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the-californicationist · 5 months

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Guile & Guilt (Ch. 08)

Soap/Reader — MDNI 18+

Sorry for the wait as usual. Hope y’all can forgive me!

/:/:/:/:/:/:/

FEBRUARY — FRIDAY: 7 days until the wedding

In the month or so after Christmas, your relationship with Johnny had progressed considerably. He was on a particularly challenging tour, but you only heard about his work in sparse mentions. Most of his conversations were centered around your relationship “after we tell Pidge”.

It was all he wanted to talk about.

“After we tell Pidge, we can look for a place together in Glasgow. What do you say, lass?”

“After we tell Pidge, we can take trips with them. Always wanted to see Iceland.”

“After we tell Pidge…”

And on and on and on. It wasn’t that you weren’t excited to be with him. You adored him, and he seemed to feel the same way about you. But, telling Pidge was scaring you out of your damn mind. In the worst case scenario, you’d be losing your best friend and the man that you…

Careful, that dark voice was back in your head , don’t want to say the word, huh?

The man that you… liked a considerable amount. Not love. Love was a commitment. You were not in love.

The dark voice cackled. You ignored it.

You were going to see him this weekend for the combination stag and hen party, and you could think of little else. But, you had plenty to work on. As the maid of honor, this was your time to shine. You needed to prepare for more than just seeing Johnny. In fact, you were about to have six girls at your tiny apartment for a slumber party tomorrow night. The whole 600 square feet of your place was decorated in gold glitter and streamers. There were big B-R-I-D-E letters above your bed, and a giant inflatable diamond ring was propped up on your futon. You’d already sprayed Marlowe twice with the water bottle for threatening it with her claws.

Tonight, though, you were alone. You had asked Johnny if he would fly in early, but he hadn’t been able to confirm. So, you were sitting on your bed, staring at your phone, dressed only in his shirt, praying for some miracle.

You stayed up as late as you could, but still no call.

SATURDAY — Early morning: 6 days until the wedding

Your phone buzzed where it lay against your chest. You slowly awoke, and it was still dark outside. Bleary and only semi-conscious, you picked it up without looking at the screen,

“Hello?” You croaked.

“Mo mèirleach,” he whispered, “Open the door, hen. It’s fuckin’ frigid.”

“What?” You didn’t understand. Johnny was outside? You looked at the clock. It was 0311.

“I’m downstairs! Buzz me up.”

You did, and then you waited, waking up more and more as you stood in the kitchen, drinking some water to clear your dry throat.

He knocked softly, and you let him in. Immediately, and without so much as dropping his rucksack, he pulled you into his arms. You smelled his sweat, a strong hint of fire or smoke, and something you couldn’t quite place. It was almost like gasoline, but not quite. He’d come straight from the field.

“Hey,” he pressed his forehead to yours and kissed you gently, smelling your skin and nuzzling into your hair.

“Hey,” you smiled up at him, hugging him a little tighter.

Having him back was making you feel like no time had passed at all. He held you just as he did when he told you goodbye in December, and now, all of January felt like some wasted dream.

You looked behind him,

“Where are the others? I thought you said they’d be coming to the party this weekend.”

“Put them up at a wee hotel. The Indigo, just a few blocks away. But, I’ve been sleepin’ on the fuckin’ floor too many nights, now. And I wanna be in my woman’s arms instead.”

His woman. Your heart clenched in your chest. He noticed your emotional response to his words; always the observant one. His smile felt so good, even though he had caught you in his snare,

“Aye. You’re my woman, aren’t you?”

Huge, rough hands warmed your skin as they snaked underneath your shirt, reaching up across your belly, finding your hanging breasts and squeezing them ever so gently.

“Shower with me, lass. I’m right filthy.”

“Alright,” you nodded, and he pulled your shirt off the rest of the way, discovering the nothing you were wearing underneath.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Johnny lamented, holding you at arm’s length to study your skin and curves with a deep admiration, “Look at you, mèirleach. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m dreamin’.”

You led him to the bathroom, which you doubted was big enough for the both of you, and he stripped off all of his dirty clothes. You helped him, peeling him apart, layer by layer, discovering him in pieces.

His broad chest filled your vision in the tiny washroom, and you latched onto his nipple, tasting the salt from his sweat as you did and listening to him moan. He laughed from the sudden sensation of it,

“It’s sensitive, lass. Easy…”

Your eyes found his, showing him that you knew what it felt like, and you did not relent. You enjoyed watching him squirm beneath you, his hands resting on the side of your neck, threatening to pull you away when he became overwhelmed.

You gave him a break, kissing across his tattooed ribs and over his belly. He lifted your face up to his, pressing you against the bathroom counter, growling in whispers at you,

“Careful, thief. Don’t go givin’ me ideas.”

“What kind of ideas, Johnny?” You teased, dragging his boxers down over his plump ass to squeeze his cheeks in your hands.

“Ideas about what I’d like to put in that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

He grabbed your hand and shoved it onto his hard cock, still covered by his boxer briefs, the fabric askew and taut, ready to come off.

“See what you fuckin’ do to me, thief?”

You smiled, staring down at the evidence of what you had done to him. You took his hand and slowly moved it between your legs, letting him curl and experimental finger up just far enough to dip into your wetness.

“See what you do to me?”

He shuddered, his body falling forward, and he caught himself with his free hand on the countertop, pinning you beneath him. He was playing inside of you with his fingertip, as achingly slowly and gently as could be, barely moving it, basking in your warmth. His face contorted into a twisted grimace, and he grunted,

“Fuckin’ hell, mèirleach. Get in the damn shower, or I’ll have you right here, lass.”

The shower curtain rings hissed across their metal rod as he followed you inside. You washed your hair, and you used your soapy hands to wash his. The soap turned brown with dirt and sand, and you made a face, laughing,

“Johnny! You are filthy.”

“Yeah, we ran into some trouble at the end of our mission. Lost contact with base. Had to camp in the wee mountains for a few nights, tryin’ not to freeze to death.”

“Holy shit…”

You pitied him, using your vanilla scented soap to scrub down his body for him, letting him be treated to your sudsy massage.

“Knowin’ I was comin’ back to you kept me goin’. I dreamt about this wee shower, hen. Even Ghost was surprised that I was able to keep my whingin’ to a minimum. But, I knew you were here and I wasnae gonna let anythin’ stop me from comin’ home to you.”

He bent to kiss you, and you kissed him back, letting the water wash over you both, bathing you in the heat of each other. He pulled away, grinning like he’d won something, and you felt the blush rise into your cheeks.

You made the hand signal for him to turn around and he spun, giving you his wide back, planting both of his hands on the wall like you were going to search him.

You started at his neck, washing away days of dirt and grime, feeling his swollen muscles pull and push against his bones. He had a new tattoo on his spine. It was a little Gaelic word that you couldn’t read.

With your fingertip, you traced over the black ink, softly rubbing over the raised skin, healed but fresh. He stilled, realizing you’d noticed it.

“Gealladh. It means ‘promise’.”

You wiped it clear of soap and lay your lips to it, kissing it softly, making him tremble beneath you. You tried to pronounce it, whispering it against his skin.

The rest of the shower went quickly, and by the time you were clean, he was ready to get dirty again, fondling you and rubbing across his curved length hungrily.

He wrapped you in your towel and watched you braid your hair, kissing your neck and sharing your toothbrush. You tried not to be grossed out by it, but you made a face and he rolled his eyes, spitting out the paste into your sink and trying to kiss you with his messy lips. You giggled, leaving him in the bathroom to finish up.

The cool air in your apartment made you clamber to get under the covers, eager to warm up and anxious for him to join you. He sauntered out of the bathroom looking like some Greek god, wet and tanned, tattooed and scarred, fresh from the bonds of war.

He threw his towel down with yours and climbed into bed next to you, curling you up in his arms, sighing with the most delighted contentment. His big jaw pressed into the side of your neck, looking for purchase, and he began to suck and lick at your skin, traveling down your shoulder to your nape, sending shivers down your arms.

“Did you miss me, mo mèirleach?” His voice was so quiet, you could barely hear him.

“I did, mo chridhe,” you whispered back, turning your body to face him.

He took both of your hands in both of his and kissed your forehead. All of his sexual overtones and lurid advances in the shower had somehow been washed away, and as the orange blush of dawn came through your window, he looked changed. His hair was soft, the mohawk all grown out and curling at the tips, his eyes glassy and full of something that looked suspiciously like hope.

“I know this has been hard on you, lass. I’ve been more than just a wee bit selfish, and I want you to know I’ll make it right. I promise you that. Do you hear me?”

You nodded, pressing your cheek to his chest, inching closer to him. He wrapped you in a tight hug, holding you too close.

Did you believe him? Would everything work out for the best? Or were you continuing down a path that would lead to ruin? How easy it was for him to convince you of the opposite. He could lead you like a lamb to the slaughter, and you’d go willingly, bleating up at him with all your love and affection as he pushed you into the chute.

His arm became heavy, and you heard his breaths lengthen in his chest, and you knew he was asleep. You had an alarm set, so you curled up in his warmth, letting him doze, allowing yourself to sink into the murky blackness of sleep along with him.

SATURDAY — Lunchtime: 6 days until the wedding

Johnny had changed into something clean and left you in bed, kissing your face and promising all sorts of filthy things to you after the bar crawl tonight. He begged you to dance with him when you wound up at the club, washing away your worries about Pidge, claiming she’d be too drunk to notice. You rushed him out, warning him she’d be here for lunch, and washed your sheets.

Sure enough, your phone rang and Pidge was outside your apartment, screaming with six other girls to be buzzed up not an hour after Johnny left, and you breathed a sigh of relief they’d missed each other coming and going.

You had the whole day planned out. Lunch was at a little cafe near the river, perfect for a photo op or two. Then, you’d booked a nail salon for mani-pedis for the whole squad. After that, it was back to the apartment to put on your faces before going “out-out”.

For the most part, the day had been a wild success. Pidge was already a little tipsy from the non-stop mimosas, and even though your bank account had seen better days, it wasn’t that bad. Now, you were in the middle of the evening ferality. Someone had ordered a pizza and there was hairspray in places you didn’t think hairspray could go. Marlowe was hiding in her cubby under your bed, and you were already done getting ready.

You’d told everyone it was black and white themed. Ham and Pidge would be in white, with all of you in black, and the goal at the end of the night was for them to find each other by hopping from bar to bar. The stag would chase the hen through downtown Glasgow, and you’d planned to have them all end up at The Berkeley Suite.

There were girls everywhere. It was like a bomb had gone off in your apartment, and there wasn’t really a space for privacy except for the bathroom (as long as you shooed everyone out of it first).

“I’ll just be a second!” You shouted over the thumping music, closing the door behind them.

You took care of business and spent a brief minute checking your phone. You had two texts from Johnny, and when you opened them, your breath caught in your throat.

Mo Chridhe: open this when youre alone thief

Mo Chridhe: blacksuit.jpg

Johnny had sent you a mirror selfie of his outfit, and he looked stunning. You couldn’t believe it was him. You’d never seen him so dressed up. His hair was shaven on the sides, the mohawk back to its full potential, and his suit was a gorgeous black with velvet lapels and a gold chain between the button holes. He wore no tie, instead letting the first two buttons hang open rakishly, showing off his tanned chest.

You texted him back:

You: you are still so damn hot lol

Mo Chridhe: show me you

You obeyed, taking a racy selfie in the bathroom mirror just like he had done. You showed off your cleavage , and the short, high cut of the dress as it hugged your ass. You tried your best to be pouty, just like all the Instagram models, but you weren’t sure if you succeeded.

Mo Chridhe: i might be the luckiest cunt alive or im dreamin

You: lol ;)

Mo Chridhe: ham might be chasin pidge all night but ill be chasin you

You smiled down at your phone before closing the app and returning to the fray.

Glittered, glammed, and ready for a night of debauchery, you took your phone off its charger and made your way out into the cold evening air. Pidge had brought a jacket, but Cherise had decided to go without, claiming that hot girls didn’t get cold. You were definitely cold, so you wondered what that implied.

The first stop was The Variety Bar. You had texted Johnny and told him to warn you before their first bar choice so that you could pay the tab and bolt before Hamish could put his hands on Pidge. But, it didn’t really work out like that. You had all ended up as one big group, and spent most of the time jokingly keeping them from kissing each other. Price held up a wet coaster between their mouths which sent Pidge coughing and spitting, causing enough of a ruckus that you decided to move to the next spot.

Johnny sat with you at the bar while you paid, trying his best to keep his hands off of you.

“Lookin’ like a right goddess tonight, you are.”

“Stop it,” you smiled, “No flirting allowed while your sister is literally right behind us.”

“Och,” he shook his head, “She’s in her own wee world. Where to next, lass?”

You slid the check back to the bartender and thanked him, turning to Johnny and smirking triumphantly, knowing he still needed to pay before he could follow you,

“Don’t you hunt people for a living? Come and get me.”

You left him at the bar, frozen with a delightful look of surprise on his face. You found Pidge and the other girls outside.

“Alright,” you smiled, “Onward. Let’s head over to Max’s.”

“Oh, God,” Anjali sighed, “You really want her to blackout, huh?”

“Fuck it! Max’s it is, ladies!” Pidge screamed.

Everyone cheered and marched on after her. She cuddled into your arm as you walked,

“Thank you so much for this, babes. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for, you know that?”

“You are, too,” you kissed her on her temple and squeezed her arm a bit tighter.

By the time you’d had two drinks at Max’s, Hamish’s clan found you again. Gaz was the one who spotted you through the window, holding his hands up to the glass and pointing you out.

“Uh oh,” you smiled, “Last call, girls.”

Cherise laughed,

“I don’t know why we’re running. Might as well just party with them.”

“It’s tradition, right?” Bekah rolled her eyes.

“Well,” Pidge shrugged, “You all can wait here then, if you prefer the boys to me.”

“No! Pidge, that’s not it, babe,” Cherise protested.

Pidge drunkenly waved her off,

“It’s fine, no worries. See you at Berkeley’s. How about that?”

Pidge stormed off out the door, and you followed behind trying to get her to calm down. She eventually did, drinking the water you had bought for her. But, that was how the group got split. Half the boys ended up with you and Pidge and Anjali, and the other half waited at Max’s until the happy hour rounds were over.

You’d gotten all settled in at Berkeley, listening to the loud club music, letting the high of your buzz wash over you, trying not to think about how nice it would be to have Johnny here, dancing with you like he promised.

Then, Pidge realized she forgot her jacket, so she sent you back to the other bar. You left her with Gaz and Ghost, and Price wandered out into the street with you.

“‘Bout time Hamish finally caught his hen anyway,” you speculated as you walked with him.

“Aye,” he agreed, “And maybe your stag as well.”

Your eyes darted up to him and then checked over your shoulder, just to make sure Pidge wasn’t behind you.

Price continued,

“Are you sure keepin’ him a secret is the right thing? He’s dyin’ to tell her. Fuck, he was tellin’ people he didn’t even know about you.”

You smiled,

“Yeah, I know. I just want the wedding to be about her. Nothing is ever about her, you know? She deserves to have a day where she doesn’t need to consider other people’s feelings for once.”

“What about your feelings?” Price asked.

You didn’t answer him. You just shrugged and kept walking. Suddenly, you heard screaming behind you,

“Wait! Wait up!”

Pidge and the rest of the crew rushed over to you and Price.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“We’re gonna surprise Hamish this time,” Pidge smiled, pulling out a big confetti popper from her purse.

“Oh, God,” you grinned, looping your arm through hers and dragging her along.

Nothing was going according to plan that night, but you were so tired that it was hard for you to care. You weren’t even sure if Hamish’s group was still at the other bar, and you hadn’t heard a thing from Bekah or Cherise.

Finally, you made it back to Max’s. Just as you were about to open the door, it burst open and out poured Johnny, tangled in Bekah’s arms. She was giggling and kissing his cheek, leaving streaks of purple lipstick all over his freshly shaven skin. He was holding her close to him, his fingers digging into her side so tightly.

You knew what that felt like.

You gasped, stepping back, stunned. He looked right into your eyes and stopped. The whole world came to a grinding halt. All of the time that you had spent together seemed to lay out in front of you, prostrating itself, and being found unworthy. You felt nothing. Just a creeping numbness that leaked into your core, a fire burning without kindling, unable to be extinguished.

“Och, Jesus and all the fuckin’ saints,” Pidge threw her hands up, “Couldnae even wait until after the party to get your hands into one of my mates, could you? Arsehole. Get outta the way.”

“No, tha’s not it, Pidge!” He frowned, “Bekah doesnae —”

“Bekah, what?” Pidge spat in his face, “Bekah doesnae care that you’ll turn up next month or next year or next week in a box with the wee Scottish flag draped over it? Okay. Now, move yourself from the door, Jonathan.”

Bekah was sort of octopusing herself around him, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders, sucking on his earlobe, caring very little about the Scottish flag no matter where it was draped.

Johnny was trying to fight her off now, suddenly angry at Pidge,

“What did you just say to me, Brigette?”

“Oh, shut up! You’re just like your da, and you’ll end up dead like him, too. See?” Pidge turned to you suddenly, eyes wild with fury, “This is why I warned you, Johnny MacTavish is a fuckin’ widowmaker. And that’s all he’ll ever be.”

She finally made it around her brother and wrenched the door open, disappearing into the club. Johnny still had Bekah in his arms, and you couldn’t be there anymore. You turned and walked in the direction of your apartment, miles away but hell-bent on getting back there.

“Hey! Wait! Thief, please. This isn’t what it looks like,” his voice was cold and distant. You didn’t turn around to listen. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but you didn’t need to see it to know how it felt.

Johnny could have Bekah. He was allowed to have her. He was not allowed to have you, and you couldn’t have him. That much was clear now. You should’ve listened to your friend. You’d known all along, hadn’t you?

“Wait, mèirleach!”

You spun on him like a snake, striking out sure and true,

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

He could see in your eyes that you were serious, venomous as you were in your delivery. His eyes looked desperate, like a kicked dog, but he didn’t let her go. She smiled and waved at you, looking drunker than you’d ever seen anyone look. You tasted the bile in your mouth from your disgust.

Price jogged to keep up with you, and he grabbed your arm,

“Wait, girl. Just wait a second.”

You jerked your hand away and hailed a cab that was pulled over on your side of the street. You climbed in and shut the door, begging the cabbie to drive quickly, and he did. You stared out the window, watching all of the lights blind you as they seared into your eyes, burning the images you’d seen that night brightly into your memory.

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Chapter 09

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jamesunderwater · 10 months

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Word Search Game!

I was tagged by many of my lovely friends, so I decided to compile them all in one post. I wasn't able to find them all, but did my best. some of them are from published dtm snippets, which I noted, but everything else is from a WIP. thank you for the tags!! this was really fun.

@practicecourts Beach, office, wisecrack, dead, and bonus: proposition @kay-elle-cee grin, soft, heart, pain @uncertainwallflower quiet, reach, light, back @athenasparrow whisper, smirk, wall, lick

tagging: @deermessrs @basslineescapeact @mvnvgedmischief with the words ghost, bite/bit, groan, long

my answers below the cut cause this shit got long <333

Office (dead to me, published)

“All I’m saying is, we’ve been talking about breaking into McGonagall’s office all year and I’m a little disappointed that we’d waste this hallmark of our careers on-”

Dead (dead to me, unpublished)

“Nothing,” he deadpanned, because he didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t want to be acting this way at all, in fact wanted to be acting the opposite, but something in his body was shaking with anger and he didn’t know where to put it.

Proposition (dead to me, published)

“We could go work on it in the library instead, if you’d like? Or in the common room, if it’s not too crowded.” She looked back up at him, trying to gauge his intentions. Was he propositioning her, offering to be alone again so they could pick up where they left off? And if he was…did she mind? Of course she minded. His whole nice boy routine was nauseating. If he wanted to fuck her again, he could just say so.

Grin ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

James came out and slammed the door in excitement, his grin wide at the sight of them. “STAG PARTY!!!!!” He bellowed as way of introduction. The four of them screamed back, arms up, “STAG PARTY!!!!!” and for a single moment Sirius thought maybe this could feel normal, after all.

Soft ("country roads fic")

I found out they were like me. Unwanted just because of who they were. I looked at Reggie, just fifteen, with the softest skin I’d ever seen, innocent eyes, eyes that were just asking for somebody to love him. And I felt all the rage I never could quite feel for myself—because what kind of monsters sent this kid out in the cold? Just because they’d gotten it wrong? Just because he told them the truth of who he was? “Fuck them all,” I said to the sky. Sirius nodded beside me. “Fuck them all. We don’t need ‘em.” “Never did,” I agreed.

Heart ("country roads fic")

Fuck you! Turning on my heel, sharp and quick, kicking up dust as I bounded towards my mother, the cigarette smoke still sliding out of her lips. Fuck you, fuck Richard, fuck your stupid fuckin’ hair and your stupid fuckin’ nails and every fuckin’ thing about this place! I hope he has a heart attack while he’s mounting you and crushes you under his 250 pound lard of a body, how’s that for perverted?

Pain (dead to me, unpublished)

He had to reach hard to grasp the knob, but as soon as he did there was an echo of voices: What do you think you’re doing?! They were frantic, a painful ringing in his ears; he heard the high tone of his mother, the gravel of Sirius, the low timber of his father.

Quiet (dead to me, unpublished)

His mother had been reading a book when he asked her—standing to the left of her favorite armchair, one of his small hands touching her arm. She took a very long time to answer him, so long that he patted her again. “Mum! Mum, can I have one?” He paused, then realized why she must have been quiet, “Can I have one, please?”

Reach (dead to me, unpublished)

He was toying with the snitch, letting it fly just out of reach before snatching it back again. Remus was reading his Herbology book, and Peter was flying around the pitch on James’s broom. The sun had just set, but they had the invisibility cloak to get them back into the castle unseen.

Light ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

He tried to convince himself that this was him being normal. This was him saying, see? We can be friends. But in another light he knew he looked like a tryhard, just begging for a full conversation. Just one fucking conversation where Remus didn’t disappear in the middle of it.

Back (brand new secret smut fic)

After, James felt extremely grateful that no one had been looking. Because what had started as their lips pressed softly together turned into one of them stepping closer, neither of them pulling away, both of them placing a hand on the other’s side, someone opening their mouth just so, the other slipping a tongue across their lip… And then they’d pulled back, stunned, a bit of James’ drink having spilt on the floor, neither of them breaking eye contact for what felt like an hour.

Whisper (dead to me, unpublished)

He’d heard her conversation with McGonagall, of course, the flimsy curtains in the hospital wing doing nothing to block their voices. But he’d intended to keep her secret, having seen the look on her face when McGonagall left, the way she stared with empty eyes at the floor. He’d seen what a private thing this was for her, so sitting around while his peers whispered about the news, he wanted to tell them to shove off.

Smirk (dead to me, unpublished)

“Honestly, I’m glad for it,” he went on, looking away. “She’s a stubborn arse. Good luck with that.” He managed a true and proper smirk, which Sirius latched onto. Rolling his eyes, the other boy sighed. “It’s gonna be a nightmare.”

Wall ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

When he thought of Remus Lupin in a suit, in a room full of promises of forever, Sirius Black wanted to punch a wall.

Lick (brand new secret smut fic)

James did not know how anyone would say no to blank wordlessly requesting to take off their top, so he lifted his arms, and suddenly the jumper was gone, the cold air licking his chest. “Fuck,” blank whispered, running a hand up James’ chest, and James’ trousers had been tight before, but they were positively bursting at the seams now.

#this was seriously so fun #WIP tag #wip stuff #dead to me #country roads fic #my writing

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marauders-aesthetic · 3 years

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Here is a short one shot I wrote. I hope you guys like it ! It’s a Sirius and reader one shot when they are still in Hogwarts !

Sirius and Y/N : the stars listen

My name is Y/N, and I’m a Gryffindor 6th year. So before I start this story which is the story of me and my friend Sirius... yes Sirius as in Sirius Black, brother of Regulus Black, the famous Marauder and best friend of James Potter... that Sirius Black...

So I should begin by telling you a bit about myself. I am a Muggle born which means that when I first got my letter from Hogwarts I was ecstatic... this was the best news I had ever heard. I met Sirius on the train with James, Sirius, Remus and Peter and we became friends. I was always closer to Sirius, he was the first one to tell me about his family problems.... I remember it like it was yesterday... It was the summer holidays of our 3rd year.. I had gone home and was in the back garden reading a book Remus had recommended when I heard a noise coming from a bush... I got up and Sirius came out of it all bloody and panting for breath. I let go of everything and took him in my arms. He rested in my room and I felt a pinch. My heart was beating fast.... he was delirious from the pain. I helped him the best I could... I remember the tears and the pain he felt... I remember every word of our exchange... and what I remember the most was that ... that day ... that hot summer day .... I realised that .... I was in love with my best friend.... I felt the pain ... his pain .... I was irrevocably in love with the infamous Sirius Black.

That summer, he would come to my house and we would spend hours talking. That summer was the best summer of my life.

So now you have a bit of a back story I can start the story.

It started when Slughorn asked us to make Amortentia as he always like to do with his 6th years. I was partnered up with Lily Evans, my girl best friend and roommate. We made the potion with a little help from her old friend Severus. She wasn’t talking to him really ... and I understood why .... he had called her a Mudblood ... that word .... I had been called it a few times but Sirius would always come and defend me. I always loved that about him ... he was a pure blood but he always defended the ones who weren’t like him.

The class went on and our potion was done. Professor Slughorn came up to us to congratulate us.

⁃ well done !! Well done !! Could I ask you to tell me what you smell miss Y/L/N ?

⁃ I ... I ... mmm I smell ...lemon... pine... smoke ... something old .... a record shop .... and .... sorry ...

I stopped right there .. I was smelling Sirius’s cologne. Lily looked at me oddly....

⁃ Y/N ..

⁃ class dismissed !

I walked out as fast as I could. I loved Lily but she could sometimes be a nosy Parker.

It was the last lesson of the day so I walked to the library and took out a book.

I stayed there until dinner time. It was always quiet this time of year, because mid term exams were over. As I walked into the Great Hall I saw a my table, the Gryffindor table being the loudest as usual.

⁃ Y/N !!!!, shouted James, get over here now !!!

⁃ WHAT ????, I shouted back and laughed.

I sat down at my usual stop next to Remus and opposite Sirius who was laughing with James

⁃ what did I miss ?, I asked with a smile

⁃ Sirius’s got a new girl that’s what !!, shouted James

My smile faded away immediately but I put it back on. I couldn’t let it get to me.

⁃ oh wow ... congrats Pads !

⁃ Thanks N/N !

⁃ How come you never told me ?, I asked

⁃ Sorry N/N you were so busy with your revisions that i forgot !, he said with that grin that always made the butterflies in my stomach explode.

⁃ Well who is she come on ? Tell us !, I said trying to be the best best friend I could ever be.

So he started to tell us about her eyes, her hair... i blocked out most of what he was saying .... it was hard ... very hard ... i had never seen him talk about a girl like

this before ... i felt a pain in my chest,the same

pain ... i felt every time James would recount his best mates love adventures or how Sirius got a date with this girl or that Ravenclaw Prefect ... i got up.

⁃ Y/N ? are you ok ?, asked Remus

⁃ yeah ! sorry ! i forgot to do a homework for Binns ! i'll meet you in the common room !

I walked out really fast.. I had ran up to the astronomy tower.. the astronomy tower ... it was my sanctuary... I would go up every time I felt down or .... I sat down and let my legs dangle of the top. I looked up at the stars.. Sirius had taught me all of them... the names of the constellations... my favorite was ... of course ... Sirius ! The dog constellation !

I felt tears rolling down my cheeks... Merlin ! Don’t I look pathetic ... crying over a boy ... a boy I love ...

⁃ you know ... you should really look out and keep an ear out for strangers listening in on you !

I jumped and looked around to see non other than Remus Lupin

⁃ what do you want Remus ?, I said drying a tear away.

⁃ Well ... you know you can always talk to me ! I know the stars listen but ... maybe a friendly face might help ..

⁃ how much of it did you hear ?

⁃ Well let’s say I’m shocked no one else at school hasn’t heard your confession or your undying love for our favorite dog

⁃ You better not say anything Remus ‘

⁃ Ok ok ... chill ... but you know ... maybe you should tell him

⁃ Who ?

⁃ Y/N !

⁃ Good night Remus !

I walked down the stairs and got back to the common room. I couldn’t see Sirius... well it was probably for the best.

I walked up the stairs and got into my dorm... the girls were fast asleep as I got under the covers... I was welcomed with open by Morpheus.

As I woke up the next day, I went down to have breakfast with Marlene, who kept talking about Dorcas and her plan for their perfect date. I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t jealous of them. They had both found each other and were perfect for one another.

So I listened to Marls and gave her advice :

⁃ you know .... Instead of buying her something why not make her a nice thing !

⁃ That’s a really good idea N/N ! Thanks !

⁃ You’re welcome !

We sat down and started to have breakfast. Dorcas joined us with Lily.

⁃ where were you last night ?, asked Lily

⁃ Oh mmmm I....

⁃ probably went looking for a dark, tall, handsome man..., said Marlene with her eyebrows going up and down.

⁃ I don’t know what you are talking about !, I said drinking my pumpkin juice trying to hide my blush.

⁃ Come on ! It’s obvious you like him !, answered Dorcas

⁃ Leave it !, I said

⁃ Guys guys guys ! If N/N doesn’t want to talk about it ! Then let’s not pressure them ...

⁃ thanks Lily !

⁃ Although.... yesterday during potions... you did describe the scent....

⁃ who described what ?, asked Sirius sitting down next to me

⁃ Nothing ! Aren’t you supposed to be at practice ?, I asked

⁃ James caught a cold and is in bed !, he said taking a sip of my juice

⁃ Oh ... is he alright ?, asked Lily

I smirked at my best friend and he nodded:

⁃ why don’t you go and see him ?, I said with a smirk

Lily went as red as her hair, Sirius and I snickered

⁃ well ... while Lily tries and understand her complex feelings ... want to come to Hogsmeade ?, asked Padfoot

⁃ Yeah sure.... I’ll get my purse, I exclaimed

⁃ Great ! Meet you at the front !

I ran up to my dorm. I got my prettiest coat and put my purse. I arrived at the front of Hogwarts out of breath to see Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, Peter, Remus.... and Sirius with his girlfriend... Eloise.... she was a Ravenclaw 5th year... she had blond hair and green eyes... she was pretty... not like me... I had to stop my staring.... really Y/N.... stop thinking about him... he’s got a girlfriend... Merlin !

⁃ ready to go ?, asked my best friend

⁃ Mmm yeah... sure ! Hey Eloise !

⁃ Hey Y/N !

The afternoon was spent watching my best friend snogging in one of the booths in the Three Broomsticks... I wanted to vomit... I had to hold the urge.... Remus was there with me the whole time... we were about to leave when Sirius came up to us.

⁃ hey ! Eloise wants to stay a bit longer ! I’ll catch up with you guys in the common room ok ?

⁃ Yeah sure ! Whatever !, I said

⁃ Y/N ! What’s wrong ?, he asked concern in his eyes

⁃ Nothing ! Don’t want to keep your girlfriend waiting !, I spit back

I walked away. When The castle was in full view, ran leaving my friends behind me. I wanted to be left alone... the boy I have loved for so long...

this was pathetic I knew it... I looked at the picture frame ... it was of me and Sirius... we were laughing at one of James’s bad jokes.

I had to put it down...I can’t watch it anymore... I can’t help it.... he’s the reason for the tear drops on my guitar... Godric now I’m quoting Taylor Swift songs...

I hadn’t realised it was time for dinner... I looked at the clock and I had missed dinner... I went downstairs hearing laughters. I watched my friends around the fire... Lily was next to James taking care of him... of course he was loving it... that crazy stag !

I saw Remus listening to Peter talking about Merlin knows what... Sirius was watching the flammes in the fireplace. I walked past them and out of the portrait. I walked to the place I loved.. you guessed it... the astronomy tower... the stars were out, the sky was clear and the moon was in a nice croissant.

⁃ why won’t you love me ? ... I’ve always been there for you ... Why !!!!! Why won’t you listen to me stars !!!!

⁃ Who are you talking to ??, asked Padfoot

I turned around quickly seeing my best friend with his hair down.. a gust of wind made his hair twirl around his gorgeous face... I couldn’t help but blush... I turned around to look at the castle grounds... I felt him come close to me.

⁃ what are you doing here all on your own... ?

⁃ I needed the air ! Why aren’t you with Eloise ?

⁃ It’s past curfew you know ?

⁃ Oh really ? I was lost in thought !!

⁃ Yeah ... talking to the stars ?

I was even more red than Lily’s hair ...

⁃ what are you talking about ?

⁃ Come on N/N ! I know you ! And I want you to know ...

⁃ what ??

I turned my head to look at him to feel his lips on mine... he had his hand on my jaw... I felt my eyes close to savour the moment. His lips tasted like fire whiskey and cigarettes... we broke appart and I looked into his grey eyes. He had a smirk on his face.

⁃ but.... I don’t understand ... what about Eloise...?

He smiled that toothy smile I loved so much...

⁃ you are really something you know ?, he whispered, I have always loved you ! N/N ! Eloise was helping me get your attention ! And I guessed it worked ... haha

I had my hands over my mouth, I felt tears starting to prickle down my eyes. I was happy...

⁃ hey hey hey ! Don’t cry beautiful !! What is it ?

⁃ I am happy ... these are happy tears ! I love you !!

I froze... I had said the “L” word before anything could happen... I messed up... I was about to leave when I felt his hand on my forearm... I looked up to see Sirius smiling and looking at me in a way I had never seen before.

⁃ I love you too dove ! I love you too !

I felt his lips back on mine and I smiled. Maybe the stars are listening. If you are thank you, thank you for making this possible.

The stars listen.

#sirius black x reader #james peter remus sirius #sirius black #sirius orion black #remus x sirius #sirius and regulus #sirius and james #sirius x reader #marauders #the marauders

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

Text

“Stark’s New Intern” Chapter 25

Summary:

Erik is whisked away from Tony by a Monaco Princess and discovers they have more in common than he suspects.

NSFW. Mature Audience. 18+. Smut.

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"The ego, gotta be vetoed if you want a free-throw The evils, stay with the scripture what your mama read you You gotta milk the game, son, I couldn't bottle feed you This next bar was 'bout to do some Logic shit But now I gotta stop the shit and let me pop my shit Drama still added on, stayin' positive All my niggas on my side, on the opposite…"

Denzel Curry—"Diet"

Vivienne dragged Erik through diplomatic guests and rooms until they were back at the entrance of the palace. A dark SUV with tinted windows whipped around and a guard opened the door for her and Erik.

"Get in!" she said.

Erik climbed into the back seat with her as light snow fell down.

"It snows here?" Erik asked.

"It's rare."

"Where are we going?"

"A surprise."

Vivienne pulled a small cell phone from inside her bra cup.

"Don't look so shocked!" she teased.

She made a call and Erik was able to make out part of her conversation with his basic French.

"Stark is not going to let me just hang out—"

"I'll handle Tony. You're the first interesting person I've met in a long time. I want to show you off."

"To who?"

"My friends—"

"Aye, driver…stop the car."

"Gasper, arrête la voiture…"

The SUV came to a stop just outside the palace property line.

"Stark has me on a tight leash here."

Vivienne pouted.

"Can't we just hang out in the palace?" he asked.

"Too many eyes and ears. I want to talk freely."

Going to his hotel was out of the question.

Vivienne gave instructions to Gaspar and texted someone.

Erik's cell buzzed. He pulled it out of his jacket.

"Where are you?"

Stark's voice was rushed.

"The Princess kidnapped me."

Tony didn't sound happy. Vivienne grabbed Erik's cell.

"I will bring him back safe to your hotel…it's boring there. He's young and should hang out with people his age…so what…you are such a bore right now! I don't care. I will call my Uncle and tell him. Yes…I will tell him. Goodbye, Tony. Stop acting like an old tired father."

She tossed Erik his phone.

"My Uncle wants you tomorrow night. I will keep you until tomorrow morning."

"Like some pet."

"And a sweet pet you are," she said patting his forehead.

Erik grabbed her hand and tossed it from his face.

"Easy now," she whispered.

Erik sat back and watched fat snowflakes fall from the sky. Forty minutes into their ride they were climbing up mountainous terrain until they passed through massive black metal gates. The snow had grown thick and at least three inches covered the ground. Two black Great Danes circled the car before being ushered away by a butler who held an umbrella to protect Vivienne from the snow.

Erik shivered as they stepped out of the SUV in front of a large chateau, but the Princess had them inside the secured hideaway quickly. Within the overly warm residence at least thirty twenty-somethings sat and stood around a cozy open space with dark furnishings drinking, smoking, and listening to music. Erik looked around and saw French antiques mixed with modern touches. Like the palace, it smelled old and decadent.

A fire roared in a tall and wide fireplace big enough to roast ten pigs on a spit. Above the massive ornate mantel was an aged oil painting of seventeenth-century royalty in a pastoral scene.

"Tu t'es échappé!"

A young man with oily dark hair and a lop-sided grin rushed over to Vivienne giving her cheek kisses.

"S'il vous plait parlez anglaise, Durant," Vivienne said.

"Is this him?" Durant asked.

"No. Don't even mention that bastard," Vivienne snapped.

She grabbed Erik's hand and pulled him to the center of the opulent gathering of blue-bloods.

"Vivienne, he has been calling here non-stop. He threatened to fly here and find you. You should speak with him," a young woman with flaxen hair pinned in a severe chignon said.

There was an urgency in her voice.

"Everyone, this is Erik. He works for Tony Stark. He is my Uncle's special guest. Erik these are my friends and that is my cousin Durant and my cousin Remy. Erik is American. "

"Do you speak French?" the flaxen-hair woman asked.

Erik lied.

"No."

The butler poured Erik a glass of medium brown liquor from a crystal decanter.

"No worries, Erik, we all speak English here," Durant said.

A raven-haired woman with thin glossy lips leaned into another white woman next to her as Vivienne turned her back.

"…hommes noirs…"

Erik caught the two white women snickering about Vivienne and Black men. He tried not to glare at them as he felt out the energy in the room. The decrepit rich. Millionaires would be shunned as peasants among this slick bunch.

Erik sipped his drink. Old rich bourbon. The kind not sold in stores.

The liquid beat a warm trail down his throat.

Durant gave Erik a tour of the first floor and Vivienne was cornered by her friends and berated for something that he couldn't hear nor understand that well.

"Where were you educated?" Remy asked.

Plump, bow-lipped, and nattily dressed, Remy smoked the same clove-flavored cigarette that Vivienne favored. Blowing smoke above Erik's head, Remy's ruddy cheeks looked influenced by too much liquor and whatever else they were snorting or popping by the blown-out wet look in his light blue eyes.

"I'll be attending grad school at M.I.T. soon," he said.

There was no sense lying. Erik knew they were just trying to place him in the proper hierarchy for their comfort.

"How long have you been with Tony Stark?"

"Almost a year now."

Erik swirled his glass and sipped a little more bourbon. He moved freely about the room admiring a few sculptures. One, in particular, caught his eye as it sat on a cherry wood console table. He pointed to it.

"This is a nice replica of the Actaeon and Diana statues at the Caserta Royal Palace."

"You've been there?"

"Twice. With my family. It was a museum tour."

"You know the story behind the work?" Remy asked inching closer to Erik.

"Diana was bathing with her nymphs in attendance and Actaeon was out with his hunting dogs. He accidentally saw Diana naked and she sent his own dogs after him. She punished him for his transgression. Turned him into a deer."

Erik let his fingertip touch the top of Actaeon's face transforming into a hunted stag. The head of the mythical man was all deer while the rest was still human in a dead run for his life.

"He commanded that his pack recognize him as he slowly morphed into a stag."

Ten various breeds of dogs surrounded poor Actaeon as the human and animal transformation disfigured his face.

"The gardens there are extensive," Durant said.

"Very beautiful. Like Tivoli itself."

"Well-traveled?"

"Try to be as much as I can."

Erik turned away from the sculpture and returned to the round wooden table that held the decanter of bourbon.

"More?"

A sharp-featured strawberry blonde seated on a beige double high-back chair pointed to the bourbon. She seemed amused to have Erik in her presence.

"Sure," Erik said holding his glass out to her.

Her eyes shifted from amusement to flustered surprise. She wasn't wearing pearls, but her expression sure was clutching some. Remy chuckled and Erik waited for the woman to pour.

She sat forward and lifted the decanter.

"Say when…" she said.

He let her go halfway before he held up his free hand.

"Thanks," he said. He took a big swig and turned away from her.

Vivienne's amused face beamed at him. He took a seat on a small couch and Vivienne swept over to sit with him.

There was small talk and Erik endured the irritating fishing into his past and personal life. Strawberry blonde and the raven-haired woman spoke in French, absorbed in their own world with not-so-subtle glances at Erik. He made out most of their conversation and grew bored with the idle chatter about men and parties. His focus moved back to Vivienne. She was the most beautiful woman in the room and the least invested in everyone else except for him. Her perfume tickled his nostrils.

"Anglais!" Vivienne scolded.

"Sorry," Strawberry said.

"So rude to my guest," she grumbled.

Vivienne grabbed his hand and pulled him off of the couch and moved him toward a staircase.

"We're off!" Vivienne called to her clique.

On the second floor, Erik followed Vivienne down a long hall. He glanced at more dynastic family oil paintings on the walls. He stopped at one that featured Vivienne. She stood next to him staring up at the gold-framed painting. Her father looked like a milkier Francesco, but much younger and with more hair. He had a pronounced large mouth and a weak chin. Cold gray eyes evoked a stern Monégasque aristocracy.

"My father Prince Julien, and my mother, Princess Ndaté."

Her mother was a rich warm espresso color with plump lips and a wide undefined nose with the cutest smile on her pixie face. Thick braids were twisted high on her head. Vivienne sat next to her mother on a forest green velvet settee wearing the same dark copper tea dress. Her father stood behind the settee with his hands touching his wife and daughter in a severely pressed dark suit.

"Your Moms became royalty here?"

"She was of royal descent from Senegal—"

"I have a play Aunt from Senegal."

"Oui?"

"Yeah. She's a queen to me."

"It was quite an event when they were married I am told. They met at Oxford. That's where I go to school."

"Only child?"

"Oui."

"Me too."

"Come…"

He followed her to another hall that led to a bedroom on the end.

"This your house?"

"Belongs to the family. We use it for special events. My cousins and I hide out here when we are between official duties at the palace. Unfortunately, having a father first in line to the throne makes my cousin Clara the sad puppy tonight. She had to stay behind for all the diplomatic duties."

"What's your shot at the throne?"

She cackled.

"My father is sixth in line. No chance. I will just be the speculative royal."

"A Black Princess in a white line. That's a big deal to a lot of people."

Vivienne unpinned her hair and the dark tresses fell even longer down her back.

"Close the door," she said.

Erik locked it and she stood in front of him.

"Unzip me," she demanded, her doe-like eyes seductive in the dim lighting of the room.

She turned away from him. Erik unhooked her and then zipped the dress down to her lower back.

"Merci."

She stepped out of the dress then tossed it on a pecan wood-stained rococo bed embellished with swirly scrolls and foliage fretwork. Her black silk underwear and strapless bra stayed on as she kicked off her heels. She had on sheer black thigh-high stockings and he watched her roll her hips as she walked to a delicate-looking bronze and leather Louis the Fifteenth writing desk with a matching leather chair. Her European Pops may have given her light skin and a loose curl pattern, but her African Mama most definitely gave her shelf booty and thighs for days. Her lack of modesty was much like his own when he was at home.

A chrome laptop was on the desk and Vivienne turned it on. Erik looked around the room and saw a pair of Bulgari sunglasses on a dresser. He put them on and admired his face in a dressing mirror. Her laptop powered up and she sauntered over to him. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of his head.

"I take off my clothes and you barely blink," she teased.

"I've seen a lot of bodies, Ma. Ain't no thang—"

"Ah, I saw you! Your eyes looked at my breasts just then."

He grinned.

"You're kinda spilling out there a bit."

She was.

Erik could see she had big light chestnut areolas that peeked out. Her snatched waist made her hips look wide from the front and enhanced the physical beauty that she displayed. Her eyes studied his face and she stepped closer to him. She unfastened his suit jacket and pulled it off of him, flinging it on top of her dress. He could feel her body heat.

"Get comfortable," she commanded.

Her fingers lifted and undid the first three buttons on his shirt. Erik clasped her fingers inside his hand.

"You're moving fast, girl. Don't even know me—"

"I know you're a liar," she whispered in his ear.

He frowned.

She tried stepping away from him but he held her wrists tight.

"I'm a liar?"

"You've been vetted by Tony. He doesn't just let anyone get close to him. And my Uncle hates commoners. You're not who you say you are."

He let her go. Her fingers went behind her back and she unclasped the hooks on her bra and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts dropped two inches on her chest from their heaviness, but as much as he was interested in playing with them and stretching his mouth over them, the smug look on her face had him edgy.

"Erik Stevens. American sounding name. But I've watched you. The way you walk. The way you talk and carry yourself. You remind me of my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend. You swaggered into my family's humble abode like you owned it. Even in the palace you moved around like others were beneath you or not worth your time. You don't suck up to Tony like I've seen others do. Either your family is very rich and well connected, or you have royalty in your background…oh, see? Your eyes gave you away…"

Vivienne stared at him. Some type of recognition colored her face.

"Someone in your family is from the motherland, oui? The east? It's so evident—"

"Oakland through and through, girl."

"No. Menteur. You are African. More like Halfrican…as am I."

She poked his chest.

Erik swiped the dark glasses back down over his eyes. He sat on her bed and felt his belly churn with tension. Vivienne's intuition had him shook. He tried to deflect.

"Come bring your fine ass here."

He held out his hand.

She walked over to her computer and turned on some music. He grimaced.

"I don't know what kind of mood you're trying to set, but that ain't it," he said.

He moved from the bed to her side and turned off the dreadful Europop sounds. He typed in the search engine and pulled up the M.I.T. website.

Her voice came into the room and the energy shifted.

Buttafly.

His muse.

"What is this?" Vivienne asked.

"A radio station I listen to. It streams worldwide."

"I like it."

Vivienne swayed her body, her hips circling with little dips. Her bare feet took tiny steps as she latched on to the hypnotic dreamy beats. Erik's eyes raked over her curves and the slight bounce of her tits.

"How many guys do you bring here the first time you meet them?"

"Guys? Mon doudou, do I look like I interact with guys?"

Her hands fluttered around her body.

"I only entertain the powerful and worthy."

Something within Erik stirred. Vivienne rolled her body and the music transitioned to something even more sensual.

"If the night brings you gossamer wings made of starlight and sable dreams, you better fly…"

Erik imagined moist lips with Buttafly's honey mouth whispering the words in his ear that he heard from the computer. Since he couldn't have the unseen girl of his aural fantasies on the radio, Vivienne was perfect compensation. He stepped to her and entwined his fingers with hers and shook his hips. Twirling her around to face him, Erik led Vivienne in some Chi-town two-steppin' that his grandfather taught him.

"I love this!" Vivienne squealed.

He pulled her in close and she was able to follow his lead.

"That's it, Princess," he encouraged.

She pulled the dark glasses from his eyes and tossed them on her bed as they stepped in time together. He spun and dipped adding the Oaktown drip to their partnering. Drawing her in tight, her breasts mashed into his chest and he liked the pressure she started to put on his loins as he felt his dick grow fat in his tailored slacks.

"I feel that," she sighed grinding on him.

"It's yours if you want it, Princess."

Vivienne turned and backed her ass against his groin.

"Let me be your heartbeat…"

Whatever poem Buttafly was reciting on top of the erotic beats made Vivienne gasp as she stood still and let him dry hump her ass. Erik's dick turned to iron and the heavy print beating against the split in her backside made her panties wet. His fingers stroked the front of her underwear forcefully to let her know what time it was. Her legs shook. Erik gripped her waist and held her in place as he thrust against her.

He wanted that weight bouncing on him so he pulled her back with him as he sat on the bed with her seated on his lap. She gave him what he wanted, lifting and dropping on his dick, the friction from his pants adding to the pleasure he was enjoying. He reached up and yanked on her long hair, threading his fingers through the thicker strands.

"Big ole ass…girl you know you got a big ole ass…look at you!"

Vivienne laughed and he tugged harder on her hair forcing her head back.

"Who takes care of all of this, huh? I know these white boys ain't handling you right. Look how you're acting. Your man know you wilding right now?"

"He's old news. There are other fish."

"You're sinking some hooks, Ma."

Vivienne spun around on him and straddled his thighs, her breasts sitting on his chest.

"You have protection?" she asked.

"Yeah. Will we be disturbed?"

"No."

She slid her fingers down to the last fastened buttons on his shirt and freed him from it. The skin on skin contact made his dick harder. Erik pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and fumbled for one of his condoms as she nibbled along his neck.

"I won't cause no international incident fucking a Princess will I?"

Her lips smothered his and her tongue was aggressive with his open mouth. Her kisses were desperate.

"You need me bad," he whispered in her ear as he snaked his tongue inside it.

Her greedy fingers went to work on his pants and he let her take them off along with his dark briefs.

"This is what I need," she groaned wrapping her fingers around his wood.

She stroked him nice and slow, teasing pre-cum out of his slit before she engulfed him with her lips. Resting on his elbows, Erik enjoyed watching her slather his dick with warm saliva and moans.

"Damn, baby. You know how to handle my shit. Rub them big titties on it."

Vivienne knelt down and lifted her breasts. He sandwiched his length in the deep valley of her cleavage and she interlocked her fingers together making his erection snug and secure. She rubbed her tits up and down and he had memories of Athena as he watched his dick disappear. He fingered around her areolas and tugged on her nipples.

"Nasty girl…just met me and got my dick like this. You like being a good slut?"

Vivienne lunged for his mouth and they kissed until the throbbing in the root of his dick made him antsy for pussy. He wasn't sure how much privacy they really would have, so he didn't want to waste time eating the box and then being interrupted without having a crack at royal walls. She seemed to be hot for his erection right away too. He could taste her folds after he pounded her good and proper. It was time for royal fucking and he planned on giving her Wakandan Prince dick.

Buttafly was providing the soundtrack he needed to serenade Vivienne into submission. She was about to quench the female drought he was experiencing. He tore open the gold magnum condom wrapper and slipped the rubber down his thick inches. The bed didn't feel sturdy to him so he pulled her over to the solid-looking cream vintage chaise lounge.

"Wait," she whispered and quickly walked to a door he thought was an ornate closet but was actually a bathroom.

She came back with a dark towel and spread it on the lounge. Erik sat down and helped her climb back onto his lap. They kissed once more and she moaned into his throat as he gave her deep soul kisses. He held the back of her neck and plundered her lusty mouth until she was whimpering.

"Fuck me," she begged.

"You want this dick?"

The mewling sound from her voice made him so horny. It was obvious they both hadn't had it in a long time. He didn't give her time to pull her panties off or slide them to the side. He just ripped them off and tossed the scraps on the floor. Gripping the bottom of her ass cheeks and lifting her up, she eased down on his length with only two adjustments with the angle. His abundant size didn't bother her at all. She was so wet that he knew she could slide down even more inches if he had them. Feeling more confident after a few false starts and gripping the back of the lounge for balance, Vivienne started dropping her pussy on him forcing harsh cursing to erupt from his mouth.

"You really tryna break a nigga in!"

"MMMhmmm."

"Okay, Princess. Big ole heavy ass…big heavy ass!"

He slapped her butt and the solid sound made his balls jump.

"Fuck me…fuck me, Princess. Ride that bitch…ride that bitch. Damn you got some weight on that shit."

She knew how to move and shook what her Mama gave her and then some. The clapping of cheeks was so loud that Erik just knew that everyone had to be able to hear it downstairs. She twisted her waist and circled her hips to make that shit even louder and his mouth fell open trying to inhale more air to keep up with her. He jackhammered into her until the music settled him down and he got caught up in a rhythm that had her begging him to wreck her shit for all time. She stopped speaking English then, and her breathy French made his mouth filthy talking back to her. He slid his fingers along her thigh-high stockings.

"Damn, Princess!"

Vivienne turned her body to the side and rested her head on the back of the lounge as she watched Erik's face next to hers. She rode the first four inches on the top of his dick and the sensation of her circling that tight box on him without going all the way down made him press his feet hard into the carpeted floor.

She had his face all scrunched up as he stared into her eyes. Her mouth was open and spilling more moans.

"Fuck me, Princess. Just like that…just like that. Got this big ass clapping!"

"Oui…oui…oui…"

"Fuck me…fuck me…take some more girl…go all the way down. Don't be scared. Fuck me good…take some more. You can get more in there…shit yeah…I like that shit…all the way down. Dassit…more…lemme stretch that shit more…fuck…oh fuck…there it is. Riding the tip so good, baby. Dassit…dassit, Princess. All the way down…all the way bitch…yeah…let a real nigga handle you…mmmmm…"

He pulled out and her eyes looked confused.

"Turn over. Get on your knees."

He forced Vivienne to clutch onto the armrest as he took her from behind.

"Spread them cheeks with your hands…I said spread them. Don't make me fucking repeat myself!"

Erik slapped the shit out of her ass and her body jerked from the punishment. Her hands reached back and pulled her ass cheeks apart for him. Her head rested on the cushion.

"Poke that ass out…dassit. Arch that back for me. Good girl. Make that pussy tight for me. Make it hard for me to get in this shit."

He inserted the bulbous head in and he felt her pushing her vaginal muscles against him.

"Yeah! Just like that! Make it hard for me to get in there…c'mon girl! Fuck!"

Vivienne's head angled back to watch his face.

"Fuck me….please…fuck me hard…" she panted.

"Hold them cheeks open!"

Her pussy was frothy and the creamy fluid dribbled down her thighs every time he pulled out to thrust back in fast.

"Nobody been taking care of this pussy."

"…fuck me, Erik…."

"Ain't no Oxford niggas available to break you off?"

She laughed and it died in her throat when he deep stroked her. He held her left arm back to help him get down deeper. He wasn't going to last.

"Loud pussy, girl…"

Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth stayed lax.

"Oh…oh…oh…oh…"

"Get it, girl! Getcho dick!"

Vivienne clutched onto the armrest with her free hand and lifted up. He released her arm and she rode his dick by rocking back on him with her hands resting on her thighs.

"Do that…do that…" he hissed.

"Erik!"

"…finna nut…"

Her pussy made obscene farting noises and he let loose into the condom.

"Fuucckkkkkk!"

He fell over her back and gripped her shoulders, kissing the side of her face.

"Fucking icy, Princess!" he panted.

He lifted up feeling the hardness in his dick still holding out.

"I ain't forgot you, Ma."

Erik made her turn over and he lifted her legs over his arms and put in work. It didn't take long for her to fall apart all over his dick before he had to grab the base of his length to keep the condom from slipping as he became flaccid.

Vivienne ran her hand across the top of her hair and grinned from ear to ear.

"That was…mon Dieu…" she sighed.

She reached up and caressed his face.

"Are you using your wings? Are you flying above the world Black angel….?"

Buttafly's voice calmed the rapid beating in his heart from the physical exertion. Vivienne took his hand and pulled him onto her bed.

"Viens mon amour," she whispered.

###

They used all of his condoms.

Three in total.

Vivienne was insatiable and he gave it his all until he fell asleep. He awoke to find the two pitch-black Great Danes sleeping on the floor at the foot of the bed. When Erik stood up to go urinate, both dogs growled at him, their big ears tall on their heads like radar.

"Chut!" Vivienne hissed.

Both dogs backed down and rested their heads on their large paws.

Dressed in a fluffy ginger-colored robe, Vivienne sat on the bed with her laptop in front of her crossed legs.

"Morning," he said.

"Good morning to you. Sleep well?"

"Yeah. What time is it?"

"One—"

"Shit!"

"Don't worry. Tony knows you're still with me. I called him earlier. You don't have to be back until tonight."

"I have to be with your uncle."

"I know. Take a shower. Everything you need is in the bathroom. Are you hungry? I had lunch brought up since you slept through breakfast."

She pointed to a covered silver serving tray on the writing desk. There was fresh juice and water in glass pitchers with glasses.

"Be right back," he said.

Erik showered and pulled on a thick black robe that covered him down to his feet. A brand new toothbrush with individual toothpaste was sitting on the sink next to an unopened travel size deodorant roll. Stepping back into the bedroom, the two dogs watched him closely but didn't move or growl at him.

"Let them out before you eat anything. They will beg and it is so annoying."

Erik walked past the Great Danes and unlocked the bedroom door. They lifted their heads and Erik whistled. They jumped up and he shooed them out closing the door behind them.

Padding over to the serving tray, Erik lifted the cover and found ham omelets with cheese, resting on top of a large croissant with a side of diced mixed fruit and small finger sandwiches. He nibbled on a grape and poured himself water.

"Merde!" Vivienne snapped.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She glared at her screen.

"What do you want?!"

Her voice was annoyed. Erik tossed another grape into his mouth and drank some water.

"You refuse to take my calls. You make me hunt you down from the palace to your family chateau. I will not tolerate your disrespect!"

Erik froze.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose and his fingers shook so bad that he had to put his glass of water down. He stepped away from the writing desk and walked carefully to the bed, his eyes narrowing and the breath in his body moving rapidly in his chest.

That voice.

It couldn't be.

"T'Challa, we are no more. I told you that when I left—"

"You said we were just taking a step back to evaluate our relationship…who the fuck is that?!"

Blazing dark orbs burned into Erik's face. The hard scowl on T'Challa's mouth matched the one on Erik's own lips.

"That is my friend—"

"Friend? He is wearing a robe—"

"Hey, Princess. We have lunch waiting for us. Hang up."

"No one asked you to speak—"

"I'm talking, nigga and I'm digging out your bitch!"

"Vivienne!"

T'Challa's shout made Vivienne jump. Her eyes darted between them.

"He is a guest, T'Challa. We have a lot of guests here. There was a party last night—"

"You ain't gotta explain shit to him. Hang up!"

"If you hang up. I swear to Bast I will—"

"Do what?" Erik challenged.

Vivienne's eyes grew coy. She brushed her hair back over her shoulder and gave T'Challa a sly smile. She was enjoying it.

"We can talk when I get back."

"We shall talk now. Make him leave!"

Erik plopped down on the bed next to Vivienne and picked up her dark glasses. Pulling them on he placed his face close to the screen. T'Challa's eyes reminded Erik of his father's. For a second, N'Jobu's face loomed in his mind. Staring at his cousin, seeing the dark smooth skin, the flared nostrils, and hearing the haughty entitled voice, Baba was forced into his heart. Not only could Erik see his father in T'Challa's face, but he could see his own too. It was in the eyes. Those damn haunting Udaku eyes. No wonder Vivienne pegged him for royalty. She was fucking his cousin and unknowingly recognized the bloodline. Incredible.

"Where are you going?" Vivienne called out.

Erik stalked to the bedroom door.

"I have to get some air."

"Eat some food—"

"Vivienne!"

"T'Challa stop screaming at me! You'll see me when I let you!"

She slammed the laptop shut and jumped off the bed.

"Erik…Erik…what's wrong?"

Anger coursed through his body and made it rigid as the Princess wrapped her arms around his.

"I was being petty. I shouldn't have taken the chat. Not with you here. He's such an arrogant ass all the time—"

Erik lifted her up and crashed his lips onto her mouth.

Carrying her back to the bed, he pushed her laptop to the side and dropped her on the plush lavender duvet. Snatching off her robe he threw it behind him. Her eyes were ablaze as she watched him disrobe. His dick was ramrod straight and pointed toward her. He fisted the head and when he glanced at his wallet on the nightstand, he remembered he had no more condoms.

"Do you have anything?" he asked. His fingers twirled around the underside ridge of the tip.

She heard the desperate need in his voice. Her head shook and he couldn't hide his disappointment.

"Here," she said spreading her legs.

The faint pubic hairs on her plump mound were already damp and her vulva was swollen, the inner lips wide open revealing glistening pink.

"You sure?"

She lifted her legs up high.

Erik lined himself up with her.

"He wants you back," he said.

"He has to learn to deserve me."

"He don't deserve you. He doesn't deserve shit."

He plunged into Vivienne full over reckless venom. He wasn't gentle and she didn't want him to be.

"…ooh…mon dieu…ahhh…mon dieu…Erik…!"

He put his full weight on her and she clawed his back.

"Oh…oh…oh…oohmmmph…oui…oui…oui…"

He slammed into her, his length splitting her open wide, his aggression overwhelming her. She cried out in pleasure and he pushed her legs all the way back and shifted to his knees so he could break her down.

"You go back to Oxford, he gon' feel this dick!"

"Oui!"

Reckless. Piping her raw. Needing to stretch her out so she would remember him. The indignant anger in his cousin's voice aroused the alpha within himself and he pounded the fuck out of Vivienne to get back at his blood. If he couldn't bust that spoiled bastard in the face with his fist, then he was going to bust his woman down with his dick.

Erik fucked most of the sound out of Vivienne. She couldn't even make coherent words anymore. Her eyes were glued to his with her lips parted in sweet agony. Every few seconds a deep groan would spill from her throat. He kept the pace brutal and she was game for it.

"Hold your damn legs, bitch!"

Vivienne reached up and curved her hands under her thighs and held them in place as he gripped her throat with one hand and held onto the headboard with the other.

"OOooohhh!"

The vibration in her throat was felt in his hand and he pulled all the way out just to thrust back in to hit that bottom of her pussy hard. Her eyes rolled back and shut as tears spilled from her lids. He eased his grip from her neck to allow her more air but she pushed his hand back down harder.

"This my pussy now. Right?"

Her eyes popped open and her breasts bounced distracting him. He reached down and felt all over her chest as she thrashed under him. He plucked at her clit before rotating firm circles into the small nub.

"I'm cumming!" she shouted.

Erik watched her pussy contract around his girth and before she went limp in his arms, he pulled his shiny erection out and stroked it until stringy hot ropes of semen spurt all over her belly.

"Princess!" he choked out.

He milked out all that his balls could give and Vivienne smeared it into her skin. Gulping for air, Erik sat back from her. When he was able to breathe normally, he searched for his clothes and got dressed.

"You won't eat?" she asked.

"I need to get back to the hotel and get ready for tonight."

Disappointment turned her face sour.

"You have plenty of time."

He glanced out of the window. It was snowing again.

"So unusual," she whispered staring at the falling flakes with him.

"Do I need to call a car service?"

"Gaspar will take you where you need to go. Won't you stay longer, Erik? Please?"

Her face was lovely with the glow of their rough sex. Erik hated the man's guts but he had to admit that his cousin had great taste in women.

He sat on the edge of the bed and put on his shoes.

"How long you been with that nigga?"

"T'Challa? We've been on and off for two years."

"You love him?"

"I do. I'm not in love with him though. He makes that difficult."

"How?"

"He only loves himself and some other woman back in his country."

"Where is he from?"

"Wakanda."

"Have you ever been there?"

"No. It's a poor country and I don't do poor. He won't take me there anyway."

"Why not?"

She shrugged.

"He makes excuses. His family is well off. I think his father is a despot. He's been in power forever."

"He have any siblings?"

"A little sister."

This was news to him.

"What's her name?"

"Aren't you a curious one?"

"Sizing up my competition."

"Her name is Shuri. He's crazy about her. Brags about her all the time."

"Have you met his father?"

"King T'Chaka is T'Challa times ten."

She laughed. He tried to smile. His stomach was tight.

"I met him in London once. With T'halla's stepmother Queen Ramonda."

"He re-married…." Erik pondered the information. Another heir. And a wife that could get in the way.

"You know about them?"

"What?"

"You said 'She re-married'. Like that was important to you."

"Nah. Just curious. He seems so uptight."

"He can be a delight…when he gets his way."

"Why do you need a break from him?"

"He's intense. Like you. That can grow tiresome. But the sex is worth it."

She fell onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

"Thank God you both weren't in the same room. It was like watching two male Betta fish circle each other. The expression on his face though when you wouldn't leave! He's never been denied anything in his life!"

Erik stood from the bed. Vivienne crawled over to him and sat up on her knees holding out her arms. He kissed her lips but didn't hug her. She pouted.

"C'mon now, I can't get cum on my clothes."

She sat back on her heels.

"I enjoyed your company," she said.

"I enjoyed yours."

"Can I see you again?" she asked.

"Depends on Tony. We're here a few more days then it's back to L.A."

"I want you to call me."

"If I can. I will—"

"No. You call me. Or I will kidnap you again."

She cradled her breasts.

"You're the one who's spoiled," he said.

She didn't deny it.

###

The private room in the private Gentlemen's club reeked of pungent cigars, cognac, and tired old man cologne doused too liberally on pale pampered skin.

Erik tugged on the tie he had to wear wishing he had some good weed to smoke to help him focus. Tony sat near him cradling a Cuban cigar. The room was filled with high rollers from Saudi Arabia, China, Australia, Argentina, and South Africa. The card table and the dealer was set with chips. They all waited for Prince Francesco. He was late.

Erik's leg began to bounce and Tony kicked the bottom of his chair to make him stop.

"Forgive us!"

The Prince strolled in and Erik was surprised to see Princess Vivienne behind him. They both took seats at the poker table. He couldn't hide the delighted smile on his face when the Princess looked up and saw him sitting across from her.

"My niece, Princess Vivienne. I know the rules say men only, but I couldn't deny you all a chance to play with the best."

Small head bows were given to Vivienne but her eyes were only on Erik's.

The moment all their hands were dealt and bets were wagered, Erik learned the hard way. Never judge a book by its cover.

Princess Vivienne cleaned everyone's clock during the first two games, and as his pile of chips dwindled, Erik knew then that it was going to be a long night.

###

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vintage-story-time · 2 years

Text

Jackie's Family Lessons! by Sandy Bennett

Chapter 8

Downstairs the family reunion had progressed into an orgy. My relatives

sat around stripped to the waist, shoes off, playing cards to see who

would take off what next. The air was thick with the smoke of cigars

and the growl of conversation had become a constant factor. I took the

family car keys off the dresser and slipped out into the night. I had

many changes of mind and heart on the way to Frank's place, and if it

hadn't been for the fact that the car kept getting closer to him I

might well have put this confrontation off until it was too late. As it

was I arrived at his house, parked the car, and walked up the driveway

with rubbery legs.

His father answered the doorbell. "Jackie! Don't you know the bride and

the groom aren't supposed to see each other on the day before the

ceremony?"

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten," I replied distractedly. "I have to talk with

Frank right away, though, so do you think an exception can be made?"

"I certainly wouldn't object. The only problem is that Frank is out at

a stag party. The boys at his college decided he had to leave

bachelorhood in style, you know."

"Will he be back soon?"

"I honestly don't know. But come in, my dear, you can keep me company

while you wait. My wife is visiting friends and taking care of the last

details of the wedding. Such a confounded nuisance." He let me into the

living room and offered me a drink. I asked for coffee and a cigarette.

My nerves were shot. The idea that Frank could come in at any moment

terrified me. He'd probably be tipsy and amorous, and what I had to

tell him wouldn't go down well even if he was sober and spent.

"Well, what is it you have to talk with Frank about?" asked his father.

"You look drawn and nervous. It can't be that awful, can it?"

"It's very personal, Mister Perkins."

"Call me Jack. Now relax and if you want to tell me, feel free to. If

you don't want to tell me I won't take it personally. I realize there

must be many things on your mind at a time like this, but it's odd how

often those things are less complicated once you let them out into the

open."

Through my distraction I saw him the way I'd seen him the other day,

such a strong, masculine person with his clear blue eyes and silver

hair, square jaw, and that atmosphere of cigars and bourbon. He sat in

the chair facing mine and gave me his full attention. Until that time I

had seen him just as Frank's father, a person who was often present

when I was visiting him but who kept aloof from our young world. Now

that he and I were alone I felt a strong urge to get to know him

better, and to confess all.

"When Frank proposed to me I was a virgin," I began hesitantly. "And

now I'm not. But believe me, Mr. Perkins, I mean Jack, it's not

entirely my fault. I wanted Frank to be the first but he wanted to wait

until we were married!"

He didn't say anything for a while and I felt as if I was sitting on

hot coals. Then he shook his head and said: "That boy's a fool. How

often have I told him not to be so inflexible! Principles don't mean a

thing in the world. Well, so you made love with someone, and it serves

my son right. But is that any reason to be so upset?"

"It's not just one person, Jack, It's ... oh, you're going to think I'm

awful!" I broke down crying and he hurried over to my side to take me

into his arms. It was very comforting to be enveloped in his masculine

aroma and I readily snuggled up to him as the tears rolled out of my

eyes. He caressed my hair soothingly and told me not to worry, he was a

man of the world, even if his son wasn't. "There have been a whole

bunch, men and women!" I blurted out. He stiffened momentarily and I

thought he was going to expel me.

"Ah ... yes, I see, that is something to be distressed about ... unless

you enjoyed it, of course."

I looked him in the face and found he was smiling faintly. "I did,

Jack, very much, but the worst is still to come."

"You're not pregnant are you?"

"No, my uncle is a doctor. Well, the people I went to bed with are all

family, not all, but mostly." He told me to enumerate. "My father,

several uncles, two aunts, my brother, two cousins, and then there were

two black men, one oriental, I think that's all."

He whistled through his teeth but stayed by my side. I wondered what he

was thinking. And suddenly, without him saying a word, I found out.

There was movement in his lap, a cock stirred or bobbed, and the knob

pushed at the material of his pants some eight inches from where it

began. "You know what I think?" he said, taking my hands into his. "I

think you should keep this a secret between you and me--and your

family, of course. Never tell Frank about this." Then he drew me toward

him and kissed me on the lips. "Nor about this."

"Oh Jack, no!" I cried. "I'll only be making it worse!"

"Only if you want to keep score," he said, kissing me on the cheek,

forehead, nose, and holding me closer. I couldn't struggle for long. A

real desire for him sprang up in my belly, a need that had its origins

in the past. Now I realized he had always attracted me but that I had

always thought of him as out of my reach or class. And now that he made

advances I was flattered and excited. I kissed him back, working my

lips into his and allowing him to part them so his tongue could enter

my mouth. I closed my lips around it and pretended to suck it like a

cock, a hint which didn't escape him. He took my hand and placed it on

that throbbing cock that I'd seen earlier, and having a grip on it made

it seem all the bigger.

Both my hands fumbled with his zip and extracted that big cock, but a

bolt of fear hit me before I could do it justice. "What if Frank comes

home and sees this?" I asked. "Aren't we taking an awful risk?"

"I suppose you're right. Besides that my wife might come home. Let's

drive a little way and park," he said. His cock went back into hiding

but it seemed to need more room in there. It stuck out like a concealed

weapon and Jack walked strangely toward his car. He had a big car with

a car seat large enough to party on, and he didn't drive too far before

he pulled over into the bushes and proceeded to do just that. We lay on

the back seat and started to kiss again, warming each other up where he

had grown cool in the interim. My hand found his cock again, took it

out again, and I was delighted to find it was just as big and hard as

before. Now there was nothing to stop me from finding out more about

that splendid member. I slid down along the seat and ran my tongue

along the veined skin, relishing its silky smoothness, its warm odor,

and the bushy hairs that brushed against my face. Jack managed to take

off his pants without disturbing me and he urged me to undress without

disturbing him. It wasn't easy. I wanted to suck on his cock with all

my heart but he wanted me naked. Very well. I let go of his cock and

quickly took off my clothes, waited until he'd taken off his shirt and

then, both of us as naked as the day we were born, we resumed our

original position.

Jack loved to get sucked off, I could tell that right away. He crooned

a melody of delight way in the back of his throat and his cock kept on

growing harder the more I worked it over. But he knew something about

women, too, because as soon as we had both indulged ourselves for a

while he made me sit on his face. I squirmed about until his mouth was

in the right part of my pussy and bent over to get back to his dick. We

ate and sucked to our hearts content there in the confines of the back

seat of a Cadillac, and I couldn't help but think back over that last

date I'd had with his son, both of us cramped into his car and talking

about marriage. It was fitting to have gone the full cycle.

"It's years since I've done this," he said when we had eaten enough and

were sitting upright in the back of the car. He had one arm around my

shoulders and the other hand was between my legs toying with my clit.

"My wife and I used to go to the drive-in now and then and we'd play at

being teenagers again, but we stopped that when we realized how much we

preferred a comfortable bed. With you it's very different! I can't tell

you how great this makes me feel."

"I keep trying to think about Frank," I giggled, "but it's no use, I'm

just not the guilty type."

"That's my girl." He started to finger me with his thick, long index

and I leaned against him luxuriously, my legs wide apart, my hands

roving freely over his hairy chest and belly. Jack was a robust man and

I liked nothing better than to feel how hard his stomach was, how

strong his thighs were, because the stronger he was the harder he would

fuck me. I could hardly wait for him to get started, much as I enjoyed

his relapse into teenage love. His finger moved in and out of me just

like a cock, but somehow it was never the same. I missed that bulbous

head at the top of it, the slap of balls against my asshole, and the

depth of penetration. Jack sensed that. "How would you like to sit on

my lap?"

"Oh, I'd love to!" Like a happy little girl I bounced up on his lap and

hugged him tightly about his neck as he aimed his cock at my pussy. The

remnants of the ointment helped to pave the way for his entrance, the

battering Uncle Marvin had given me had made me sensitive but loose,

and before long he was right up in me and I was bobbing about on his

lap joyously.

It occurred to me what a weakling I was. I'd gone to Frank's place to

make a full confession and to promise I would never do it again if he

would only forgive me. And now I was fucking his father! Obviously I

would never be able to tell him anything now. Our lives would begin

from tomorrow on. The past, mine and his, would just have to be kept

out of it. Somehow that cleared my conscience because from that point

on I began to fuck Jack with such verve that his cock slipped out and I

almost broke it. "Put it back in!" I panted. "Oh Jesus, it feels so

good in me. Quick, Jack, put it in! Aaaahhh, yes, that's better, now

fuck me, fuck me, I love it so much. Do you think that's wrong, Jack,

for a girl to like sex? I can't help it! Give it to me! It makes me

feel so tingly and warm all over, even my toes are curling, I love your

hairy chest and your big balls, fuck me, fuck me, tomorrow it's your

son's turn so give me something to remember!"

"I will my dear, I will," he said, and suddenly I was on my back and he

was on top of me, shoving his cock into me with power. My body was so

accustomed to orgasms by this time that it just naturally slipped into

one after the other and there was nothing I could do about it. Much as

I wanted to give Jack a hot time I could lie under him and submit. It

seemed to be enough. He fucked me good and hard and when he came it was

with a gush of hot cream that filled my cunt up and spilled more on the

seat of his car. He lay on top of me and breathed heavily.

"My son is a very lucky boy," he said, once he'd recovered himself.

"You can regard this episode as a father's blessing. That sounds moral

enough, doesn't it?"

"You're a devil, Jack," I said, "but I'm glad we got to know each other

so well." We shared a cigarette in the back seat, our arms about each

other, listening to the sounds of the night. We talked about different

things, nothing too closely related to the wedding, though, and by the

time he drove me back to my car, we really had become firm friends.

"No one's home yet," he said, checking his garage. "Now you go to bed,

Jackie, have a good sleep, and forget about everything except the

future. I'll see you tomorrow." He kissed me good night and walked away

from my car. I drove back home slowly, thinking all the while, and the

conclusion of that was that I decided he was right.

Inside my house it was very quiet and very messy. The party had

apparently become rough. Empty bottles, full ashtrays, general mess,

and a couple of naked, sleeping people. I identified Dora and Eddie,

Tim, and Veronica, but they were on couches and looked more than happy.

The big surprise came when I walked into the kitchen. There was my

mother, stark naked, mumbling to herself, and draped over the kitchen

table with dried sperm stains on her inner thighs. She was very drunk.

I couldn't leave her there so I hoisted her over my back and dragged

her up the stairs, which was no mean feat. We made it to the bathroom

and I balanced her on the toilet seat to wash her down. With warm water

and soap I got rid of the sperm stains, I gave her face a going over,

and straightened and combed her hair. This was more for my sake than

hers. I just couldn't stand to see my mother look like that. As a final

gesture I gave her a douche.

There was no reason to do this. I think I got carried away with the

whole situation. There was my mother, sitting on the toilet seat like a

Raggedy Anne doll, her eyes blank and half closed, mumbling

incoherently, oblivious to everything. Her body was mine to do with as

I pleased, my life-size doll, and it excited me strangely and very deep

down. She was a sexy woman even in that condition. Those full, heavy

breasts, the ample thighs, the dense bush of pubic hair, the generously

proportioned cunt all titillated me, and my decision to give her a

douche was probably more sexual than considerate. At the time there was

no way of knowing why I was doing it because I'd decided to turn over a

new leaf, and so I wouldn't face myself. My mother sat with her legs

wide apart and her ass far enough forward to give me access to her cunt

hole, and after I'd filled the douche bag and screwed on the nozzle, I

slipped it into her and squeezed the bag hard. She didn't react at all

to the internal shower. Water dripped out of her cunt, mixed with sperm

and juices, pouring down onto the floor to form big puddles. I didn't

care.

"Sit up now, Mummy," I said, rearranging her. "That's a good girl. Now

keep your legs open so Jackie can clean you all up. There, isn't that

nice? Don't you feel better now?" Something like a climax shivered

through my body when I withdrew the nozzle. Her cunt was still dripping

water from its pink, enlarged hole. Rosy cunt lips were far apart and I

found myself gazing at her inner labia, full petals that were swollen

through use and abuse. For the moment her cunt represented all of sex

to me. Just looking at it set my belly upside down, churning with

passion, and my cunt quailed in sympathy. I got a grip on myself and

put away the douche, dried my mother off, and lifted her off the seat.

She was able to walk a little now, which made it easier to get her on

my bed. The master bedroom was closed and several people were snoring

loudly behind the door.

I crawled into bed beside her, naked now, and very tired. Sex had to

wind down sooner or later, I told myself. Besides, what could happen

between a mother and her daughter? I found out as soon as I snuggled up

to her naked back. Her big ass pushed against my belly like an

invitation and when I rested one arm over her side and touched her big,

yielding tits, I couldn't hold back any longer. I moved away so that

she rolled over on her back and then I lay on top of her with my face

between her tits. For a long time I did nothing more. Just to be

between those soft orbs was enough, it calmed me and yet it made me

yearn for the rest of her. My lust turned into pure sensuality, an

appreciation of her womanly body and her proximity. I wasn't sure if

she was asleep or awake and it really didn't matter. Her warm flesh

against mine, the feeling of her silky inner lips, her hard nipples,

the largesse of her thighs, kept me entirely occupied.

"Jackie? Is that you?"

"Yes Mum, it's me."

"What am I doing here? Oh dear, I must have drunk too much. Your father

said I would. Well, screw him. Why do I feel so sexy? Go to sleep,

honey, it must be very late." She spoke without opening or closing her

mouth, I guessed, because it all came out rather limply. I felt as

though I was taking unfair advantage of her but then why should she

object? She liked women, and I was a woman. I slipped down between her

legs and rested my face on her cunt. It seemed so big to me, so fulsome

and cozy, that I wondered why my father should bother with others. My

mother shifted a little to open up further for me but that was probably

an automatic reaction. She tasted like douche mixture at first but

pretty soon the real her came through, tasty, spicy, tart, rich juices

that formed a film over my face and trickled down over my tongue, and

gave me an insatiable longing for more.

"What are you doing?" she asked, crooning her words. "My goodness, what

is happening in this house. Mmmmmmm, it's awfully nice, here comes the

bride, big fat and wide, is that you Jackie?" I didn't answer. My mouth

was full of cunt, succulent, fleshy, fragrant cunt. It was suffocating

and enveloping me, I didn't care what else happened as long as I could

keep on eating her out. Her passiveness made it all the nicer because I

didn't have to concern myself with her well-being, only my own. As I

ate her my hands found her big tits and massaged them vigorously. Her

flesh was so soft that it seemed to squelch between my fingers, but I

found it could only be squeezed so far before it resisted. Then it was

like smooth, firm rubber, possessed of a squeezability that set my

teeth on edge and made me want to squeeze so hard that her tits would

drop off. I parked my pussy over her shin bone and rode along that

slowly as if to keep it on the back burner. The sensations her body

provided me with were more than enough to keep the rest of me burning

brightly.

Time passed on fleet feet. I lost all awareness of where I was, what I

was doing, and what lay in the future. In a way it was like being back

in the womb, lost in fluid, surrounded by flesh. My mother snored

softly. Not even sex could pull her out of her drunken stupor. All the

more for me. I made love to her beautifully and at length, had orgasms

by the bunch, and experienced something very few girls ever get to

know: true intimacy with one's mother.

I fell asleep huddled up beside her, the taste of her cunt in my mouth,

the resilience of her flesh echoing in the palms of my hands. The

curtain went down on the beautiful experiment initiated by my cousin

Veronica. Tomorrow was the wedding day, Frank would be mine, I would be

his, etc.. I snuggled up closer to my mother at the thought of that

drastic separation. How could Frank replace all these people? What if

he couldn't make love at all? Or what if I was really a dyke. Many such

fatuous questions haunted my mind even after I'd fallen asleep to cause

bad dreams and a nervous night.

* * *

In the morning I felt fresh and clean. My mother woke up soon after me

and she informed me that she felt old and ragged. Her hangover had her

crawling out of bed to go into the bathroom and run the tap over her

head. Other relatives were sitting in the kitchen, hunched over cups of

black coffee and eating aspirins. They told me I had missed a great

party and I said I'd take their word for that. Somehow this motley,

seedy bunch managed to transform itself into smartly dressed men and

women before it was time to go to the church. The caterers were setting

up shop on the lawn, the limousine was waiting, I was in my special

dress, Veronica in hers as befitted the bridesmaid, and the party left

the house in a stately manner. At the church it got a little sticky

when I had to walk along the aisle toward Frank, seeing on either side

of me the people whom I'd fucked so recently, but I managed to keep a

straight face. My father gave me away a little reluctantly, I thought,

and Tim was cool toward Frank, but my husband didn't notice a thing. He

kept looking at me with shining eyes. Was he happy that we were man and

wife or did he just want to get into my pants?

The reception went smoothly enough, but far too quickly. I wasn't sure

if I could face Frank alone in the wedding suite that had been booked

for us. I was afraid I'd break down and tell him everything. No

marriage should start on that foot. During the reception I looked at

all my former lovers wistfully, yet already there seemed to be some

distance between us. I noticed a tendency in myself to stick closer to

Frank, to prefer his company to Veronica's or my father's. A gold band

on my finger served as a constant reminder of my commitment but that

wasn't the reason I stuck with him. It was more psychological.

He looked very handsome in his new suit, self-assured and strong,

looking much more like his father than the boy who came begging at my

door a few days ago. He showed no signs of eagerness or anxiety, he was

charming with my relatives, witty with his friends, and considerate

toward me. I didn't know what to make of this but I was glad of it. The

reception drew to a close, people gathered at the end of the driveway

to wave us goodbye as the limousine took us to the hotel. One night

there and in the morning we would leave for Europe. I felt like crying

when I looked at all those familiar faces. Why had I given them up for

Frank? They could give me everything he could give, and more! Too late.

We waved at the receding cluster of people, the limousine turned a

corner, and we were alone.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," he breathed, undoing his tie a little and

lighting cigarettes for the both of us. "How do you feel, honey?"

"Okay, I guess." I couldn't look him in the eye. What if he turned back

into that whimpering boy once we were in the hotel suite? I couldn't

live with that. Either he demanded or he didn't ask. We made some small

talk about the wedding and the guests but I had to force the words out.

I was so nervous that I could hardly breathe! He remarked how pale I

was and tried to set me at ease by holding my hand. His hand was big,

strong, and dry, not a sign of nervousness. We were ushered through the

hotel, into the elevator, and from there into the bridal suite. The

door closed behind us and the dreaded moment had arrived.

"Champagne?" he said. A trolley stood near the bed, laden with snacks

centered about an ice bucket holding a large bottle of champagne. I

accepted gratefully, thinking that this would make me worry less. I

couldn't believe Frank's poise. He had taken off his tie and shoes and

sat on the edge of the bed wiggling his toes and sipping at his glass.

"Ah, lovely. Do you want to eat something? They laid this on so we

could stay in bed as long as we felt like it, I think," he grinned.

"No thank you." I took in the decor and wondered what to do with

myself. In the end I went over to the bed and sat beside him but there

was enough space between us to drive a bus through. "Could I have

another champagne, please?"

"Sure. But first you have to take off all your clothes."

"What? Why should I do that?"

"Because I said so." There was an edge to his voice that told me I had

better not try to be cute with him. I got up and waited until he'd

undone the buttons at the back, then stepped out of the dress and took

off the slip, the bra, panties, hose, and whatever else was on my body.

Frank nodded approvingly and handed me a refill. I sat down again, so

tense now that I spilled half of it right away. If he noticed he gave

no sign of it. He downed his glass, set it down, and took off his

clothes. But he didn't attack me. He just sat down, poured himself

another, and said how lucky it was that the sun had shone on our

wedding. I agreed.

"Boy, it makes you tired, though," he said, lying back on the bed and

resting his head on the pillows. "I know you expect the honeymoon to

begin right away but I'm not sure I'm up to it. Still, we have all the

time in the world now, don't we?"

"Er ... yes, I guess so," I said lamely. I just couldn't work it out.

Was this Frank or an identical twin he'd had hidden away for years? His

cock was limp, he looked totally relaxed, so much so that I was afraid

he'd fall asleep! I lay down beside him, a bit closer now, and tried to

figure it out. He was no help.

Minutes ticked by. He might be dozing, I thought as I surveyed his

face. That should have made me feel more at ease but somehow it was

much worse this way. He ignored me! He took me for granted on the first

night! I would never live this down. Still, if he thought I would try

to change his mind he was crazy. I could hold out as well as he could,

I would show him. But how did he get to be so calm? What had happened

to his hornyness?

"Frank! What happened at that stag party last night!" I said suddenly.

I blurted the words out before thinking about it, and I blushed

furiously when he just grinned and said nothing. The bastard! Now he

was in real trouble with me. My pussy was closed for business, for good

if necessary. We lay there like two people from a Feiffer cartoon, not

saying a word, not touching, just mulling. My eyes kept wandering over

his nakedness, and in spite of my anger I had to acknowledge his

beauty. After all those older men it was a treat to be with such a

perfect body. The ridges of abdominal muscle, the full chest, smooth

skin, bulging muscles in his upper arms, all of it brought out a

yearning to touch, taste, and love him. But I wouldn't give him that

satisfaction. Let him come to me!

Was he asleep? How he irritated me! His cock lay there like a sleeping

prince waiting to be kissed into awakening. It was so thick and long,

so tasty to look at that my mouth began to water. Not only that, but my

pussy did the same. Even though he was unaware of me, I began to lust

after him actively. I imagined how it would be to touch his fine body,

to take that long dick into my mouth and to feel it harden and swell,

and to have him touch me. At the same time I tried to hold back

emotions, but it was no use. My pussy was dripping wet, my nipples were

hard and ached for his touch, and it was all I could do just to lie

still.

"Honey?" I spoke softly, almost in a whisper, so as not to wake him if

he was asleep. No response. "Frank darling? Are you asleep?" Still no

answer. I raised my voice and tried again but he just wouldn't come to.

Once again I tried to subdue my rising passion by lying back and taking

no notice of his presence. But even when I closed my eyes I could feel

his body so near me, sense its masculine power, and my imagination

filled in the missing details, such as that magnificent cock. "Frank,

please, wake up!" I cried, grabbing hold of him and shaking him. "I

must have you, you're driving me crazy!"

He mumbled something and tried to turn over on his side but I wouldn't

have it. "No you don't! Wake up, Frank, and be like a husband to me. I

can't take it any longer." Perhaps he was secretly drunk. That would

explain his new-found cool. With a snort of disgust I let him drop and

tried to sort out my thoughts. What the hell, if he wanted to sleep let

him. By the same token, if I wanted to make love I would. I took hold

of his cock with one hand and rubbed it as though it was a magic lamp,

to find it much more responsive than the rest of my husband. A few

caresses and it began to swell quickly. But I wanted to feel it expand

inside my mouth so I hurried down and took it all inside. It throbbed

and grew rapidly, filling my mouth, pushing its way down my throat. Now

I could blow him in style. I knew how to relax my throat muscles, how

to use my tongue and teeth, and Frank would find out in the course of

this blow job that he had married a real woman, one with real needs.

Even though Frank still wouldn't move, the fact that his cock was as

hard as rock was enough to spur me on. I gave it my best, closing my

lips hard just below his knob and tugging at it, blowing on it, running

my tongue in spiral from the tip right down the thick stalk to the

hairy base and back, I used my fingers, my cheeks, everything to make

his cock feel nice. I felt very happy in my work. My body throbbed in

time with his cock, I was as taut and hot as it was, and making love to

my own husband thrilled me deep down.

"Hey, didn't I tell you the honeymoon would start later!" Frank sat up

and pushed my head away from his stiff cock. "You better learn to do as

I say, girl, or there's going to be a lot of friction!"

"Frank, no, how could you!" Now I was really hurt. I reeled back and

lay along the foot of the bed in a state of shock. "That's cruel as

hell!"

"Is it really? Good, because I want to make my point very clear. I say

when we make love and I say when we don't! Now come up here, lie down,

and wait. I may change my mind and I may not. It all depends on how I

feel." I obeyed meekly but inside I was in a rage. I almost wanted him

to turn back into the groveling boy. My body was in a raging turmoil,

I'd had a taste of him and I wanted more, more, more! His cock declined

slowly, jerkily, and it was like watching a stately vessel sink. I

wanted to cry. This was turning into the most miserable night of my

life. If only he would change his mind! I was powerless to influence

him, however, because I was already naked and I'd already played my

trump card by trying to blow him. What a fool I'd been.

"Okay, go back down on me," said Frank out of the blue. "Get me hard

and I'll think about it some more."

"Do you mean it, Frank?" I was so relieved and delighted that I

actually felt he was doing me a great favor. I went down on him at once

and now I treated his cock like royalty! I washed it with my tongue,

dried it with my breath, fondled it with all ten fingers, loved it and

lavished it with tender care. I kissed his balls, his asshole, his

thighs, I rubbed my face against his belly and took his entire cock

down my throat to make my muscles pullulate about his sensitive knob,

and my enthusiasm was so great that I actually came in the process!

"That's very good," he said, and I noticed that some of the ice had

gone from his voice, that it quavered just a little. "But I think my

ass needs a bit more work."

"Right away, darling!" With the same zeal I descended to his asshole

and poked my tongue deep into the already wet sphincters. I loved his

musky, stuffy odor, the hairiness of his cheeks and the surprising

softness of his anus. His cock towered high above my face and his balls

dangled down, enticing me to lick them at intervals. But I really gave

it to his asshole, working my tongue around and inside it until he was

squirming with pleasure. He couldn't maintain his front now, he was too

far gone. But so was I. In the back of my mind I realized he'd done a

number on me but that didn't matter; or rather, it made me all the

happier.

When he finally consented to fuck me I was so hot that it only took one

good stroke to set me off. I'd had some good lovers in my hectic week,

perhaps some great ones, but Frank blew them all away with that first

deep thrust. It was as though he'd opened the door leading to a burning

room, letting in a burst of oxygen that turned the fires into a roaring

conflagration, and once he'd done that nothing could fight my fire but

his mighty cock. It entered me deeper and deeper with every stroke,

always promising a heavy load of soothing sperm, always withholding it.

But I could wait a little longer. All that mattered to me was that he

was on top of me, that his cock was inside me, and that he was in my

arms. "Frank!" I moaned, only half aware of what I was saying. "You're

the one, there'll never be anyone else!"

"There had better not be!" he panted, driving his cock relentlessly

into my cunt, fondling my tits with both hands and occasionally bending

down to suck at my hard nipples. "From here on in it's you and me,

Jackie, nobody else."

"Oh Frank, that's wonderful! I love you, Frank, do you know that? I

love you! Oh, Frank, Frank, it feels so great, you're such a good

lover!" Every word came from the heart. In between mountainous waves of

passion I thought back over past affairs and they seemed very petty

suddenly, just practice sessions for this event. When he came I was

completely done, there was nothing left to be satisfied or loved, and

the only surviving urge was to be close to the man who had made me feel

so great.

We made love often that night. The snacks, as it turned out, came in as

handy as K-rations on a forced march. Without them we might not have

survived. But before we finally fell asleep I couldn't help but wonder

what had caused such a change in my husband's behavior. Was that a

natural part of getting married? Surely not.

Late the next morning I heard the bedside phone ring. Frank picked it

up and I heard him say hello to his father. The conversation that

followed provided me with the answer to my question. "Yes Dad, yes it

worked fine ... yeah, yes, that's right ... she loved it ... okay, and

thanks again for the advice, Dad." I made sure he wouldn't know that I

was awake by turning over and smacking my lips sleepily and snoring a

bit. But inside I was smiling. With a father-in-law like that, how

could our marriage fail?

The End

#Jackie's Family Lessons! by Sandy Bennett #Chapter 8

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cauliflowercounty · 4 years

Text

Return to Me (Fred Weasley x fem!Reader)

House: You Choose

Blood Status: You Choose

Word Count: 2k

Warning: Mentions of serious injury/death-ish/distress/war

A/N: Happy Ending

Not proofread yet. I’ll do that later :)

----

Coughing from the smoke and ash, Harry presses himself up against the walls of the castle as Ravenclaw’s diadem shatters in his hands, scorched in the fire Crabbe had set in the Room of Requirement. Malfoy and Goyle disappear down the hallway without a word or thank you.

“Crabbe must have been casting feindfyre. That’s the only explanation for the diadem being broken,” Hermione says once the air’s cleared. “It’s cursed fire so it can kill Horcruxes.”

“What?” you grumble, standing up and catching your breath. “How’d he learn that?”

“Probably the Carrows,” Ron remarks. “He probably had a field day with them. They were teaching the cruciatus curse in their classes. I wouldn’t be shocked if they taught him how to cast feindfyre, too.”

“This means we only need to kill the snake, Harry,” you say, realizing Voldemort’s defeat is closer by the moment.

“Yeah, but how are we going to get it alone?” Harry inquires. “It’s practically a part of him.”

“We’ll figure out when we get there,” Hermione says.

As everyone gets to their feet, the crack of spells can be heard echoing down the corridor, coming closer and closer by the moment. Harry, Hermione, and Ron draw their wands, in preparation. You clench your hand around yours, preparing for whatever might come.

Percy and Fred come into view, dueling two hooded figures in long black cloaks. You sigh in relief. Fred is still alive and fighting with all his might. You watch as the death eaters’ silvery masks reflect the light of the spells as the opponents exchange blows. Percy flicks his wand and hits Pius Thicknesse squarely in the chest, sending him tumbling backward. Fred skillfully blocks a curse headed his direction, countering with a jinx, causing the other death eater to trip.

“Stupefy!” Fred shouts, hitting the death eater as he falls, sending him flying back towards the other end of the hall and knocking him out cold.

“Hello, Minister!” Percy exclaims beside his brother with a smirk. “Seems as though you could brush up on your dueling. And did I mention I’m resigning?”

You jump forward and join Percy, wrapping up the Minister in binds made of his own robes. Percy swirls his wand and the Thicknesse quickly starts to transfigure into a sea urchin. Percy smiles, satisfied with both of your work. Next to you and Percy, Fred lets out a hearty chuckle, the vibrant smile you’ve grown to know to spread over his face. He starts to say something about how long it’s been since Percy’s made a joke since he’s so consumed with his work and shrouded in seriousness. Just as the moment of satisfaction comes that there are no longer any threats in the seventh-floor corridor, everything slows.

The shockwave rips through the air. The explosion is unexpected and devastating as it sends everyone flying and to the ground. White noise rings in your ear. As you feel the rubble tumble past your head and dust fill the air, you don’t have a sense of anything around you or where anyone else is. After a second, you move your fingers and legs, trying to determine your injuries. Other than a few bruises and some residual shock, you seem fine as you get up shakily.

“Hermione? Y/n? Harry?” Ron calls out. “Percy are you okay?”

“I’m alright,” Percy says. “Fortunately, my glasses are the only thing that’s broken.”

“Ron! Thank goodness!” Hermione calls from somewhere around the rubble.

“Where’s Fred?” Harry asks as you gasp in horror. Looking down a few feet away from you, you can see a light-skinned frecked arm sticking out of the rubble.

“Fred!” you shriek, rushing to him. “Fred! Help me! Percy!”

You scramble to move the rocks from on top of Fred in desperation, praying and pleading to anyone or anything that would listen that Fred is okay. The others join you, clearing the rocks with magic and their bare hands. As soon as you’ve uncovered him enough, you scoop him up and hold him against your chest, tugging on his torso and lifting him all the way out of the rubble. His eyes are closed and his body is limp. Resting his head in your lap, you begin to cry.

“Freddie?” you whimper, running your hands through his hair just as he’s always loved. “Are you there? Come on, wake up?”

Percy takes two fingers and presses them to Fred’s neck. Percy’s eyes widen.

“I feel a pulse,” Percy sniffs quietly, a tear rolling down his cheek. “But it’s faint. I don’t know if he’ll between now and when we can get him to Madame Pomfrey…”

Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s faces all drop. Fred’s always been there. Making jokes, teasing Ron, selling his products. Most of all, he’s been with you. They stare at Fred’s face in shock, not even beginning to fathom a world in which Fred Weasley isn’t around.

“I-I have something to ask all of you and I need you to do it fast,” you say quickly. “You have to trust me. It’s for Freddie.”

The four of your friends look at you intently.

“I need you all to cast the Patronus charm,” you explain. “Now.”

“Y/n…” Hermione says. “This isn’t’ the time. There aren’t even any dem-”

“I know, Hermione!” you snap, shooting her a look. “Stop asking questions trust me! I need you to cast it or Fred might not make it! I can’t cast it now. Corporal patronuses are best but shields are just fine! Hurry!”

Everyone nods, grabbing their wands, and soon enough, Harry’s stag, Ron’s jack russell terrier, and Hermione’s otter form in the air. Percy closes his eyes and casts his own charm, forming a small shield in front of him. You nod to all of them and mouth your gratitude.

Closing your eyes, you extend your arm out in front of you above Fred’s chest. You focus and reach further, your fingers feeling as if they’re pushing through layers and layers of magical barriers and shields. As soon as you feel it, you grasp a small vial in your hand and it materializes as you pull it back towards you. The others watch in confusion and awe as you uncork the tiny vial. You murmur a few small words, hoping this will work as you tip the vial.

Out of the vial comes a shimmering liquid that glows as it descends through the air and onto Fred’s chest. It shines as if it’s made from the sun itself and swirls with a pearlescent sheen. As soon as it touches Fred, it glows warm, comforting, filling the entire vicinity in its brilliance. The lights dance with the silvery blue whisps of the patronuses. Within a second, it all fades.

You duck your head down to Fred’s chest and sigh a shaky breath as you listen to Fred’s steady heartbeat.

“You’re okay…,” you smile to Fred, who’s just beginning to stir. His brown eyes flutter open and lock with yours.

“Y/n?” he whispers almost inaudibly, reaching up to touch your cheek with care. He coughs a bit, clearing the dust from his throat.

“It thought I lost you,” you cry as he brings you into a tight hug, your tears staining his jacket. The others gasp and smile. Fred’s still here. He’s not dead. Fred reaches up to Percy, who helps bring Fred to his feet and the three brothers quickly embrace Ron on the verge of tears. As soon as they release, Fred turns to you, scooping you up in his arms and kissing you on the lips, giving it all he can. As you break apart, he rests his forehead on yours.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Fred whispers, noticing your tears dribbling down your cheek.

“It’s okay…,” you reply softly. “It’s not your fault… I’m glad it wasn’t too late. I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

“I’m not going anywhere now, y/n,” Fred assures you. “There’s no way.”

Hermione clears her throat and you and Fred jump away from each other, surprised at the disturbance. “Y/n, what was that?” she questions

“Yeah,” Ron nods. “Explain.”

“It’s….,” you trail off. “It happened a while ago. I was going through some very old books and I found a long lost magical technique. I had to translate it. What it said was that people can store concentrated healing magic. Once a day, someone can cast a healing spell and concentrate it in liquid form and keep adding to it as long as they want. If it’s kept going long enough, it can perform miracles. It’s inefficient, though. One person can only make one at a time and you can only add to it once a day. It must have fallen out of use for inefficiency… but I’ve made my own. That’s what I used to heal Fred.”

“That’s bloody brilliant,” Ron exclaims in astonishment. “Why would a technique like that go out of fashion? Even if it’s rare, it still had value.”

You shrug in agreement.

“What about the patronuses?” Harry adds.

“Patronuses are more than they seem to be. Expecto Patronum means ‘I await a guardian.’ They repel more than just dementors. They can slow down death in his footsteps. They don’t stop him. Only slow him. Guardians are protectors, after all,” you clarify with a smile.

“So you asked us all to cast one because it would give Fred the best chance?” Ron asks and you smile back to confirm. “Wicked.”

“This bit of explanation and monologuing has been great, but the battle isn’t over yet,” you say. “We still have to kill that snake.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione agree, beginning to head off toward the courtyard, deciding to seek out Voldemort and his snake directly, leaving you behind to stay with Fred. Just as they get out of sight, Fred tugs at your arm and kisses you lightly.

“Thank you y/n, I-”

“Shhh. Don’t mention it, Fred. I would have saved you any day,” you cut him off. “We can talk about this after the battle when we have a moment to ourselves.”

“I love you,” he adds with a hopeful look. You grin, not being able to resist him and kiss his cheek.

Fred nods and takes your hand. He looks at you in the eyes as if to say, “Ready?” You take a deep breath in, the feel of Fred’s hand in yours reassuring you that he’s still there and this isn’t a dream. With that, you, Percy, and Fred head into battle. This time, you don’t let go of Fred’s hand during the battle for even a moment.

Years later, you’re living in a London flat that you and Fred share. Wealsey’s Wizard Wheezes is a booming business. Everyday, you wake up to Fred, giving him his good morning kiss before he gets ready to work at the shop. You smile as you fix his crooked ties and kiss his nose. As you part your ways as he goes into the shop for his work and you head down the alley for yours, you smile to see all the excited children already gathered outside. You’re happy knowing that the shop is a success because it’s where he comes alive, talking about the products with customers. As you drop him off, George every once in a while flashes you a meaningful smile as if to say “this is all thanks to you.”

You travel with Fred to the United States when the international branches of the shop open, which was a much anticipated expansion. You’re right there in the picture with him and George on opening day as they cut the ribbon, clapping and cheering the loudest out of anyone.

At night, you both return to bed you share, and you snuggle into his chest tightly, taking in the smell of Fred that you’ve come to know and love: cinnamon with a hint of firework smoke. Each time, you tuck your head onto the crook of his neck, smiling, knowing you don’t know what exciting occurrences will come tomorrow, but Fred’s most definitely going to be there right beside you and you couldn’t be more in love.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #Harry Potter #weasley twins

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k-k-keroppi · 3 years

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A wedding goes wrong right

I was thinking about that video where henry shields talks about what’s planned for season two, and he mentioned we see more personal bits of the characters, and I thought how cool would it be if max and sandra got married and then almost immediately thought Goes Wrong Wedding!! so I wrote it :) I’m not the greatest fic writer but whatever. Sorry for the cheesy ending and also (spoiler not spoiler) the reason is because he can’t remember what room he’s in, but I couldn’t work that in. enjoy.

“Are you nervous?” Annie and Ness sat in the room dressed in beautiful blue dresses, smiling as their friend adjusted her veil. “I think so.” “You think so?” Annie asked, and Sandra looked round at them. “I just feel bubbly, it’s a lot.” Ness got up from the cream sofa and perched next to Sandra, looking at her in the mirror. “Oh, of course it’s a lot, but it’s a good thing!” Annie joined them on Sandra’s other side, putting a careful hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, soon you’ll be Mrs Bennett, and all this stress will be worth it.” Sandra smiled. “Oh, I know. I can’t believe I’m marrying Max.” She turned to look at them both. “And thank you, for being the most wonderful bridesmaids.” The women embraced, and as they separated Sandra dabbed at her eyes carefully. “Oh I can’t ruin my makeup.” she said, and Annie handed her a tissue. “I wouldn’t worry.” she said. “You could go down the isle in full zombie FX and Max wouldn’t care.” Sandra smiled, and looked round as someone knocked at the door. “Who is it?” Two women’s voices replied. “Only us!” “Oh it’s mum and auntie Diana.” Sandra jumped up and opened the door to a flurry of kisses. “Hi mum, hi auntie.” “Hello darling, oh you look beautiful.” “Thank you mum.” Diane and her sister sat down, and the women talked and drank champagne, and prepared for the big event.

“Chris, can you do my bow tie?” “Of course Max.” The men stood facing each other, surrounded by Dennis, who was perched on the bed, and Trevor, who was sat uncomfortably on a footstool. Robert was at the little table, working on something on a laptop. “Not long left. How’re you feeling? There.” Max admired his bowtie in the mirror. “I’m doing okay actually. I thought I’d be more nervous.” “You’ll probably be nervous just as walk out, and forget all your vows and things.” Everyone but Robert turned to look at Dennis, and he shrugged helpfully. “It’s what always happens to me.” Max looked in the mirror and straightened his tie again, grinning. “Max, mate,” said Trevor, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Do we all have to be dressed so formal? Only-” “Trevor, we’ve talked about this.” said Chris sharply. ““Your jeans are not appropriate for the wedding.” “Well it’s Max’s wedding Chris, not yours.” Max shook his head. “Sorry Trevor, I want everything to be perfect, for Sandra.” Chris noted the worry that crossed Max’s face. “Max, Sandra will be happy no matter what, so long as she’s marrying you. That’s all that matters, the-” “Ah ha!” Chris glared over his shoulder. “Robert, I was talking.” Robert waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter. I finally finished it, I am officially ordained.” Dennis gasped inaudibly. “Your honor.” “No Dennis, it doesn’t work like that. And what do you men you’re ordained, I’m officiating, Max asked me weeks ago.” “Oh well, since I’ve gone to the trouble of filling out the form-” “The same form I already filled out! You aren’t-” “Guys!” shouted Max, a little louder than he intended, and everyone turned to look at him. “I wanted you both to do it, cause I look up to you both so much. I just didn’t want it to turn into a competition.” Chris and Robert looked a little ashamed. “We’re sorry Max.” said Chris. “We’ll do our best.” Max smiled again, then looked around. “Where’s Jon?” “Oh I’m sure he’ll be back in a moment, he only went to the loo.” said Robert. “And to get me some fags.” Chris glared at Trevor. “I’m not gonna smoke them in the ceremony.” he said defensively. “He’s probably chatting up a bridesmaid.” supplied Dennis. “What, Annie and Ness?” asked Max, and Dennis looked confused. “What about Sandra’s sisters?” “She doesn’t have any sisters.” said Robert, and Dennis’ frown deepened. “Well wherever he is, I’m sure he’ll turn up.” reassured Chris, ending the discussion. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Okay, how’re we doing?” asked Annie, slipping back into her old stage manager role. “Flowers are fixed, but I’m still having trouble with this confetti canon.” said Trevor, thumping the offending instrument with the heel of his hand. “I think I’m gonna have to take it apart.” Fine, just don’t let Sandra see.” Trevor carried the tube away, and Sandra walked in, on the phone. “Oh I hope she gets better soon, of course I understand. See you soon.” She turned to Annie. “My niece is sick, she can’t be the flower girl!” Annie snapped her fingers. “Don’t worry, I’ve got an idea.” “Thank you.” sighed Sandra in relief, holding Annie’s hand gratefully. “Oh, Max, you’d better go.” she said, and Sandra dashed away, holding her skirt carefully off the ground. “Anything I can do to help Annie?” asked Chris, appearing behind her. “Yes actually, the cake’s being delivered in a minute, could you go and look after it? I don’t trust Nancy.” “Of course.” Chris left in the direction of the car park. “Oh, Chris!” she called after him, and he turned around. “You haven’t seen Jon, have you?” Chris shook his head and left the hall, leaving Annie to talk to Max. “How’re you doing, okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine. You seen Sandra?” “You can’t see her, it’s bad luck!” “Oh yeah.” Max fiddled nervously with his cufflinks, and Annie looked at him pityingly. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to sit down for a moment?” Max nodded, and Annie put an arm round him. “Dennis!” she called as he crossed the hall. “Could you do me a favour and and queue up the bridal music on the laptop, it’s the first one on there.” she said, pointing to a computer in the corner. Dennis gave a thumbs up. “Oh, and I need another favour-”

“Oh my god.” said Ness, looking at the cake. “What happened?” “I know.” said Chris. “He said there were roadworks on the main route, so he had to take a residential road and there were speed bumps. It doesn’t look good, does it. Still, the wedding planner said that pillar should hold until they cut it.” “Annie doesn’t trust that Nancy.” said Ness darkly. “I’ve heard.” Chris looked at Ness. “You haven’t seen Jon, have you?” Ness looked surprised. “I thought he was with you?” “No, he’s just vanished. No-one seems to know.” “I’m sure he’s fine.” said Ness. “I’m just off to the loo.” she said, and trotted away, in her heels with one last grimace at the cake. Chris wandered back into the hall. “What?” he murmured as he passed a supply cupboard, listening to the muffled thumps from inside. Opening the door, he looked in confusion at Annie and Trevor, wedged amongst the buckets and brooms, Annie holding the confetti canon against her chest, Trevor attempting to ram a large spring into it. They both froze and looked at him. “Alright Chris.” said Trevor, and Chris just shut the door and left them to it. “Ah, Chris,” said Robert, approaching with a stack of cue cards in him hand. “Which bits of the ceremony do you want to do? I’m personally very keen on ‘If anyone here today has any reason that these two should not be joined, under God, then please-’” “Well, I think we should just take in turns.” interrupted Chris deliberately. “I’ll speak, then you speak, and we’ll just go like that.” “Yes, that sounds sensible. Me then you then me then you, and so on.” Chris looked at his tersely. “Yes, me then you.” “Me then you, that’s right.” They glared at each other politely until Dennis interrupted. “Chris, Chris.” “What is it Dennis?” Dennis looked stricken. “Annie wanted me to queue up the music, but I don’t know which track it is.” “Well what did she say?” “She said the first one, but there are two..” “Well it’ll be the top one Dennis, the very first one.” Dennis nodded and ran back to the computer. “We should get ready then.” “Mm.” Chris and Robert made their way to the front o the hall, Annie and Trevor tumbled out of the cupboard, and Max met Chris and Robert at the lectern. “In they come.” said Chris, pointing to the guests filing. Max straightened his tie. “Okay.” “Good luck.” said Robert, putting his hand on his shoulder.

Max stood smartly at the front of the hall, looking expectantly down the isle. The large doors opened, and Dennis skipped awkwardly down the isle, tossing flowers from a tiny wicker basket. Once he reached Max he solemnly handed him the basket, which Chris took and hastily threw behind him. Hesitantly, as though waiting for someone to tell him not to, Dennis made his way to the computer. Everyone turned their gaze back to the door, and Sandra and her father crossed the threshold as everyone rose. Dennis hastily pressed a button on the computer, and the speakers crackled to life. “No, I’m just saying, I’m just saying-” came Robert’s slurred voice over the speakers, and Robert froze. “No-one wants to hear about Denise, Robert, it’s Max’s stag do.” came Chris’ reply, and Robert mimed cutting his throat. Dennis pressed another button, and the audio sped ahead. “I just love her so much.” Max’s voice was teary, and he glared at Dennis with panicked eyes. Sandra and her dad stood a quarter way down the isle, looking around in confusion. “I know mate.” Trevor’s voice was wobbly over the speakers. “Dennis, why are you recording?” “Oh, am I recording?” Annie rushed over and hit another button, and the recording was replaced by Vivaldi. She hurried back and took her position behind Sandra, and the party continued down the isle. Sandra’s dad handed Sandra over to Max, and took his seat, smiling. “Ladies and gentlemen-” began Chris and Robert together. “Ladie- Ladies an-”. Chris sighed. “Robert.” he said, waving him on. Robert nodded grandly. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the...” Robert trailed off in apprehension, and everyone followed his gaze to the back corner, where Jonathon was trying to prize the window open. Ness put her hand on Annie’s arm and snuck round the outside of the room to the window. Robert continued. “To celebrate the union of Sandra Wilkinson and Max Bennett. I believe you’ve prepared-” “The safety catch is stuck, you’ll just have to squeeze through.” “Vows! I believe you’ve prepared vows.” “Yes.” Sandra turned to Max. “Max, I’m so happy to be marrying you.” Jon grunted from the window. “I think you’ll have to speak up.” advised Chris quietly, and Sandra nodded. The vows were said loudly, over the sounds of Ness pulling Jon through a gap in the window, and by the end there was barely a dry eye in the room. “That was lovely.” said Robert. “Now, do you Sandra, take Max to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do.” “Good. And do you Max, take Sandra to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do.” “Excellent. So unless anyone has a reason that they should not be married...” The room was quiet, save for Jon and Ness straining at the window. “Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” As Max and Sandra embraced, Robert turned to Chris. “Thank you for letting me have it Chris. It means a lot.” “I know. You did it very well actually. Maybe I should find a reason to cast you as a vicar?” “Or let me direct-” “Or cast you as a vicar.” “Ah!” With a panicked shout, Jon finally fell through the window and collapsed on top of Ness. They hastily stood up and applauded their friends with wide smiles on their faces. Trevor readied the confetti canon, and as Max and Sandra turned to walk down the isle he switched, intending to shower the couple in tiny paper hearts. As he turned it on, the spring launched out and flew across the room. Sandra shrieked, and the spring struck Jon squarely in the chest, sending him stumbling back against the window. Under his weight, the safety catch released, and the window swung wide open, and Jon toppled out onto the gravel. This his weight gone, the window swung shut again, clicking into place just as Jon struggled upright. He looked forlornly through the glass. Ness stepped forward to re-open the window, and as the safety catch re-engaged Jon just sighed despairingly. Max and Sandra carried on, at Ness’s insistence, and the room followed them into the other room.

They all sat at their correct tables, Max and Sandra at the front, and as Ness and Jon crept in and took their seat Chris stood up. “Before all the main speeches start, I’d just like to say a little something.” he said. “Max and Sandra, it’s been a privilege to know and work with both of you. I remember your first kiss, on the set of Peter Pan, and your proposal in a Christmas Carol. It’s nice to know that, despite the disasters, and the lawsuits, and the many, many hospitalizations, that at least one good thing has come from Cornley. I wish you both a long a happy life.” “Thank you Chris.” smiled Sandra. The rest of the speeches were equally sweet, both families wanting to wish the pair well. Robert’s speech was a little odd, but the sentiment was sweet, and it was appreciated. By the end, the atmosphere was very warm, and it continued all through dinner. Once the plates were cleared away, everyone was talking good naturedly amongst themselves. “Oh, we need to do the cake!” said Max, and they got up. Everyone followed them to the little round table, and Chris and Ness shared a worried look. “Oh.” Sandra looked at the cake, that was leaning dangerously. “Well, it’ll still taste just as good.. And it’s the symbolism more than anything, isn’t it, the two of us working together, becoming a team...” As Sandra spoke, the cake slid slowly off the bottom layer. “Ah!” Max leant forward and caught the cake, squishing icing on his forearms. “I’ve got the cake.” he said, a little confused as to what to do with it. Sandra took the fork from the table and scooped a bit of cake from the pile in Max’s hands. She fed it to Max, and took a bit herself, smiling. “Mm, you were right.” she said, as Chris helped Max scoop the cake onto a plate. “This one is nicer.” Max grinned. “Okay,” he said, turning to everyone else. “I need to get cleaned up, and you you need to do... things.. So I’ll see you at the reception!”

The reception was equal parts glamourous and exciting. The sophisticated decorations glittered under the bright party lights, and everyone had a wonderful time. The first dance was beautiful, and went off without a hitch. There was a little incident later with 5 6 7 8, when Trevor and Chris collided quite violently, and later in the evening when the karaoke started things began to get interesting. Annie and Trevor sang a fairly drunk rendition of Back in Black, Robert sang a very drunk version of Feel like a woman, and Dennis sang The holly and the ivy, which confused everyone. Sandra and Max joined in with Summer loving, prompting everyone else to sing too. When everyone finally left to sleep, everyone was drunk and happy. “Come on Mrs Bennett.” said Max, and he lifted Sandra in his arms. “Come on Mr Wilkinson- oh!” she giggled. “That’s not how that goes” Max carried up the stairs to their room, stepping over Dennis who was curled in the corner, and they made their way to married life.

#cornley polytechnic drama society #cornley #mischief theatre #the goes wrong show #the play that goes wrong #peter pan goes wrong #chris bean #robert groves #max bennett #sandra wilkinson #mischief movie night #fanfic

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

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All in the Family

Chapter 42: Talon's and Tea Leaves

"I thought you could only see Dementors if you saw someone die?"

"They're not thesterals you dumbass!"

James groaned as he struggled to open his eyes this time. For a moment he thought he hadn't accomplished it at all, before he realized they were in a very dimly lit room, but at least it was quite warm. Sitting up slowly with still shaking hands, he found himself in a very pleasant cushion, a roaring fireplace behind a teacher's desk only a few feet away.

Sirius and Regulus were already up and aware, bickering with each other, and the others were getting more unsteadily to their feet and glancing all about them to make sure there was truly nothing more about to pop out at them. Where they were exactly though was a bit of a mystery.

One quick glance out the nearest window showed him to be looking north, and as high up as they were and in a circular room no less, he was positive they must be in a tower. It was odd though, as the North Tower wasn't used in his time, so he really hadn't a clue what the tea set up all around was for, nor the plentiful cushions instead of seats like a class would normally have. In front of him was a steaming blue teacup just waiting to be drunk.

There were two books in front of him, one he vaguely recognized as Harry collecting while he was in Diagon Alley, and the dark purple book leading them around this madness. He'd never cared about Divination a single moment in his life before now, but he continued putting the obvious together rather than dwelling on anything else. "I think we're in Harry's new Divination class."

"Figure that out all on your own did you?" Frank rolled his eyes as he looked through the teachers desk curiously. James was beginning to think he'd actually like this guy if he weren't such a prick, he had a natural curiosity about him that clearly, without anyone around to enforce them, he was all to willing to indulge. As of now, he wasn't taking the accusations thrown at Sirius any more lightly from some Ravenclaw who didn't know a damned thing about his best-friend.

"Well get to reading, would you Prongs," Remus prompted, sitting on a poof so forceful beside him, he felt compelled to see if anything had come out.

"Eager to get to your classes?" Wormtail chuckled as he came over and helped himself to some tea.

"Urgh, I still can't imagine it. Moony, at the front of the class!" Sirius snickered as he sat down on his other side and began nudging James' foot. James kicked him in the shins before he began.

James still didn't continue right away. He really wanted a chance to talk to his friends, really have a conversation about this future and all that seemed to have happened to them. This was extremely private though, and not just because of Moony or even Padfoot. He just wanted some time with his friends again, back in their dorm. He'd always loved being the center of attention; nicking students textbooks to juggle them, telling raucous jokes, chasing the Snitch about, but always at the end he'd crept off to his dorms and have a late night conversation just the four of them before bed.

Judging by their expressions, the others felt the same, but there was nothing to be done for it except power on. "Talons and Tea Leaves."

"Well, we got the second part," Peter smacked his lips in appreciation as he'd finished his glass in record time.

"I swear you've scalded all your taste-buds off," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"It's good," he defended, reaching for a clean cup to pour more. "Much better than bags."

"Must be bitter, I've not seen any sugar," Remus looked genuinely hurt for this misfortune, it was likely all that was stopping him from making his own cup.

"The one time I don't have any honey on me," Sirius smirked.

"Bloody hell, they won't shut up about the damned chapter title." Evans grouched from the opposite side of the room. "We're never getting out of this blistering hot room."

James watched her for an even longer time than usual, but for once couldn't think of anything to say to her. He'd always been endeared by her, the ferocity in her every step, how intense she was over every subject, especially him. He fancied himself the hero who was going to rescue her from Snivellus the useless idiot. She'd spurned him, but never enough the thought had ever crossed his mind she wouldn't see what he was doing eventually. Now though, if she really thought so little of Sirius? Surely she didn't mean it, thinking him a murderer? The flare wasn't truly gone, but he looked away lest something he would actually regret passed his lips towards her.

Malfoy was a pleasant distraction, the git.

"Somehow I doubt that boy's as funny as he thinks he is," Lily scowled in Potter's direction, then her brow furrowed when he glanced up at her and looked away remarkably quickly. "Not that this is a new development for boys." She finished pointedly. He made no reaction, and her feelings quickly rose to true bafflement. She twisted a strand of her hair around her fingers in curiosity for a moment, before she decided she didn't care and turned away.

None of them were paying Hermione's little conundrum any real interest. So the girl was taking some extra classes and worked them into her schedule, however she and McGonagall had pulled it off likely wasn't interesting in the least.

Regulus muttered to himself when Hagrid announced boasting about his coming class. He'd tried striking up a conversation with Sirius, to try and talk to him and see if he couldn't find out what had spooked him around that Dementor. He'd never imagined a look like that could appear on his face, and he truly just wanted to help. Instead he'd been insulted and the prat had walked away to be with his friends once again after his ignorant comment, now he was left by a trapdoor in the floor as the kids in the book struggled to find the tower they'd been dumped into.

"Well she's going to be a character!" Alice burst out laughing for the description of this Trelawney professor.

"She already sounds like a fraud to me," Frank muttered without interest as he finished shuffling through her papers with nothing interesting to note. He plopped down in her high-backed chair and surveyed his surroundings, admittedly enjoying the atmosphere provided.

"Why's that?" Lily asked in surprise, as she continued looking through Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky. None of it was really any more fantastical to her than turning a rabbit into a pair of slippers.

"Well it's all a load of tripe, obviously," Frank looked surprised at her. "None of this stuff is real," he waved vaguely around the room, where a crystal case of glass-balls could be seen, there were some medallions of unrecognizable symbols on a few patches of carpet, and the ceiling above had smoke imprints that may have more significance than Lily had guessed.

"Why's that?" She repeated even more curiously.

"Yes, do enlighten us Longbottom," Sirius sneered from his poof. It was hardly an intimidating posture, crossing his arms while sunk into a giant purple cushion, but he still somehow thought he managed it. "Continue telling us what is and isn't true from your wild experience."

Frank scowled a bit without looking over, continuing to address her as if there had been no interruption, almost. "Me mum's always been very clear about this load of tosh. You can't predict the future, even magic has limitations and that's one of them. Certainly no such thing as Seer's, prophecies, and signs from the beyond."

"We use unicorn horns as potion ingredients," Lily still sounded more polity argumentative for Frank's position on this than anything. "How is that more outlandish than applying astrology in practice?"

"What's that?" Frank blinked in confusion.

"Oh, I know this one!" Potter's hand suddenly shot up as if he really were in some class again, the eager look back upon his face speaking around her now present again. "Muggle's use it to define things about their birth based on the stars! Evan's is an Aquarius, that symbol that looks like a mouth."* He looked quite proud of himself until she turned incredulous eyes on him. He looked unabashed for several more moments before he actually realized she was just staring at him with that expression again, the one she'd had on her face since the train. He quickly turned back away, unwilling to diagnosis what this new feeling she was directing towards him was so long as she was still holding to not acknowledging Sirius' innocence.

"I see you've actually been paying attention in your Muggle Studies class," Pettigrew finally broke the silence when Potter hadn't continued right away, just kept staring at the book again like he was waiting for something. "Professor Burbage would probably give you ten points if she were here for that."

"I thought we were supposed to be doing that assignment over our own astrological symbol?" Sirius accused.

"She suggested it," he shrugged without remorse, before finally continuing on.

The class continued in mostly uninterested silence. Frank and Lily did not pick up on their conversation again, and James kept reading absentmindedly through Trelawney's chatter as he tried, for once, not to think of her. He finally got a reprieve when all four of them burst out laughing at Harry receiving a Grim in his cup.

"Oh that's brilliant," Sirius chortled hardest of all, now eagerly grabbing for his own cup and pouring himself a glass. "Think I'll get a stag?"

"I doubt the point of the exercise was to get your favorite animal," Alice rolled her eyes at them, but was ignored as they continued with this game.

"Nope!" Peter popped the p for emphasis as he looked gleefully into his cup. "I got a bloody rose! Maybe I'll find true love," he snorted, setting his cup down with an eye roll.

"According to this," Remus was flipping curiously through pages while still sipping his own, "it means deep emotion, friendship, infidelity, and betrayal."

His friends continued another round of snickering, while Remus repeated the process on his own cup he'd just finished. "Ooh, I got a lightning bolt. Wonder if I'll be the next Boy Who Lived."

"Merlin I hope not, it would be awkward as hell to be related to you," Sirius smirked.

Remus ignored him and pointed at what he'd found, "apparently it means 'you will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.' Merlin, are all of these just depressing?"

"I got something that looks like a set of wings, or maybe a bird?" Sirius was squinting and tipping his head from side to side to try and get some kind of visual.

"That could either mean peaceful, or an enemy." Moony snorted.

"I'm genuinely disappointed it wasn't a Grim," James snickered, refusing to admit the plummeting feeling in his gut as he eyed his own cup and swore he saw the same. He hung around with a 'grim,' once a month and wasn't going to let a cup spook him now. Before his friends could ask about his, he kept going on with Harry's time.

The situation was made even funnier when they reached McGonagall's class and his own son ignored the lesson on animagus'. It took everything in him not to laugh at that.

"McGonagall's a breath of fresh air to those kids," Frank snorted, hoping to instigate Lily into talking again, but she was swirling the dregs of her own tea around and just looked forlorn now. He stood up from the desk and circled around so she couldn't miss his apologetic smile in the shadows. "Sorry, if err, I offended you. Over the whole-"

"Oh, no," she quickly said, placing the chipped blue cup back down and giving him her whole attention. "Just, distracted," she casually flipped the book shut as if it had suddenly bored her.

"Right, yeah," he awkwardly rubbed at his neck and left her to it, more disappointed than he thought he'd be Potter had quickly burnt through the next lesson over something in Transfiguration. The change of topic would have been nice.

Lily smiled distractedly again until he turned away, trying to convince herself surely it was a coincidence she'd seen a snake...

Regulus was growing a little jealous of the meal the trio of kids were enjoying, even if they were still bickering over it, so was happy enough when the subject was changed. He was still avoiding his own teacup, he didn't want to tempt fate like Aunt Misapinoa was always going on about. If anyone was a real Seer, it was that woman, and he couldn't understand why Sirius was laughing all this off. Still, he knew his brother had a liking for magical creatures, and this one should be easy enough to engage him in. "I've a friend who's taking Care of Magical Creatures, and he hasn't mentioned anything about Hippogriffs."

"Not all teachers follow the same plan," it was Lupin who looked up and explained polity enough, his tone surprisingly gentle and calm for never having directly spoken to him before. "This is a bit advance, we didn't do these until our fourth year, but Hagrid may be showing off a bit."

"You didn't take Care of Magical Creatures?" Sirius didn't look up, but instead snorted crudely into his cup. "Let me guess then, Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Ruins."

"The two you didn't look twice at, too difficult for you," he snapped, quickly growing tired of his resistant brothers constantly fluctuating ability to look at him. The idiot truly seemed incapable of making up his mind if he wanted to talk to him or not! It seemed impossible he could come to any decision ever, let alone one so monumental as murdering people!

His mental tirade came up short in surprise at the thought, and he sucked on the inside of his cheek for a moment trying to analyze further if he had anything else to back this thought up as Potter continued.

Hagrid was doing quite well. The lesson was truly enjoyable, until Malfoy got involved. The git.

"I wish that hippogriff had ripped his whole bloody arm off, the insolent brat!" Sirius snarled in frustration.

"You know, it may be Padfoot, that comments like that make them think you're capable of such violence," Peter offered helpfully, even pointing his thumb to the three unimpressed faces.

Sirius grumbled for a moment before turning purposefully his seat. "I'm not going to defend myself from a bunch of idiots who don't know how to take a joke!" Then he turned back and looked quite pleased with himself for it.

James let out a little huff of breath that none of them could decide if it was suppressed laughter or annoyance at his best mate egging them on. They certainly all grasped what the following expression was as he read out Harry's reminder of Sirius Black supposedly being out there stopping his son from going to see a friend! He muttered tersely under his breath until his heart melted in sympathy for Hagrid. Then he wanted to dump his head in the water-trough again for suggesting any child of his shouldn't be wandering around school. He instead warned the chapter was near completion, and they all did whatever they could to brace themselves for the next skip.

*The symbol is actually supposed to be water, or waves or something, but that's what I thought it was at first until I read it.

#reading the books #fanfiction #Harry Potter #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #Remus Lupin #Peter Pettigrew #James Potter #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

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mymindsmadness · 5 years

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I’ve been obsessed with grungy Harry lately (the one that basically turns into Sirius after the war), and @zigster-ao3 hasn’t helped at all! Sorry if the little story below has some rough spots. My insomnia has me all out of whack.

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Of course, Draco had heard that the famous Harry Potter was coming back into town. It had been in every issue of the Quibbler for a month. Other than the satisfaction of seeing Skeeter lose her mind at being scooped by the Quibbler of all papers, Draco had worked to keep his feelings on the matter neutral.

It had been ten years since the golden boy blew out of town, taking the hearts of half the wizarding world with him. Pansy and Blaise would often talk Draco’s ear off about snippets of gossip they had managed to pick up. He would huff and roll his eyes, all the while secretly filing away all the information he was given. They didn’t know about what had happened right before Potter’s departure – no one did. It was one night, after all. He was hardly going to shout from the top of Hogwarts that he had managed to snog The Chosen One. Though, he would like to see how many shades of red Weasley would turn. No, Draco had resigned himself to avoiding Potter at all costs until he inevitably got bored of being in the spotlight once again. But of course, Potter wouldn’t allow for that.

He and that blasted motorbike of his – the one that had been owned by Sirius Black – landed right in the middle of Diagon Alley, effectively splashing Draco’s new dragonhide boots with mud. If not for the stupid round glasses that he wore, and that abominable scar (and the bump in his nose that never quite healed right after Draco had broken it), Draco might not have recognized him at all.

He was far beyond scruffy, his untamable hair having grown well past his shoulders. The long curly strands that made up his full beard seemed to grasp at the wayward strands, reminding Draco a bit of Hagrid… if Hagrid had been dangerously fit. He wore Sirius’s old leather jacket and dog tags as well. The only reason Draco knew that they belonged to Sirius was because Harry had found them that night. The night that they snogged, the night that Potter dug up lost remnants in the house that was more of a home to Draco, the night that Potter took Draco out on that very bike… the night he asked Draco to run with him.

He had been a coward then, much like most of his youth. He used the excuse of his mother and the Malfoy name. He used the excuse of his house arrest, and how it would be beyond foolish for Potter to come back for him… but part of him had hoped he would. Draco would never admit how disappointed he had been when his release was granted and Potter was still nowhere to be found.

“When did Potter get so… attractive?” Pansy purred at his side.

Around fourth year echoed in Draco’s mind, but the response never met his lips. At that moment, Potter looked up. Those eyes were still the alarming forest green they had always been, but they looked different know… wiser. He almost snorted at the thought of Potter being wise.

“Malfoy… Parkinson.” He added almost as an afterthought. Draco tried to find his voice but it was lost somewhere in his chest as Potter pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighting one wandlessly. The sleeve of his leather jacket pulled back just far enough to reveal the tips of a stag tattoo before disappearing once again.

“Potter…” Draco ignored the way Pansy eyed him. He had hoped the break in his voice wasn’t obvious. “Back home then, are you?”

“For now.” Harry’s eyes lingered on him for a beat too long before his face settled in an easy smile. Behind the fuzz of trimmed facial hair and the deepening lines of age, Draco could easily make out the face of his once-rival. “We should catch up.”

Draco made to lean into Pansy, only to find nothing but air. When had she retreated? His back stiffened as Potter dismounted the bike, his various chains and zippers rattling lightly. There were people watching now, Draco was sure of it. He couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from Potter though, not when he was all but stalking towards him.

“In case the fumes of your reckless motorbike have gone to your head, Potter, let me remind you. We’re not friends.”

“No. That’s true.” Granger and Weasley were making their way out of the Weasley’s joke shop now, but even they didn’t pull Potter’s attention. “But we were friendly. Once.”

Draco could tell from the way the lines around Potter’s eyes deepened with delight that he was most definitely blushing. “Don’t be absurd, Potter. What? Talk out our old rivalry over a nice cup of tea? Have chips at a muggle establishment? What would we even do?”

The snarky footing he had found quickly gave way as Potter leaned in, drawing a wave of whispers from their growing audience. He smelled of smoke, oil, and a faint hint of clove. He had smelled like that that night too. “I was kind of hoping to do you.”

Draco’s reaction was instant. He spluttered a cough, the heat of his neck working its way up his cheeks and far into his hairline. Potter simply chuckled, taking a long pull of his cigarette as Draco practically stumbled back. No one seemed to have heard, but Potter’s friends bristled slightly.

“I’ll owl.” Harry tossed over his shoulder as he made his way through the growing crowd.

Draco was most certainly in trouble.

Part Two

#harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #headcanon #mine #art #kind of #otp #crack headcanon

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kemetic-dreams · 4 years

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Rick Ross Sued For ‘Rape Culture’ In Sex Assault Case NO GAMES

A young woman has claimed the rapper’s bodyguard drugged and raped her, and says Ross and his record companies are also to blame.

She had enough sense to text an S.O.S. to her friend, but was too tipsy to press Send.

The drink-and-drug cocktail packed too much of a punch, leaving her comatose as rapper Rick Ross’s 42-year-old bodyguard Nadrian James (and possibly others) allegedly violated her, according to a lawsuit filed in Los Angeles Superior Court on September 18.

“It was at least [James] and maybe others—we haven’t tested everything yet,” the alleged victim’s attorney, Okorie Okorocha, told The Daily Beast, referring to the dress and underwear that's now been tagged as evidence.

The complaint tees up its accusations against Ross, his record label Maybach, and Warner Music Group, by claiming the victim suffered from being drugged and raped by Ross’s bodyguard “and possibly others.” It goes on to say that both record companies are on the hook for fostering “an environment in which drugs and rape were not only tolerated and condoned but also encouraged.”

Multiple attempts made by The Daily Beast to Rick Ross and Nadrian James’s criminal attorneys, reps and relatives were not returned.

Both Ross and James have plunked down exorbitant bail sums to to be free while facing an unrelated charge in June of allegedly kidnapping and pistol-whipping two groundskeepers at Ross’s 235-acre palatial estate in Fayetteville, Georgia.

The woman, who is not named in court papers, says the alleged attack occurred back on February 7 inside L.A.’s posh W Hotel.

Okorocha is repping the twentysomething Los Angeles-based woman, known as Jane Doe in court papers, and filed a graphically detailed civil lawsuit in Los Angeles Superior Court last week, demanding the rapper and his bodyguard be held accountable for the alleged attack.

“It could have been a gang rape because she only remembers very little of the incident,” Okorocha said.

The swaggering Ross has rapped about drugged women before—on his collaborative track “U.O.E.N.O.,” he spit: “Put Molly up in her champagne, she ain’t even know it, I took her home and I enjoyed that, she ain’t even know it.” After some public outcry Ross apologized, stating, “To suggest in any way that harm and violation be brought to a woman is one of my biggest mistakes and regrets.”

In the lawsuit, the woman says she thought she was meeting Ross and his crew to apply for a job.

According to the civil rape complaint, Jane Doe met Ross’s muscle, Nadrian James, two years ago in Fresno, California, during a concert. They “exchanged phone numbers” and over time stayed in touch by texting and chatting on the phone.

But Okorocha, who described Doe as being “very attractive,” says the woman turned to James—whom she knew only by his nickname “Black”—for job prospects and maintains they “were never sexually intimate” before the alleged attack.

“She was talking about doing different things like promotions and possibly working for [Ross’s Maybach] record label,” Okorocha said.

Fast-forward two years and on February 6, James allegedly reached out to the woman to see if she would like to attend “an industry party” hosted by Rick Ross, whose real name is William Leonard Roberts II.

The woman turned him down “because it was late at night and she had no interest in going to his hotel room late at night…she wanted to hang out during daylight with others present,” according to the complaint.

The following day, though, the woman accepted an invite to tag along with Ross and his crew to the Cannabis Cup in San Bernardino, California. The woman hoped a friend would join her on Ross’s party bus, but the other girl flaked “at the last minute.”

Doe decided to go stag and arrived at the W Hotel. While waiting at the bar for James to do errands, she downed “a single cocktail,” according to the complaint.

Around 6 p.m. Doe joined James, a DJ, Rick Ross, three security guards, another entourage member and the driver—all of whom allegedly smoked dope on the ride to Cannabis Cup, according to the complaint.

In the lawsuit, the woman claims James boasted about the extra dedication he gave to his celebrity boss. He allegedly told Doe he was ordered to “hang out with music performers and groupies to network and carry on the public persona… which included drinking, smoking marijuana, and hanging out with beautiful women.”

Once at the festival, Ross was snapped toking what appears to be a briar of bud burning from a makeshift champagne bottle.

Backstage, Ross and his cannabis clique popped his signature Bel Aire bubbly and Jane Doe says she was handed a flute. She says she “had only one glass the entire evening.”

The same ensemble cast returned to Ross’s van and they drove home.

That’s when the curtains came down on the party.

James allegedly offered the woman some more liquor. This time it was Ciroc vodka, according to Okorocha, and the woman accepted.

But before she took hold of the cup something queer occurred, the complaint alleges. James “turned away from [Doe] and held the cup and bottle out of her view.”

It was then that the woman is certain that James “drugged [her] beverage.”

Within 10 minutes after drinking the mystery hooch from the cup, Doe “began feeling intensely dizzy and ill.”

Apparently, the woman asked and received water but “it made her even sicker,” the complaint says. And then she “blacked out and lost all consciousness.”

Two hours elapsed before the van arrived back at the W Hotel. According to the complaint, Doe remembers “[James] telling her to get out of the van, and gave her his hotel room key and told her to go there to feel better.”

Staggering to James’s hotel room, Doe felt the situation was becoming dire and she attempted to text her friend “but was unable to do so because she lost consciousness again before [the text] could be sent,” according to the complaint.

The woman says she slipped in and out of consciousness and at one point remembered “[James] close the door” and then “being up next to her on the bed and smacking her buttocks,” according to the complaint.

“Put molly all in her champagne, she ain’t even know it / I took her home and I enjoyed that, she ain’t even know it,”

Rapper Rick Ross apologizes for saying he doesn’t hire female artists because he would have sex with them

#rape #rick ross #kemetic dreams #date rape #wtf

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sundove88 · 4 years

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1-A And The Beast (MHA Beauty And The Beast AU Fanfic) Chapter Three: The West Wing

Inspired by the Gravity Falls Beauty And The Beast AU made by @artsycrapfromsai

“Man, dinner was so good.” Mineta said as he patted his tummy, which was quite full from all the dishes and sweets he had eaten at the table. “It’s our first time in an enchanted castle like this. Mind to give us a tour?” Todoroki said.

“Of course! I know everything there is to know.” Mr. Aizawa said as he hopped off the dinner table and into the Great Hall. As Mr. Aizawa led the friends down the Hallway of Paintings, he showed them the various paintings of gorgeous landscapes, with a young man or woman in the picture, doing a pose that matched their surroundings.

“Don’t they look extra cool?” said Present Mic as he gazed at a picture of a beautiful young boy named Mirio, who was on a motorbike in the painting. “It sure does. Looks like the ones from my house.” Momo said, staring up. But as they went further, they came to a stairway with elegant designs. “Where does that lead to?” Izuku asked out of curiosity.

Turns out, it was the West Wing and no one was even allowed up there. So, when Present Mic and Mr. Aizawa got into another one of their heated arguments, the friends did what best friends always do- go and explore the West Wing.

“Should we open the door?” asked Denki cautiously. “Yeah, yeah. We should.” Kirishima replied, with him and Izuku opening the giant doors to the room.

But upon opening the door to the West Wing, the entirety of the room was a mess! “It’s even messier than MY room!” Bakugo said as he and the others traversed the messy area.

Tattered drapery and furniture were everywhere, the mount of a stag had fallen down, and even the bed was a wreck. “Looks as if someone definitely doesn’t clean their room.” Mina Ashido said, examining the damage.

“Looks like someone also doesn’t care about the paintings.” Todoroki said, attempting to put the painting back together without avail. The only thing in the room that was intact was a hero’s guidebook under glass, in tip top condition.

“No way! This is a Hero’s Guidebook- and it’s in perfect condition!” Izuku cried, taking off the glass case and opening the book. “But how’s it in perfect condition with no rips or tears?” Uraraka asked curiously. “And it writes itself!” Izuku cried happily.

Hello. The book said. “Lemme see!” Bakugo said, taking the book. But just as he was about to turn the page... the Beast stormed in, grabbing the book!

“AAAHHH!” Everyone cried at the same time while All Might put the book under its glass case. “Why did you come here?” All Might said. “Look. We’re sorry!” Todoroki replied. “I warned you kids never to come here! You could’ve hurt or killed her!” All Might yelled. “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean any harm!” Izuku countered. “But who’s her?” Melissa questioned.

“DO YOU KIDS REALIZE WHAT YOU COULD HAVE DONE?!?!” All Might Roared. “Stop!” Bakugo said as All Might started to destroy things. “GET OUT!” All Might cried as he destroyed a table. “GEEEEEEET OOOOOOOOOUUUUUUTTTTTT!!!!!” He roared, shaking the entire place and forcing the kids to run.

“Promise or no promise, we aren’t staying here for long!” Fumikage Tokoyami said, as he and his friends grabbed their coats and scrambled out the door.

Upon getting onto Majesty, the kids headed into the forest so they could get away from the Beast’s horrible temper, with Izuku leading the way. “Ever get that feeling you’re being watched?” Aoyama asked as they trudged deeper.

“Oh no, wolves!” Tenya Iida cried. He was right. A pack of vicious wolves had surrounded them like buzzards circling their prey. “RUUUUN!” Mineta yelled as he ran for his life.

The others followed him, trying to outrun the vicious wolves, all the while screaming like bloodless cowards. “AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! HHHEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLPPPPPP!” Everyone cried as they ran through the forest, trying to outrun the pack with as much stamina as they had.

But the wolves got Majesty’s reins tangled in some tree branches- throwing Izuku and everyone else off! Bakugo tried to make some explosions to scare off the wolves, Momo created a staff to fight off the pack, and Koji Koda tried talking to them, but whatever method they tried, the wolves always outnumbered them.

“Somebody help uuuuuuuuussssss!” Uraraka yelled. At that moment, All Might burst into the clearing, using the power of One For All to drive the wolves away, while getting many scratches in the process. “Mr. All Might!” Melissa gasped.

The wolves ripped and tore at his fur, and scratched and clawed. But soon, the wolves ran away, and everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief. But All Might was seriously hurt from the fight against the wolves, and collapsed in the snow.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’re gonna get you back to the castle so you can feel all better.” Uraraka said, using her gravity powers to lift All Might onto Majesty so they could take him back to U. A. Castle.

Near the fireplace, the friends were helping All Might clean his wounds. Kirishima and half of the friends were supporting All Might, while Izuku, Bakugo, Uraraka, and Todoroki cleaned his wounds.

“Would you refrain from doing that? That’s gross.” Shoji requested All Might to stop licking his wounds. “Hold still, buddy.” Izuku said as he applied the hot water to All Might, causing him to roar.

“That hurts!” He cried, causing the enchanted objects to flee in terror. “If you, like, hold still, it wouldn’t hurt that much!” Izuku said as he put aloe vera onto the wounds. “Well, if you kids hadn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened.” said All Might.

“If you hadn’t scared the living daylights out of us, we wouldn’t have run away!” Bakugo replied. All Might thought for a moment, then said, “Well, you kiddos shouldn’t have been in the West Wing!”

“Well, buddy, you’ve gotta chill out and control your temper!” Todoroki asked. “Now hold still, for this might sting a bit.” Uraraka said as she applied the towel with aloe vera onto the wounds.

“By the way- thank you for saving our butts.” replied Mineta, his eyes sparkling. “You’re absolutely welcome.” All Might replied. He had never heard that in his life before.

Meanwhile, at the village tavern, Overhaul, Dabi, Shigaraki, and Toga were blabbering with Monsieur Stain from the Home For The Reality Challenged to declare Inko insane- unless she agreed to become Chisaki’s bride!

Just then, an old man came into the tavern, begging for a bite to eat. The villagers shook their heads, but Toga gave the rest of her sandwich to the man, which he gladly ate.

Suddenly, in a puff of smoke, the man revealed himself to be All For One, the sorcerer who cursed All Might! “So, what can I do for you?” he asked in an evil sounding voice.

“We’re going to declare Inko insane- and lock her up in the Home For The Reality Challenged! Or marry her.” Overhaul explained. “Yes, but I also have another thing in mind- to destroy Nana Shimura and make the curse permanent.” All For One said, describing his plans.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, then!” Overhaul said as he shook hands with All For One. Now that Overhaul had the evil All For One on his side, he would be unstoppable...

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dracimalfoy1988292 · 3 years

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(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 33: ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʙᴇᴅ)

The next Hogsmeade trip was hastily approaching, and both Valentine and James couldn't be more excited. Due to their lack of dates, they'd lacked to establish what exactly they were, but they'd explained the situation to their friends, all of which were so incredibly happy for the bunch. Now Valentine just had to wait for Lily and Remus to make up, and for Celia to stop cowering away from Macey.

The remnants of September flew by, and Halloween was quickly approaching. The Marauders had spent tons of time planning what they explained as 'the coolest party ever', which at this point they called all their parties.4

During weekdays Valentine found she didn't have as many classes with her friends as she had previous years, especially not with the boys, although she would admit she was excited to share Defense Against the Dark Arts, especially since they were planning on covering an exciting topic today; patronouses.

"A patronous is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive – but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it.3

Your Patronus has two forms, non-corporeal and corporeal. A non-corporeal Patronus can appear as a thin wisp of silver that hovers like mist. Whereas a corporeal Patronus has a form that is clearly defined and is more than vapour or smoke."

Our Professor took a deep breath, checking that her class was playing close attention.

"The ability to cast a corporeal or non-corporeal Patronus is down to the skill of the witch or wizard. Each Patronus is unique to the witch or wizard who conjures it, and it's possible, in some cases, for a Patronus to change. All that is required is that you chant the spell as you think of a happy memory."

Valentine was stumped. She had so many happy memories she wasn't sure it was possible to single out just a single one.9

All around the room people began muttering 'expecto patronum' on repeat, some fizzy shapes casting from wands, but no full pantronouses.

Until someone finally did, and of course it was Sirius Black. Valentine was initially surprised he of all people had gotten it his first try, knowing how hard his childhood was, but Valentine figured he had chosen one here at Hogwarts.

Sirius' corporeal patronus leapt around the room in the form of a large black dog, the animals tongue sticking out the side of its mouth.

Sirius smirked when some girls 'awed', taking a bow. Valentine shot him an exasperated look.

And all around the class over a couple of minutes some patronuses formed, and others didn't.

At some point Remus' had created his, and a large, beautifully colored wolf had popped out. Remus' smile had dropped and he had paled at the sight of it, seeming he couldn't quite escape reality, and Valentine could tell his patronus was not what he had wanted it to be.

Even James had casted the spell correctly, and a elegant stag had formed. It was beautiful, without a doubt, with long, sharp antlers and a white spots dotting its back.

Many in the class had turned to watch the creature while James had been congratulated, but Valentine stared right into the animals eyes until it disappeared.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she scurried deeper into her mind, thinking of happy memories.

Valentine thought of sitting on the couch on Christmas Day with hot chocolate while watching Frosty the Snowman. She thought of quidditch matches and karaoke parties. She imagined cold ice skating rinks and baking cookies with Polly the house elf and her friends.

Someone a bucket of red paint got caught in her mind, and before she could even think any farther, she felt a pulling on her brain, as if her self conscious was telling her this is the one.

"Expecto patronum!"

Valentine's patronus erupted, silvery blue mist flowing from her wand like a river of pixie dust and mist. Valentine grinned wildly once it took its form, a large black stallion galloping around the room before slowly approaching its owner, letting out a soft neigh and nuzzling its head into the girls shoulder, snorting, causing Valentine to giggle.3

While others watched the large animal, James watched Valentine, a huge and gorgeous smile on her face.

The stallion did one more lap around the girl before whisping away, the sound of hooves lessening as it disintegrated amongst the wind.

"Oh, she was beautiful!" Valentine exclaimed, turning to Macey with a proud expression. "Did you see it? Did you see it?"

"Yes! Kind of hard to miss a horse running around the room, isn't it?" Macey sarcastically asked, growing increasingly annoyed as she couldn't cast the spell.

Valentine laid a hand on her best friends arm. "Hey, don't stress about it, it'll come to you eventually."

Macey lowered her wand, sighing. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm just not the happiest lately. Maybe I would be if a certain someone could just talk to me!"

Valentine frowned, understanding her. "Do you want me to talk to her?"

"No!"

"Okay!" Valentine threw her hands up, backing away as Macey had practically yelled her answer.

"Your patronus makes sense," James said, waltzing over to Valentine. "A black stallion represents free spirited and adventurous personalities. You're passionate and dominating, but also mysterious."

Valentine looked impressed by the fact he'd known that.

"And you're stag because you have horns, symbolizing how you're always so horn-,"18

"Padfoot!" Peter exclaimed, pulling Sirius back by his shirt. "You're ruining their moment."

____________________

CELIA AND VALENTINE HAD RUN into each other before lunch in the bathroom, and the two do them decided to walk to the Great Hall together, and Celia found it the perfect opportunity to question Valentine on her love life.

"So," Celia began, brow quirked. "You forgave him because he kissed you?"

"No!" Valentine scowled. "I'm not desperate. But he apologized and he acknowledged that what he did was wrong. I may have forgiven him, but I'm still upset with his actions. I'm ready to move on from that, though. He said what I wanted to hear and there is no point dwelling on it."

"Spoken like a true Hufflepuff."4

Valentine desperately wished to say something about her and Macey, but Valentine didn't know how Celia would react to Macey having told her. She didn't want Celia to get upset at her or Macey, so she shut her mouth and hoped they could resolve it themself.

"What is it you wanted me to do? Curse him?"

"Well, yeah," Celia trailed off, eyes turning hard. Valentine looked to where the Slytherin was looking, catching sight of Macey and Leilani, a gorgeous Ravenclaw girl, talking.

Celia diverted her eyes as if trying to pretend the sight didn't bother her.

"Hey, Celia, you don't-,"

Celia stormed off to the Slytherin table before Valentine had the chance to say anything more. The Hufflepuff pursed her lips, glancing between her two friends and sighing, moving to the Gryffindor table.

"What's up with that? Girl drama?" Sirius asked as Valentine sat down besides James.

"Something like that," Valentine muttered. "I honestly don't know how I've made it this far with you guys as my friends."

"Agreed," Peter commented through a chicken leg.

Valentine watched Remus, the boy constantly looking out the corner of his eye to Lily Evans.

If they want to get back together they should hire McGonagall as a therapist. She's good.5

"Anyway, Hogsmeade trips in a couple days. Thinking of making a pit stop by Zonko's, you guys coming?"

James quickly shook his head, grinning at Sirius.

"We have special plans," he announced.

"Gross," Remus uttered.

"Not like that!" James corrected him. "Yet."

Valentine shoved James to the side, her cheeks heating up.

"Well, can we all meet up at The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer? Or maybe Hogshead. Apparently they serve Firewhiskey to under agers," Sirius said with a wink.

"I'll see if we can fit it into our schedule," James stiffly retorted, earning a snort from Valentine.

"What've you got planned."

"I guess you'll see," James lamented with raised eyebrows, earning a grin from Valentine.

"Can you two please refrain from doing," Sirius gestured between Valentine and James wildly. "This. At least while at the table?"

"Says the one that literally fricked on my bed," Valentine shot back in disgust.

"You did what on her bed?"

Sirius shrugged off James. "Marlene and I were having fun."

"Yeah, on my bed," Valentine grumbled.

"We don't discriminate," Marlene shrugged with a lazy grin, leaning into Sirius as he threw an arm over her shoulder.

"Don't feel special," Peter spoke up. "They've done it on mine too."7

"That is true," Sirius admitted.

"You're like bunnies," James muttered under his breath.

"Yeah we are," Sirius smirked. James and Valentine shared a wince, but when they looked to see the same expression on both their faces, they laughed at each other.

"James, are you still doing that Easter thing this year that you told us about over summer break? My parents want to know before they plan something," Peter asked.

James nodded. "Yeah, still happening."

Valentine gave James a questioning stare.

"Oh! I didn't tell you. Well, my parents decided they wanted to meet you and-,"

"Awee," Valentine cooed, teasingly pinching James cheek. "You told to your parents about me."

"No," Sirius cut in. "He told his parents your whole life story. He never shut up-,"10

"Stop exposing me like that, Padfoot!" James shouted, pouting like a child before turning to the blonde. "And yes, I told my parents about you. Obviously."

Valentine's cheeks tinged pink.

"Anyways, it's just some party thing my parents are doing. They're inviting some of their friends and said I could bring some of mine, so that's all," James told her, not finding it a big deal.

Valentine, however, was already stressing out over the fact that she possibly would have to meet James' parents.

"Don't worry, Mia and Monty are the coolest people ever," Sirius spoke to Valentine. "Plus, I'm pretty sure they'll like you automatically because you're practically James' only chance of being in a legitimate relationship."3

"Shut up," James managed through a laugh, reaching across the table to flick Sirius' forehead.

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 3 years

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‘The Christmas Caper’ Chapter 4: One Step Closer

Prologue | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

When Mycroft headed into his room where Anthea waited, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Well?”

“They’re speaking to each other, and there’s minimal to average physical affection,” he replied. “They’re not talking about the elephant in the room, but I have no doubt all will work out.”

Anthea smiled approvingly. “Let’s hope the first time you give a gift, it doesn’t crash and burn.”

Mycroft grimaced. “So glad to see you have every confidence in me.” He walked over to the bed, and sat upon it, his back facing her.

“You know what I mean, dear,” she told him. “I just meant that your plans tend to backfire, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.” Anthea did her best to not laugh aloud in remembrance of the first time Mycroft tried to show her how he felt.

“Don’t remind me,” he sighed.

Three Months Ago

“Anthea, it has come to my attention that you’re a fully functioning female with above average intelligence,” he informed her.

She knit her brows in confusion. “Sir?”

He tried again. “What I mean to say is I would appreciate if you kept away of being in the company of other men—especially Wilson—who knew your standards were quite that low?”

She dropped her mouth open in shock, and walked right up to his desk, the clicking of her heels echoing in his office, and gave him a good smack. As she turned to walk out, Wilson came in with some files. Anthea approached him, tugged the lapel of his jacket and snogged him right in front of Mycroft, who was, for once, dumbfounded. And she left without a word.

Wilson stood there in a daze having felt the rage in her kiss. “Wow,” he said in amazement, “you must have really pissed her off.”

Mycroft was not amused. He pointed to the door. “Get out.”

Shaking the memory from his mind, Mycroft turned to face Anthea. “On second thought, maybe you should get more involved with the plan.”

“Oh no,” she laughed. “This one is all you—and your brother, of course. If anything goes wrong, the name Holmes will be written all over it which would make it understandable.” Anthea slipped under the duvet, and shut off her bedside lamp. “Now get changed and into bed, I’m exhausted.”

Sherlock hadn’t slept at all last night. With what little sleep he did get, his dreams were haunted by the words of John Watson: “Talk to Molly. This may be the very last chance you’ll ever have to fix things.” He knew that John was right. So many scenarios played out in his mind where he never spoke with her. And every single time, it ended with him and Molly drifting apart. His mind even went as far as to show him she would eventually move on into the arms of another man—one who probably deserved her more than a man who couldn’t be brave enough for her.

After getting dressed, he made his way downstairs where his mother was reminiscing about her career as a mathematician with Molly who was looking through one of the books she had written. Both women looked up at him as he entered the room.

“You’re up early,” Mrs. Holmes commented.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied with a shrug, heading towards the kitchen.

Molly noticed how tired he looked, wondering if he ever got a decent night’s sleep after the Sherrinford Incident. “Try drinking some tea before bed,” she suggested to him, like she was one to talk. She could hardly sleep last night either even with the tea.

“I’ll take that into consideration, thank you, Molly,” Sherlock smiled warmly. He met his mother’s knowing look. “Where’s father?” he asked.

Mrs. Holmes felt an idea brewing. “Went to pick up some eggs—we completely ran out what with all the baking. You know, why don’t you and Molly go into town for breakfast?” She turned to who she hoped would be her future daughter-in-law. “You would love it! It’s a little cottage diner on high street. Nettie makes the best fry up!”

Molly smiled. “That sounds delightful! What do you think, Sherlock?”

“Well, I—“

“Oh, Sherlock loves the food there,” she told Molly as she got up to leave the room. “Go on, you kids have fun!”

Molly looked up into Sherlock’s eyes, an amused smile forming on her lips. “I have to admit, your mum is a force to be reckoned with.”

He chuckled. “You have no idea.”

Once they began the drive into town, Sherlock had to admit he was thankful for his mother’s interference. He took a quick glance to his left at Molly in the passenger seat, her hair done up in a French braid. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to just throw all caution to the wind, and damn it all, he wanted to be selfish. But would it be considered selfish if she wanted the same thing? It was much too tempting.

“How’ve you been holding up?” Molly asked, breaking the silence. “Since…well, you know.”

She still cared for him—that was good. But, of course she did. One thing about Molly Hooper is when she gave you her love, it was unconditional.

Sherlock, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mary’s berated him. If I have to hear you go on about how you don’t deserve her and she deserves better, I think I might die…again. Too soon? He ignored her in favor of the ache in his heart. “I’m getting by,” he replied to Molly. “But what about you? It’s not as if you escaped unscathed.”

“I’m okay,” she shrugged, but Sherlock knew better.

“You’re not okay,” he said matter-of-factly.

Molly sighed, turning to look out her window. “I’m just bloody frustrated,” she muttered to herself. Part of her hoped he had heard her.

He had heard her—loud and clear. Sherlock was tired of fighting with himself, and so, for their time at the diner, he let go. The two of them had a right good time, laughing it up and sharing stories, including memories that they couldn’t very well agree on.

Molly swallowed her last bite of food, having cleared the plate. “Alright, but I remember on John’s stag night, the two of you were pissed after only two hours, and I had to come pick you up in the morning!” She laughed. “I met Mary outside of the station and we were just laughin’!”

Sherlock took a sip of his tea. “I didn’t think it was particularly funny, Molly.”

“Oh, you know, you’re right,” she continued, laughing as she spoke. “It’s not nearly as funny as the seven voicemails you left me! You were so smashed!” Molly gave a light playful slap to his forearm.

His brows rose up. This was the first he had heard of this. “I…left you seven voicemails?” Was he too inebriated to remember? But he remembered so many other events of the night. “Molly, what did I say?”

She eyed him curiously. “You mean, you don’t remember?”

He shook his head. “Afraid not—what did I say?”

“I dunno,” she teased. “Maybe I want to keep it to myself.”

Sherlock tilted his head, clearly frustrated.

“Alright,” Molly conceded with a laugh. “Not one of them ever completed a single thought. It was like bits and pieces. In one you called me your pathologist quite possessively, then in another I think you said something about marriage changes people. Oh!” She was giggling now. “I think you called Tom a wanker in another one.”

He felt—what?—relieved? Embarrassed? Possibly both. “Right, well, no one said I could hold my liquor.” Sherlock returned the amused smile that was also on Molly’s face.

Molly couldn’t help but notice how at ease she was around him. Those first couple of years she knew him gave her butterflies and frayed nerves, but ever since she helped him with his lazarus plan, there was a shift in their friendship. It became deeply intimate from that moment forward. It was when her crush turned into a raw, honest love. Not once did it waver. His apology last night sparked something in her, and she felt the need to say the words rattling around in her head before she lost her nerve. “Sherlock?” His eyes pierced hers inquisitively. “I just want you to know, I’m sorry too.”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t understand—for what?”

She bit her lip anxiously. “This friendship”—she motioned between them—“whatever this is; it’s a two-way street. Last night, you apologised for not having gone to see me. Sherlock, I’m sorry for having not gone to see you. I knew what had happened and why, but I wasn’t brave enough to face it all. Neither of us were. I don’t want to live a life that doesn’t have you in it. I’ve tried, and it’s bloody awful. I forgave you. Can you forgive me?”

The muscles in his face relaxed, giving way to a softness that Molly had only ever seen a handful of times. “Of course I forgive you. I’ll let you in on a secret…”

They both leaned their heads forward.

“…I don’t want to live a life that doesn’t have you in it either. A life without you, Molly Hooper, would be too dull to imagine.”

Whilst Molly went to have a look at the shops, Sherlock had an errand to run with an old friend. The bell on the door rang out when he made his entrance. The place was full of handmade jewelry, as far as the eye could see.

“As I live and breathe, Sherlock Holmes has come back for a visit!” The man behind the counter clapped his hands together. “It’s been an age! What can I do for ya?”

“Hello, Rupert, I need you to do something very important for me…”

Mycroft had been smoking in the backyard when Sherlock and Molly returned. He put out his cigarette just as his brother appeared. “And how was your morning with Doctor Hooper, brother mine? Inquiring minds want to know.”

“It was enlightening,” Sherlock answered.

Mycroft eyed him curiously. “And have you two discussed the events of that night?”

“Not yet,” he replied, looking down toward the ground. “It’s a delicate matter—a bit difficult to just bring it up, especially when we’re trying so hard to move past it.”

With a sigh, Mycroft shook his head. “Has it ever occurred to you, little brother, that it will be easier to move past it if you two have this conversation?”

Sherlock glared at him. “Of course it has! Honestly, Mycroft, why do you care so much? What’s in it for you?”

“Can’t I be a good brother for once?” he asked. “Is it so hard to believe I want you to be happy?”

Taking a moment to think things over, Sherlock turned around and turned back, unsure of how to process this information. “Yes, actually, it would be very hard to believe had we not just shared a traumatic experience three months ago.” He roughly ran his fingers through his curls. “Sherrinford changed you, Mycroft.”

“As it did you,” his big brother countered. “I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing, do you?”

“No,” Sherlock agreed. “For what I need to do, it isn’t. She loves me—God knows why. But I’m not blind to the fact that sometimes loving someone isn’t enough. I love her, but can I provide for her everything she needs? I doubt it.”

Mycroft walked up onto the stoop. “I’ll leave you with this: it’s not about asking whether you can provide these things for her, but asking whether or not you are willing to try.” A knowing smirk appeared on his brother’s face, and then he was gone.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Sherlock needed to talk to her. It was all he could think about. It was early evening when she entered the sitting room after dinner. His eyes couldn’t help but linger, especially since she was holding their goddaughter in her arms whilst she sang Christmas songs to her. He found that he enjoyed hearing Molly sing. He also noticed how she had stuck a red Christmas bow in her hair much to Rosie’s amusement, the lights on the tree reflecting off of it.

This adornment reminded him of another Christmas at Baker Street. It was a bittersweet memory. On one hand, it was the first time he had ever kissed Molly, though only on the cheek. But on the other hand, he still regretted his behaviour to this day. Knowing what he knows now, he knew he had been jealous, thinking she had been doing all of that for someone else. It was cruel to insult her the way he did. Allowing himself a quick glance, he admired the set of her lips and the swell of her breasts peeking out from her blouse. Though he wanted to, he didn’t allow his eyes to linger there too long, and settled on watching her eyes light up.

Molly caught him staring eventually, and she just beamed at him as if there was no place she’d rather be. “Look Rosie, your Uncle Sherlock is actually smiling for once.”

“I smile,” he argued playfully. His heart was pounding when she approached him, only mere inches away. “May I?” Sherlock held out his hands from where he sat on the sofa.

Carefully, Molly helped to settle Rosie in his arms and seated herself beside them. It warmed her heart to see him take an active role in the little girl’s life. Surprisingly, Sherlock was actually good with children in his own way. Rosie reached a hand up, her dimpled fingers grabbing her godfather’s nose. He gently pulled her hand away and pressed a quick kiss to her fingertips.

“I hope you’re being good for your Aunt Molly,” he told her softly. “She works very hard, and deserves everything she’s ever wanted.” Sherlock didn’t know what it was about talking to his goddaughter, but he found he didn’t feel so afraid saying these things though he was very aware that Molly was sitting beside him. When he glanced over at her, he noticed tears forming just at the waterline of her eyes, but she held them back.

Molly brushed back the wispy pale blonde curls on Rosie’s head. “Your Uncle Sherlock is just a big softie deep down,” she laughed quietly. “And you know what? He deserves just as much—especially to be loved.” She looked up and their eyes locked, neither unable to look away. Her heart beat furiously in her chest, and before she could talk herself out of it, Molly kissed him tenderly, lingering long enough to get lost in the feel of his lips on hers. She hadn’t given him enough time to kiss her back, the shock evident on his face when she pulled away.

Without a word, she stood and left the room suddenly in need of fresh air.

#sherlolly #the christmas caper #my fanfiction

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years

Text

Roguish Women Part 1 *Tommy Shelby*

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

82 Boulevard de Clichy

Paris, France

1925

The Moulin Rouge.

The city of love. A city of lights and illusions. A city where one could lose sight of their troubles. A city where one could hide in plain sight.

“Monsieur Shelby!” A plump man with a red face greeted the men at the door. He was dressed in a scarlet-colored suit and Tommy couldn’t help but think how the man would stick out like a sore thumb in Birmingham. But in Paris, he fit in like he was one of the landmarks. “Bonjour, bonjour, welcome to the Moulin Rouge.”

The Peaky Blinders were there for business. Not the cabaret, but Paris. A man had contacted Tommy some time ago, asking to negotiate about importing car parts and subsequently firearms with a little bit of cocaine to sweeten the deal.

Conversations over the telephone were held until the man invited Tommy and his brothers to seal the deal in person. None of the Shelbys had been back in France since the War. It caused a knee-jerk reaction of disgust but it was a big deal that they couldn’t pass up.

Paris was nothing like the countryside they fought on. The city was electric and it was hard to believe the city had faced the same war only a few years prior.

“There is a table upstairs for you, Monsieur Dugas is waiting.” The man ushered the Blinders into the crowded venue. Tables crowded around a massive dance floor where a group of girls was putting on a show. Beautiful women wearing elaborate costumes covered in frills, gemstones, and feathers. Their outfits shimmered in the spotlights, a far cry from what would’ve been deemed appropriate only a few years ago. Shorthaired and hiking up their skirts, these girls captivated the audience, hypnotizing the men who dared glance their way. How could they look away from women dancing in such outfits?

Arthur and John were positively chuffed at the display and jostled each other as they climbed the stairs to the second level. The promenade that overlooked the dance floor was a bit tamer. Tables were set up against the railing allowing people a good view of the stage below. A bit quieter than the main floor, it was the perfect place for their meeting.

A man stood up when he saw the entourage approach. “Monsieur Shelby, thank you for joining me.”

“Mr. Dugas.” Tommy nodded politely and shook hands with the businessman.

“I trust you had a pleasant trip over from England?” The well-dressed man sat, gesturing for the rest to sit as well.

John and Arthur took a seat, leaving Finn and Isaiah to stand as guard though the younger men were distracted by the women around them.

Martin Dugas was a businessman to the core. Every drop of blood in his body was dedicated to the trade. Whether or not the things he did were legal wasn’t the issue.

A waiter arrived with an ice-cold bottle of champagne, letting Dugas inspect the label. “Gentlemen, champagne? Then we can talk business.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A deal was settled within the hour. Although his brothers were keen to drink through the entire negotiation process, Tommy kept his wits about him. He wasn’t going to let a wild environment and French champagne cloud his judgment. But once the deal was made, the two men shook hands to confirm. Contracts would be signed the next morning.

Once the ink on the contract began to dry, Finn and Isaiah to go mingle with the entertainment. Tommy waved them off with his hand, letting them have their fun. He wasn’t interested in the women at the cabaret, he was there purely on business and wasn't going to get caught up in the lights of the club.

“Whiskey, Tom. You can relax.” Arthur handed his brother a glass. “Got everything you want, din’t ya?”

Tommy nodded but he couldn’t help but scan the scene around them. John already had a pretty brunette perched on his lap and was flagging a waiter down for another whiskey. A woman clad in a corset and fishnets was giggling at every word Finn and Isaiah had to say, causing the men to practically drool all over her.

“Need to take a walk,” Tommy muttered. Standing up, he stubbed out his cigarette and went for the stairs. Pushing his way past a few partiers on the stairs, he made his way down to the first floor.

There were about a dozen girls on the dance floor, dancing to the live music that was loud enough to make the venue tremble. Some of the women on the dance floor were beckoning to men, luring them out to dance with them. Tommy ignored a few propositions to dance and continued towards the exit.

Tommy passed by a group of young men, most likely a stag party. They were all sloshing drunk and hollering at one of their mates who was doing his best to keep up with one of the dancers. It briefly reminded him of how he and his brothers once were. When they were younger and hadn’t been broken by the war. They often spent long nights out, getting drunk and high. Trying their best to win over the prettiest women at the bar.

Despite only walking past them, he caught a glimpse of one of the men grabbing roughly at the woman. A flash of discomfort crossed her face and she made a move away from him.

The party booed and taunted their friend. The man on the dance floor egged on, kicked out one of her heels bringing the woman to her knees in front of him.

Tommy heard her yelp of pain, a sharp contrast to the large brass section blaring away. The arrogance made something snap inside of Tommy and he wasn’t about to pretend he hadn’t seen anything.

The Blinder pushed past the stag party and out onto the dance floor. “Oi!” He barked.

The man who had grabbed a fistful of the woman’s hair, startled at his shout. A clueless look passed over his drunk, glazed eyes. He said something in French but it was lost to the music.

Tommy grabbed him by the collar and spoke two words that he assumed the man would understand. If he didn’t know the words, he’d be able to translate the tone. “Fuck off.” He spat and shoved him back towards his friends.

The stag party began to act up again, shouting some angry words in French and making steps towards Tommy. But the Blinder quickly squashed their outrage by flicking open his coat and showing them the pistol in his holster. The flash of a gun was enough to make the drunk men hastily retreat.

The young woman was trying to get up off her knees. One of her hands went to her hair, the other resting on the filthy wood floor. She watched as a pair of shoes stopped in front of her. They were expensive, shined to perfection, and waited patiently.

The dancer looked up with tears in her eyes to see the man who saved her. Her knight in shining armor. Although he wore an expensive suit instead of armor. He had dark hair and stunningly cold blue eyes. He silently reached out a hand to her.

Shaking, she took his hand and allowed him to help her stand. “Merci.” She whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Tommy answered in English so she was aware he didn’t speak fluent French.

“You’re British?”

His forehead wrinkled in mild shock when he heard her accent. “You’re American?”

She nodded and let her hand slip from his. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

The dancer looked down at her heels. “I may have twisted my ankle but it’s nothing to fuss about.” She shrugged.

“Can you walk?”

She forced a smile. “Don’t need to walk. Just need to be able to dance.”

“Can you dance?”

“I have to unless I want to be fired.”

He frowned and glanced around them. “Won’t be fired while I’m here. C’mon, there a room you can sit down? Somewhere quieter? Maybe get you some ice for your ankle.” There was no room for negotiation in his tone.

Since he was a patron, she was supposed to give him what he wanted. And if he wanted her to go sit in the back room while he fetched her ice, then who was she to deny him?

“We can use one of the dressing rooms.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

After Tommy retrieved some ice from the bar, the dancer led him to the back hallway. Although the music could still be heard and felt through the walls, it was much quieter behind the scenes. There were many dressing rooms, able to hold about ten girls at a time, but there was only one that was empty. Costumes and props were scattered around cluttering the space. Women rushed around the mess trying to get ready for an upcoming act.

Tommy helped the woman onto a chair and grabbed a towel left hanging by a mirror. He poured the ice into the towel and tied it up like a sack before pulling up a chair and setting it up in front of her. “Set it up here. Need to keep it elevated ‘fore it swells.”

She obeyed quietly and let him gently place the fashioned ice pack onto her ankle. “Thank you…”

“Shelby, Tommy Shelby.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby. You’re much kinder than other men I’ve met.” She leaned down to remove her heels.

“Are you going to tell me your name too or are you meant to keep that secret?” He pulled out his cigarette tin and offered one to her.

“Some girls take aliases.” She admitted. “My name’s Kate though.” She let him light the cigarette.

The two sat in silence for a moment, smoking and stuck in their own heads.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing here in Paris, aye?” Tommy wondered.

“I uh…” Kate made herself busy by fussing with the ice on her ankle and fixing her hair. “My father had debts and they were after my family. So I came here to get away from that life I was just a dancer at home. A ballet dancer.” Her green eyes lit up with joy when she mentioned her passion. The love she had to leave behind. Still, the joy was short-lived. “But I wasn’t making any money so I came here. They pay better and well…dreams aren’t meant to pay the bills, are they?”

“Are you not just a dancer here?”

She laughed bitterly, the joy instantly leaving her eyes and leaving behind a residue of bitter disappointment. “We aren’t dressed like this for fun, Mr. Shelby.”

He nodded in understanding. “They made you a whore.”

“I prefer the term courtesan but I suppose it’s no improvement.” Kate sighed and tilted forward. Twisting an arm back she tried to loosen the laces of her corset so she could breathe a little easier. “So, Mr. Shelby, if you’re British then what are you doing here?”

“Business.” He replied. “Ordinary business.”

Kate studied his appearance. The man clearly had wealth. He wore a three-piece suit that looked either nicely tailored or custom made. But there was something about the look in his eyes that gave off an air of danger. It was unlike Kate had ever seen in the eyes of a wealthy man. It was evident that he wasn’t someone who inherited his money or struck it rich by chance. He’d worked hard and it had paid off. It was still too early to tell how he’d acquired his wealth. “I meet a lot of businessmen in my line of work.”

“I can imagine.” Tommy was sure that hole-in-the-wall brothels were much cheaper than the cabaret. “How about politicians?”

She let out a nervous laugh and shrugged. “I’m not supposed to say. They expect confidentiality.”

A glint of mischief formed in his blue eyes. The spark of youth that diminished the dark circles under his eyes. “Royalty?”

“If you must know, there was a prince. But that’s all I’m able to say!”

He chuckled and took another drag of his cigarette. “How long d’you think it’ll be before things die down with your family in America?” He wondered.

Kate’s face fell. “I don’t know. My father didn’t tell me how much he owes. 'Sides I doubt he'll ever be able to pay it off.”

Tommy had often been on the debtor’s end of things. Bars and businesses that were well behind what they owed to the Shelby Company. When it warranted a visit, he sent his brothers or sometimes went himself. If violence was necessary, then they could be violent. It didn’t bother them much.

In a moment of weakness, Kate unleashed some pent up frustration. “I’m just sick of being here. I make more than I did at home but I’m still barely getting by. The city is so expensive. I feel like I ought to be living in a penthouse for the amount I’m paying for rent. And I can’t ask for help from anyone. I don’t have any family or friends here. They’re so awful to me here, call me stupid an-and worthless. I’m just so alone and I…” Her eyes met Tommy and she realized she was venting to a complete stranger. “I’m so sorry.” She snapped back into the calm demeanor she was meant to have in front of patrons. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

It occurred to Tommy that he most definitely caused people to flee their homes. Whether it be because of their own mistakes or those of their family member’s, it didn’t matter. The Peaky Blinders had a violent reputation and it was enough to send people running for safety. Safety, but perhaps a worse off situation than before. Hearing Kate air her grievances made him step back and think about the people he’d displaced. “Will you return to America?” His voice quieted as if muted by the thoughts overwhelming his brain.

“I’m not sure.” Kate tried not to think about the future. It did her no good to hope for something that might be so far away. “I’d like to return to a ballet company if I’m able to.”

Tommy’s fingers tapped nervously at his knee. He was getting the urge to do something that was a little unorthodox even by his own standards. Guilt stirred up in his stomach as he thought about the families he might’ve separated in the past. “I may have connections in America. If I were to pay off your father’s debt, I could find you a place there.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “Mr. Shelby that is…” What could the man possibly want in exchange? She couldn’t even imagine what he would proposition next. “I’m not sure what you’d like in return but I…I don’t know if…”

“Nothing in return.” He promised coolly. “Consider it a favor to pay forward in the future.” He gestured with his cigarette.

Every bit of her body wanted to launch forward and seize the opportunity. But it seemed too good to be true. And she knew she couldn’t return to America. “I appreciate that, Mr. Shelby. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to go back to my home for quite some time. I’ve burned too many bridges and have too many enemies.”

It was suspicious that a beautiful woman would possibly have one enemy let alone multiple ones. “What sort of enemies?”

She peered at him with reservation. “Enemies of my father. Why do you ask?” When he simply shrugged, she began to pick up on his game. “You’re not just a normal businessman are you?”

His facial expression didn’t flinch at all. “I assure you I meet the definition of a businessman.”

His blunt response made her laugh. “I’ve met my share of gangsters, Mr. Shelby, you can’t fool me.”

The corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly. “What sort of enemies, Kate?”

She adjusted the ice on her ankle and tugged her knees closer to her chest. “Hand me that coat?” She requested instead of answering.

Tommy glanced over his shoulder to where she was pointing. There was a rack of clothing that was waiting to be adorned for the enjoyment of men. Glitter outfits trimmed with fringe that went longer than the skirt hemlines. Elaborate garments with intricate beading and laced with feathers. A careful design that would be lost in the bright lights and under the stares of leering men. Tossed over the rack was a deep navy blue coat with gray fur lining the collar. He handed it over to her, watching as she draped it over her fishnet-covered legs.

Kate finished her cigarette and instantly reached for another one. She needed to relax and the conversation they were having didn’t help. She held out the fresh cigarette for Tommy to light.

He obliged, still awaiting her response.

But she kept him in suspense, taking a few drags. The proper façade of a showgirl. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Italians in Chicago.” She leaned an elbow on the back of her chair, reclining slightly like a centerfold flapper dream. Smoke curling around her bobbed blonde hair. Her eyes framed with kohl and lips painted a dark red.

“I am.” He answered.

“And the Irish in Boston.”

Again, Tommy nodded.

“Let’s just say I’ve had my run ins with them both.”

“Enemies of your father.”

“Correct. They like to use family members against you.” She smiled bitterly and shrugged.

Tommy studied her face but she wasn’t letting much on. There was something unsettling about her backstory but who was he to question it? If anything, a possible informant could be useful if she knew more than she was letting on. “Anything damning you might know?”

She laughed and wagged a finger at him. “Are you trying to loosen my lips, Mr. Shelby?”

He didn’t smile but instead nodded. “You don’t want to be here.” He waved a hand around the dressing room. “You know you deserve more respect than what you get here. If you’ve got information I can use, I’ll compensate you well.”

Kate tilted forward as if her interest was piqued and narrowed her eyes. “What sort of compensation?”

“You name the price.”

There was a slight break in her calm demeanor. A tell of vulnerability. The prospect of leaving Paris with a substantial sum of money in her pocket was alluring. She wouldn’t have to spend each and every night trying to attract attention. Try to pretend she was in love with strangers just so they would pay her more. She chewed on her lip for a moment. There was a chance the information she gave would be traced back to her. The information Tommy wanted could possibly uproot her secrets so she needed to be cautious. A misstep could cause her the life she built in France to come tumbling down in an instant. “I know some names.”

“Names aren’t good enough.”

Kate wrung her hands together. To the average onlooker, it might appear that she was nervous about giving information because it could threaten her safety. Instead, she was nervous because she was lying about who she even was. “I know bootleggers. People my father pissed off.”

If Tommy had been careful enough, he would question how the woman knew so much or who her father was. But he was drunk. Drunk on the possibility of information he could use to build his empire. Perhaps get more gin smuggled in. Buy more property. Expand the company worldwide. He pointed his cigarette at her, his lips turning up in a smile. “Now you’re talking.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Tommy helped Kate out of her fur coat upon entering the hotel suite. The luxury of the ornate room wasn’t new to her. She had spent plenty of time in lavish rooms being spoiled by expensive food, fine wines, and Egyptian cotton. The black, white, and gold embellishments of the Art Deco style was familiar to her. She was used to the light of glittering chandeliers and passing by her reflection in the many mirrored surfaces.

Although the expensive decor wasn’t any comfort to Kate. Not when she had to fake affection and love. In fact, the atmosphere of hotels had begun to make her nauseous. She knew what was awaiting her.

But it still wasn’t exactly clear if those were Tommy’s same intentions. He had expressed interest in what she knew but not her services. Still, he was a man. A man who had become accustomed to the finer things in life and that no doubt included expensive courtesans.

Kate had changed out of her stage costume before departing with Tommy. She left under the guise that he was an expensive client who wanted to take her somewhere a little more intimate. To complete the appearance, she left in a seductive jade colored dress. The one made of silk that left little to the imagination and had a scandalous open back.

Tommy noticed this very quickly as she walked over to the sofa. The silk shifted with every movement, clinging to her body and revealing the curve of her hips. He cleared his throat and hung her coat up on the rack by the door. He was careful to maintain his appearance of business by leaving everything on but his coat. This wasn’t a situation to be comfortable with. He still knew very little about this woman.

“Drink?” Tommy asked while moving to the liquor cart by the large windows. He looked down on the lights of Paris still sparkling in the night.

“Do you have wine?” Kate settled on the plush sofa, grateful to be off of her sore ankle. She reached down to take off her heels and inspect the area. Luckily there didn’t appear to be much swelling.

“Merlot.” He answered after inspecting the lone wine bottle among the liquor.

She made a face. “I prefer Chardonnay. Don’t particularly like red. I’ll just have gin.”

Tommy poured her a glass of gin and whiskey for himself. He walked over with the glasses and set them down on the table by the sofa. He took a seat across from her so they could talk.

“Do you have someone back in England, Mr. Shelby?” Kate wondered. It seemed unfathomable that a handsome and wealthy man like himself wasn’t married. But perhaps he’d simply taken off his wedding band while he was in the Moulin Rouge. Some men did that, some didn’t seem to care and left them on. Kate wasn’t sure which was a worse sin.

Tommy’s mind went to the blonde barmaid he left behind in Birmingham. Grace had captured his attention but it had been a long while since he’d allowed himself to succumb to love. He hadn’t opened his heart up since he lost Greta. But he was getting dangerously close to that territory with Grace. “I’m not married.”

“Hm.” Kate didn’t remark on his answer. But it led her to believe there was someone. It was anyone’s guess why he was keeping it a secret.

“Tell me what you know about the Americans.” Tommy redirected the conversation.

She took a drink of the gin and grimaced at the taste. “I don’t understand why Europeans like their gin so bitter.”

He crossed his arms over her chest and stared at her. For a moment, he doubted his decision to bring her back to the hotel. She could’ve been reading his reactions and telling him what he wanted to know. Could this all be a ruse to get something out of him? Blackmail? Maybe she wanted a free ride to England or even back to America. What if she didn’t know anything?

Kate raised an eyebrow at his expression of displeasure. “Are you always so serious, Mr. Shelby?” She asked.

“I asked you a question.”

“And I asked you a different one.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “I’m not here to play games. Either you know something or you’re wasting my time.”

Kate looked slightly amused despite his intense tone. “I grew up in South Boston. They call us Southies. There’s a group there that runs all of the bootlegging operations.”

“The Gustin Gang.” Tommy nodded as this wasn’t news to him. “I’m aware. I’ve done my share of research.” It was necessary to do such investigations if he was really going to expand overseas.

“Then you’ll know that they’re weak. Easy to take over if you’re strong enough.” Kate leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But if you’re so smart, Mr. Shelby, then you won’t need my assistance.”

He balked a little. Yes, he knew about most of the active gangs that controlled the smuggling operations on the east coast as well as Chicago and Detroit. But he didn’t have enough intel to know how they operated or what their weaknesses and strengths were. “I brought you here to give me information.” He replied without explicitly saying that he needed her help. Admitting that would only give her power.

“There are Italians in the North End, lots of them. It doesn’t matter what city you’re in, Boston, New York, Chicago, the Irish hate the Italians and vice versa. Neither of them like to share control. They’re looking for allies, strong allies.”

Tommy considered what she was saying. It was much like London, various gangs all pushing and shoving each other for a larger piece of the pie. Would the Americans find a relationship mutually beneficial? Could he even trust them? Could he trust that Kate wasn’t looking out for her own interests?

“That’s very vague.” He responded.

Her confident demeanor wavered a little. “Well, more in-depth information could get me in trouble. I don’t want to risk that for a man I don’t know very well.”

So they were at a stalemate. Both of them standing with their backs against the wall so neither of them could stab the other when they weren’t paying attention.

“You were in the war,” Kate concluded.

He eyed her for a moment before nodded. “Yes.”

“Where?”

“Here. Northern France.” The break in the conversation gave Tommy a chance to find his cigarettes and light one.

Kate watched him. Each movement deliberate and firm. He was a man who hid his weaknesses well. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have any. All men had a weakness. So did women. “You must hate America for coming so late.”

His blue eyes didn’t meet hers as he lit the cigarette. “There were many people to blame. I’ve got more important things to deal with now.”

Little did he know, the woman in front of him had been through trauma. No, she hadn’t been in an active battlefield but she’d fought her own personal wars. Came across enemies who were ruthless. Suffered enough to warrant building up her defenses.

Tommy decided to throw her an incentive. He wasn’t there to talk about the war. “You want to get out of here. If you can’t go back to America would you want to come to England.”

Although she perked up, Kate was suspicious about his intentions. She hadn’t given him enough information to warrant a reward. He’d been vague about his relationship status. Maybe he wanted to bring her along as some sort of toy. “I don’t want to be a whore.” She replied. “Not here, not in America, and not in England.

“What else are you good at?” Tommy replied callously even though he didn’t intend to come off so harsh.

She scoffed, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You mean what am I good at beside fucking men?” Her voice was incredulous.

“I didn’t-”

“I’m not an object, Mr. Shelby, I have plenty of redeeming qualities. Or do you have your head so far up your own ass that you can’t see that?” She demanded.

He subtly rolled his eyes. The woman was testing his patience. “Are you using me?”

“Are you using me? ” She retorted.

Another stalemate. Neither of them looked away or softened their glare. It was as if the world had never seen such a dramatic clash of personalities. A mysterious woman who held valuable information, although it was questionable how she acquired it. And a man who wanted nothing more than to rule an empire but had severely lost his trust for others.

Kate decided to break the tense silence. “Mr. Shelby, you must understand that I fled America for a reason. I’m not looking to stir up the pot again and have them out for blood. They have no issue sending men to come and find me. If I give you information that can be traced back to me, then I have a problem.”

Tommy prided himself on being a good judge of character. He rarely trusted anyone that was outside of his immediate family. It was easy for him to pick up on tells that someone was lying. And he saw the hint of fear hidden behind Kate’s slate-colored eyes. He cleared his throat and stood up to pour himself another whiskey. “Say I were to trust you. You gave me the information I want and in exchange, you come to Birmingham with me. I can give you work at my company. Legitimate work.” He clarified before she argued with him again. “If your information checks out and is valuable, you’ll be compensated. And if there’s a threat on your life, you’ll be under the Peaky Blinders’ protection.”

Kate fidgeted and was a little uneasy with the proposition. But it was the only lifeline she had to get out of Paris. She had men promising her large sums of money before. Enough cash to leave the Moulin Rouge and find a life of her own. But they were hollow promises that were never kept. They promised to bring her home and provide her with everything. But what was expected from her in return made her sick.

Tommy could be holding out. Maybe he would break his promise once he got what he wanted. Maybe he would bring her to Birmingham and still treat her like a whore. Still, the walls were closing in on Kate. She didn’t have another option. It was a calculated risk, but it was a risk for Tommy as well. Maybe that was why she stood up and reached out to shake his hand. Sealing the deal.

//This is cross-posted on AO3 and Wattpad. Anywhere else is not my account. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts

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