Work-In-Progress Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @queen-kass-the-writer!

Okay, here is my current WIP, which is the 7th chapter of Beauty and the Beast. So here’s a snippet for y’all. I still have sooo much to finish in this chapter, and then this story, but I have been able to work on it a bit here and there, so that’s a step in the right direction at least! Here’s to hoping I can get this chapter done and posted soon!

(Please ignore any mistakes in this, I haven’t even attempted to edit or proof it yet!)

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“Are you endeavouring to break every damn item in my house or?” He growls, and for once you can hear that he is clearly frustrated. So, it looks like he can, in fact, show a few basic emotions after all, though you kinda wish he hadn’t shown any at all. You’d like to go back to aloof and disinterested beast-man right about now, as odd as that is to want. At least if he was aloof, you’d know he wasn’t entirely enraged. Because frustrated is only a step below angry, which is then only a step below pissed the fuck off. And that’s two, too many steps close to pissed the fuck off for your comfort, ornerves.

“I-I apologize, Sir,” you quickly stutter out, as sincerely as you can while the nerves and embarrassment of not only being caught dancing around like a fool, but also having broken one of his belongings directly in front of him, run wild throughout your body. “You,” you trail off not wanting to continue on with ‘startled me’, as you realized those next words would have most likely sounded like you trying to pin the blame on him. And you very much did not want to do that. At least not to his face.

“I,what?” He questions lowly, deadly, clearly trying to prompt you into inserting your own foot in your damn mouth. And ha! Joke’s on you, assface! Because while you may not be the brightest bulb in the box, you do still have a few functioning brain cells left. At least enough to know finishing that sentence at any length will not end well for you.

“Are home,” you fill in awkwardly instead, and far too loudly at that. But rather than just leaving it there, you stupidly continue on, “Welcome home, Sir. I hope your trip was fruitful.” Ugh. Fruitful? You imbecile.

“It was,” he grunts, “until I returned home to witnessed you using a 3 million dollar vase as a fake microphone.” He pauses, probably to allow you a moment to let what he just said sink in. And once it does, you gasp quietly, because—3 million fucking dollars?! Why the hell would anyone leave a 3 million dollar freaking vase just laying around where idiots—you, you’re the idiot—could easily shatter it by accident!? “A vase you then promptly destroyed,” he adds in gruffly, as if you hadn’t already fucking realized this. And freaking thanks for that one, Tips! Uuuugh.

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Tagging: WHOEVER WANTS TO DO THIS, JUST DOOO IT! And say I tagged you, I’ll pretend like I did and no one will be the wiser! ‍♀️

Mobster Lobster

It all started with something as simple as Lambert and Aiden meeting in a club. The music was blaring, thumping out a beat and Aiden was living his best life. It got even better when he spotted an absolute hunk of a man dancing truly awfully but seemingly not caring. Of course Aiden had to approach, was delighted that the man was willing to dance with him. And, somehow, Aiden had never had a better time than when saying ‘fuck it’ to the social rules of the club and dancing like he’d always wanted to. It was thirsty work.

“Drink?” He yelled over the beat and mimicked the motion for clarity. They made their way to the bar and Aiden grinned. “My treat. I’m Aiden.”

“Lambert!”

Well, Lambert was just the thing Aiden had always dreamed of with full lips, a resting bitchface and a lack of care about appearances if his dancing was anything to go by. All in all, it was perfect. Initiating conversation was a bit difficult but Aiden wanted to try.

“I’m a fitness trainer. What do you do?”

“What?”

Pointing at his chest, Aiden yelled, “trainer” before pointing at Lambert.

The confusion morphed into understanding. For a moment Lambert pursed his lips before shrugging and yelling back “lobster”.

Now Aiden knew they were in a noisy setting and his audio processing was a bit funky on a good day. Still, he could have sworn Lambert had said he was a lobster. To be sure he yelled back “lobster?” and made the claw motion with his hands. Lambert nodded. Fine. A bit weird but maybe Lambert was a mascot? Or a non-furry furry. Either way, Aiden could live with that. He took Lambert home that night and had the best sex of his life.

Wanting to show some support to his maybe boyfriend, Aiden suggested a date somewhere he thought Lambert would appreciate. The aquarium. Before he even mentioned it to Lambert, Aiden had called up the place and made sure there were indeed lobsters there. He could be supportive, even if he didn’t understand.

The date was a resounding success if measured by sexual gratification. Sure, they almost got kicked out of the aquarium because Lambert decided to try and blow Aiden in the corner of the eel section. It didn’t happen for two reasons. Firstly, before Lambert even got further than dropping to his knees, more people came by. Secondly, eels were creepy as fuck and Aiden didn’t think he could get off with those creatures staring at him. So caught up in these issues, Aiden didn’t even question how Lambert had a knack for avoiding cameras and figuring out their blind spots. It certainly was a skill he exhibited over and over again.

One thing that did strike Aiden as odd was the time Lambert ordered lobster at the restaurant. To him it would have felt like cannibalism. Because at this point Aiden was certain that Lambert wasn’t a lobster mascot for work. In fact, other than calling himself a lobster, Aiden had no clue what his boyfriend actually did. Delving into the depths of the internet for answers didn’t help either. So Lambert was possibly an unemployed non-furry furry lobster enthusiast. Though he always insisted on paying, especially if it was his suggestion. Sometimes he picked rundown, out of the way drinking holes. Other times Aiden was treated to the finest dining experiences he could have ever imagined.

“So-” Lambert was bouncing on his toes, hands jammed into his pocket as he stood outside Aiden’s door, “-we’ve been seeing each other for six months. My family’s nagging me about meeting you.”

A grin was forming on Aiden’s lips. “Are you asking me to meet your family?”

“Technically they’re the ones asking. I’m just the reluctant messenger. I’m quite happy with you being just mine.”

Meeting the family was quite the experience. Aiden had never felt smaller than when he met Eskel, Geralt and Vesemir. Yennefer had an aura about her that made him feel tiny while Jaskier’s personality was so big he eclipsed everyone. Then there were others, Ciri, Letho, Guxart, Gaetan, Fringilla to name a few. The most normal of the lot seemed to be Cahir who looked about as excited to be there as a fly in a freshly cleaned bathroom. Occasionally he muttered something to Eskel about being owed when he is proven right. Pay rises and holidays and better gear. Whatever that meant.

Aiden’s world exploded. Literally. There was smoke, shouts and what sounded suspiciously like gunfire. It was all so disorienting, especially when the bulk of Letho swept Aiden up and deposited him behind an upturned table, nodding to Cahir who was bodily protecting Ciri. And had a gun in his hand. Aiden blinked. He must have had too much to drink. His ears were ringing. He was seeing things. Maybe he fell and hit his head because he wasn’t seeing the family he just met in a full-blown gunfight with intruders who blew a hole in the side of the mansion they were meeting in. Letting out a hysterical little giggle, Aiden tried to wrap his head around the fact they were in a mansion, that Lambert’s family was rich enough for such a thing.

“Don’t worry, you’ll live,” Letho rumbled as if Aiden was some scared kitten. He wasn’t. He was just losing his marbles.

As suddenly as everything went tits up, silence reigned just as quickly. Someone coughed in the smoke and Aiden craned his neck. The crunch of broken glass was accompanied by footsteps approaching their table.

“You okay?”

It was Lambert peering over the table, looking dishevelled, a cut on his forehead bleeding and skin grimy from the smoke. In the background Eskel seemed to be organising everyone, checking over injuries while Fringilla was on the phone and demanding clean-up. As soon as Geralt was over, Ciri was launching herself at him and Cahir stood from his crouch with a furious scowl.

“I fucking told you,” he growled at Vesemir who stared flatly at him. Before anything more could transpire, Eskel snagged Cahir by the wrist and hauled him to kiss him into silence.

Nobody looked worried about the fact that some unnamed group just blew a hole in the wall and tried to…what…kill them all? Standing, Aiden saw bodies and blood strewn around the floor and he let out a strained giggle.

“I’m better than those guys.” For some reason Lambert looked so proud as he laughed. But Aiden wasn’t done just yet. “So what the fuck just happened?”

Once again Eskel shoved his tongue down Cahir’s throat before the man could spew whatever he looked desperate to spout. It left Lambert to shrug.

“Just the usual. You know.”

“No?”

“Babe,” Lambert stepped closer and cupped Aiden’s cheek with a bloodied hand, “this is my life, I told you. This is part and parcel of my job.”

No he didn’t. Lambert was a lobster. No matter what that meant, he’d said so himself. Lobster.

“No you didn’t? How is this part of being a lobster?”

They stared at each other, Lambert’s mouth moving silently before finally finding his voice. “M. As in mobster.”

In the background there was a growl of “if you open your mouth I am shoving my cock in there to keep you quiet, you know I don’t care about an audience” from Eskel but Aiden ignored it as his world started to spin. Mobster. As in gun toting, law breaking, dangerous mobster. A high pitched laugh escaped him.

“I thought you took it a little too well,” Lambert sighed, hand falling away and taking a step back.

Fear made Aiden’s stomach tighten. He knew Lambert’s identity, his family’s identities. That was a liability and mobster families didn’t take kindly to those. Not to mention that Lambert was still Lambert. Just not a lobster.

“It’s a bit of a shock to the system,” Aiden hurried to say, trying to step over the table and stumbling a little. A strong hand gripped him and he nodded his thanks to Letho before staggering after Lambert. “But that’s just how life goes. At least you’re not a lobster, right?”

There was a small grin on Lambert’s lips and he let Aiden take his hand, linking their fingers. Teasing, he asked, “So what exactly is a lobster?”

“I have no clue.” A laugh was bubbling up in Aiden’s throat. “I figured you were a fur free furry or something.”

A laugh went up at that and Aiden ducked his head, a little flustered. Another set of feet approached them and he stared at the blood (and possibly more but he didn’t want to think about that too much) splattered shoes. The hand squeezing his shoulder had him looking up at Vesemir who had a small smile of his own hiding under his moustache.

“Welcome to the family.”

I started this crazy weird idea about a month ago, but lost alot of motivation. IDK if ill ever finish this, so I figured I would at least share with all you what I did get done.

Anyway, what if the Madrigals were a Prohibition Mobster Family?

This apparently.

(Also I made Mirabel the bartender, because I wanted to show that distance between her and her family, everyone talks to her, and yet practically everyone writes her off).