#au : professional wrestling.

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

How successful would The Fury…

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[antiquitea]

─── 𝐤𝐚𝐲𝐟𝐚𝐛𝐞.

kay·fabe /ˈkeɪ.feɪb/ (noun · ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀʟ) (in professional wrestling) the fact or convention of presenting staged performances as genuine or authentic.

1992

former tag team champions, john egan and gale cleven, have had a long-standing feud since the dissolution of their baby face faction in the name of shaking things up in the world wrestling association. while cleven continues to perform as a face, egan has turned heel, much to the enjoyment of wrestling fans the world over who praise him as being one of the greatest antagonists in the world of wrestling.

out of the ring, john and gale don't break kayfabe, maintaining the suspension of disbelief for the sake of entertainment. but what fans don't know is that this isn't necessarily kayfabe, the animosity between the two is real. on top of being wrestling partners, there was a behind the scenes romance that only a select few were privy to knowledge of, and with the end of their reign as tag team champs came the end of their relationship as well.

wrestling storylines have the potential to go on for years. do john and gale stand a chance of rewriting their own?

─── 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 ───

[pidgydraws]

💥 NMLW - No Man’s Land Wrestling 💥

it’s WrestleMania weekend and it’s my blog! so now you all have to witness my tristamp professional wrestling AU! >:3

[when-the-spagheddie-hits-the-fan]

LOSERS PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING AU

I was inspired by some lovely people on my Dircord Group when they were shooting some ideas about this, and talked to my Spouse, who knows more about wrestling dynamics and stuff, it got real long. So if you're curious here you go!

-Stan was a wrestler for "The Big Company" but left to start his own company, and started scooping other wrestlers. He was looking for wrestlers that he knows could be so much more. His main talking point is basically, ‘Aren't you tired of _____, don't you just want to go ape shit?’

His role is “The Manager”, he deals with management but he still performs in the ring.

(Even if Stan isn't mentioned for each character just know that he's the reason they decide to join him)

—

-Bill is a "Face", the good guy. He can do no wrong, he wins like all the time and he’s a legacy. Because of this glorified favoritism people start to view him more as a "Tweener", in this case that's a face that gets jeered.

But there was a specific point when this started to happen.

—

-Richie is this trash talking “Heel”, a bad guy. He’s broad and naturally strong but his favorite way to take down an opponent is with his mouth (lol). He’ll smack talk anyone to the point where they’re so angry they’re unable to think, and then Richie has a much easier time taking them down. This place is way better than the last place he wrestled. There he was also too much of everything but here he can finally be himself AND the people like him even more for that.

The first time Richie went against Bill is pure chaos. Richie, as always, is shooting off his mouth, and is thriving but Bill? Bill is losing, bad. No one has ever seen him fuck up this much before. This is a side of him no one's ever seen before. You can tell Richie is having a blast, and the audience is loving it. This is the start of Bill becoming a tweener and his story arc can begin (TBC).

Eventually, Richie will have a soft face turn, meaning he's gonna have a gradual shift in character and become a face but he'll still have heel tendencies. You can take the mouth out of the trash but you can't take the trash out of the mouth.

—

-Eddie, who was seen as small and not as capable, was a “Jobber”, a wrestler whose main job is to lose. Stan could tell there was so much more potential in Eddie, potential that shouldn't be contained. You know when you’re working retail and no matter how terrible a client is, you never talk back? Now imagine this person, for the first time in their life, is let loose and allows themself to go off. That’s Eddie. He’s been stifled his whole life, now that he’s free he’s never going back in that box again.

Eddie is way stronger than he looks and faster. And because of his size it's hard to keep a grip on him, he's just this feral little thing.

Of course Richie was shooting off his mouth when Eddie went up against him, definitely making cracks about how short he is. Before Richie is able to finish one of these quips Eddie runs full speed at Richie, spider monkey crawls over him, and with ease sends him flying over his shoulder (if you blinked I’m sorry but you missed it). Richie lands hard on his back and is stunned, he had no idea Eddie was that strong. Eddie steps on his chest and with a smirk asks, “Is that all you got, big guy?” and Eddie clearly said this loud enough so only Richie could hear him. (Richie will definitely be saving this moment for later////) Btw, Richie lost that match.

—

-Bev used to be in an all women’s league. She usually had a great time and it was a great way to get her stress and anger out but she had to deal with a lot of bullshit backstage. The league kept trying to push her into roles she didn't want, and because of the roles people started perceiving her in a cruel unflattering light. Stan saw someone that was bursting with creativity and has a fire that needs to burn.

With Bev finally having the freedom to express herself; she models her new outfit after the phoenix. It's stunning and sparkly. She also helps enhance everyone else's looks for their outfits, and makes sure they're functional for that person's movements and fighting style.

—

-Ben is not a wrestler even though people have been telling him he should since he was young because of his size. But he's never been able to fully commit, he's too much of a big teddy bear for that. I was thinking he could be a referee. He's very fair, and because of his build he's able to  de-escalate a situation and get the match back on track.

He's still a part of the performance. A well known weakness of his is Bev. And no, not like a ‘he favors her in the matches so he makes sure she always wins’ kind of way. Bev does not need his help and he knows that, and he respects her (and the rules) too much for that bullshit. I think a fun thing would be that tag matches happen and Bev's teammate is in the ring, Bev can easily distract him and get all his attention on her just by talking to him. It's a nice way for Bev's team to get some illegal hits in, and it really riles up the crowd. 

—

-Mike is an unknown, and a late addition. His role is rare, it's “Educational”. Most of the time, these are wrestlers that were formerly a real-life student, or scholar or worked similar jobs, like a librarian in this case. Mike is extremely well versed in professional wrestling (and its history), and though Mike looks like he could do well in ring, he's got a more natural strong build thanks to past farmer's work, no one will give him a chance because they think his gimmick is boring and lame. Stan thinks that's bull. Mike's the full package, he's got the brains and brawn.

For instance, when Mike does his speech before his match with Bill, he performs it like it's a lecture and explains why Bill has no chance of winning, and it's so inspiring and entertaining and well executed that it ignites a new passion in the audience that they didn't realize that they had for the sport.

Also, he loves his dorky phrases, like “I'm gonna throw the book at you!”, “Mind if I check you out?!”, “A book in the hand is worth two on the shelf!”, and “Support your local libraries!” (Richie is a big fan of this)

—

-Patty eventually comes on as a Co-Manager. Her and Stan work really well together, and she's taller than him (a fact that needed to be known). She's also a Jack-of-all-trades, she can do just about anything you need on the ring. She's the person you call when you need to spice things up. She also matches well with everyone, whether their her foe or ally.

Fun fact: She is so kind and gentle, a real pleasure to be around, and she can out drink anyone and then some. And that isn't something you're naturally born with. Patty has a past, and she may or may not tell wildly different stories when asked about it (all done for a good laugh of course).

—

Some more about Bill (because it would have been too spoiler up there)

Because Bill is a legacy he's been training his whole life to continue this family tradition, and that's a lot of pressure. And his dad sucks. And his old management sucks. And this role he feels forced to play sucks. He is so bored and is fucking tired of playing the perfect golden child. And Stan can clearly see this, and can tell that Bill is more than a one trick pony.

So Bill loses to Richie, and that's when the people start to turn on him. Bill is okay with this, more than okay actually. It's been so long since people were genuinely reacting towards him. So he loses to Eddie, Bev, Mike, and Ben keeps calling him out for illegal moves. It gets to the point where Stan and Patty have to make him an example in the ring for everyone to see.

Bill has fallen from his pedestal. Everything he worked so hard to build is broken. Now he can make something better.

(I haven't brought up wrestler names, besides like Richie being Trashmouth, I only came up with Bill's because of his story. Just wanted to say that before this next part.)

The next time Bill is in the ring he's no longer Billy the Kid, now he goes by The Lone Ranger! He fully embraces being a tweener, he's an anti-hero.  And everyone agrees, it fits him real good.

[quentincrane]

⊹˳⁺ quentin crane   edits ,       cm punk › 001. mutuals   may   interact ,   ship   partners   may   reblog.   personals ,   please   refrain   from   any   interaction.          ©VHSLASHERS.

[olliewesker]

So since I feel like it, here's what COTL characters' entrance themes would be if they were professional wrestlers

Lambert

Living In The Light - Ridiculon

Narinder

Teardrops - Bring Me The Horizon

Shamura

Living Dead Girl - Rob Zombie

Kallamar

Coming Undone - Korn

Heket

Bad Things - Jace Everett

Leshy

Copperhead Road - Steve Earle

Ratau and/or The Knucklebones Crew

The Good Life - WWE Music

Sozo

KK Hypno - Nintendo

[would-they-be-good-at-asmr]

ASMR Saturdays (12)

For this Saturday (11/09/2024), I am highlighting “ASMR Toxic Wrestling Manager Convinces You To Go Heel | Be A Villain | Soft Speaking & Whispering” by Knightmare!

Performer is Keira Knightmare. If you’d like to support the performer, click here for their Patreon.

[rafecameronssl4t]

One Big Misunderstanding || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Tensions rise when an innocent comment about a missing bracelet sows doubt between you and Rafe, sparking suspicions of infidelity.

Warnings: ANGST GALORE

Word count: 2,711

A/n: inspired by the perfect couple on Netflix 😛

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

The sunlight streamed through the grand floor-to-ceiling windows of the drawing room, casting a warm glow on the pristine marble floors. You sat perched on one of the luxurious cream sofas, a curated array of diamond necklaces sprawled elegantly across the glass coffee table before you.

Across from you, Eloise, your private jewellery consultant, adjusted her notepad, a professional yet friendly smile playing on her lips. “Madeline, sweetie, no touching, please,” you gently reminded, catching your daughter’s small hands as they reached out eagerly for the sparkling treasures.

Her curious blue eyes, so much like Rafe’s, widened in innocent protest before she giggled, retreating to your lap with a playful pout. Eloise chuckled softly, waving at Madeline. “Someone has quite the eye for jewels already,” she teased, her gaze fond as Madeline shyly buried her face into the folds of your dress.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing Madeline’s hair back as your fingers glided over the dazzling collection. “I don’t think it’ll be too long before she’ll be in my position,” You softly say. The newest designs shimmered under the light, each more stunning than the last. “They’re all exquisite,” you sighed, lifting a delicate piece encrusted with diamonds.

“But I think I’ll take this one, and…” Your eyes roamed over the display again, settling on another necklace with an intricate design. “This.” “Excellent choices, Mrs. Cameron,” Eloise praised, jotting down notes in her leather-bound book. Her tone brimmed with approval, and her smile didn’t waver as she looked up.

Madeline squirmed in your lap, reaching up to tug at the simple necklace you were already wearing. You adjusted her gently, holding her small hands to keep them still. Eloise glanced up from her notes. “Did you like the bracelet Mr. Cameron gave you?” Her tone was casual, but her words made you pause. “Bracelet?” you echoed, your brow furrowing.

Your voice held a slight edge of confusion as you looked at her. “The gold bangle with the pavé diamonds,” she elaborated, glancing up with a look of delight. “Rafe spent so much time picking it out for you.” Her enthusiasm was almost contagious as she beamed. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, your mind racing.

You had no idea what she was talking about. A heavy silence lingered for a moment, and you felt the weight of Eloise’s expectant gaze. “Oh! The bracelet!” you quickly feigned recognition, a forced smile stretching across your face. “Yes, of course. It’s lovely—he knows me so well.” Your voice sounded light, but your heart sank as the lie left your lips.

Eloise didn’t seem to notice. She rose gracefully, tucking her notebook under her arm. “Well, I’ll be on my way. I’ll see you next month, Mrs. Cameron,” she said cheerfully, giving you a polite nod before heading toward the door. You stayed seated, your posture still and tense as Madeline babbled happily on your lap.

The silence of the room closed in around you once Eloise left, leaving you to wrestle with your thoughts. Rafe had bought you a bracelet? Why hadn’t he given it to you himself? Had he left it somewhere, expecting you to find it? Or had it been an afterthought, something he had no time—or desire—to present personally?

The questions swirled in your mind as you absentmindedly stroked Madeline’s hair, your gaze fixed on the glittering necklaces on the table. As much as you tried to push it aside, the confusion, and a small pang of hurt, lingered.

~

Later that night, you sat before your vanity, the familiar routine of your skincare ritual grounding you in a semblance of normalcy. The soft hum of the bathroom light and the gentle swish of creams and serums felt like a small act of defiance against the questions that kept circling in your mind. The bracelet. Rafe’s strange omission of it.

The way Eloise had mentioned it so casually, as though it was something you should’ve known. You brushed the thoughts aside, telling yourself you were overreacting, but they lingered, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. The bedroom door creaked open behind you, and without turning, you saw Rafe in the reflection of your mirror.

Still in his suit, looking as polished and untouchable as ever. You didn’t acknowledge him, continuing with your skincare, your movements slow and deliberate. “Busy day?” you asked, your voice flat, more out of routine than affection. His response was distant, lost on you as you remained absorbed in your own thoughts, the quiet hum of your routine enveloping you.

The bracelet. “How was the jewelry showing?” he asked, his voice still detached, but something in his tone caught your attention. You glanced up at him briefly through the mirror. His eyes were on you, studying you with a faint trace of curiosity. “It was good,” you mumbled, your focus wavering again.

Rafe’s brow furrowed as he watched you, sensing the lack of the usual excitement you carried after these showings. His fingers paused at the buttons of his shirt as he tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. “Did you… pick anything you liked?” he asked, his tone slower now, as if he was gauging your mood, sensing something was off.

“Yeah, I did,” you replied, your voice empty, devoid of any real emotion. Before he could continue, you stood up abruptly, tightening the robe around your body more than necessary. The familiar movement felt like a barrier, an armour you could slip into. “I’ll just make myself some tea,” you said, the words sounding rehearsed, like you were already running from the questions.

You didn’t spare him another glance as you walked past him, leaving the room without another word. You descended the stairs mechanically, but instead of following the usual route to the kitchen, your feet took you in the opposite direction, towards Rafe’s office. Your heart pounded as you approached the oak door, glancing over your shoulder to ensure no one was watching.

Slowly, you pushed the door open, the room still and quiet in its untouched state. The room was a sharp contrast to the chaos in your mind. Your eyes darted to his desk, and instinctively, you moved toward it. You knew Rafe kept everything meticulously in order, and his drawers were always locked. But tonight, your curiosity outweighed your caution.

You pulled open the first drawer, then the second. It was the third one that caught your attention. As your fingers sifted through papers, your eyes landed on a familiar logo—the jewelry shop. Your pulse quickened as you pulled it free, finding a receipt tucked between papers. The words on the page seemed to mock you as you read, Rafe Cameron, the date, and the item listed: Nature Bangle, Pavé, priced at $18,000.

A photo of the bracelet accompanied the receipt. The image burned itself into your mind—elegant, delicate, and undeniably expensive. Your breath caught in your throat, and your mind spun. You quickly shoved the receipt back into the drawer, snapping it closed. The weight of what you’d seen was suffocating, the overwhelming question taking shape in your mind.

Was Rafe cheating on you? The thought gnawed at you, its edge cutting deep. You had been with him long enough to believe that something like this wouldn’t happen. But the pieces didn’t fit. Rafe had always been… Rafe. He wasn’t the type to hide things, or at least, you never thought he was.

The doubts began to creep in, unsettling your thoughts, but before they could settle into a clear conclusion, you stood up from the desk and made your way out of the office.

~

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the living room. You sat on the plush sofa, coffee in hand, its warmth grounding you as you watched Leo and Madeline play on the rug before you. Their laughter filled the room, a soothing balm to the unease still simmering from the night before.

The sound of Rafe’s footsteps descending the staircase pulled your focus, and soon enough, he rounded the corner into the living room, his presence unmistakable in the tailored suit that hugged his frame. Despite the domestic setting, he still exuded the same composed, businesslike energy he carried everywhere.

“Jordan told me your schedule was clear for today,” you remarked, your voice calm but inquisitive as you tracked his movements. “Hm?” Rafe hummed in response, crouching slightly to press a kiss to the top of both Leo’s and Madeline’s heads. The gesture was effortless, automatic, and yet it made your chest tighten—a cruel contradiction to the doubts swirling in your mind.

“I said, Jordan told me your schedule is clear today,” you repeated, watching him carefully as he straightened, his gaze finally meeting yours. A small, almost nonchalant smile tugged at his lips. “Last-minute meeting, that’s all,” he replied smoothly, brushing off the question as if it were of little consequence. His tone was casual, but it didn’t sit right with you.

You cocked an eyebrow, your expression neutral but sharp enough to suggest you weren’t entirely convinced. “I’ll be back before three,” he added quickly, as though the reassurance might settle you. Without waiting for a response, he stepped closer, leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek. The gesture was familiar, practiced, and yet it felt hollow.

You remained still, your eyes fixed straight ahead, your coffee cooling in your hand as his cologne lingered in the air. “Drive safe,” you murmured, your voice even but distant. You didn’t look at him as he pulled away and adjusted his cufflinks. The sound of his footsteps retreated, leaving a subtle void in the room once he was gone.

~

The door to your bedroom creaked open, and Rafe stepped in, his movements deliberate but calm. Your eyes lifted from your phone, following him briefly before drifting back to the glowing screen in your hand. “They’re asleep,” he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with exhaustion. You hummed in acknowledgment, barely lifting your gaze as he moved toward his side of the bed, shrugging off his jacket and placing it neatly on the chair by the window.

Rafe climbed into bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He leaned back against the headboard, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt and letting out a quiet sigh. The silence between you felt heavy, the kind of quiet that wasn’t comfortable but wasn’t quite confrontational either. You placed your phone down on the nightstand, your fingers brushing its edge before folding neatly in your lap.

The glow of the bedside lamp softened the room, but it did little to ease the tension you felt knotting in your chest. “Are you cheating on me?” The words left your lips before you could stop them, your voice sharp yet trembling, slicing through the quiet. “What?” Rafe’s hand froze, his body stiffening as he turned to look at you, his tone laced with shock and disbelief. His brows furrowed deeply, searching your face for an explanation.

“Are you cheating on me?” you repeated, softer this time, the vulnerability in your voice stark against the tension building in the room. His lips parted, words stuttering for a moment before he finally asked, “What are you talking about?” You sat up straighter, folding your arms as you exhaled shakily. “The bracelet, Rafe.” The words were laced with hurt as your eyes locked onto his, watching the colour drain from his face.

His expression shifted—confusion, then understanding, and finally a look that you couldn’t quite place. Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes began to water, the emotional floodgates breaking against your will. “Eloise mentioned it. She said you spent so much time picking it out, but I never got it, Rafe,” your voice cracked slightly. “So, where is it? Who is it for?”

Rafe ran a hand down his face, the exhaustion in his eyes now replaced with something akin to guilt—but not the kind you feared. He pushed himself up against the headboard, facing you fully. “It’s not what you think,” he said firmly, his voice low, almost pleading, but it did little to ease the storm brewing inside you. “Then explain,” you demanded, your voice trembling with a potent mix of anger and sorrow.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, hot and relentless, and you swiped at them quickly, unwilling to appear completely undone. But your composure was already fractured, and Rafe could see it in your glistening eyes and the slight quiver of your lip. His silence was unbearable. The hesitation hanging between you wasn’t just a pause—it was an admission, a crack that threatened to shatter everything you’d built together.

It cut deeper than words ever could, leaving a hollow ache in your chest. “Explain,” you repeated, your voice firmer now, laced with urgency. “For the sake of our children, for our marriage, Rafe. Tell me what I’m supposed to believe right now.” He ran a hand over his face, his usual confidence, his composed exterior, seemed to falter under your gaze. For once, Rafe Cameron looked unsteady.

“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” he muttered, his voice low. You blinked, your breath catching. “What wasn’t meant to be like this? Stop talking in circles and just tell me.” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you felt your chest tighten with the weight of your fears. Rafe exhaled sharply, finally looking up at you. His eyes locked onto yours, their usual sharpness softened by something unfamiliar—regret, perhaps.

“The bracelet,” he began, his words slow and deliberate, “was supposed to be a surprise. For you.” Your brows furrowed as you tried to process his words, your heart racing. “What?” He leaned back on the headboard, his hands clasped together. "It’s… for our anniversary. I wanted to give it to you then. I even had it engraved.” His voice wavered, and he shook his head.

“I thought I was doing something thoughtful, but I should’ve just given it to you right away. I didn’t think it would—” He stopped, the weight of your reaction sinking in. You stared at him, your mind reeling. His explanation had knocked the wind out of you, leaving you unsure whether to feel relief or frustration. “You… were planning to give it to me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.” He looked at you earnestly, his expression softening. “I didn’t realise it would make you question everything. That’s on me. I’m sorry.” Your tears slowed, but the tension in your chest lingered. “Why didn’t you just tell me that when I asked? Why make me feel like I was losing my mind?” Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because I thought you’d laugh at me, or brush it off as something meaningless.

You don’t exactly make it easy to do… sentimental gestures.” His voice wasn’t accusatory, but it held a hint of frustration. You exhaled slowly, processing his words. The weight of your accusation settled heavily on your shoulders, mixing shame with residual doubt. “You should’ve told me,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm. “And you should’ve trusted me,” he countered gently, his tone not harsh but pointed.

“We can’t keep doing this—assuming the worst about each other.” You looked away, your throat tight as his words sank in. Perhaps he was right, but the wounds of mistrust weren’t so easily healed. “I just… I don’t want to be a fool,” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly. “Not for you, not for anyone.” Rafe turned his head, his hand reaching over before settling on your knee. “You’re not a fool,” he said quietly, his voice steady.

“You’re my wife. And I know I don’t always get it right, but I need you to believe that I’m trying.” You met his gaze, searching for any flicker of insincerity but finding none. His blue eyes held yours, unwavering, and for the first time that night, you felt the tension in your chest begin to ease. “I’ll believe it,” you whispered, the words tentative but genuine.

"But you have to meet me halfway, Rafe. No more secrets. No more hesitation.” He nodded, his grip on your knees tightening briefly in silent agreement. “Deal.”

[thestrangepoet]

The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 4/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU 

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

──── •✧• ────

Martin – no, Champion, for that was who he was now – crept through the institute, his ears flat against his head. 

How long had he been technically missing for now? At least a week, if not more. And no one had notified the police. Not Jon, not Tim, not Sasha. Not his own mother, despite the fact Martin would call her almost daily to check in on her. Not his neighbours nor his…well. He didn’t have any friends outside the institute. 

He didn’t have any friends inside the institute either, it seemed. 

Champion padded past the grand oak reception desk in the front lobby. Almost immediately, his paws left the ground, which drew a purr of surprise from him, his little blue eyes growing wide.

“Oh, Champion! You came to visit me, did you?” 

Rosie, Elias’ assistant, gathered Champion into her arms, her thin, angular face all smiles and framed with bouncing red curls. Everyone’s face was all smiles when Champion arrived. Champion, who did nothing at all to actually help the institute. He couldn’t read properly like this. He couldn’t research, staying up all hours of the night to finish reports. He couldn’t go investigate leads across the country, nor pitch theories for statements. He couldn’t even make a cup of tea like this. 

Martin could do all those things. And not once had he been given a genuine smile in return, not a single sparkle in someone’s eye to say they were actually happy to see him. But as Champion? 

All he had to do was walk on by. 

The first few days, that attention had overjoyed Martin. All he’d ever wanted. But now, it stung, jabbing him in the chest and reminding him that all this fuss wasn’t for him. Not really. 

That people liked him better as a useless cat than a man who tried too hard and apologised for existing. 

“Oh dear, little guy, why the sad ears?” Rosie continued, sitting down and depositing Champion onto the immaculate desk in front of her. “Was Jonathan a meanie to you? Do you want Rosie to accidentally misplace his expenses form this month?” She scratched behind Champion’s ear with a perfectly manicured nail, but he couldn’t even muster a false purr in response. 

Everyone liked him better as a cat. Hell, maybe he was better at being a cat? 

Maybe he should just…stay a cat. Let Martin Blackwood become just another missing person, lost behind a veil of barely asked questions. 

Something stirred under his skin at that thought, like a cold fog rippling through his blood, sending all his fur on end. Champion jolted in shock; all too easily, he had forgotten what he wrestled with here. Sure, being turned into a cat sounded silly enough, but the architect of all this had been a Leitner book. 

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts, caring not for the jovial packaging they came in. 

Champion, now dealing with an alarming amount of adrenaline, leapt from Rosie’s desk and scampered away. He dashed through the corridors, paw pads skidding on the hardwood flooring, his tiny heart hammering away. 

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts…

He practically slid across the Research Department, not stopping even when one of the researchers reached for a bag of cat treats. 

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts! What if it could see him or hear him or—

He bounded through the austere, silent library, not sure what he was running from or if anything was even truly chasing him. But instinct tore through his limbs, too aware now of the sense of some unspeakable shadow prowling after him and delighting in his isolation. 

When the panic finally subsided, Champion had to take a moment to look around the room he’d bolted into. The room loomed around him, gloomy save for one desk light working hard to chase it all away. 

His desk light. 

Champion padded through the archival assistants’ office, wandering past Tim’s empty desk and Sasha’s neglected chair. Was Tim at the station, weaving a story as to why they hadn’t reported their colleague missing sooner? Was Sasha in Elias’ office, distracting him from the whole affair? 

He hopped up onto his old chair at his own desk. He hadn’t been here since the day he’d read that damned book in the first place. Jon’s office took the place of his regular workspace, either curled up on Jon’s lap or snoozing under the radiator. 

Being a cat, admittedly, had been a lot more comfortable than being Martin Blackwood. The temptation to remain like this had, he realised, not been entirely out of spite and anger of the others not being too fussed about Martin’s disappearance. 

It had come from Martin’s own disregard for Martin’s disappearance. Like this, he couldn’t annoy people. He didn’t have to worry about messing up conversations or making a fool of himself. He could stay away from people in that way, yet reap all the benefits of getting affection and having his company be greeted with a smile. 

But…he also couldn’t offer Jon a cup of tea and get to see that momentary lessening of his scowl, the only time his frown eased up in the office. The silly little bloom of pride Martin got at being able to coax that out of him with a nice cup of tea – a silent victory, proof he’d done something right.

He couldn’t sneak out five minutes early for lunch with Tim on a Thursday, because they both loved Thursday special at the German kebab shop three blocks away and wanted to avoid the lunch rush queues.

He couldn’t buy a lemon and poppyseed muffin on a Monday to drop off at Rosie’s desk before she got in, earning him first dibs when she baked her amazing Malteser brownies during charity bake sales at work. She pretended she didn’t know Martin brought her breakfast every Monday, when he knew she ran late for work because she had to drop her father off at the physio, but somehow, a hearty slice of brownie would be wrapped in a napkin in the fridge with his name on it all the same. 

He couldn’t go to the little tea room five minutes from his house every Saturday and Wednesday, order the same cup of Earl Grey and the same ham-and-cheese toastie, and beam as the owner called him his favourite and most reliable customer.  

Maybe…Maybe Martin Blackwood did get noticed after all. Little nods, little appreciations. Maybe…that was enough? 

The cold retreated from his fluffy legs, though it didn’t fully subside. It loosened its grip on his tiny heart, but it didn’t uncoil. 

He had to completely undo this, Champion – no, Martin decided. He had to find the answer. And the best place to start had to be the book itself. 

Martin jumped down from his chair, flattening himself on the floor to scoot under the bookcase where he had bashed the book out of sight weeks before. 

A few cobwebs…a pen he’d lost months ago…some paper clips…a scrunched up ball of paper that stole all of Martin’s attention for five minutes or more as he bapped it between his paws in delight…but no book. 

Wriggling his way back out from under the furniture, he looked left and right. Where was it? 

Martin headed out of the archival assistants’ office and made his way towards Jon’s. Had Jon returned to the office to retrieve the book? Martin hadn’t noticed him doing so, nor had the book shown up on Jon’s desk lately. Given that desk doubled as one of Martin’s many napping spots, he was sure he would have spotted it if it had. 

Unless…he’d picked it up recently. Tim had just told Jon that there was no sign of Martin at all at his flat. Tim had done something incredibly important in that conversation, Martin realised in horror. 

He’d given Jon a mystery to unravel. He’d sparked his curiosity and given him a challenge – could he find Martin before a professional? 

Oh no. 

Martin scampered into Jon’s office at full speed, miaowing in a vain attempt to yell Jon’s name. But the room was empty. 

Panting, his head whipped this way and that. Where was he? It was 4:12pm – not a time that Jon would take a smoke break he thought no one knew about, nor a time he’d go for a tea or try to heavily hint for Martin to make one. He was always at his desk. Where was—

“Mrrrrowww…”

Martin blinked, his ears twitching. That…hadn’t come from him. “Miaow?”

A horrified pause stretched out across the office. And then, that same, low rumble of a miaow, sorrowful and irritated. 

“Mrrrrrooooowwww…”

Plucking up his courage, Martin followed the sound, his fur already sticking up on end. He tip-toed around the leg of Jon’s desk, already suspecting what had happened, yet praying it hadn’t.

There, beside Jon’s chair, was The Ninth Life, open on the last few pages. And on top of the book was the saddest, skinniest, scabbiest-looking black cat that Martin had ever seen in his life. Flecks of grey mottled his fur, which was missing in great clumps all over. Most of his right ear was missing, leaving a ragged edge in its wake. His eyes were far too big for his head, a brilliant green that somehow didn’t complement his black fur. Worst of all, the cat was sitting with its hind legs in front of it, as though determined to sit like a person. 

The black cat looked at Martin. 

Martin looked at the black cat. 

It scowled at him. Somehow, despite everything, the cat managed to scowl at him. 

The cat knew who he was, Martin realised. He knew he was Martin. 

…Jon? Is that you? Martin wondered, pacing slowly over to the scabby cat. He just wanted to get close enough to sniff him, to confirm that this was Jon and—

Bap! 

A paw plonked down squarely on Martin’s head, followed by a warning hiss. 

Bap! Bap bap bap! 

Yes, Martin realised, as he lay down on his front and tried to cover the top of his head with his own paws to shield himself. 

The scruffy cat before him was definitely Jonathan Sims.

──── •✧• ────

[mizusnose]

Could you possibly write some headcanons for what you think a relationship with Mizu would be like in Modern!AU? (xreader)

so this is actually gonna be a part of a separate drabble that includes doctor!mizu, but i’ll use that as a template for this headcannon response bc the brainrot is too strong..

SFW

ofc mizu would be the typical nice to you and only you lover. this usually manifests in the way she talks to you, looks at you, and of course touches you.

she’s shy. most people take her glares and silence at face value and can’t understand how your relationship works.

even in med school where you both met, mizu is cutthroat and so smart. she’s intimidating and beautiful, and the first time you talked to her it was in a surgery. Her hands bloody and eyes focused.

she gives you her own pens when you lose your own on morning rounds. lets you wear her shirts and sweaters and sweats after showers and sex.

mizu works out in the mornings you do yoga. you do core workouts together and mizu always gets competitive when planks are involved. “the one who stays up longer has to cook dinner tonight” sort of vibe.

speaking of cooking, mizu cant. for shit. she relies heavily on takeout, or snacks, or protein bars. buys packs and packs of cliff bars and protein shakes and downs those on her short lunch breaks.

makes sure you eat though. sneaks vitamins into your coat pockets, the gummies because she knows you can’t swallow pills.

the relationship is professional in the hospital, but when you’re assigned on the same case, she makes sure to let you explain, talk to the patient, and take charge in the surgery room. mizu takes on charting, prescriptions, the quote unquote boring stuff she’d usually dump on an intern.

you’re both goal-oriented and driven. so whenever a new paper comes out, she sends you the pubmed link instantly and you both discuss it over dinner. mizu explains how she can use the research for her own paper.

on date nights, mizu dresses up and you’re mesmerized yet again by how beautiful she is. her golden chains she usually wears beneath her scrubs glow lightly in the nice sushi place she takes you.

she’s always reaching for you. across the table at dinner, on the couch relaxing, in the streets walking home. her palm is always wide and warm.

mizu is messy. you’ve actually had multiple fights over it. she doesn’t clean her toothpaste from the sink, shoves off her clothes into a pile in their room, leaves her side of the bed undone.

however, she’s extremely OCD at work. her desk, desktop, and calendar are neat and pretty. she teases you and your unorganized google calendar.

likes to show off her strength and wrestles you often. pins you down on the couch and kisses you soft and tender despite her constant weight above you.

loves loves LOVES to cuddle. i’m talking “babe come here i’m cold~~” sorta thing. gets extremely and genuinely upset in the summer times when you push her off you in favor of being cool.

is obsessed with you. has you as her wallpaper, her desktop photo, your name on her cell and pager is gorgeous.

answers your calls with a “hey you” and ends with an “i love you, see you tonight.”

is very skilled with her fingers (wink wink). in surgery, she’s the quickest and gets upset at the interns when they take too long.

kisses your forehead in the mornings. tells you a story at night when you can’t fall asleep. kisses you sweet and soft before you separate in the mornings.

i love doctor!mizu 😔

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

How successful would Arthur Pendragon…

Would you like to submit a character? Click this link if you do!

[candycandy00]

Hii! For your 2k followers event can you do

Character: Toji

AU Setting: Prison (As prisoner)

Spice Level: NSFW

Mood: Writers choice :)

Kinks: Whatever you see fit!!

Catch You on the Outside - A Toji x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. AU. Fem Reader. Toji as a Prisoner. Rough sex. Rough oral.

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! These two requests were very similar so I combined them. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Dividers by @benkeibear!

You’re walking down the hall of the prison, just finishing your daily sessions with the prisoners in your therapy program, when you see him. 

Fushiguro Toji. You heard he was being transferred here, but you didn’t realize it would be today. He’s quite notorious, with a long list of convictions. Multiple counts of murder, extortion, armed robbery, assault, and dozens of lesser offenses. If it’s bad, he’s probably done it at some point. 

He’s so much bigger in person than he looked on the news. How tall is this guy? And he so muscular that he looks like he could wrestle a grizzly bear and win. He’s also much better looking in person. His face, though scarred and a bit rugged, is very handsome and his eyes are a sharp emerald green. 

As a team of six guards lead him by you, his eyes shift over to you. They travel shamelessly up and down your body, and it feels like his gaze is peeling your clothes off right there in the hall. It makes your face flush with heat. You’re no stranger to being ogled by the prisoners here, but there’s something absolutely obscene about the way Toji does it, the look in his eyes that says, “I’ll be fucking you by the weekend”, the way he subtly licks his lips, the way he smirks as if he could break loose and snap every guard’s neck before anyone could draw a gun.

It all sends a shiver down your spine. And as much as you hate to admit it, you feel a growing wetness in your panties. 

The next day you’re surprised to find out Toji signed up for the therapy program. He didn’t seem like the type to give therapy a shot, and you wonder if he only signed up so that he could be alone in a room with you. It wouldn’t be the first time a prisoner has tried that. You can always tell right away when they have no interest in actually talking about their feelings. They spend the session staring at your tits and sometimes even making disgusting comments or outright asking you for sex. You report their behavior and boot them from the program without a second thought. 

So what will it be with Toji? As you walk into the room to have your first session with him, you find yourself almost hoping he’ll proposition you. Of course you wouldn’t act on it. You’re a professional after all. But it might give you some masturbation material for tonight. Lord knows your brief run in with him yesterday gave you plenty for last night. 

He’s sitting in a metal chair, his wrists handcuffed behind his back. There’s a table in front of him, and another chair for you to sit across from him. Three guards are standing in the room. 

“You three can step out,” you tell them. Guards never stay in the room during sessions. Instead they wait outside the door. There’s also a camera in the corner of the room. It doesn’t record sound, only visuals, to protect the privacy of the prisoners. 

“We were told to stay in here,” one of them says. “Fushiguro has been known to attack doctors and therapists in the past.”

You glance over at him, and he gives you a smile. 

“He’s handcuffed, what’s he going to do?” you ask. 

One of the guards glances apprehensively at Toji. “I don’t think you realize how dangerous he is, ma’am.”

You bristle at that remark. “Are you seriously implying I don’t understand how dangerous my job is? I’ve worked with violent criminals daily for five years. I’ve had knives held to my throat. I’ve been punched in the face. Three different men have tried to rape me. So don’t tell me how dangerous this is!”

The guard seems to shrivel a bit at your outburst. “I’m sorry, but we can’t just leave you alone in here with him.”

“Listen,” you say, stepping closer to him, “doing my job properly depends on establishing trust with the prisoner. I can’t do that with you three hovering around in here. So wait outside the door. I’ll scream if he tries anything.”

The three guards look at each other, then one of them sighs and says, “We’ll give you twenty minutes.”

With that, they file out of the room and shut the door. You stare after them for a moment, feeling irritated but also proud of yourself for standing your ground. Then you walk over and take the seat across from Toji. 

“I’m sorry about that. I’ll have a word with the warden before tomorrow’s session,” you tell him, pulling your notepad and pen, as well as a recording device, from your bag. “Do you have any objections to me recording our conversations?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t care.”

You study his face. He still has that oddly confident look, as if he’s only staying here in prison for the fun of it. 

“Fushiguro-san, I want to make something clear right off the bat. If I think you’re not serious about this program, I’ll remove you immediately. But if you want to give therapy a fair shot, I’ll be happy to help you to the best of my ability.”

“Call me Toji,” he says, a smirk on his scarred lips. “And I’m completely serious about this. Why else would I sign up?”

You’ve already pushed record on the device and sat it between the two of you on the table. “Some prisoners sign up just to get close to me,” you say, opening your notebook to a clean page. 

“Really? Well don’t worry,” he says, that damn smirk still on his face, “I’m not that desperate. I’ve fucked enough women to last a lifetime.”

The comment gives you pause. Professionally, you should be relieved. But personally? You find it a little insulting. You click your fountain pen. “That’s good to know,” you say smoothly. 

“Don’t tell me you’re disappointed,” he says. 

“Of course not. It’s best for you if you see me as a professional here to help you.”

He laughs. “Best for you too.”

You look up from your notepad. “What do you mean by that?”

He tilts his head slightly, looking at you the way a lion looks at a wounded zebra. “If I saw you as a woman I wanna fuck, I’d have you bent over this table already.”

You know exactly what he’s doing, and he’s not the first. You sit your pen on the table and look at him with a cool expression. “And if I saw you as a man I want to fuck, Toji, I’d be under this table deep throating your cock right now. Thankfully, we’ve established that’s not the case, so let’s begin the session, shall we?”

His eyes widen slightly, then a broad grin spreads over his face. “Well, aren’t you a little firecracker!”

“No, I’m a woman who has dealt with men like you for years. So if you want to shock or frighten me, you’ll have to do better than that.”

There’s a gleam of excitement in his eyes as he stares at you. “How about I take these cuffs off and ram your pretty little head into the wall until it’s just a bloody pile of hamburger?”

You scoff as you jot down notes. In red ink you’ve written “violent tendencies” and “empty threats”. You barely glance up at him as you say, “You can’t just take the cuffs off, Toji. They’re pretty much designed to prevent that.”

“Really?” he asks, then he slowly pulls his hands forward in front of him. Only one has a cuff on it, the other metal ring dangling uselessly from it. 

Your first instinct is to jump up and flee the room. He’s loose! He’s probably been loose this whole time. The most violent man that’s ever been in this prison, that you’ve just been provoking, is just a few feet away from you. Should you scream? Could the guards even make it into the room before he kills you? 

Wait, if he wanted to kill you, he probably would have already. You decide to take a gamble. “So?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even, praying he doesn’t notice the slight tremor in your hands. “What are you going to do to me, Toji?”

He’s already pulled his hands back behind him. His earlier movement had been subtle enough that the guard monitoring the camera probably didn’t even notice. Toji grins. “There’s a lot of things I wanna do to you. The list is growin’ the longer I talk to you. The question is, what do you want me to do?”

You look at him for a moment, at his smug, handsome face, at his muscular form flexing beneath the tightly fitted black T-shirt. Did the prison not have a shirt big enough for him? You sit back in your chair, crossing your legs. “I want you to take therapy seriously. I want to help-“

“You want me to split you open on my cock,” he says, cutting you off. “You think I can’t tell when a woman wants me? I bet your little pussy is drooling right now.”

You stare at him wordlessly. Damn it, he’s right! You uncross your legs and cross them again, trying to give yourself a bit of relief. You want his rough, thick fingers inside you. 

Toji leans back, letting his thighs spread apart. He’s pushed back far enough from the table for you to see his crotch, and the outline of something impossibly huge. He notices you looking. “That’s right. Take a good look. I bet you’ve never seen a dick this big before. Now imagine how it’s gonna feel when I’m ramming it in your tight little hole.”

Your breaths are coming quicker despite your best attempts to remain calm. You glance up at the camera in the corner. Toji follows your gaze. 

“I’m guessing you need to do something about that,” he says. “Probably wouldn’t look very professional to be on camera getting your guts rearranged by a prisoner, huh?”

You place the pen and notebook in your bag and stop the recording device. The twenty minutes are almost up. “I’ll think about it,” you say as calmly as you can. 

He smiles at you as the guard opens the door and escorts you out. 

For the next several days, you continue your sessions with Toji. Neither of you mention his proposition, and he never removes the handcuffs again, at least as far as you know. Still, just knowing he can if he wants to gives you a thrill. 

He’s surprisingly open during his sessions. He tells you about a miserable childhood, a violent youth, a marriage that ended in the death of the only woman he ever loved, and (most shocking of all) a teenage son he hasn’t seen in years. 

“I send him money,” he tells you. “He accepts it, but he never answers when I call or text him. Not that I blame him. Guess it’s embarrassing to have a murderer for a father.”

There’s a hint of sadness when he says it, the first genuine emotion you’ve seen from him. But he shrugs like he doesn’t care and moves on from the topic. 

Fushiguro Toji is a fascinating man. If possible, you’d love to help him. 

But first, you want him to fuck you until you can’t form thoughts. 

A week after your first session with him, you decide to do something about that damn camera. It’s an easy task for you, someone who can move freely through the prison and has the trust of everyone there. The first step is to disable the monitor in the security room, which you do with no issue. It’s a temporary thing though, so you have to hurry to the consultation room and disable the camera itself while the monitor isn’t working, so no one sees what you’re doing. 

Once the camera has been broken, you’re home free. You’ve worked here long enough to know it’ll take several days for them to replace the camera. 

So today, when the guards walk out of the room, you lock the door behind them. Toji notices, and glances at the camera. “I take it that’s not recording?”

You nod. “It’s completely busted.”

He moves his arms around in front of him, uncuffed, and stands up, rolling his shoulders. Then in an instant he’s right in front of you, pressing you back against the wall, looming over you with a threatening aura. “You’re takin’ a big risk,” he says, “being alone with a guy like me. You must want my dick real bad.”

Your heart is pounding. This man could snap your neck like a twig. He could kill you before you can blink. But fuck, you’re so turned on! 

You smile up at him, using your hands to press back against his chest. “Sit down and I’ll show you how much I want it.”

His eyes seem to light up. He wears that familiar smirk as he returns to the chair and sits, lazily opening his legs. As you walk over, you unbutton your crisp white shirt, revealing a sexy lace bra you picked for today. You drop the shirt on the floor and unzip your pencil skirt, stepping out of it. You’re wearing matching lace panties with silk stockings and a garter belt. You chose the sexiest combo possible for this encounter. 

Toji seems to appreciate your efforts. His eyes drink in your form as he palms himself through his prison issued sweat pants. Then he slides the waistband down, and the biggest cock you’ve ever seen pops out. Strong and tall like its owner, it’s already rock hard. It looks delicious. 

When you reach him, you drop to your knees in front of him and grasp his shaft in one hand. Your fingers can’t even wrap all the way around its veiny girth, but you stroke him slowly, watching the massive organ twitch in your grip. You lean forward and lick the tip, then slide your tongue all around it, drenching it with your saliva before taking it into your mouth. 

It doesn’t fit, but you manage to get most of it in without choking. You’re pretty proud of your throat game, so you press even further down, letting him fill your mouth completely, almost swallowing him. You hear a short grunt and feel his big hand on your head, holding you down. You focus on breathing through your nose, your tongue licking the underside of his cock while your throat tightens around him. 

Finally he releases his grip, and you pull back enough to lick him properly, sucking on the tip with your pursed lips. Then he’s in your mouth again, and you’re moving your head back and forth, looking up at his face as you repeatedly take him halfway down your throat. 

His hand is now resting on your head, not applying any pressure but threading his fingers through your hair. “Fuck, you weren’t kiddin’ about bein’ hungry for my dick!”

After a few more minutes pass, his grip tightens again, and he shoves your head down even further than before, completely cutting off your air. Then, he shoots his cum directly down your throat, forcing you to swallow every drop. 

When he releases you and pulls out of your mouth, you sputter and gasp, then you diligently get to work cleaning his cock with your tongue, savoring the taste of his cum. You’re in a hurry to get him hard again. You’ve arranged for the sessions to last forty-five minutes, and you don’t intend to end this without being thoroughly fucked. 

Thankfully, Toji has plenty of stamina. He’s hard again in no time, standing up from the chair and tearing the delicate lace underwear from your body. You wince, trying not to think about how expensive they were. 

His hands are all over you, roughly exploring every inch. When his hand dips down between your thighs, and he feels how wet you are, he grins. You’re waiting for some quip, but instead he jerks you around to face away from him and pushes your upper half face down on the table. He gives your bare ass a slap before his hands spread your cheeks. His knees push your legs apart, and with no warning, he shoves all the way inside your dripping pussy. 

You gasp at the stretch, at how fucking huge he is, but he doesn’t hesitate for a moment before he’s pounding into you. He’s probably aware of the time limit himself, so he wastes no time with letting you adjust to his size. 

He fucks you hard, so hard that your feet are knocked off the floor and your legs dangle from the table. You hold onto the edge of it with both hands, gripping it for dear life, crying out obscenely each time his tip slams into your cervix. 

“Ahh, fuck! You’re gonna break me!” you yell. 

You hear Toji laugh behind you. “I thought you could handle me!”

You rise up from the table, arching your back, and reach back with one arm to grab his shirt and get some leverage. You take one of his hands from your waist and move it down, between your pried open thighs. He takes the hint, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it vigorously, spreading your leaking fluids all around. You moan at the touch, leaning back into him, letting the pleasure overtake you. 

With a thrill, you imagine the horrified looks on the guards’ faces if they walked in. You locked the door, but they have a keycard to open it. At best it would buy you a few seconds. But the thought of being caught moaning and cumming on a murderer’s cock sends you over the edge. You cry out, your body spasming as Toji impales you, your aching pussy clenching around him. 

“You got yours,” you hear him say, his fingers giving a quick pinch to your hyper sensitive clit, “now I’m gonna fill you up.”

You barely have time to process those words before you feel his hot cum shoot inside you, all the way to your core. 

When he’s finished, he pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. He watches you lean against the table for a few moments, trembling and trying to catch your breath, too exhausted and sore to even close your legs. But you have to straighten yourself out. The clock is ticking. You stagger over to your pile of clothes and pull them back on, shoving your shredded underwear into your bag. 

You look at him, sitting there looking so smug and calm… and so very fuckable. You reach into your bag and pull out the item you swiped from the security room earlier. You step over and hand it to him. 

“This is a master keycard. It should let you open any door until they figure it out. Do whatever you please with it,” you tell him. 

He takes it, slipping it into the pocket of his sweats. “Awful nice of you.”

“Go and see your son. Make things right with him.”

His eyes widen, then he looks away, seeming the slightest bit awkward for the first time. “You’ll get fired if anyone finds out.”

You shrug. “So I won’t let anyone find out. Don’t snitch on me.”

He laughs as he looks back at you. “Thanks, doll. I’ll find you on the outside.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Is that a threat?”

He smiles, the scar on his lips stretching. “It’s a promise.”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Beekeeper Movie AU

So, Lena is on the run from her mob-connected brother (maybe because she's turned him in to the cops??), and lives in a house all by herself in the middle of nowhere. She starts going through an old shed, for want of something better to do, and runs into a hive of bees. She calls in a professional, who ends up being Kara.

Kara notices that Lena is nervous around the bees (there's something about the buzzing that puts her on edge okay??) and starts rattling off bee facts. She's so passionate about these facts, and the bees themselves, that when Kara mentions that she wants to keep some hives of her own, just doesn't really have a place to keep them since she's basically living out of her truck, that Lena offers both Kara and the bees a place to stay with her.

(No, it's not the safest idea, but when is Lena ever NOT willing to put herself in danger for want of human connection?)

Anyway, Kara takes up residence in the shed, upon her own insistence, but Lena manages to coax her in for mealtimes, and they develop a bond. Kara is softened by Lena's smiles, and Lena is smitten with the rugged outdoorswoman. They're both glad for the company.

But then, one day when Kara is off at the farmers market selling some of her honey, Lex's men find Lena at the house and manage to wrestle her into a van. Lena, for her part, puts up a pretty good fight, and the mess of blood and debris that Kara finds on her return is considerable.

The thing Lex doesn't realize is that Lena's new roommate Kara is, in fact, a retired Beekeeper.

And unfortunately for him, the signs of struggle that Kara finds sends her back into work mode.

With a single call to a former coworker, Kara learns Lena's true identity and her circumstances, which is enough to point her in the right direction. She starts punching and burning her way through Lex's holdings in search of Lena, and Lex does his best to keep Lena out of her reach, thinking that Kara is the feds trying to recover their key witness.

I'm not sure why Lex doesn't just kill Lena. Maybe Lena sabotaged something, and he needs her alive to fix it? Or perhaps some kind of information she has that he needs.... hmm. I'll ponder that later.

In the meantime, it's just chaos and carnage as Kara does her thing. But when it comes down to it, when she faces off against Lex with Lena between them as his human shield, Kara doesn't take the shot. In the end it's Lena, who pulls a Rizzoli and curls herself around the gun Lex points at Kara-- forcing him to shoot himself through her own chest.

Kara manages to save her life-- I like to think maybe the actual cops have been after Kara the whole time trying to stop her rampage, not realizing until the moment they finally catch up that Kara actually had a purpose and that purpose is currently bleeding out in her arms.

When Lena recovers, they both return to the little house in the middle of nowhere, and resuming the keeping of their bees.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Office Space 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life. 

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Dinner is spent in a similarly contentious spar of words. You're so over it that you find yourself zoning out in favour of your plate. The steak is good. Better than anything you'd spend money on. 

As you chew on a morsel, the server returns and Nick gestures, "another round." 

Before you can stop him, though you can't argue with him either way, you're locked into a fourth cocktail. He keeps doing that thought your third is hardly complaining for it. You can't help but wonder if this is going to be an expense report. 

You swallow and grab your napkin. You dab your lips and shift. The weight in your bladder settles and you nearly squeak. You lean forward and fold the cloth. 

"Er, excuse me, I need... to go to the ladies," you try to make it sound as proper as you can. 

"Mm, pardon," Pine is quick to slide off the bench. "As you will." 

You shimmy over, biting your lip as your insides knot. As you stand, he looms close, and you swear his hand brushes closes against your pants. You don't flinch as you can only focus on the urgency in your pelvis. 

You flee, grateful for more than the relief of your body, but to be free of them for one second. The two men together are the definition of suffocation. You can't keep track if they're having fun or doing battle. Over what, you're uncertain. 

You take your time before you return to the table. You see the men huddled over as you approach, voices low. They're strangely amiable after a night of dueling.

Your drink is waiting on the table. This time, Nick stands to let you in. You skirt by and he sidles in after you. 

"Well, that was a wonderful meal," Pine intones, "are we keen for dessert?" 

As you lean forward to busy yourself with a stir of the slender straw, you feel a tickle on your back, "how about it, Elf? You like sweet stuff?" Nick asks. 

You sit back before you can taste the cocktail and crush his hand. 

"Huh, oh, now, I'm stuffed." You affirm. He doesn't pull his hand away. 

"I am in the mind for it," Jonathan caresses your sleeve and you look at him. "Mm, something warm and soft." 

"Hm?" You make a face and Nick pinches a fold in your pants, giving a tug. "Woah, hey." 

You catch his hand as Pine's flutters along your neck. You lean away from the latter as you wrestle your boss. 

"What the hell are you--" 

"We had a civil discussion when you were occupied," Pine explains  

"We've come to an arrangement," Nick grins as he bats your hand off of his. 

"Um, can you stop?" You latch onto both of their hands, squirming as you try to push them away. "This is not--" 

"Ah, come on, Elf, just a little after work fun..." Nick squeezes your knee  

"I don't--" you're dizzy with confusion and surprise. What the hell were they talking about when you were gone? 

"You've had a bit much to drink, it would be irresponsible for two gentlemen to allow you to go home alone," Pine toys with your fingers, "it isn't safe." 

"Woah, stop," you his as you writhe between them, "I'm fine. I haven't-- I'm barely tipsy." 

"Is that so, darling?" Pine tuts. 

"You know, it isn't very professional to flirt with my professional colleagues," Nick reprimands. 

"No, I didn't--" you choke on your words. Maybe you are a little drunk because you can't see straight. "I... it's a business dinner." 

"It's a formality," Pine insists. 

Heat speckles down your neck and across your shoulders. Pressure constricts your chest and throat as you try to set yourself straight. You can't focus as they keep pawing at you. 

“Form-- hey, okay, buddy!” You barely keep your voice from exploding as Nick’s hand slips between your legs. 

“Buddy? What happened to sir, Elfie?” He teases. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You retort, too addled to think clearly. You know he’s still your boss but he’s not acting like it. 

“It’s Saturday, loosen up. You think I don’t know what you do when you go out with the girls?” he grits. 

Jonathan’s hand wraps around your neck and Nick fights with your own desperate grip. You struggle to keep him from going higher. You glance over, aware that you could have witnesses to this display of animalism. 

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Jonathan purrs. 

“How about--” You clasp onto his wrist, “we don’t? I should go home.” 

“Darling, you’ve been flirting all night and now you want to spoil the fun?” The blond chides. 

“No. Not flirting, I--” 

“Come on, Elf. Don’t you wanna have some fun? All those dull office days? Sitting there, in those pants, bending over...” 

“Jesus,” you hiss and wriggle between them, “what’s-- what’s-- this can’t be real.” 

“Oh, this is very real, darling,” Pine hums into your hair. 

He runs his other hand down your arm and guides your hand back. He places your palm against his lap and you squeak. Nick chuckles and frees himself from your clutches. He pushes his fingers against the front of your pants and winks. 

“Elf, you’re a good girl.” He pushes until you whine, “you always do what you’re told... and you’ll do just that tonight.” 

[lord-luminous]

I kinda want the AU where Stan becomes a professional wrestler for the WWF (the WWE back in the 70s/80s), where becomes famous and rich because of his skill.

And after becoming rich, he does not go back to the Pines family. Filbrick doesn't get a single cent of cash from Stan's wrestling success.

Stan just lives good before the plot knocks on his door.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: There are two rules for the Playroom: 1. Stop means Stop. 2. Finn's word is law. When professional assassin Joe and professional dominant Finn stage a rescue for a mistreated young man, they did not plan for how much their lives will change because of Seth Rollins nor account for the effectiveness of Finn's curses. An AU exploring D/s dynamics.

Author: @peppermintquartz

Note from submitter: This fic is so well-written, and so hot!