of the bad guys?”

(Fitzroy goes to Rainer's dorm to talk about his "new assignment" and instead realizes that he can't avoid talking about his feelings and fears any longer.)

read on ao3!!!

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

Rainer’s dorm was charmingly her. It was in the space between messy and tidy; the floor was spotless and the bed made, but stacks of books and jewelry and papers (and maybe a small skeleton or two, though he was never actively looking for those) covered the surface of every desk and dresser. The door off to the side, which was to remain locked until Rainer chose her permanent hench, was covered in posters and drawings tactfully placed, and a lone calendar filled to the brim in a quill she charmed to write in whatever glittery color she desired.

Very charmingly her.

Fitzroy had rarely been here long enough to actually pay her decorum any mind. Most of the time they had alone was spent on the outskirts of campus, or in the minutes they had between classes; more often than not, them “hanging out” involved at least three other people venturing to a much more crowded place.  

Still, though, he couldn’t quite stop his feet from walking to her dorm. Rainer had no roommate, no hench, and, well… Hieronymous told him to keep his program change a secret, but when has he ever been able to keep a secret, anyway?

“I half expected you to already be at the tavern,” Rainer was saying, her back to him as she sorted through one of her notebooks (probably looking for the report she’d have to write on their field experience, or more so a report on how promising the kicks and henches seemed). “Maybe even bickering with Argo over who’s paying for drinks.”

She looked around the high-back of her chair and shot him a smile.

“Please, Rainer,” he said, hoping that his smirk and posture maintained his poise and not the thoughts that were racing through his head. “I’m enough of a gentleman to know to pay for my friends’ drinks.”

“I know you are,” Rainer said, softly, and Fitzroy was thankful that it was then that she turned back to her desk so she wouldn’t have to see the red rising in his face.

Of all he expected to find at Wiggenstaff, he didn’t expect Rainer.

Or, more so, of how much he expected to detest Wiggenstaff, he didn’t expect to find someone who gave him a reason to consider sticking around. He had Argo and the Firbolg, of course, and he appreciated his friends (perhaps even best friends, though Fitzroy hadn’t had any prior experience with that level of friendship), but what he had with Rainer was… different.

Which only made everything more complicated, because of course it did.

“I actually came here to talk to you,” he continued, looking up at the small lights she had hanging with the tapestry around her bed. 

Rainer snorted. “No, really? I thought you came to talk to Gary.”

Fitzroy rolled his eyes, barely trying to hold back a smile, and was about to make some witty quip about Rainer’s own when he was interrupted with a, “Hey! Rainer! See you’ve got guests up ‘ere!”

Both their eyes flashed to the now-animated gargoyle in the corner of Rainer’s room, and Fitzroy suddenly felt like he was trapped in a tank at the reminder that not only were the Garys listening, but also a hivemind . That shared information. Information that could be private.

“Yeah, Gary, it’s-”

“Is there a way that he could actually be turned off?” Fitzroy asked, thankful that his voice remained level. “Apologies for the interruption but this is, well-” He swallowed, forced a smile “-this is kind of important.”

Rainer, spinning around to face him, arched an eyebrow before, with a flick of her wrist, a small, nearly-translucent bubble formed around the Gary.

“Silence,” she explained. “My Gary isn’t a nark so it’s probably fine.”

“Perfect,” Fitzroy nodded, allowing himself a relaxed grin.

“And I’ll admit, Fitz-” and she tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair “-You’ve got me kinda nervous here.”

“Well, no, you see- it’s fine, really.”

“That’s a lot of filler words for fine.” Still, she smiled and cocked her head.

“A lot of filler words for great, actually!” Fitzroy assured, to her and himself. “I’ve actually moved up in the so-called hierarchy here! Our dear Headmaster wants to put me into the hero-villain tract!”

Rainer’s glee was almost enough to make Fitzroy think that perhaps this wasn’t the complete end of everything. “Fitz, that’s amazing!” she exclaimed, moving her chair closer in so that she could tightly grab his hands. “We can all have classes together! You and me and Buck and Rolandus and his crew—don’t worry, they’re really all super nice—it’ll be so much fun!” She then furrowed her brows, suddenly serious, and, if possible, she squeezed his hands tighter. “What about Bud and Argo, though? Where are they going?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” he said, smiling. “They’ll be coming with me! As my- well, we all have to talk soon, but I assume they’ll be by my side.”

“Oh, like sidekicks!”

Fitzroy then sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, grimacing. “And that , my dear, is when things start to get a little complicated.”

“What do you mean?” Rainer asked, frowning. “Don’t tell me- they’re not leaving, are-”

“Oh, no!” Fitzroy shook his head quickly. “No, not at all. They’ll be coming with me, but as… Well, you see, when good ole’ Hieronymous bumped me up, he didn’t… bump me up to being a hero.”

“Oh, so you’re a villain!”

Fitzroy was proud of himself for holding back a flinch. “Apparently so.”

“Oh, Fitz! That’s so cool! It’s honestly really fun. A lot of the professors are actually super cool, which is nice because some of the content , oh boy, and-”

Fitzroy worried his bottom lip, trying to hold back the nerves and… aggravation that bubbled up in him. “But-” he interrupted “-but do you see the… issue… here?”

Rainer paused, studying him for a moment. “No?” she finally responded, equal parts confused and suspicious.

“This promotion? Great, wonderful! A villain? Not so good.”

“And… why?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m not one of the bad guys?”

Rainer froze for a moment and, while she gaped at him and then over at the stacks of textbooks and notebooks, it was then that Fitzroy realized that, perhaps, he fucked up. 

Dropping his hands right back into his lap, she huffed and moved herself back. “Wow, Fitz, super cool.”

“Rainer, wait,” he sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” She asked, annoyance coloring her own voice. “Because, honestly, if you think I’m a bad guy-”

“No, it’s-” Fitzroy found himself fumbling for words as his eyes darted around Rainer’s dorm to focus on anything but the scowl on her face “-it’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“It’s just-” An exasperated sigh left him again and, in resignation, he threw his hands up “-the villains are the ones we fight against!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s we? ”

“The Maplecourts!” he exclaimed. Once, simply stating the family name would make one think of knighthood. “We’re- we’re a long line of knights who are trained to fight evil and that is what I am meant to do!”

“Okay.” Rainer pinched the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes tight. “You know equating villains with evil is pretty archaic, right? Like, there are heroes who are capital-E evil who just, I don’t know, fudged the budget, and then there are heroes who are capital-E evil because they actually did some really bad stuff. Like, I know that you know that.”

His head fell back as he huffed again. “You’re not getting it.”

“No, I’m really not!”

Looking back down at her, he shook his head. “I can’t be a villain!”

“Why? Villains aren’t automatically bad people!”

“I know! It’s just- the Maplecourts- we’re knights! ”

It was Rainer’s own turn now to throw her hands up. “You can still be a knight!”

“But not really! ” He snapped, his temper beginning to creep through as he struggled to restrain his volume.

“Why, Fitzroy? Why?”

“Because- because everyone expects me to be a knight so that’s what I need to do and-”

“Enough about everyone else!” Rainer snapped back. “I don’t care about everyone else! Only you! So, what do you think, Fitzroy? Why is this an issue for you? ”

“I’m terrified that this is all a mistake!” Fitzroy finally rushed out, unable to find it in him to care that he was near shouting. “I’m terrified that my time here is just derailing the future that I’m supposed to be taking! And- And this place isn’t the worst, okay? Argo and the Firbolg are my best friends and I love you but I am also so scared that I’m going to get out of here and there’s going to be nothing left for me! My family isn’t going to want a villain, Clyde’s Knight School isn’t going to want a knight who fought against the good that they strive to maintain, and- honestly, it felt like this school didn’t want me either! I just don’t want to keep going from nothing to nothing while everyone else gets to have the lives they all fucking hoped and dreamed for!”

Fitzroy, his breathing almost as shaky as his hands, looked pointedly away from Rainer. He blinked quickly, trying not to pay too much attention to how his eyes burned and, instead, tried to take down his anger—at Rainer for seeing through him, at himself for letting his temper burst out—before his magic decided to go wild. 

He could already feel it thrumming through his veins, hot and chaotic, and the last thing he wanted was to destroy anything else.

He really didn’t like fighting with Rainer.

Suddenly exhausted, with every bone in his body weighing a ton, he let his head drop in his hands and roughly pressed his thumbs into his temples.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice much quieter now. “It’s just-”

He was interrupted by a hand rubbing gentle circles on his back, and he looked up to find Rainer sitting next to him. Quickly, he ducked his head back down. Rainer didn’t deserve to see him like this: a small, scared animal lashing out in a final act of defense.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, quiet and, in his knightly opinion, pathetically fragile.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Rainer said, her hand finding its place of rest on his shoulder. “It’s okay to feel lost, even. But also… don’t run away from opportunities just because they scare you. That’s not you.”

He let out a weak laugh and finally picked his head up, flashing her whatever he could muster of a smile. “It’s pathetic though, isn’t it? I’m trained to be at the front-line in battle and I’m- I’m losing my cool because of academics .”

“Don’t just dismiss yourself like that,” she sighed. “It’s not pathetic, and obviously you’re upset over more than just some classes.”

“I just…” He released a breath, shoulders sagging. “Not to be incredibly dramatic, but it feels like my life keeps falling to pieces.”

“And I wish there was something I could do.”

He smiled slightly and rested a hand on her knee. “You don’t have to go through that trouble for me.”

“Maybe not.” Rainer shrugged. “But I want to.”

Fitzroy swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

“I think… I think you’re going to be okay,” Rainer continued. “I think things are going to be normal again, and I think you’re gonna like the new program-” Her voice then quieted “-Plus, being a villain isn’t so bad.”

The heat of shame rushed to his face and, trying to find the right thing to say to make up for that , he shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have said any of that to you,” he whispered.

Rainer shrugged with a half-hearted smile. “It’s okay.”

“No-” Fitzroy shook his head again, taking her hands “-it really isn’t.”

Rainer looked away for a moment, worrying her bottom lip. “I… well, okay, yeah, the whole villain comment hurt, but it’s- it’s fine.”

“But it really, really wasn’t okay,” he said, catching Rainer’s eye. “That was a major asshole move of me. You… you are nowhere near a bad person, Rainer. Not only are you a great person, a good person, you… you’re one of the best.” She smiled, a true one this time, and Fitzroy gently cupped her cheek. “It was unfair of me to… to generalize and take my frustrations out on you. And I- I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay, really,” Rainer said, placing her hand over his. “You’re forgiven.” 

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

A smirk dashed across her face. “You just might have to retake a class or two on chivalry.”

He gave her a smile. “A small price to pay.” 

Rainer’s smirk turned into a smile as well and, for just a moment, she studied him. “Are you going to be happy here, Fitzroy?”

He faltered.

If he had been asked that at orientation, the answer would have been short and simple: absolutely not. Happy? At Wiggenstaff’s when he was just attending Clyde Nite’s Night Knight School? How could he be?

Now, though, the answer wasn’t so easy.

“I want to be,” he finally said, sighing. “And, push comes to shove, I really do like it here. I have you, and I have our friends. It’s just… I want to be happy. But-” he scratched the back of his neck “-I think it’s obvious I have some stuff I need to work on. Nothing the school can fix… Honestly, I should be grateful to have this offer. It’s just… me-stuff, you know?”

Rainer nodded. “And we’ll be here to help you out. We all want you here, love you being here. I love you, Fitz. And I think you should take this opportunity. I know it’s not what you expected, but it can still get you a foot in the door. And… I’m not gonna pry, and I don’t know what I can do to help with all the family stuff and the Clyde’s Knight school stuff but… I think they would all just want you to be happy. Want you to do what you want to do. And if that’s being a knight, great! But if you end up doing something else and loving it? Then they should love that for you.” She then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “And… if anything, we’re your family, too. And we’ve got your back.”

Fitzroy smiled, and found himself very lucky to have Rainer in his corner. “I love you, too,” he said. “And I’ll do better next time at… actually talking instead of skirting around it.”

Rainer smiled, too. “I think you’ll be okay.”

“I’ll do it for you,” he said before leaning in and giving her a kiss. His hand rested gently at her hip, one of hers ghosting over the back of his neck and, when they pulled apart, he smiled. “You and a good grade, of course. As a villain, I probably have to do a lot of talking, right? Gotta freshen up on my monologuing.”

Rainer rolled her eyes with a laugh. “ So much monologuing. And you gotta do it with a hero, too. Buck’s the worst to do it with. He’ll do a monologue while you’re monologuing to try to out-monologue your monologue.”

“Well, I’ll just have to talk really loud, I guess,” he said, laughing, too.

“I think you’ll do fine.” Rainer smiled. “I think you’ll do good. Do well … and some good, too.”

Fitzroy took her hands back in his own. “Not as good as you.”

“Who would’ve known that you were such a sap?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said with a wink. “I have a reputation.”

Rainer smirked. “You once lost an arm-wrestling contest with a hologram.”

He scoffed. “That was supposed to be a secret .”

“That you told everyone!” Rainer laughed before leaning forward and kissing him again. “But I can actually keep a secret, so you’re fine.”

“Your confidence is greatly appreciated,” he said, “Oh, and! I was not supposed to tell anyone that I’m a villain now, either, so keep this on the DL as well.”

“Fitz!”

“But hey! Now that we’re gonna have classes together, we can pass fun, secret notes to each other! Dish the goss and share secrets!”

“We already do that!”

“Yeah but now we can be super sneaky about it!”

Rainer, shoving his shoulder, laughed. “I swear, if you make my GPA drop-”

“I would never!”

“I already have to deal with Buck trying to talk to me all the time! And sometimes Rolandus, too, when he’s feeling particularly fight-y… with Buck. So-” She jutted a finger at him “-I have my eye on you, Maplecourt.”

He winked at her. “I know you do.”

Rainer stared at him, shaking her head, though she was only able to hold off a smile for so long. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Love you, too,” Fitzroy said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before standing. “Well, I guess I have some roommates I need to, ah, break this news to.”

“Good luck,” she said, smiling up at him. 

“Much appreciated,” he said. 

With his hand on the doorknob, he gave Rainer one final smile over his shoulder. “See you around, my lovely partner in crime.” 

Rainer grinned. “Try not to get into too much trouble,” she said, shooting him a wink.

“I’ll try my best,” he said with a soft laugh before stepping out of her dorm.

[thatfanficstuff]

My Favorite Weapon - Part 4

Pairing: Chris Argent x Reader

Warnings: nope.

****

You didn’t go far. After all, you still had a pack to save. You left because you were hurt and didn’t want to hear Ric and Damon’s excuses when they realized that outweighed your anger. Assholes. In actuality, you didn’t really leave at all. You simply made your way around the house and sat in a chair beneath the open window so you could still listen to the conversation. You sent several texts while you listened to Ric and the Salvatores explain all about the originals and hybrids. The pack was justifiably concerned that Klaus had set his sights on them.

“I really think the best thing for you all to do is just remain calm. Leave Klaus to the three of us. We’re used to dealing with him,” your brother offered.

You snorted in disbelief. You wouldn’t consider anything they did ‘dealing’ with the hybrid.

“You can’t just expect us to stand aside and do nothing. It’s not exactly our style,” Chris argued.

“Well, that explains how Y/N fell in with you then,” Stefan said.

“Be that as it may, baby brother,” Damon interrupted. “I think we can safely speak for Y/N when was say that she would be happier if you all just let us handle it.”

You typed out a quick text on your phone. A moment later a sudden burst of laughter came from inside followed by a “Y/N says you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Stiles,” his dad corrected immediately.

“Well, she did. Look.”

Several voices started speaking over each other and you turned your head when the back door opened. Chris stuck his head out to smirk in your direction. “Why don’t you join us if you’re going to pitch in your two cents anyway?”

You sighed dramatically and got to your feet before grinning at him.

“You really thought Stiles was the best choice for that message?” Chris said lowly as you stepped past him.

“If it makes you feel any better, I meant to send it to Scott.”

He licked his lips and shook his head as he placed a hand on the small of the back. The two of you stepped into the living room and everyone immediately quieted down. “Thought you left,” your brother said after a moment.

You shrugged. “Thought you weren’t an asshole, so I guess we were both wrong.”

Melissa grimaced. “Can we tone down the language? They’re still kids.”

“Really, mom?”

“Don’t mom me, Scott McCall. God help me, but there has to be some decorum around here.”

“We should have rethought the guest list then.” Your words may have been for your boyfriend but you made sure you were loud enough for the pack to hear. Their laughter eased some of the tension that had been clouding the air since you arrived with the vampires in tow.

“Y/N,” Scott said getting everyone’s attention. “You know everyone on all sides of this. What do you think we should do?”

You pursed your lips. “I think we should all just take a minute to breathe here. We don’t even know if Klaus is in town yet. I’m waiting to hear back from some people so we have a better idea of what’s going on with him. Ric, I’m not going to tell the three of you to go home, but I am going to tell you to stand down. At least for now.”

“And if we don’t?” Of course, it was Damon who spoke up.

“Did I mention I’m the Sheriff around here?” Stiles’ dad piped up.

“Or that I’m fully stocked on vervain?” you added.

Damon took a step back to lean against the wall behind him. “Fair enough.”

“As for the rest of us, the pack stays together. That means everyone. Us non-werewolf types are probably safe to go about our usual business, but stay with someone. That means no solo patrols, Sheriff. No late night shifts in mostly barren areas of the hospital, Melissa. Deaton, I’m going to assume you have your own array of protections. Use them.”

“And what are you going to do?” Derek asked.

“I’m going to buddy up with the resident hunter and find us a hybrid.”

***

Surprisingly it was Klaus you heard from first. And instead of responding to your message asking him what he was up to lately, he’d sent a text that said simply: What on earth are you doing in Beacon Hills, love?

You tossed your phone to Chris and he snatched it out of the air. “Guess that answers the question of whether or not he’s in town.”

He read the message and handed your phone back. “What do we do now?”

“Now we ask him the same question.”

After some back and forth, Klaus agreed to meet you at a diner in town so the two of you could ‘catch up’.

You sat your phone on the table beside you and looked at Chris. “I think it’s better if I go by myself.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Chris—”

“You said it yourself. The pack stays together. Even us non-werewolf types, as you put it, stay with someone.”

The silence stretched as you contemplated your choices. “Fine, but just you. And try not to let Klaus get under your skin. He can be irritating to put it mildly.”

***

You and Chris arrived at the diner at the appointed time and you were unsurprised to see Klaus waiting for you in a corner booth. A glance around told you that was probably a good thing as the place was packed. The hybrid smiled as he met your eye. He stood and opened his arms for a hug. “It’s good to see you, love. Mystic Falls is too quiet without you.”

You huffed a laugh and slid onto the bench next to Chris. “I find that unlikely, but thanks for the sentiment.”

He sat and turned a tight smile on your boyfriend. “And who is this?”

“Klaus, my boyfriend Chris Argent. Chris, Niklaus Mikaelson, the original hybrid.”

The two shook hands and when Chris would have let go, Klaus maintained his grip and leaned forward. “Y/N and I need a moment to catch up. Why don’t you wait in the car for her to finish like a good boy, hmm?”

Chris pulled his hand away. “I don’t think so.”

Your friend turned his attention on you looking almost betrayed.

“Oh, don’t even. Of course, he’s on vervain. What do you take me for?”

Klaus spread his hands in a gesture of false innocence and gave a smile to match. “Well, I had to try. I do wish you had mentioned you were bringing a friend, Y/N. This makes conversation awkward.”

You rolled your eyes. He was such a baby sometimes. “Let me help you out then, Klaus. The local pack is mine. You can’t have them.”

He looked stunned but for a minute and then he laughed. “Is that so? And what right do you have to claim them? You are no alpha.”

You leaned back in your seat and tapped the table. You gave Klaus a cockeyed smirk. “I’m not, but he is.” You gestured to the counter where Scott turned and gave a little wave.

The hybrid snorted. “He’s a child.”

“He’s a true alpha. Even you have to respect that, Klaus.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You owe me,” you reminded him.

“It was Kol you saved, not me, love.”

You narrowed your gaze and raked your eyes over him. You knew him well enough to know that he was ready to leave your pack alone as soon as you claimed them. He just didn’t like being told what to do. And he wanted to see just how far you would go. You also knew damned well he would have been devastated to lose his brother.

“You’re not invincible, Mikaelson,” Chris said.

“I’m pretty damned close, human.”

“Argent. That’s something more than human, I think. You weren’t paying attention when I introduced the two of you.”

“Fine. I’ll concede he could make things difficult. That’s all.”

You shifted your gaze from him to look at the figure standing behind him in the hall. “He’s going to make me list all the assets at my disposal, isn’t he?”

“Are you really surprised?” the clipped voice answered. Elijah Mikaelson approached the table and pressed a kiss to your cheek before turning to his brother. “Do slide over, Niklaus.”

Elijah offered Chris his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Argent.”

Your boyfriend glanced at you with an arched brow even as he shook hands with his second original of the night. “Elijah is the polite one, but don’t piss him off.”

“You called my brother, Y/N? Do you think that was really necessary?”

“Correction. Brothers,” Kol spoke up from his spot beside Scott. He offered you a smile and a cheeky wave.

“Hello, Kol,” you greeted him while Klaus grumbled. You shifted your attention back to him. “I have a pack, Klaus. And it goes beyond what I’ve found here.” After a beat everyone in the diner was turned to face your table. The pack, Deaton, the Sheriff, Parrish, your brother, and the Salvatores.

“And I feel it prudent to remind you that Y/N is the owner of the last white oak stake in existence. It’s location undoubtedly known to her boyfriend, or her brother, in case something should happen to her,” Elijah spoke up.

“Now, Elijah, that was just rude. Klaus was already planning on leaving my friends alone.”

Chris shook his head beside you. He was either admiring your brazenness or wondering how you managed to not get yourself killed yet. You were betting on the latter.

“Quite right,” Klaus said. “They aren’t at all the right type of wolves anyway. Really, you worry too much, brother. I would never anger our dear Y/N.”

Sure, he wouldn’t. “On that note, it’s time for us to leave.” You stood and Chris quickly followed. “Elijah, Kol, coffee before you leave.”

They both agreed and you dragged your boyfriend out of the diner.

You waited until you were halfway home before breaking the silence. “Was there anyone you didn’t call to come to the diner?”

“Melissa. She’s a good nurse but not very intimidating if you aren’t a teenager.”

You sighed. “Chris, I’m serious. We agreed, you and me.”

“No. You said you and me. I did not agree to anything. If you recall, I said the pack stays together per your order.”

“And if things had gone badly?”

“All the more reason for them to be there.”

“Do you think I’d be able to live with myself if something happened to one of them because I was trying to talk sense into the original hybrid? There was a reason I didn’t want them there.” You didn’t want to yell, didn’t want to fight, but you’d been terrified when you walked into a sea of familiar faces.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not your decision to make. You can’t protect everyone all the time without expecting them to return the favor when you need it.” His voice was quiet but firm. “I made sure they knew what was going on, the made their own decisions about what to do with that information.”

“But why even give them the option, Chris? We could have told them everything after.”

His hand settled on your thigh and gave a little squeeze. “Because I wasn’t about to lose my favorite weapon, Y/N. I couldn’t risk it, not now that I’ve found you.”

You didn’t even know what to respond to that so you just linked your fingers with his.

As you pulled into the driveway, Chris turned to look at you. “Speaking of weapons, what exactly is a white oak stake and why do you have it?”