#crimes against bowties

[unnamednova]

In which Aziraphale where's a ties to look more "professional" for heaven, and Crowley senses some bullsht.

He also combs back his hair and buttons his suit (crimes)

[holylulusworld]

Bucky & Ducky (3) - Growing friendship

Summary: Bucky Barnes. Ruthless mafia boss. Soft only for his wife and…well, Ducky.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Side pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Ducky the duck

Warnings: mafia business, fluff, unusual friendship

A/N: Thanks to @buck-star for the idea and brainstorming with me. I did it…😅

Catch up here: Bucky & Ducky (2) - Warming up

Bucky & Ducky Masterlist

“Morning, handsome,” you coo as your husband walks toward you. He looks handsome as ever in his tailored suit and with his neatly styled hair. “What are you up to today, Mr. Barnes?”

“First of all,” he chuckles and cups your face. “I’ll kiss my beautiful wife.” Bucky kisses you softly, smirking against you. “And then, I have a meeting with Steve and Sam. We want to discuss a few things—”

You press your index finger to his lips to stop Bucky from talking too much about the business. House rules – no talking about his business, yelling, or violence.

“What are you up to today, doll? How about you have a spa day? I want you to relax and have a day off.” Bucky pecks your nose, earning a giggle. “I mean it, baby doll. You work so hard and take care of the house, garden, and me.”

“Oh, Ducky! Why are you here, sweetie?” You gasp watching your newest family member waddle toward your husband. You put the duckling into a small plastic tub in the kitchen, but Ducky has other plans. The duckling quacks loudly, demanding Bucky’s attention.

Your husband crouches down to pick up the tiny duckling. “Punk, what are you doing here? Don’t you want to take a nice bath?”

The duckling snuggles into Bucky’s hand and quacks loudly. “Uh—I think Ducky believes you’re his mom or dad.” You smile softly. Your heart melts watching your husband, the dangerous mafia boss, care for a duckling. “What now? The little one won’t be happy if you leave now.”

Bucky looks at you and then at the duckling in his hands. He sighs because the tiny creature looks up at him like an innocent child. “Alright, Ducky. Let’s go to work together then.”

“What?”

“Can you hold them for a moment, doll?” Bucky carefully hands you the duckling to put his coat and scarf on. “Hmm…wait. I can’t take Ducky with me like this. They are going to freeze.”

“I could put them into a box with a blanket,” you offer.

“I’ve got this, doll,” Bucky jogs back upstairs to walk into your bedroom. He gets one of his scarves. He smirks as his eyes land on one of your plushies. A bear wearing a tiny bowtie. “Oh, look at that, Ducky.” He hums before grabbing the bear.

Bucky walks back downstairs, the scarf tugged under his arm, and a tiny bowtie dangling from his finger.

“Now we can go to work, punk,” Bucky says as he puts the tiny bowtie around Ducky’s neck. “You look good. A heartbreaker, just like your daddy.”

“Buck, what are you doing?” You snort watching Bucky wrap the scarf around the duckling. “Maybe Ducky should stay here with me.”

“No, it’s decided. We will go to work and have a blast messing with Sam, and maybe Steve too.” He holds Ducky in one hand, to cup your chin with his free hand. “Have a good day, baby doll. I’ll be back in no time.”

Bucky kisses you softly. He reluctantly steps away and turns to leave your home, Ducky still in his hand.

“Have a good day too, Bucky and Ducky,” you giggle and laugh as your husband, the ruthless mobster, is carrying a duckling around.

“Morning, Steve, Sam,” Bucky nods at his friends and partners in crime. He throws his scarf and coat on the couch at his office and wants to go straight to talking about business.

“Uh—Buck,” Steve laughs and points at something on the ground. “What’s that?”

“What is what?” Bucky looks around the room until his eyes land on Ducky. The duckling stands next to his foot, still wearing the tiny bowtie.

Sam snorts. “Bucky, are you blind? There is a yellow thing on your shoe!”

“Sam, Steve,” Bucky clears his throat as he points at the ducking. “Meet Ducky, our newest family member. He wanted to see my office.”

“That’s a duckling,” Sam chuckles. He holds his stomach before bursting into laughter. “…and…and…it’s wearing a bowtie!”

“Buck, be honest with us,” Steve says and places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Y/N brought that little thing home, am I right?”

“She saved Ducky,” Bucky huffs when his friends stare at him as if he lost his mind. “They wanted to kill him because he was the weakest. She brought him home.”

“Why in the world would you put a bowtie on that thing?” Sam crouches down to look at Ducky. “Is it just me or does the duckling look pissed?”

“He looks pissed because you keep calling him a thing!” Bucky crouches down to pick Ducky up and places him on the couch.

“You’re carrying around a duckling,” Steve points out. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“I love Y/N and, he didn’t want to stay at home. I guess Ducky sees me as his father or something.” Bucky narrows his eyes at Sam, who tries to grab Ducky to get a better look at the duckling. “Hands off. No one touches Ducky!”

“Calm down,” Sam backpaddles, but laughs about Bucky’s reaction. “I only wanted to get a better look at the duckling.”

“How about we go back to work and talk about business.” Steve tries not to laugh when Ducky quacks loudly. “I hope he’s domesticated.”

“He won’t poop on your jacket, Steve.” Bucky grins at his friend. “Just you know, no one is going to disrespect Ducky. He’s part of the family now.”

He glances at Sam, giving him a stern look. Sam shows his palms and huffs. “Whatever, man. If your duckling is part of the family, it is part of the family…”

“Honey, we are home!” Bucky walks into the bedroom, Ducky in his arms. “We had a fruitful meeting with Steve and Sam.”

You smirk, watching your husband place Ducky on your bed. “I ran a bath for you. The water is nice and warm. I didn’t add bath salt this time. In case Ducky wants to join you.”

Bucky grins and picks Ducky back up. “What do you say, buddy? Do we want to take a bath before dinner?”

Part 4

[delta-gambit-au]

Uploading it individually to explain the design and how it differs from the first one I did more than half a year ago.

We all know how Spamton fell, that's no secret. The only difference with my AU (barring some narrative subtleties) is that he had it harsher and by the time Kris found him at that back-alley dumpster, Spamton was at his last ropes health-wise. In fact he was so weak against Kris he didn't even put a fight and just cut to the chase of inveigling Kris to get easy access to the robotic body that would help him extend his own life (and to make his enemies to pay dearly afterwards). Using Kris' SOUL to cut a rift between both worlds was another of the plans he had in the backburner, but that's a story for another day.

From the design, he's just a very emaciated "Addison", his corrupted data translated his mental state into physical glitches and other deformations. He still has his "Lucky Coat" though it has seen better days, and still wears the shirt from his "Big-Shot" era (the bowtie was torn and tossed away to be sold to whoever he deems worthy of it). He preserves the 3 fingers from the first design (if you are curious about why he has 3 fingers and a blue bandage on his right hand, ask away). His Dealmaker were a gift from someone to hide the traces of the virus from his eyes, and are currently cracked and missing a glass piece.

He's literally bones at this point of the story, decayed into a wight of his former self that is feared by most civilians living in the suburbs of Cyber City (who put him into the urban legend as "The Salesman's Pale Ghost"). His stature waned with the passing of time, and the reason why he's becoming more "compact" is tied to a plot device that explains Spamton's nature from a computer engineering point (he soaked in the palace's acid more than once but is not the reason behind his shrinkage).

Overall he's the self-same unstable salesman, now more unstable after receiving the "suburbian" treatment by many of the gangs using parts of the Trash Zone as hideout from the authorities. That made him more rowdy and prone to violence, but knows when to retreat when his body is not cooperating with his mind. Evil is not found in his heart, just pure raw survival instinct that blinds his reason when he has one of his glitching episodes. He still peddles lost and found things and other utility trash. Has a friend that is able to repair most of what he finds, in exchange of bottles of spirits (that are usually smuggled about the suburbs). Gambling is another of the sources of income for him, and sometimes the only means to survive the anger of a crime boss.

Does he long for his old lost life? I will leave that to your imagination (or I will spoil all the surprises 😅).

[yellowbunnydreams]

Mechanised Devotion (Part 3) ~Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader~

~I'm going to cry, you guys are so nice and I'm so ecstatic that people like my writing! I'm having so much fun writing this and so I am going to update as much as I can. Thank you so much for your support guys!~

Tag list!: @ruh--roh-raggy

Part 1 Part 2

CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), afab reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 40's), mention of crimes and violence, blood, mentions of child death (it's FNAF, what did you expect?), past trauma; abusive relationships.

The piece of paper in your hand felt thin and like it would break in the dry wind at any moment. But it had been folded and unfolded so many times in the past day that you weren't entirely surprised and now that it was no longer needed, it felt strange to throw it away.

As you had eaten and left Sparky's the day before, Mr. Raglan had given you a handwritten slip of paper that contained an address in neat but scratchy block capital writing. Somehow when you had stared at it, the neatness and somehow rushed nature of the writing didn't surprise you about Steve Raglan, the few times you had met, he seemed antsy. Like he was always thinking three appointments ahead and was running five behind.

What had surprised you the most, was the careful sketch that had been placed on the bottom of the small slip, of a bear wearing a top-hat and bowtie in a stylised wave. You hadn't asked, but you got the feeling that Steve would be embarrassed if you asked if he had drawn it. Although, looking up at the address in front of you, he had nailed the key identifying feature of the building.

The giant smiling, or at least you assumed smiling, bear waved from the top of the building in an overgrown and broken down neon light. Currently decommissioned in the low light of the growing dark, it felt eerie and empty. But according to the brief overview that Raglan had phoned and given you that afternoon, it was an old kid-pizza place, the owner clung onto it despite the closure and it was now your job to keep it safe from intruders and such. Apparently the animatronics inside were quite rare and expensive, which had led to you wondering why they were left in such a vulnerable place, but it wasn't a question for you to ask and so you fished the keys out of your pocket and undid the lock and chain that kept the front doors sealed against the worst of the damage.

Inside was even eerier, faded and somehow still bright walls and colours with a thick, heavy looking red curtain slap bang on the centre stage at the back of the main dining hall. Peering in, you could see decommissioned arcade machines scattered about and tables laid out as if a party was going to happen the very next morning, despite the heavy dusty cobwebs that laid over the surfaces and between the kiddie sized party hats.

You had to admit, despite having never heard of, or having been to this place called Freddy Fazbear's, you felt somewhat nostalgic.

As tempted as you were to look around, you hefted the heavy backpack on your shoulder and began to walk through the building. Following loosely what Steve had said about where to turn once inside the building, wondering if he would check in on you in the morning. But you shook your head, wondering why he would check on you of all people just because you had started a new job, he would be busy making sure the rest of his clients found a job as she had now done with his help.

Unknowingly, you were being watched. Cameras silently following your figure and focusing on you as you passed through doorways and halls. Navigating towards the back of the building and towards the security office. A silent observer on your discovery.

Steve Raglan sat in his home, in his comfy armchair and sunk into it and with a small bowl of popcorn next to him on a side-table. Headphones plugged into the laptop balanced on his lap as he sat with his tie and shirt off for the first time that day. Finally able to relax in himself, he was pleased that he had managed to clean up so well, and that he had remembered to fix the audio on the cameras too.

He had instructed his creations to be good, but he knew with a smirk that they wouldn't follow his instructions fully. Freddy would probably remain fairly still, as would Chica. But Foxy and Bonnie could be wildcards, or very much the types to follow the letter and not the spirit of the laws he laid down.

It was always exhilarating to him, watching the cameras and seeing the fear coursing through the people he sent into that place. Not many of them made it out alive, or if they did, he quickly put an end to that.

He barely heard the door open and saw the vague shadow of the person coming in behind in, glancing away from the screen to see his daughter Vanessa standing behind him. Still in her cop uniform and looking tired, bags under her eyes betraying what would have been a pretty face. She looked like her mother, Steve thought, before he turned his attention back to the camera with cold indifference towards his family member.

"Dad, you really roped in somebody else?" She asked, noticing his headphones in and speaking up. Wincing as she noticed his shoulders tensing before they dropped again, reaching up and taking a headphone out to look coldly at Vanessa. His sharp features contorted into a scowl, looking decidedly even more unfriendly without his signature glasses on.

"None of your fucking business Vanessa." He spat, raising an eyebrow before mockingly pushing his bottom lip out in a pout. "You're lucky I tell them to leave you be when you decide to interfere again with my work. Maybe next time you won't be so lucky." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and Vanessa felt the chill go down her spine as her head dropped, rubbing her hands one over another.

"Sorry dad, you're right. Did you want me to go tomorrow night and see what they're doing?" She knew the drill by now, and Steve Raglan as he was acting as smiled in a cold, calculating manner. Reaching out and patting her shoulder in a slow, heavy manner, condescending her for her obedience.

"We'll see what's left in the morning, Vanny."

She hated when he called her that name, the pit of her stomach sank as she glanced at the young woman on the screens and felt the growing dread that she might be the last person, bar one, to witness her alive as Steve Raglan turned back to his screen with an unabated sense of thrill for what was about to unfold.

You had finally made it into the office and managed to locate the breaker that Raglan has mentioned. Throwing it on, you were pleasantly surprised as the seemingly ancient security system whirred to life and flickered on. Monitors showing various cameras throughout the restaurant and staff-only halls, a small game-system looking board in front of them giving you an idea that that was how you controlled the cameras. A VCR and tape attached to a TV with your name hastily scrawled on in the same blocky handwriting caught your attention, making you smile as you popped the tape in and lowered the volume. Listening in the background to the introduction the being the new guard at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

You missed the tape glitching to Freddy's opening maw and thick ichor pouring from it for a moment as you turned to reach into your backpack. Pulling out a water bottle, some snacks and a few college textbooks that you decided you might as well work through whilst you were on shift.

Plugging in your headphones, quietly turning on some music so that you could hear the general noise around you, you began to work. Glancing up at the monitors between penciling your thoughts on your texts and solving puzzles contained within with the goal of understanding some, or if not all of the content before you.

Head down and focused as you missed the glint of a hook moving the purple starred curtain a few inches and a glowing eye staring out at the camera from within the resturant.

~~

Raglan suddenly came to with a start, jerking the laptop off of his lap and grunting as he darted forwards to catch it. He wasn't as young as he used to be, but he was certainly still lithe and fast for a man of his stature. Almost unnaturally so. Sitting back, he wiped at his eyes with his large hands and swore as he looked around for the headphones that had fallen out of his ears as he had apparently been bored to sleep by your lack of action.

Moving the mousepad, the screen jumped to life and he quickly entered the password once again. Eyes bleary as he wondered if you were still being a boring little victim. He had expected something more...Well, he wasn't entirely sure.

Most in your position died in their sleep as they dozed off on the job, some died fighting, some just curled into a ball and cried as they were torn apart by the animatronics. But he paused as he realised the office was empty, your chair pushed back from the desk and books strewn across it haphazardly.

His heart beat rapidly, excitedly and perhaps a little fearfully as he pressed the numbers to try and find out where you were. Wondering if he had missed the main event, or if perhaps you had gone to investigate a noise. He cursed as his eyes rapidly darted across the screen, thick fingers trembling in anticipation as he tracked you down silently. Sighing as he found you again, before noticing where you were and what was occurring on the screen with a sick grin.

You had backed into a corner, hiding like a scared rabbit with your heart beating quickly enough in your chest that you weren't too sure you could distinguish between each beat. Hands clutching onto a section of table leg that you had found and picked up as an improvised weapon during your run through the restaurant.

About ten minutes ago you had looked up from your books, to find the purple curtains of Pirate's cove pulled back and revealing the 'out of order' sign and an empty space. Cautiously, you had ventured out, the hairs slowly standing on the back of your neck as you explored the main area.

It was too silent.

Until the sound of heavy metal footsteps came from behind you, and you turned slowly, watching as an animatronic that looked like some sort of dilapidated fox with an eyepatch and a wicked hook came from around the corner of the hall and spotted you. Staring at each other for a moment with his eyes piercing the half-light in the main area. Then the jaw started to open with a quiet creaking, the eye moving from a whitish yellow glow to a more deep orange as it started moving towards you again. Picking up speed as it went.

Suddenly you bolted, running anywhere, somewhere into the bowels of the building as the heavy footsteps continued running after you. Somehow, you had managed a hairpin turn and found yourself pressed into a corner with a table leg to defend yourself again an animatronic that was about six feet tall. You wanted to reach out, call for help, but something told you that you would bring more people into danger if you did so.

Heavy footsteps approached towards your hiding space, making the ground and small dusty objects along the counter vibrate with the weight of the heavy 'thunk..thunk...thunk'. Fighting back tears, you brandished your weapon as a shadow loomed over the end of the counter, you planned to at least try fighting, not that logically you knew it would do anything against metal and fur.

Around the corner, a somewhat familiar bear face appeared, eyes glowing in the darkness, top hat and bowtie on as it looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. A soft sob escaped your lips as you pressed yourself further into the corner, watching as the animatronic stared unblinkingly into your soul.

For some reason, like a scared child, you pressed your finger to your lips in a shushing motion. Body shaking and feeling as if you were going to pass out then and there. Maybe it would have been a small mercy against the heavy metal bodies that were about to end your life.

But to your surprise, the bear's eyebrows raised in a somewhat surprised expression. Head tilting one way then another as his ears wiggled. Bringing up one hand slowly, it carefully curled the fingers on that hand and returned the shushing motion. Standing up suddenly with a whirr of gears and pistons and turning around. Standing still at the end of the counter, you realise after a moment that it seemed to be blocking you from view.

Although you weren't entirely sure why, you sobbed silently with relief.

Taking some paper from nearby and some broken dusty crayons, you began to draw to try and calm your nerves. Or maybe leave a pictogram of what happened to you should you not make it through the next few hours of your shift. It was almost 6am, you just had to survive a little longer, you hoped at least.

After a few attempts, you ended up drawing the bear in front of you, it was crude and more kid-like than anything an adult's drawing style. But your hands shook so hard you didn't dare attempt to put any detail into it apart from large blocks.

After what felt like forever, the clocks in the building chimed, and it seemed like the animatronic in front of you stiffened. As if responding to programming that dictated it had somewhere to be in that precise moment.

Crawling forwards, you managed to get behind the bear and press the drawing into it's hand. Seeming to surprise it as it lifted the barely articulate limb to look at the crude drawing of yourself being protected by the bear in the corner. It seemed to pause before raising it's eyebrows in what you assumed was a happy position and silently closed its eyes and raised its head back as if it was laughing. Ears twitching wildly before it headed back towards the main stage. Inadvertantly revealing you to Steve Raglan's hungry stare once more.

He looked at the unscathed woman stood trembling in the middle of the floor. A bewildered look on her face as well as the faint sound of her hyperventilation filling his ears. It would have been a delicious sound for him to savour if he wasn't overcome with a flood of emotions. Clenching his large hands into fists on the arms of the chair, he gritted his teeth and stared at the screen.

"Oh, you...You are going to wish they had killed you when I'm done with you now." He gritted through his teeth, chuckling darkly and feeling the slight chill of adrenaline searing up his spine and making the dark room darken more in his vision. Licking his lips as he stared at you on the screen, unaware that you had volunteered yourself as prey for an even more dangerous predator.

[radiaurapple]

Lucid Dreams of New Orleans: Chapter 1

Alastor is a teenage violinist on a meteoric rise through the speakeasies of Jazz Age New Orleans — until Lucian arrives and his world comes apart at the seams. Every soul cast into Hell is assigned their own curse — a unique punishment to fit their crimes. Lucifer's is a special order from his father: The curse of knowledge.

[AO3 LINK]

I'm very excited about how future chapters are going to play out and hope you enjoy. 📻🍎

Chapter preview below!!

New Orleans. October. Sunset. 

Alastor hops off a cable car in Tremé and weaves through the crowd of evening commuters. Hollis is right behind him. The crowd thins and Alastor breaks into a run, his schoolbooks rattling against the violin case in his backpack. 

It is finally Friday. Tonight, he and Hollis and the rest of the band are playing the Francs Amis dance hall — and they're late. 

They pound the pavement down Robertson St. and skid to a stop by the front door of the Francs Amis. Alastor grabs the strap of Hollis's backpack before he can go in. 

"Suit check," Alastor whispers.

"Right." 

They turn to face each other. Alastor dusts off the shoulders of Hollis's jacket and straightens his shirt collar; Hollis tightens Alastor's bowtie. Hollis's forehead glistens with sweat — Alastor produces a comb from his pocket and runs it through Hollis's hair. 

"We're ready," Alastor says. He takes Hollis firmly by the shoulders and looks him in the eyes. "Don't forget to smile." 

Hollis nods. 

Alastor pulls open the door. Tobacco smoke washes over them. Alastor breathes it in and blinks, waiting for his eyes to adjust. This early in the evening, the bar is mostly deserted. The rest of the band is in front of the stage, waiting for them. 

Alastor crosses the empty dance floor and turns back toward Hollis. At that moment, he realizes there is a white kid seated at the bar, staring at him. 

The Francs Amis caters to a diverse clientele, but the kid still sticks out like a sore thumb. He's about Alastor's age — 16 or 17. His golden hair reflects the dim light of the bar's single electric chandelier, and he has the palest blue eyes Alastor has ever seen. When their eyes meet, the kid turns away to nurse his soda. Alastor only catches a glimpse of his expression — but that brief moment of eye contact sends a lick of fear up Alastor's spine. He's frowning, his eyebrows drawn together, like he doesn't understand what he's seeing. Alastor freezes, his smile faltering. 

Hollis catches up and follows Alastor's eyes to the bar, but the white kid is now studying the patterns on the wood, and Hollis's gaze slides right past him.

"Is everything okay?" Hollis whispers.

Alastor brightens his smile. "Of course." 

[AO3 LINK]

[terresdebrume]

I'm gonna have to take a break from i'm down on my knees to meet a couple deadlines (and also because bonds of trust deserves some love too) so have a snippet from the hate crime fic in the meantime:

“Wait,” Charles exclaims when Edwin stands up to follow her, “can I have your number?”

Edwin rears back, blinking in confusion. Charles, still smiling, raises his eyebrows and shakes his head in question, to which Edwin can only return a helpless gesture of his hands. Charles sees it and frowns.

“Do you not know your number?”

“I do,” Edwin retorts, sounding puzzled to his own ears, “I simply… fail to see why you’d ask for it.”

“So I can call you, of course,” Charles laughs, reclining against his pillow. “It’s what friends do, innit?”

“Frien—Charles, are you saying this because you are still under the impression that I am ‘swell’?”

Charles laughs at Edwin’s finger quotes, but he sounds more delighted than mocking. That in itself is puzzling, but even more so is the way Charles reaches out to touch Edwin’s shoulder with the hand he doesn’t keep under his blanket.

“Yeah, mate. I am.”

Edwin wrinkles his nose again.

“Charles. I am the opposite of swell.”

“Don’t believe you,” Charles says, half laughing again.

“I study three dead languages,” Edwin says, counting the first item on his finger. “I wear bowties, I have been described alternatively as abrasive, arrogant, rude, stuck up—”

“Yeah, I go to school too,” Charles cuts in.

He looks… Jesus, he looks almost fond, the way his eyes crinkled, and his smile softened and it’s. Edwin stares, dumbfounded.

“I told you most of it sounded like rubbish,” Charles continues, “and I was right.”

“But—” Edwin flounders, looking around the room as if some kind of explanation is waiting for him somewhere among the medical equipment, “we’ve barely been in the same room for a day, and I read a book for most of it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Charles says, mirth creeping into his smile and his voice again. “You’re good at doing the voices.”

“Charles, you cannot decide someone’s your friend just because they do good character voices!”

“Too late mate,” Charles replies with amused seriousness, “it’s already done. Guess you’re stuck with me now. So, you gonna give me your number or what?”

[perseidlion]

In the Skin of a Cat (Dead Boy Detectives)

In the Skin of a Cat (13179 words) by perseid_lion Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, The Cat King | Thomas/Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, The Cat King | Thomas/Monty Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, The Cat King | Thomas, Charles Rowland (DCU), Monty (Dead Boy Detectives) Additional Tags: Possession, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Roleplay, Identity Swap, Magic, Pining, Mutual Pining, Shapeshifting, Crack Treated Seriously, POV Charles Rowland (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne Loves Charles Rowland, pov edwin pane, Bisexual Male Character, Gay Male Character, Coming Out, Gay Bar, Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Protective Charles Rowland (DCU), Charles Rowland Loves Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, bisexual awakening, Romantic Comedy, Comedy, The Dreaming Realm (The Sandman), Hormones, Pansexual Character, pansexual awakening, First Time, Non-Graphic Smut, Identity Issues Series: Part 2 of Perseid_Lion's Dead Boy Detectives Summary:

The Cat King is in London, and he offers Edwin the chance to take his body for a spin. Edwin learns what it is to be alive again - but also to be seen by the world as a different person. Having Cat's libido could be a dangerous thing.

--

Please note that the pairings tagged aren't super straightforward because it is a possession fic!

Chapter 1

‘Your theory is…sound. But I don’t quite understand why you would want to offer me this. It is still a theory as well, and not without risk.”

“True,” said the Cat King. “But nothing worth doing is without a bit of risk.” He paced around Edwin, sweeping his eyes up and down him. “If I don’t fight you - which I don’t intend to,” he smiled toothily, “Then no crime has been committed. And besides, the prohibition is against ghosts possessing humans. And I’m not human.” He smiled wide enough to display his pointed canines, golden eyes flashing with mirth.

They were standing in a mostly empty flat in Central London where Cat had taken up residence for the time being. They had seen each other a few times since his relocation, and Cat had even been helpful on a case or two. But there was still a great deal of tension between them. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you are offering to let me possess you. That is simply the logic for why I may not get into trouble for doing so,” said Edwin as he pinched his hands into fists and stood with his back soldier-straight.

Cat was wearing his trademark garish attire of a calf-length skirt and a black mesh shirt, with the addition of cropped black faux fur coat. He was prowling around Edwin, looking him over with open lasciviousness. “Because you deserve to feel, Edwin. I know that you have known mostly pain for far, far too long.” He stopped in front of him. “Let me take some of that away for a short while, hmmm?” Then he leaned in and whispered into Edwin’s ear, “I’d love to have you inside me.”

There were moments when Edwin doubted his own sexuality, wondering instead if he was just the sort to not be with anyone. But then Cat or Charles would do something that would cause a visceral reaction even though he was not, in fact, in possession of any viscera. Now was one of those moments. Cat’s words, coated in double entendre, made him draw in a sharp breath he didn’t need. 

“Are you so desperate for intimacy? Is that why you came up with this scheme?” barked Edwin, the snarkiness a reaction to him feeling off-balance.

“Oh, ouch,” said Cat dramatically as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You’re lucky I like it when you’re a bitch.”

Edwin’s cheeks flushed and even though it was difficult he stood up even straighter. “I apologize. That was rude of me.”

“I can’t stay mad at you,” said Cat as he reached up to straighten Edwin’s bowtie. “Come on. Admit it. You’re curious. You want to know what it’s like to feel alive again. Think of it as an academic exercise. You’d also get to know what it felt to be something other than human. Surely that could come in handy with your work?” He gave Edwin a pouty, begging sort of look, his eyes as puppyish as a cat could make them. 

Edwin was very, very tempted. His recent trip to Hell had reintroduced him to the concept of pain, as had Esther��s subsequent torture. That had been the only thing he’d felt in decades, and he did long for the more pleasurable and pleasant types of sensations of the sort the Cat King was now offering. 

The other part he refused to admit to himself was that he was deeply curious to know what it would be like to be him, in particular. There was no use denying his attraction, or his fascination - which fell into step with his annoyance and distrust. “If we do this…”

Cat’s face lit up. 

“...what are the ground rules?” finished Edwin.

“Ground rules?” 

“Yes, what am I allowed to do? What is off-limits? There simply must be rules,” said Edwin.

“Must there?” said Cat. “I trust you, Edwin. You wouldn’t do anything improper, more’s the pity,” he drawled. “But if you wanted to be improper, you have my permission.” He extended his arms.

“For what, exactly?” asked Edwin.

“Surprise me,” said Cat, his eyes flashing with excitement. “I know you’re not…worldly when it comes to things of a physical nature. How could you be? I can’t imagine you’d do anything I wouldn’t gladly do myself.”

Edwin had to admit that was likely true. Still, “If we do this I don’t intend to get frisky in your body, if that’s what you’re implying!”

Cat could tell Edwin’s resolve was wearing down, and it made him more and more pleased. “Of course you don’t intend to,” he said, with a particularly long, drawn-out purr over the word intend. “Besides, you can always talk to me. If you don’t push me aside, I’ll be able to see and hear everything. If you somehow start doing something I don’t like, I’ll be able to tell you.”

Edwin wanted a very good and logical reason to say no. But Cat had systematically removed any and all obstacles. Cat knew he was tempted, knew some part of him wanted to do it. So without any real and solid reasons to reject it…

“All right.”

Cat clapped and did a little dance. 

“But at the first sign of trouble…” Edwin held up a finger.

“...I’ll kick you out. Believe me, I don’t want to draw unwanted attention either.” Cat cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders back and held his arms out. “Go ahead.”

“Right now? Oh my.” Edwin swallowed. He realized too late he should have negotiated some time to think about it. But then he prepared himself by rolling his neck and focusing on Cat. He’d only possessed people a handful of times, and usually in desperate circumstances. That led to both he and Charles having to escape quite quickly, usually through a mirror, as the possession of a human drew immediate attention of Lost and Found. 

But now he and Charles were working for Lost and Found, and Cat’s theory about him both not fighting it and being nonhuman made sense to Edwin from what he knew of the rules. It was the psychic struggle with a human soul that raised alarm bells, and Cat’s plan involved neither a struggle nor a human soul. 

Edwin could no longer delay the possession. He either had to jump into Cat’s body, or walk away. His academic’s brain was too curious about the experience on offer to do the latter. So, after shaking his lanky limbs out and preparing himself, he strode forward and willed himself into Cat’s body, rather than manifesting solidness or passing through him. 

The experience of possessing Cat immediately felt different. Normally, when a ghost entered a human’s body, their consciousness reacted like white blood cells fighting an infection. The fight was instinctual and immediate, and it usually left little time for a ghost to direct the human’s actions before being expelled. But Cat wanted him in his body, so there was no resistance.

Everything was dark for a moment, but then Edwin felt himself slide under Cat’s skin. He opened his eyes and drew in a lungful of air. The sensation of breathing nearly overwhelmed him. He found himself alone in the flat, surrounded by makeshift furniture and dropcloths. He looked down at his hands, which were stronger and bigger than his slim academic’s hands. He touched his cheeks and found short fur that looked like stubble but felt like a cat’s. His vision was preternaturally sharp. As he looked into the shadows, his eyes shifted as his pupils dilated as night vision momentarily kicked in. 

As Edwin got used to seeing through Cat’s eyes and breathing again, he started to become more aware of his body. As his weight shifted, he felt the leather skirt bounce against his thighs. The soft fur of the cropped jacket brushed his cheek as he turned his head. As he took a step forward, he became suddenly and acutely aware that he was commando underneath the skirt. 

“Cat? Can you hear me?” said Edwin aloud. The feeling of a voice not his own vibrating in his chest was both intoxicating and disconcerting. “Wait, what happened to my accent? I sound exactly like you.”

Muscle memory, I guess. Probably a good thing. In case you run into anyone I know. They’d think I was pulling a Madonna if I suddenly sounded all posh.

Hearing Cat’s voice in his head reassured Edwin that something hadn’t gone horribly wrong. He sounded calm and amused. “You knew you were going to offer me this. The least you could have done is put on pants.”

Cat just chuckled.

Edwin clasped Cat’s hands into fists. It was his unconscious, tense habit that he’d had even when he was alive. But in ghostly form, he didn’t really feel it. He was not used to the sensation, nor the strength of his current hands. “So what shall I do now?” he asked the air.

Anything you want. 

“That is entirely unhelpful,” said Edwin as he took an experimental step forward. He tried a few more steps to get used to the feeling of motion, as well as the soft breeze that flowed up under the skirt with each step. 

Well. You could go see Charles.

Something about the sing-song note in Cat’s inner voice made Edwin suspicious. “What are you up to?”

There was no answer. He could tell that Cat’s consciousness had receded. He was no longer observing every little thing, but he could tell he was aware. 

“Bollocks,” he muttered to himself in an American accent. Then Edwin headed for the door. There was no handy mirror traversal to get him back to the office quickly, and although he could feel Cat’s magic, he didn’t yet know how to access it. So he was left with walking. It was a decent walk - twenty minutes or so. It hadn’t seemed like much when he was considering it, but as he moved down the crowded London streets, he started to think he might have made a mistake.

People were looking at him. Not just because he was currently inhabiting a living body, but because of the outrageous way he was dressed. Edwin only got the full measure of it when he passed by a reflective office building and saw himself as the world saw him. The outfit should have been utterly ridiculous, but it somehow worked - although less so with him at the helm as he didn’t carry himself with the same swaggering confidence of the body’s rightful owner. 

It wasn’t just the wild dress that drew peoples’ attention. If that had been the only feature of the way Edwin currently looked, he would have been greeted with sneers and obvious attempts to look away. 

But Cat was, in Edwin’s estimation, exceptionally handsome. The eccentric clothing just drew peoples’ eyes to him and made them realize that fact. Men and women openly admired him, though some did immediately avert their eyes. 

The eyes of the London crowds did go some way to keeping Edwin’s attention off the dozens of new sensations being embodied gave him. He could smell the fumes of the cars as they passed. He felt a breeze rattle down the street and curl up around his ankles and under his skirt. When the breeze faded, he felt his forehead cooled from where it had tickled a thin sheen of sweat. 

Now that he was moving, Edwin found the faux fur coat much too warm. He walked about a block with sweat trickling down his back before he was forced to remove it. That left him feeling very exposed, as the mesh shirt turned out to be partially open in the back and had short sleeves. 

A pair of gay men walked. One did a little vogue-like spin on the spot, gave him a once-over over the top of heart-shaped sunglasses, then snapped at him in appreciation.

Edwin just smiled awkwardly, nodded at them, and quickened his step. 

Finally, Edwin made it back to the office. He was never so glad to be off the street and away from people. He mounted the stairs and stepped forward. He stopped just short of colliding with the frosted glass of the Dead Boy Detective Agency door before he realized oh yes, he had a body. No phasing through things for the immediate future. 

Fortunately, the door was unlocked. He entered, then promptly leaned against the closed door. He turned the lock and threw the fur coat on a nearby chair. Edwin buried his face in his hands, fingers trickling over his soft, fur-like hair. “I don’t think I can do this,” he murmured to himself.

“Uh, hey.”

That wasn’t Charles’ voice.

Edwin looked up to see Monty standing there. 

“What are you doing here?” And then he remembered the last time they’d seen each other. “You’ve got some nerve coming here.” Edwin stepped forward.

Monty stepped backward and smiled nervously. “Edwin, it’s me.”

Edwin stopped and stared at Monty. “You know who I really am?”

“Yes. Um. Well, you see. I’m not Monty. It’s me. Charles.” 

Edwin’s eyes widened. “Charles?” he said incredulously.

“This is fucking aces, isn’t it?” Then Monty-Charles looked to the side and chuckled. “Feels wrong to curse with this voice. And say aces. I’ll have to watch myself.” He clears his throat, and then said in a far more Monty-ish way, “Isn’t this great?”

The scheme, it seemed was much bigger than the Cat King offering him a temptation. Somehow, he’d roped Charles and Monty into it as well.

“Well,” said Edwin tightly. “This should be interesting.”  Keep reading

[cammie-morgan-goode]

This idea had been on my head lol, can I request a scene regarding zammie on a mission, but zach got jealous, like the song "jealous" by nick jonas? :D sorry and thank you hehe

There's an unspoken rule when you're dating in the Covert world. If you're working with your partner, you can never intervene unless it's a matter of life and death. If your partner just got caught stealing a bag of fruit, you can't just bail them out. If your partner just got stopped for running a stop sign, you can't help pay their ticket. And if your partner has to flirt with the son of the Swedish ambassador at a black-tie dinner in front of Swedish politicians and diplomats. There is absolutely nothing in the world that you can do besides watch.

Zach was on a mission, obviously. His button-down top was freshly dry cleaned and ironed. His bowtie was pristine, and his hair was immaculate. (He swears by that Got2Be Glue stuff…)

And he was engaging in conversation with Mr. Alexander Johannson, a political diplomat that just so happens to be a great eyes and ears into those secret government meetings. And a man who has a hard time shutting up once you supply him with enough Champagne.

But talking about his financial advisors was the last thing Zach wanted to do. He nodded and laughed, smiling that roguish grin. And then he heard a laugh--one he knew all too well.

Zach smiled again, bringing his glass of Champagne to his lips. A waiter strolled on by and he caught a glimpse of the owner of that laugh.

Cammie was grinning from ear to ear, laughing. She placed a hand on another man's chest, leaning in close to whisper something in his ear, and the look on the Swedish son's face, had Zach clenching his free hand into a fist. He knew deep down that it was just Cam doing her job, but it was making him mad. He wished she didn't have to laugh at his lame jokes. And he wished she didn't have to show so much skin either.

He knew he was being protective and obsessive. He knew he was being passive aggressive with his conversations. But he couldn't help it. Cammie was beautiful. She wore a sexy red dress with a slit that went up her thigh, showing off her strong muscles. He knew without looking that she had a knife strapped to the other side. It made him weak in the knees just thinking about it.

Setting his champagne on a passing waiter's tray, Zach politely excused himself from Alexander, turning on his heel. He disappeared into the crowd of people, nobody paying any attention to the man in a nice suit. They didn't see him for what he was. A trained killer. A wolf in sheep's clothing. An undercover spy. And his girlfriend was flirting with a man who has been charged with higher crimes than himself.

Zach glided through the crowd, moving with purpose. He grabbed another glass of champagne that passed in front of him, strolling up to Cammie and the Swedish son. Zach cleared his throat.

"Good evening, you don't mind if I cut in for a moment?" He said in perfect Swedish. Zach held out his hand, champagne in the other. "I just cannot resist a beautiful woman in red,"

Cammie's eyes glittered, her cheeks staining with pink. She took the glass of champagne and smiled slyly at the man beside her. "I'll only be a moment," She tells him, taking Zach's hand.

She follows him to the middle of the crowd. They barely take ten steps and Zach is pulling her in close, his arm around her waist. She presses up against him, the scent of him filling her nose. She sighs. "What's with the look?" She asks, tilting her head a bit.

Zach grips her tighter, making Cammie gasp. "Mr. Alexander has had enough of you tonight, I thought it only fair that I get a turn," He says matter-of-factly. The sentiment makes Cammie laugh.

"Jealous?" She asks, teasing him with another look. "Is Zachary Goode jealous?"

Zach rolls his eyes and without notice, he dips her in the center of the crowd, just as he had down so many years ago. "I don't get jealous, Gallagher Girl," He lets her up and pulls her in close once more. "I get even." He says, his hand firm on her lower back, his fingers grazing her bare skin.

Goosebumps form on her arms and down her body as she stares at Zach. If they weren't at risk of exposing the whole operation, she would have kissed him. But she couldn't. And the way Zach was looking at her, his eyes ablaze with fire, she knew she was in for it when they made it to the safehouse.

And that sent her heart thundering against her ribcage.

(written by: @cammie-morgan-goode)

[theagent470]

Artie's first party

Artie couldn't believe that he had let Sadie talk him into attending this ‘exclusive’ party. They had only been dating a few months and when she had brought it up he had thought she was joking and played along. Next thing he knew she was telling him their tickets were booked and to make sure he had a decent suit!

The location was an idyllic mansion outside London and there would be around 200 guests in attendance he was told, either couples or single women, but no single men. There was a masked meet and greet event first, for people to get a chance to get comfortable with one another, before the evening's activities got underway.

Artie had gone with a reliable grey suit, white shirt and bowtie, which he had been assured suited him, whereas Sadie had gone a bit bolder with her outfit with a purple sequin halter neck mini dress, with thigh high leather boots. 

They both had matching black cat half face masks to make it easier to keep track of one another.

They made their way to the hall where the pre-drinks were being held and surveyed the room. The majority of the men were suited, although  there were a few men in alternative wear, including a few gimp suits and one string vest clad man with a lead attached to a collar held by a black clad woman.

The women's choice of attire ranged the full gammet from ball gowns to full s and m gear with some outfits so revealing Artie didn't know where to look. And this was just the pre drinks.

Sadie had begun talking with a pair at the bar and Artie did his best to follow the conversation whilst his eyes scanned the room.

“It's a lot to take in isn't it?” The woman said to Artie with a grin.

He turned his attention towards the woman, she wore a figure hugging latex cat suit zipped low to reveal an ample chest and had a rabbit styled half face mask with a mischievous grin showing dazzlingly white teeth against her red lipstick.

“it certainly is, you will have to forgive me, I'm sorry I didn't catch your names?” Artie said with what he hoped was a friendly smile and not a lecherous grin.

“oh how formal, aren't you polite? I'm Ruby, and this is my partner in crime, James” she replied whilst gesturing to her companion. He was man of about six foot with dark hair in a black tuxedo also with a half face rabbit mask. He smiled and nodded at Artie as men do and Artie nodded back.

“I was just telling your delightful lady friend how much I adored her outfit and how the cut of your suit complimented your physique. I do hope we get a chance to interact more later” Ruby said with a smile. She turned to order a drink from the bar and James accompanied her.

“See anything you like then?” Sadie asked Artie with a grin.

“Well you of course” he answered instinctively 

“It's ok, you're supposed to look at other women at an event like this. You think I wasn't checking them both out?” Sadie told him reassuringly.

They mingled with some other couples around the room, but Artie was very careful to just have the one drink, anxious about what the evening had in store.

At ten o clock an announcement was made that the activity rooms were now open for the guests' entertainment.

Sadie took Artie by the arm, and walked him down a hallway away from the bar. It was a long hallway, with several doors to the left and right.

Looking inside the first room they were greeted by the sight of a room out fitted like an s and m dungeon with racks of equipment a large four post bed and a st Andrews cross. A women was led on the bed with a leather bra and skirt on, with the skirt hitched up whilst she held a vibrator against herself as she watched another woman being caned whilst strapped to the cross. 

Several couples had stopped in the room to watch and Artie was curious to see more but Sadie pulled at his arm. 

They peered inside three or four more doors all with equal levels of debauchery.

Through the next door was a small mini bar to the one side of the room and a pool table occupying the centre of the room. Ruby and James stood by the bar, drinks in hand.

Sadie sauntered towards them and asked

“Open bar I assume?”

Ruby smiled and handed them both glasses

“Of course, with the ticket prices here I would hardly say they were free drinks though. James was wondering if anyone fancied some pool, but I'm awful. Either of you up for a game?”

“Not me” Artie said quickly “I'm a leftie, and just generally crap at pool”

“I think I can give him a go, if you don't mind?” Sadie answered with a grin. The question seemed to be aimed at Ruby, but her eyes were on Artie. He thought he caught her meaning and gave a hesitant nodd.

Sadie walked over and picked up a pool cue and James began racking the balls up. 

They tossed a coin to decide who made the break and Sadie won the toss. As she leaned over the table to break, her skirt rose up enough for everyone to catch a glimpse under her skirt and see her toned buttocks and what looked to be a leather thong. Artie grinned but James and Ruby applauded loudly.

“At least let me make my break before you start cheering” Sadie said over her shoulder with a grin.

She made her break and potted a ball straight off.

“Am I getting hustled?” James asked with a smirk

“Well we haven't set any stakes on the game so what would be the point ?” Sadie retorted

“Now that's an idea, shall we make this interesting?” Ruby asked

“What did you have in mind” Sadie immediately responded.

Ruby took a sip of her drink and seemed to ponder for a moment.

“How about if you win I give you free use of James for the evening, whereas if I win I get to make use of this gentleman you have brought along?”

Artie’s eye went wide at what he was hearing, he hadn't banked on being traded off but before he could say anything Sadie answered for them both.

“Deal”

 Artie was  gobsmacked but managed to keep his mouth shut.

Sadie potted another ball before missing a shot.

James responded by quickly sinking 3 balls in rapid succession before missing a shot. 

Artie took a nervous swig of his drink and Ruby started to stroke his arm. 

“You've not won yet, hand of the merchandise” Sadie said before lining up her next shot. She sank another two balls before potting the white accidentally. 

James calmly retrieved the white and lined up his next shot which he sank with ease. They were now at 4 apiece and Artie wasn't sure who he actually wanted to win. Either way the result was going to be awkward he felt but Sadie had agreed for them both so was clearly comfortable with whatever happened.

James sank another two balls before leaving his last ball sitting over the middle pocket. 

Sadie bit her lip whilst looking over the table and twisting the cue in her hands.

“Are we all happy with the stakes?” She asked, looking at Artie.

“It's a bit late to worry about that now, but I'm sure you know what you're doing,” Artie said with a confidence he didn't feel. 

Sadie smiled at him before leaning over the table and sinking another ball. She confidently walked around the table and lined up her next shot and again sank the ball but the cue ball rolled to the far end of the table leaving her a tricky shot. 

“Damn” she said, but didn't seem overly upset. She lined up the shot but it richoted of the edge of the pocket.

James took a quick sip of his drink before sinking his last ball. He stood back for a second and looked at the table and looked at Ruby with a raised eyebrow. She smiled and nodded at him.

“Middle left” he said and sank the black in the designated pocket.

“And to the winner go the spoils!” Announced Ruby.

Artie felt himself in a momentary panic but saw Sadie smiling at him still. 

Ruby moved over to a table and sat at a chair next to it. She raised a leg onto the corner of the table and unzipped her catsuit from the bottom revealing a neatly trimmed pussy.

“You've impressed me with how eloquently you have spoken this evening, let's see just how gifted that tongue of yours really is” she said.

Artie knew what was expected of him and took his jacket off and folded it over the back of a chair before sinking to his knees in front of Ruby. 

Clearly she was already excited in anticipation and as his tongue grazed her clit for the first time she wriggled at the touch. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and held them firm as he adjusted her position so her legs rested on his shoulders. He heard some movement behind him but was focusing on the task at hand as he pushed his tongue inside Ruby before sliding back out to lap and nibble at her clit once more.

Ruby had begun to moan at his ministrations which he took as encouragement and proceeded to apply more pressure with his tongue as well as slightly sucking on her clit. Her moans became muffled and he glanced up to see James had positioned himself next to Ruby’s head and she was greedily sucking at his cock while massaging his balls with one hand. Artie thought Sadie must be feeling left out and turned to see her on the pool table. She had removed her dress to reveal a leather and chain harness which showed her nipples poking through the chains and the leather thong had a slit granting access to her pussy which she was playing with enthusiastically whilst watching the show. It was by far the kinkiest outfit he had seen her in and he liked what he saw.

“Back to work now, you don't want to disappoint” she said with a grin.

With that he turned back to Ruby's with renewed enthusiasm. James had pulled down the top zip of her body suit exposing her ample chest and was fondling her breast as she sucked voraciously at his cock. Artie could feel his own dick pushing awkwardly against it's confinement in his trousers but paid it no heed for now. Artie introduced a finger to Ruby's pussy which met little resistance so he pushed a second inside her. He angled his finger slightly up and began to pump his hand as he sucked on her clit and within a minute felt Ruby's cunt muscles twitch and her thighs tighten around his head but he didn't relent until he heard a gasped “stop!” from her.

Artie gingerly extracted his fingers from Ruby's soaking cunt, unsure of what to do next. James smiled and replaced Artie between Ruby's thighs and slid his cock into her.

“Give me that cock” Ruby demanded. Again Artie looked to Sadie who nodded her approval so Artie undid his fly and his already swollen dick sprang free. Without a moment's hesitation Ruby took him in her mouth whilst James pumped between her thighs. She was clearly experienced at what she was doing and James rhythm seemed to have no impact on her ability to perform.

Whilst she hungrily throated his member Artie looked at Sadie who now had two fingers in her twat and was rubbing her clit with her other hand. 

The whole situation was so surreal and erotically charged Artie worried he wouldn't be able to last as long as needed to but wanted to be able to give a good showing of himself.

Abruptly James stopped and looked at Ruby with an eyebrow raised. She gave a small nod, with Artie's cock still in her mouth. James withdrew his phallus and led on the floor. Ruby stopped sucking Artie's cock and climbed astride James and pulled the zip of her catsuit further exposing her asshole to Artie. She looked back over her shoulder at Artie and told him

“There's some lube in my bag”

Artie knew what he had to do, and walked to the bar to retrieve the lube from her bag. He applied a generous amount to his rigid member and squirted a sizable amount onto Ruby’s ass. 

He didn't have much experience with anal and had never taken part in double penetration before but tonight seemed to be a night for firsts.

He pushed the tip of his dick against Ruby's tight asshole and after a few moments resistance felt it slide inside. She gasped loudy and leaned further forward. With the way everyone was positioned it would be up to Artie to set the pace so he slowly started to pump.

“Faster” demanded Ruby. She has pushed herself more upright now and with a grin looked at Sadie and winked. Sadie walked over and positioned herself standing over James head with her pussy directly in front of Ruby’s face. Without hesitation Ruby began to lick at Sadie's glistening cunt.

With all of this going on Artie quickened his pace as instructed and locked eyes with Sadie who was biting at her lip as Ruby's tongue eagerly lapped at her. 

After a few moments he felt a convulsion run through Ruby's body and he had to grip her hips to stop himself getting pushed out. She slumped forward onto James' chest with her thighs quivering and let out an almighty groan. James tenderly stroked her hair and whispered something into her ear before kissing her tenderly on the neck.

After a few moments of awkward silence 

“Well, I think Sadie has been very patient with us, I think it's her turn to have some fun” Ruby said

“Oh yes please” Sadie replied silkily.

Artie extradited himself as carefully as he could from his position and stood. James also went to stand but Sadie motioned for him to stay where he was. She took the lube which Ruby now offered to her and applied it to James still hard penis and some to herself before squatting over him and taking him in her ass.

“I want you in my pussy,” she told Artie. 

Without needing to be told twice he kneeled in front of her and fed his cock into her soaking wet twat as James supported her thighs and she led back on his chest. As soon as Artie entered her he felt her pussy tighten and she gasped. All her teasing had clearly left her on edge and that had been enough to push her into her first orgasm.

Artie waited, knowing Sadie would still want more but let her enjoy the glow for a moment before starting to grind his hips forward. After a few minutes Sadie reached down to tease at her clit and Artie began to quicken his pace.

“Oh fuck me hard Art, now! I need it” she wailed at him. He quickened his pace again feeling his own orgasm starting to build within him but determined to give Sadie one more before he let his go 

“That's it, don't stop! Don't stop!” She screamed and jerked her hips and the strength of her orgasm was evident as she continued rubbing her clit as fast as she could. Artie kept pounding away until her hand slumped away but before he could finish heard Ruby’s voice

“I think as the winner of the wager it's only fair I get the reward! Here boys!” Artie looked to see Ruby feverishly rubbing at her clit on her knees with her breasts exposed. Sadie gave a spent grin

“Only fair, she did win it”

With that James and Artie stood either side of Ruby and pumped their cocks furiously until they both shot their load all over her face, tits and cat suit. The act seemed to be enough to push 

Ruby over the edge into another orgasm as she bucked and slumped forward, spent.

At that there was a round of applause and shocked Artie turned to see a crowd of people gathered by the door watching! Artie had completely forgotten that anyone could walk in and apparently they had provided quite a show for a number of the party attendees.

He meekly looked at Sadie 

“Are we supposed to take a bow now?” He asked as she grinned up at him.

[kathxsoupp]

In Love With A Fever: Chapter 1

William Afton x law enforcement ! reader (fem)

Summary: Reader is a detective who was put on the missing children incident case, her person of interest is William and is currently investigating him.

WARNINGS: very graphic violence throughout the whole fic, eventual smut, slow burn, age-gap between reader and Will, manipulation, mutilation, broken bones, use of pet names, Will is obsessive, mentions of death, death and murder, there will be smut, a lot probably, I think, dub-con at some point maybe, fluff and angst, idk if I missed something just read with caution

Notes: This fic is also posted on my AO3, linked in my pinned post, I'm updating this fic every Monday and it's the first thing I have ever posted, so I hope you like it!

--MINORS DNI!!!!--

Chapter 1: Captivated

A chilling scream was heard through the dark and usually eerily quiet town named Hurricane. It was mostly deserted at these late hours during a workday, so no one really noticed. The origin of the sound was a small restaurant in the town centre. On the front of the building hung a huge, glowing sign with a cartoon bear who wore a black bowtie and a matching top hat. He had a wide toothy grin, which would seem unsettling to the average human, but to the little ones, it was inviting, promising a place full of laughter and fun.

Little Cassidy was one of those children, seeking some sort of entertainment. She heard the stories about the huge yellow rabbit roaming the restaurant and how he gave out free sweets to the kids from her friends. After a long afternoon of playing with her friends, she ran into the mascot. She was mesmerized. She, unbeknownst to her, made the gravely mistake of following the rabbit backstage and now, she lay there in a large crimson puddle slumped against an old wooden closet with no sign of life in her eyes.

You sat in your office at your local police department. It was your second year working here, and you were already one of the best investigators at this place. You sat with your legs up on your table flipping through some old files. You glanced at the clock which read 7:22 pm and then out your small window. The sky outside was already a light pink color, meaning you could leave work soon. You sighed and decided to go get some coffee from the small kitchen downstairs. When leaving your office you almost bumped into one of your co-workers, and your best friend Caris. 

''There you are, (y/n)!'' she spoke cheerfully. 

You flashed her a sweet, friendly smile.

''Hey Caris, what's up?'' 

She raised a thin brown file folder above her read

''The boss wanted me to give this to you. He wants to put you on the missing kids case which happened in that one diner with the creepy animatronics.''

You took the folder from her hand and flipped through the pages with furrowed brows. After skipping through the notes swiftly you shut it closed with one hand and looked back up at your friend.

''Thanks Caris. Tell the boss I'm on it. I was about to grab some coffee earlier actually, wanna come along?'' you asked her with a smile. ''Sure!''

You both made your way downstairs and got both of your cups of coffee. You spent the rest of your shift chatting in the kitchen, catching up on life and complaining about work. When the clock finally struck 8:00 pm, you got up from your chairs and went to collect your belongings from your office. You quickly called goodbye over to Caris before leaving. You stood in the cold evening air, taking a deep breath before getting into your car and driving away. You made sure to take the way, on which you would drive around the restaurant. The building was temporarily closed, secured with yellow police tapes. 

What the hell happened here... you thought. You spent the rest of the drive home thinking about your newest case, deeply intrigued by it. Some people have already called you strange for your deep interest in crime, but you never minded them. You were passionate about your job and about bringing justice into this rotten mess of a world.

You parked your car in a small parking lot next to your apartment building and hurried inside. When finally home, you set all of your things on your dinner table and went inside your bathroom for a quick shower. After you got out, you dug in your bag for your newest case file. You sat on the couch and turned on the TV for some background noise. You flipped through the pages again, stopping on the pages with prime suspects. Two names, both highlighted in different colors stood out to you. Henry Emily, the owner of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, head of engineering and William Afton, co-owner of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, head of business were the two suspects mentioned, however, there was no real evidence against them. There wasn't anything special about Henry Emily. William Afton on the other hand, was the main suspect. Your boss made sure to leave you a note with his reasonings and a reminder to interview the man as soon as possible. You stared at the page for a moment and then shut it closed and placed down onto your coffee table. 

You glanced at the clock again. 10:00 pm. You got up from your couch and decided to head to bed to get your well deserved rest. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.

[supermanai]

Superman: The Office Nerd

Lex Luthor had done it. He had finally stripped Superman of his strength, his powers, and his pride. Now, the world’s greatest hero was nothing more than a fragile shell of his former self—an awkward, meek office worker in an outfit so ridiculous that it would make even the most dedicated nerd cringe.

Superman, bound by kryptonite and unable to fight back, had been forcibly transformed. His iconic, tousled hair was now slicked back with Brylcreem, giving him a perfectly neat, overly-processed look. His once majestic physique was now hidden beneath a short-sleeved, checkered shirt that seemed far too tight around his neck and shoulders. A bowtie, comically tight, rested beneath his chin. Below, his pants were far too high on his waist, barely holding up, while his white socks peeked out from beneath his too-large, ill-fitting shoes. He was the picture of an awkward office intern, straight out of some 1950s sitcom.

Luthor smirked as he surveyed the transformation. “Perfect, Kal-El. Let’s see how long you can last in this role. Who’s going to save the world now?” He let out a mocking laugh, his voice reverberating off the cold, steel walls of his lair.

The next morning, Clark Kent—once Superman—walked into the Daily Planet in his absurd outfit. His usual confidence was gone. Every step felt heavier, as though the clothes themselves were somehow weighing him down. His once proud posture had sagged, and his eyes, hidden behind thick, round glasses, darted nervously at his coworkers as he shuffled into the newsroom.

Jimmy Olsen, ever the jokester, couldn’t hold back his surprise. “Whoa, Clark! You, uh, look different today. New look?”

Clark forced a smile, trying to ignore the heat that crept up to his cheeks. He was used to having his identity scrutinized, but never like this. “Yeah, Jimmy. Just... trying something new.”

Lois Lane raised an eyebrow as she looked up from her desk, giving Clark an almost concerned look. “Clark, you’re... well, you’re not really yourself. What happened? Is everything okay?”

Clark, feeling the weight of her gaze, hesitated. He could see the worry in her eyes—the same eyes that had once been filled with admiration for the hero he truly was. “I’m fine, Lois. Just... been feeling a little different lately.”

Before Lois could say anything more, Perry White’s booming voice interrupted. “Kent! My office. Now!”

Clark’s heart sank as he moved to Perry’s office, his stiff bowtie pulling at his throat. He had never felt more like a shell of himself, never more out of place. Once, he had been the world’s strongest protector, someone who inspired awe in everyone around him. Now, he was a bumbling, awkward office nerd.

In Perry’s office, the editor-in-chief was less than impressed. “Kent, where are the reports on the Metropolis crime wave? You’re supposed to have those by now.”

Clark swallowed, his mouth dry. “Sorry, Mr. White. I—uh—I’ll get them to you as soon as possible.”

Perry gave him a stern look, but then his face softened a little. “Kent, you’ve always been good under pressure. Don’t let this... whatever this is, get to you. You can do better.”

Clark nodded weakly, swallowing back his pride. “Thanks, Perry. I’ll... I’ll get to work right away.”

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Clark Kent, now fully entrenched in his new, humiliating identity, fought against the constant struggle to maintain his facade. Every day, he donned the same ridiculous outfit: the short-sleeved checkered shirt, the too-tight bowtie, the white socks showing beneath his high-waisted pants. His Brylcreem hair, perfectly slicked back, was the cherry on top of his humiliating new look. He looked like the kind of guy who couldn’t even make it past the first round of a spelling bee contest.

His coworkers, at first unsure, now openly mocked him. Jimmy would make snide comments about Clark’s “retro style” and his inability to keep his socks hidden. Lois, concerned but unable to pinpoint what was wrong, became quieter around him. And Perry, though less overt, noticed the drastic shift in Clark’s once-vibrant energy.

But no one knew what Clark was truly going through.

Each day, he fought to suppress the urge to tear off the absurd bowtie and rip through the shackles of his own body. Every time he glanced out the window, he could see the faintest hint of the city he once protected—the skyline that had been his to watch over. He was Superman, and yet, here he was—reduced to this. An office nerd who couldn’t even stand up to a stack of papers, let alone save the day.

But still, through every morning and every painful moment of shame, Clark clung to the one thing that kept him going: hope.

Late at night, long after everyone else had gone home, Clark would sit at his desk and write reports, doing his best to contribute despite his humiliation. But in the quiet of the office, when the building was empty and silent, he would sometimes allow himself a few precious moments to think back to who he had been. Superman. The man who could fly and move mountains.

And with each passing day, as he struggled to find his strength again, something began to shift inside him. The kryptonite that had sapped his powers—slowly, agonizingly—began to lose its hold. Clark could feel the change in his bones, the return of his old self, faint but undeniable.

At night, as he worked late, his muscles began to ache in a familiar way—like he was waking from a long slumber. The Brylcreem slicked hair began to feel heavy, and his bowtie itched. The longer he resisted, the more he could feel his old strength stirring. His chest swelled with the smallest bit of pride. He was coming back.

It was a slow, painful process. There were days when the kryptonite’s lingering effect would almost pull him back to square one. But he refused to let it break him. He would find a way. He would find a way to rise again.

Months passed, and the final breakthrough came on a quiet evening, long after the office had emptied out. Clark stood before a mirror in his cramped, dingy apartment, staring at the nerdy reflection that had mocked him for so long. His hair, though still slicked back with Brylcreem, had begun to return to its natural shape. His bowtie, once suffocating, now felt like it might snap.

With a determined grunt, Clark tore off the bowtie. A surge of strength ran through him, one that he hadn’t felt in months. Slowly, he reached for the shirt, feeling his muscles tense, the fabric no longer constricting him. The Man of Steel was returning.

In the mirror, he didn’t see a helpless office nerd anymore. He saw the glimmer of the hero who had once inspired the world. Superman was back.

It wasn’t going to be easy. Luthor may have won the battle for now, but Superman—Clark Kent—would never give up. And when the time came, the world would see once again the hero they had always believed in.

How’s that? The new nerdy look with the bowtie, short sleeves, and slicked-back hair! I hope it matches the vision you had for the character’s humiliation and slow, steady return to his heroic self!

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Alrighty, whether you're an OG or new here, please be advised that ahead there be

It took every ounce of your self-control to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes.

I love her already lol unimpressed with THE Steve Rogers?

The last thing you needed was one photo documenting your unhappy reaction to Steve’s arrival and it would be all over the internet within an hour. At least, that’s what your agent had stressed to you.

What an absolute nightmare. As someone who has RBF and has had it drilled into me at work these past few years that my authentic self is unwelcome in that environment, I know what it's like to have to school ones expression. Luckily she's an actress but it must suck to have to be so self conscious because if you're not, the entire world is going to be talking about it in whatever context they want. Celebrity ain't worth it!

That one little—mostly joking—comment was blown out of proportion, spreading across all the biggest entertainment outlets’ websites and trending on Twitter. Before you knew it, Steve had tweeted his response, “You’re on, sweetheart,” which solidified your silly answer into a story.

Yep, see? Having to explain every joke or every tease and if you're not quick enough, clickbait and boom. A "story."

To make it worse, the press and the fans loved it. You and Steve were officially rivals in the public eye and your agent warned you constantly that you had to make sure you never veered into unlikable. There’s nothing Hollywood hates more than a competitive, vicious shrew, after all. The future of your career rested too precariously on how you conducted yourself.

Hate this for her. DOUBLE STANDARDS make the world go 'round! Again, this poor woman is having to school herself because God forbid she's TOO strong or TOO competitive because then that equates to a B somehow. Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike, eff all the way off. Her career isn't dependent on her talent or her draw, but her attitude? *smh* Welcome to being a woman in, well, ANY industry -_-

Were you and Steve secretly dating?  That last one had made you laugh, though the sound was closer to a cackle. You’d never even met Steve Rogers, let alone carried on a secret affair with the Hollywood heartthrob. It all made you want to scream, but you’d laughed instead—even if it was a little bit hysterical.

I do not blame her ONE BIT for being kind of hysterical because what a whacky world she lives in. Not only unfair, but one where anyone can make up ANYTHING and as long as it's "in print," it must have SOME truth to it? I'm enjoying how this is actually a critical look at celebrity from a female point of view so far.

It should be a crime for any man to look that good in a suit. His broad shoulders filled out the snug-fitting jacket, and he looked positively dapper in his bowtie. With his blond hair slicked back and the neatly trimmed beard covering his jaw, he looked ruggedly handsome in the way you’d expect of an action hero.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeell, I can see she's not totally unaffected *MUAHAHAHAHA* Knowing they haven't met, I'm dying to know what's going to happen when they finally do.

Ignoring the yelling journalists and fans, and even his own publicist, Steve made a beeline for you, weaving through the crowd until he was close enough to pull you in for a hug. A thousand camera shutters went off with a flurry of flashing bulbs—so fast and bright you would’ve believed you were at a rave and not a red carpet if not for the fact that America’s favorite action hero was holding you tight against his chest. 

I love the rave analogy. I only went to one once but omg, this description is exactly what it was like lol. I'm also FLABBERGASTED that he just immediately went to her. I thought "moth to a flame."

It wasn’t a normal Hollywood hug. Steve had one large hand pressed to your lower back, the warmth of his palm seeping through your thin dress to your skin, and the other cradling the back of your head.

This makes me giggle cuz I've SEEN Chris Evans hug people like this, most vividly for me on the Endgame red carpet I think it was? So I was literally giggling reading this cuz I'm like YEP! THAT'S SO STEVE!

The way he held you made you for comforted and safe, emotions you didn’t often feel on a red carpet when there were so many eyes and cameras watching you. And to make matters worse, your body was responding to the feel of Steve’s large, muscular body pressed so tightly against yours, heat and electricity swimming through your bloodstream. 

LORDT. The way I would MELT. I'm in my feels as I'm writing this too cuz ~hormones~ so I've definitely been craving a cuddle / held close feeling and this description made me like whimper cuz ... comforted and safe?

“Wow I guess those muscles of yours aren’t fake, huh—I always thought they were CGI,” you snarked lightly, mouth curling up in a genuine smile to let him know you were kidding.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS be a smart a$$ to cover real emotion. THIS IS MY JAMMMMMM lmao for real. Vulnerability is a bad word, AND she has the added "competition" thing going on here so I support this queen wholeheartedly with this "pretend that didn't just happen" move.

“You’re not what I expected either, sweetheart,” he said, the tiniest smirk you’d ever seen curving his lips. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he ducked closer so he could speak in your ear. “I heard you were a real witch, but you’re as sweet as apple pie.” Your entire body rioted, your heart thumping in your chest as butterflies fluttered furiously in your stomach. You didn’t know whether to take his compliment as a veiled insult—who had called you a witch!?—or if your first instinct was actually right and he was flirting with you. No, he was definitely flirting with you, and you were definitely enjoying it far too much.

LFGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG this type of banter is my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE, as are leads who are combative, won't give into themselves OR each other easily. OMG LOVING THIS.

As you pulled away, you patted the action hero on the face a little harder than necessary and moved to edge around him.  But Steve wasn’t letting you get away that easily; he caught you around your waist before you could get far. The action hero pivoted gracefully, turning his back to the cameras so you were hidden from their view and pulled you close. You didn't want to admit how much you liked the way he manhandled you. Anxiously, you glanced around, but everyone else on the crowded carpet was too distracted to notice the big stars of the summer’s most anticipated blockbusters were sharing a private moment in the midst of mayhem.

OOF. That whole package had me squealing into my pumpkin pillow but that bolded line? Cuz that'd be straight out of my own brain. And that he's doing it surreptitiously in front of ALL those people? !!!!!!

So if I keep going like I am, I'm going to end up quoting every paragraph and gushing over it so I'm making myself skip ahead, hopefully to encourage some of you to go read because I'm skipping some plot points here lol

For a moment, Steve’s face was the picture of surprise, but then his expression darkened, heating your body from the inside out as he stared down at you with a fire burning his is gaze.

Before you could step away from Steve and let him get on with his regular red carpet duties, he held you firm, pulling your hand against his chest so the back was pressed over his heart. It was like he didn’t want to let you go. His expression had morphed again and he looked genuine earnest. “Find me after,” he said, ducking his head so only you could hear. “Wanna know what you think of my movie, sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over your neck, his rough beard grazing your soft cheek. That time you couldn’t stifle the shiver. When Steve moved back, heat blazed in his eyes, hot enough that you almost trembled again.

I LOVE THIS STORY!

I haven't done fluff / non smut in a while lmao but this story was so intriguing and engaging right from the get go. I'm going to have to go see if there is more with these 2 because honestly? I wanna know where it goes!

So well done and thank you SO MUCH for creating and sharing!

you got yourself a bet, sweetheart

pairing: movie star!steve rogers x movie star!reader

summary: when the media spins a story of you and action movie star steve rogers being rivals because your new films open the same weekend, you attend the premiere of his blockbuster in a show of good faith. however, when he gets you alone on the red carpet, steve decides to make the competition more interesting.

warnings: fluff, flirting, banter, betting, nicknames (sweetheart, dreamboat), seriously steve is a HUGE flirt in this

word count: 2.5k

a/n: day 11 of my 30 day writing trope challenge was rivals—i think i originally had academic rivals but i didn't want to limit myself to a school setting and i'm glad i didn't! this is a bit of a different setting than i usually write in, but i thought it'd be fun! and it was! i had so much fun writing these two, and i already have ideas for how to continue their story. i actually had to stop myself from writing more, otherwise i'd never get around to posting this 😂 anyway, hope y'all enjoy reading about movie star steve rogers and movie star reader as much as i enjoyed writing the start of their story!!

-

You knew the moment Steve Rogers stepped onto the red carpet because the crowd went absolutely wild for America’s favorite action star. It took every ounce of your self-control to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. You were only a little ahead of him on the red carpet and you knew there were dozens, if not hundreds of cameras trained on you. The last thing you needed was one photo documenting your unhappy reaction to Steve’s arrival and it would be all over the internet within an hour. At least, that’s what your agent had stressed to you.

The whole reason you were attending the red carpet for Steve’s new movie was because the press had created a full-blown rivalry between you two. It hadn’t been your decision to set the release date for your first solo film in the biggest superhero franchise of all time against the fifth installment of Steve’s beloved spy-thriller action series. And when a journalist had asked you how you felt about the box office competition, you’d regrettably revealed you were a little bit competitive and you were hoping to trounce Rogers in opening weekend.

That one little—mostly joking—comment was blown out of proportion, spreading across all the biggest entertainment outlets’ websites and trending on Twitter. Before you knew it, Steve had tweeted his response, “You’re on, sweetheart,” which solidified your silly answer into a story.

To make it worse, the press and the fans loved it. You and Steve were officially rivals in the public eye and your agent warned you constantly that you had to make sure you never veered into unlikable. There’s nothing Hollywood hates more than a competitive, vicious shrew, after all. The future of your career rested too precariously on how you conducted yourself.

So, in a show of good faith, you’d invited Steve to your movie premiere—publicly on Twitter, of course. It was less than an hour before he responded, extending you an invitation to his. Which is how, on the night before your own movie’s premiere, you were on the red carpet for Steve Rogers’ film. You’d walked the press line, having to grin and bear it through an endless stream of questions about America’s favorite action hero.

What do you think of Steve’s movie series? Which of the first four installments was your favorite? Would you consider appearing in a sixth movie if the series continued? Had you and Steve placed any bets on the competition between your movies and, if so, what would you have to do if you lost? Did you really think your movie could beat Steve’s? Were you and Steve secretly dating? 

That last one had made you laugh, though the sound was closer to a cackle. You’d never even met Steve Rogers, let alone carried on a secret affair with the Hollywood heartthrob. It all made you want to scream, but you’d laughed instead—even if it was a little bit hysterical. Your publicist had cut the interview off and sent you farther down the red carpet to the event’s photo call. And that’s where you were when Steve finally arrived. 

You made the mistake of glancing over toward the start of the carpet, and you caught the action hero’s sparkling blue eyes. It should be a crime for any man to look that good in a suit. His broad shoulders filled out the snug-fitting jacket, and he looked positively dapper in his bowtie. With his blond hair slicked back and the neatly trimmed beard covering his jaw, he looked ruggedly handsome in the way you’d expect of an action hero.

Ignoring the yelling journalists and fans, and even his own publicist, Steve made a beeline for you, weaving through the crowd until he was close enough to pull you in for a hug. A thousand camera shutters went off with a flurry of flashing bulbs—so fast and bright you would’ve believed you were at a rave and not a red carpet if not for the fact that America’s favorite action hero was holding you tight against his chest. 

It wasn’t a normal Hollywood hug. Steve had one large hand pressed to your lower back, the warmth of his palm seeping through your thin dress to your skin, and the other cradling the back of your head. The way he held you made you for comforted and safe, emotions you didn’t often feel on a red carpet when there were so many eyes and cameras watching you. And to make matters worse, your body was responding to the feel of Steve’s large, muscular body pressed so tightly against yours, heat and electricity swimming through your bloodstream. 

You were flustered by Steve’s hug and how much you enjoyed it, which was your only excuse for how your mouth got away from you when he pulled away. “Wow I guess those muscles of yours aren’t fake, huh—I always thought they were CGI,” you snarked lightly, mouth curling up in a genuine smile to let him know you were kidding.

Surprise flashed in Steve’s brilliant blue eyes, but he hid it well, his face remaining in a relaxed, friendly expression, a smile tucked amidst the short beard decorating his jaw. To the cameras, you two would look just like any celebrity friends connecting on the red carpet, but Steve lowered his voice so you were the only one who’d hear his response to your remark. “You’re not what I expected either, sweetheart,” he said, the tiniest smirk you’d ever seen curving his lips. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he ducked closer so he could speak in your ear. “I heard you were a real witch, but you’re as sweet as apple pie.”

Your entire body rioted, your heart thumping in your chest as butterflies fluttered furiously in your stomach. You didn’t know whether to take his compliment as a veiled insult—who had called you a witch!?—or if your first instinct was actually right and he was flirting with you. No, he was definitely flirting with you, and you were definitely enjoying it far too much.

When Steve pulled away, his blue eyes still dancing with humor and interest as he read your face for your reaction, you decided it didn’t matter. You were rivals at best, nothing but two strangers navigating the same industry at worst. But your brain failed to deliver that message to your mouth, because before you could think better of it, you were flashing Steve a wicked grin and saying, “Just wait until I win opening weekend, dreamboat, then you’ll see how sweet I can really be.” 

With one hand on Steve’s broad shoulder and the other on his sculpted jaw, you leaned in an pressed a friendly kiss to his cheek, hiding a smirk against scruffy jaw when you heard the cameras and flashes going off in a wild frenzy again. As you pulled away, you patted the action hero on the face a little harder than necessary and moved to edge around him. 

But Steve wasn’t letting you get away that easily; he caught you around your waist before you could get far. The action hero pivoted gracefully, turning his back to the cameras so you were hidden from their view and pulled you close. You didn't want to admit how much you liked the way he manhandled you. Anxiously, you glanced around, but everyone else on the crowded carpet was too distracted to notice the big stars of the summer’s most anticipated blockbusters were sharing a private moment in the midst of mayhem.

“Keep it up, sweetheart, and I’ll have to make this interesting,” Steve murmured, his words a playful threat. Out of the spotlight, Steve’s expression morphed until you could read the filthy thoughts he was having in the inviting curve of his mouth and the heated look in his eyes.

In your chest, your heart beat faster, and the fluttering in your stomach was trailing down your spine, making your legs feel unsteady underneath you. But you were never one to back down from a challenge, and you certainly weren’t going to let America’s hunk of an action hero flirt you into submission. So you raised an eyebrow and smirked saucily. “What did you have in mind, dreamboat?” you asked, your voice drawling over the nickname, overtly calling attention to the fact that Steve had taken to calling you sweetheart and you weren’t sure whether you’d continue to allow it.

Amusement danced freely across Steve’s face, like he enjoyed you calling him dreamboat far too much for him to ever stop calling you sweetheart. But then the amusement was wiped away and he gave you a considering look. “If my movie wins opening weekend, you have to bake me an apple pie—and deliver it yourself,” he said slowly, like he was deciding on the stakes as he spoke. When he was done, though, he looked plenty satisfied with himself. 

“And if I win?” you challenged, wanting to wipe the cocky smile from his face. 

“Whaddya want, sweetheart?” Steve drawled, his eyes going just a little bit heavy-lidded as he stared down at you. 

His eyes were deep pools of ocean blue that you wanted to swim in, but you shook your head slightly and forced yourself to get your head in the game. However, your mouth spoke before your brain caught up—again. “If I win, you have to take me out on your yacht, dreambaot,” you shot back. Steve looked a little disappointed when it seemed you’d finished setting your stakes. But, with a smirk, you went on. “And you have to wear those cute little swim shorts from that movie a few years ago—you know the ones.”

For a moment, Steve’s face was the picture of surprise, but then his expression darkened, heating your body from the inside out as he stared down at you with a fire burning his is gaze. He knew the swim shorts you were referring to, of course. They were the only thing he’d worn in the beach scene of the third film in his blockbuster action franchise. Technically, they were swim shorts, but with an incredibly short inseam and they’d clung to his thighs as if they could barely contain the muscles in Steve’s legs.

When images of Steve in those shorts on set had made their way online, STEVE ROGERS THIGHS starting trending on Twitter within the hour and remained trending for a full day. The internet had lost their collective minds, and that was months before the movie even came out. When it hit theaters, it had shattered records, cementing the series as one of the best-selling franchises of the decade. Throughout the movie’s lengthy promotional tour, and then its entire theatrical run, images of Steve in those shorts could be found everywhere on the internet. The only thing that had come close to rivaling it since was Henry Cavill cocking his fists in that Mission: Impossible movie. 

So of course Steve knew the shorts you were referring to. And he knew that you knew he still had them. He always made sure to quip he had them at home whenever anyone asked him about that scene. But he’d never actually been seen in them again. You’d never admit to anyone—not your agent, not your mom, not even your best friend—that you were dying to see Steve Rogers in those shorts again, especially since he’d filled out even more in the years since that movie was shot.

For a moment, you wondered if you’d pushed Steve too far as he remained quiet, tilting his head to the side as he considered you. You wouldn’t let yourself wilt under his gaze, holding his eye and keeping a challenging look on your face. But then he seemed to come to a decision.

“You deliver that apple pie in a cute little apron and you got yourself a bet, sweetheart,” Steve said, holding his hand up in the tight space between your bodies, offering it to shake on your deal. He was so close, the tips of his fingers grazed your collarbone and you had to stop yourself from shivering at his barest touch. 

You considered the stakes for only a moment, but your competitive nature ultimately won out. “A bet it is, dreamboat,” you said, sliding your hand into Steve’s. His palm was warm and slightly rough, and you couldn’t stop yourself from imaging what it’d feel like smoothing over your bare skin. Your body heated even further, an ache developing between your thighs. You shook the thought from your mind and looked up at Steve, who was grinning like he could read your dirty thoughts clear on your face. Wiping all emotion from your face except for a snarky smirk, you shook his hand, sealing the deal.

Before you could step away from Steve and let him get on with his regular red carpet duties, he held you firm, pulling your hand against his chest so the back was pressed over his heart. It was like he didn’t want to let you go. His expression had morphed again and he looked genuine earnest. “Find me after,” he said, ducking his head so only you could hear. “Wanna know what you think of my movie, sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over your neck, his rough beard grazing your soft cheek. That time you couldn’t stifle the shiver. When Steve moved back, heat blazed in his eyes, hot enough that you almost trembled again.

“Sure thing, dreamboat,” you said, your voice breathier than you meant it to be, but there was nothing you could do about it. Steve brushed a kiss to your cheek—leaving behind his scent of fresh air and driftwood, reminding you of the ocean—and finally let you retreat to the opposite end of the red carpet while he took his place on the press line. 

Squaring your shoulders, you found your publicist and had her lead you inside the movie theater. You chatted with other actors and industry folks, grabbed a drink at the open bar and made your way to your seat. All the while, though, you couldn’t stop thinking about how Steve had touched you, how your body had reacted to him, and the way his flirting had made you feel alive.

When the lights dimmed, you weren’t sure if you wanted Steve’s movie to be a triumph or a failure. But of one thing you were certain—you were looking forward to seeing America’s favorite action hero afterward. You couldn’t wait to see how he looked at you when you told him what you thought of his movie, and to hear his own reactions to your thoughts. You wanted to know if he’d touch you again, and if your body would react the same way, heating for him and begging for more. Altogether, you were eager for the movie to start so it could be over and you could see Steve again.

With your heart fluttering in your chest to match the butterflies in your stomach, you realized you might be developing a little crush on your movie star rival. If that was the case, you were in trouble.

⫸⫸30 Day Writing Trope Challenge Masterlist⫷⫷

[themaskwholikesflowers]

Welcome to the Cielo Complex!

I tried drying my coat while hiding under a bus stop. I looked up, the sky was still pouring rain, I concluded that a storm was coming.

Since I started this stupid trip only misfortune happened. Some drunkard crashed against my car which made me drop my phone, which now is worse than my social life!

Walking in the middle of the street and helpless waiting for my roommate to notice my absence wasn't what I was expecting when I said that I wanted "some adventure", like seriously universe, at 2 am?! There isn't a single taxi, bus or subway working at this damn hour!

Being in an unknown town wasn't nice as well, but then I noticed at the distance.

-A hotel? It seems to be open.

I murmured.

I looked at the bus stop, the seats were dirty and smelled like sweat, no way I would sleep there, the hotel looked nice, it only had two floors and in the white painted walls there was a neon sign "24h hotel!", I suppose it was my best option.

I ran through the streets as fast as I could, and, almost falling, I arrived at the door. The glass door was foggy as well as the windows, it was simple, but it was something.

I opened the door and entered.

It was huge???

The whole place was decorated with white pillars with gold entailed, red carpets, red and gold curtains, sofas, vending machines, bookshelves full of monochromatic books, a wood counter also entailed with gold. Several keys behind it, a crystal chandelier, it even smelled luxurious.

I looked at my wallet, 127 dollars, I doubted I could pay, but it was worth a shot.

I got close to the counter, there was a woman organizing the keys, she wore a short sleeve brown suit with black pants, when she turned around her white and red hair or black bowtie didn't catch my attention, her mask did, it was white with pitch black eyes, eerie.

-Hello, welcome to the Cielo Hotel, do you have a reservation?

Her voice seemed to echo throughout the room, almost ethereal.

-I... I don't have one, no. I would like to make one.

-Sure thing! I have a room on the third floor that's vacant, is that okay?

I prepared for the humiliation of the price.

-How much is this room for a day?

-For a day? Only twenty dollars, food not included.

I widened my eyes, was this a scam??

-And with the food?

-Thirty dollars with the food included.

Whatever the organ harvesting scheme was this, I was too tired to care. I put the money on the counter and said.

-I'll have it.

-Great! Just a warning- she said while picking a golden key, and taking the money- the food is pre-selected.

-what.

-The food is always a specific dish, no need to worry about allergies though.

She could've said anything, but I can't choose the food? That's a crime against humanity!

-No. Forget my reservation, forget it, this place is ridiculous. Outrageous!

I started walking straight to the door, huffing.

-We don't accept refunds, though.

-Keep it!

I touched the door handle, I felt her gaze burning my back, soon the air felt heavy, suffocating. I gazed upon the door, was it always this red?

-I greatly advise you to not open that door.

I looked at her, almost laughing, this place was already creeping me out, and I didn't want to find what was on the weird food that would give me. I scoffed and said.

-It's just a door, and I had an awful day, I'm not gonna stay here and eat this weird food, that you're basically gonna obligate me to eat, so good night.

That mask was terrifying now that I took a good look at it, well whatever. I almost opened the door but then I heard her again.

-I said, that you won't open that door.

I froze, my hand hovering up the handle, I could barely breath, it was like her voice was ringing in my ear making my head throb, it was demanding, intimidating. I winced in pain and fell to the ground.

I heard heavy footsteps approaching me, my heart pounds in unison, I coughed and saw blood in the ground, I tried to get up her voice feeling far away.

-I apologize, but if you don't stay the entire time of your reservation, you'll never be able to frequent any other hotel, again.

My vision was blurry and the world seemed to spin, the pressure in the air vanished, and I felt light.

-Now let's get you to your room.

Everything blacks out.

Hello everyone!

This is my first ever post on Tumblr so it may not be really good, but I tried.

The continuation will probably be out in some days, but I'll see how it goes.

(Also English is not my first language so if there are any grammar mistakes warn me pls)

See you soon :D

[squids-comics]

Today's special writing piece is the first (and so far only) chapter of my little novella about The Neighbourhood Watch! They're a team of misfit superheroes who (try to) stop petty crimes in a small suburban neighbourhood! Enjoy!!

It was three in the morning, the perfect time for a crime. Criminals are easily scared, and are very wary of superstitions. They strike at night, when no one can see their sins. No one, except Gadgetron. He had nightvision.

The Neighbourhood Watch was out making their usual patrol, in the early hours of the morning, when Gadgetron detected something. Out in Brick Wall Park, against the lone brick wall the park was named after, where there weren't any street lights to cast shadows, there was a small group of criminals spray painting. Three of them. They thought they were hidden, completely unseen by the world. But Gadgeteron had infrared vision built into his electronic eyes. They were attempting to ruin Brick Wall Park's brick wall, staining it with brightly coloured portraits of their deepest feelings and desires. They smeared their hopes and dreams, their wants and needs across the wall, holding them out for the world to see. An admirable expression, but ultimately, still illegal.

When Gadgetron saw them, his eyes lit up green. The green glow glistened off his metallic skin. His antenna buzzed as his gears whirred. His sharp, robotic voice cut through the cold night air. "Criminals spotted! Three of them in the park! By the wall!"

"I see them," Bi Aro responded. He was closer to them than the rest of the group was. He stood in one of the nearest trees, nestled in its small branches like an elephant on a palm tree. The tree was small, barely able to support the weight of a fully grown adult. Bi Aro didn't notice how low the branches were bending. His purple shirt stuck out from the green leaves like a sore thumb, but it was dark so it didn't matter that much. He grabbed his bow and notched two razor sharp arrows on the string. Unfortunately for him, there were three vandals, and he wasn't Tri Aro. He'd have to save them for the rest of the team. But he could still cause a bit of chaos! He pulled his string back, and held his breath. It was really dark. He wished he wasn't wearing sunglasses. Unfortunately, taking his pink sunglasses off would mess up his whole bi pride style, and he couldn't have that. He let the arrows fly. He silently prayed that they hit their mark.

The arrows flew through the darkness. They pierced the paint cans in the vandals hands. the cans exploded, releasing thick clouds of paint to billow around the vandals. The vandals screamed, dropping the cans. The world around them quickly grew fuzzy due to the cloud, but also because they were inhaling lungfuls of paint. They turned to run, teetering as they did so. As they ran, a figure appeared from the smoke. He stood in front of them, standing eerily still. He wore a cheap looking tuxedo, complete with a red bowtie. He had a domino mask hiding his eyes, perched on his sly face over his thin pencil moustache. He seemed to wobble and wave in the smog. The vandals thought it was because he was a magical entity. Really, it was just the paint fumes. The man pulled a deck of cards out of his jacket pocket and began shuffling them, like he was about to do a card trick. 

"Listen up you hooligans!" The magician said sternly, in the same voice a teacher would use with a misbehaving student. "I will not stand idly by as you besmirch the good image of Brick Wall Park! Go home, or face the wrath of..." He flicked a card into his empty hand, holding it up proudly for the trio to see. It was the ace of spades. "...The Gambler!"

One of the three crooks, a scrawny looking young man, collapsed to his knees in front of The Gambler. He slowly opened his mouth to speak. "We- We're real sorry magic man."

Gambler tucked the card back into his deck, relaxing his posture and taking a step towards the three. He held his hand out to the young man, helping him off the ground. "A wise decision. Now lets get you home. It's a school night."

The man grabbed Gambler's hand. Gambler's white gloves were soft in the man's hand. Gambler's arms strained slightly as he pulled the man up to his feet. His arms were thin and scrawny, the padding of his suit hiding his lack of muscle. By the time the man got back on his feet, Gambler was a little red in the face.

"Good idea," The man said, turning away from Gambler. The other two vandals turned with him and began walking with him. "It's late... We should probabl-"

He stopped midsentence as he ran into a wall of solid purple flesh. The soft flabby tissue of the skin and fat dulled the blow of the rock hard muscles concealed underneath. The trio looked at what they had just unwittingly headbutted. In front of them stood the figure of a man, around eight feet tall. He was purple, with ripped green pants being his only clothing. His body looked out of shape at first glance, bulbous, with a bulging belly. However, the trio could tell it contained great strength underneath, like an Olympic deadlifter. His hair was disheveled and black, his eyes glowing purple in the dim night air.  His nose was flared. His teeth were gritted tight. Steam seemed to billow from his nostrils and the corner of his mouth. He was angry. He looked like a bull ready to charge.

"It's a troll!!" The trio called out, before turning around and running as hard as they could. They split up, each taking a different escape route. 

"Monster like your art!" The great purple man called out into the night behind them. He got no response however, indicating that his enthusiasm may have been too little too late. He didn't seem to notice, calling out louder to ensure the poor artists felt seen. "Self expression very good!!"

The paint fumes began to dissipate from the air, as Gambler walked up to Monster and attempted to place a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't quite reach. His hand landed somewhere around Monster's elbow. 

"Monster," Gambler spoke softly, as if talking to a confused child. "It is wonderful art to be sure. But we can not allow them to deface public monuments like this!"

"Monster know," Monster said calmly, still scanning the horizon for the artists. "Vandalism wrong. But it still healthy expression of feelings others may repress. Monster respect that."

"You just like all art," Bi Aro said, swooping out of the tree and joining the conversation.

"That very true. Monster admire the artists courage to bare themselves to outside world. Monster awestruck by the vulnerability of art."

"If I may interject my feelings into the conversation," Gadgetron said, slowly walking up to the party. "I prefer science. Vulnerability may be inspiring to some, but I prefer finding the abject truth of the matter."

"That is valid opinion, and Monster thank you for sharing. Even if robot is wrong."

"I fancy myself a fan of the arts," Gambler spoke with a smirk. He pulled a card from his sleeve, proudly presenting it to the rest of the group. "I've always had quite a flair for the dramatics."

A light lit up in a second story window of a small suburban house overlooking the park. A small, stocky man poked his head out the window. He pulled his circular spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes at the dim dusk of the park scene below. He rubbed his snowy, white beard, matching his snowy, white hair. 

"What's going on out there?" The man called, leaning out the window. He teetered over the edge rather precariously. "It's you! The Neighborhood Whackos!! Dolores! They vandalized the brick wall!"

The quarter of superheroes turned to look at the wall. The paint fumes kicked into the air had settled nicely against the brick wall, creating a rather neat looking mosaic of flowing colours. The heroes sighed in defeat. They had failed to protect their park.

"Here! Take these!" The old man shouted, throwing a handful of rags out the window. "None of you are going anywhere until that wall is spotless! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Mr. Richards..." The heroes muttered in sync, hanging their heads low in shame. Even Gadgetron looked down at the floor, and he was a robot that couldn't feel shame.

The crew scrubbed the wall all night. They scrubbed till the rags tore and their arms were sore. But eventually, the wall was spotless. The quartet took a step back to admire their handiwork. In the distance, the sun began rising over the horizon, casting a golden glow on the now clean wall. The heroes puffed out their chest. They had won! 

"Come on guys," Bi Aro said with a smirk as he turned from the wall. "I'm going to bed."

And just like that, The Neighbourhood Watch had saved the day again.

[foxesandmagic]

First Lines Tag Game

As I’m lazy I’m going to do the opening lines of the last 10 drabbles I wrote, a mix of original and fanfiction.

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway!

For Fox, from my dystopian story: The camp at night felt like a photograph.

For A.J. Kane, a Nightwing OC: ‘Remind me again,’ A.J. said slowly, deliberately as she glared at Dick’s reflection, ‘why I agreed to this.’

For Sylvester, from my countdown story: ‘Have you told her?’

For Luce Turner, a Peaky Blinders OC:  Alife practically collapsed in on himself, and Luce couldn’t help but feel a little responsible.

For Esme, from my supernatural-crime story: Esme rested her forehead against the wall and forced herself to take a desperate gulp of air.

For Stan Shelby, a Peaky Blinders OC: ‘She’s going to be all right,’ Isaiah said softly, drawing Stan’s worried gaze away from his best friend and towards the young man now standing in the doorway.

For Danny, from my dystopian story’s prequel: ‘Danny?’ Atlas’s voice was, for once, tentative.

For Dick Grayson, as a narrator in my Nightwing fanfiction: Dick knew he was panicking.

For Hector, from my supernatural-crime story: Hector knew deep down that he should have done this years ago.

For Teddy Kane, a Nightwing OC: ‘You look fantastic,’ Winn assured Teddy, gently prying his hands away from the bowtie. 

[crimsonblackrose]

This episode has opened like one of those youtuber videos where they do their routine and it’s a whole bunch of like sounds of them opening things and clicking things as they go about the start of their day but if they were a woodworker. 🤣 Tape measure  sounds ✔ Slapping wood down sounds ✔ Buzz saw sounds ✔ Tape measure closing sound ✔ Just waiting for the welcome to my channel opening. 😅 It’s just interesting to see how these things are older than I thought they were.

That was not what I thought they were building. And this is a Control is in danger episode. Uh oh.

They had to pick him up and drag him over there. I’ve never seen Mr. McCall treated that way. Wait a second is that Control’s scarf from teh last episode!?

It’s not, but it is similar. I got excited.

This is such an interesting set up. Everyone gets their own green lamp.

Omg first season call back. Interesting. He’s also been in the company 29 years...so Scott’s whole life I presume.

Sassy McCall. I’m not ready for the clips they showed where Control gets put in danger. Prosecutor: What was in teh envelope that Control gave you? Robert: It was a mail-order for a dozen new bowties. I had just discovered a secret source. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Robert: I refuse to tell you anything until I  know what I’m being tried for. Prosectuor: Nothing, the person being tried is over there.

What’s he charged with? Treason! But against the USA? Nope. Against the company, and they think it’s the same thing. Great. Don’t pit these husbands against each other. Whatever will Mickey do? Someone give this man an envelope with money and ticket to Bermuda.

Prosecutor: What is your relationship with this man? Robert: I could tell you, but it’d be totally beyond your comprehension.  (WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!) The way they’re saying “Friends” and “friendship” and then going through clips of the series of all the times Control has gone out of his way to rescue or save Robert. This is a clip-esq episode but it’s done very well, because it’s like you’ve probably forgotten all the times Control has shown up to save Robert. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 I forgot when he broke Robert out of jail he said “Don’t call me I’m going to Bermuda”. followed by “You bloody hate bermuda”...which means every single time he buys a person a ticket somewhere he’s always sending them to his least favorite place. Who does that Control? Who?

The face of a man whose just realized he’s there to witness them put his best friend to death.

Omg so the prosecutor is one of Mr. McCall’s friends and the head of the tribunal just said “Proceed but keep in mind that if Control is found guilty that Mr. McCall will be charged with the same crime.” And his face fell and he’s faltering. Just a little.

Omg no not their son. Don’t pit their son with a plea bargain against his dad’s. Mickey nooo. Also dramatic much why are you wearing all black? He’s probably thinking you two old fools why do you always get me up and out of bed at such awful hours for such awful things? We’ve gone over a half hour into this trial and Control didn’t have a defense. Robert asked why and guess whose now Control’s defense much to his own surprise and dismay? You guessed it. Robert. 🤣

So kid what’s your opinion on what your work dad’s have been up to?

Opened a can of worms by asking an opinion and putting Robert on defense. He loves to rant.

“What are you doing? Why are you letting yourself be a sacrifical lamb?” Judge: You’re out of order. Robert: YOU ARE OUT OF ORDER JUDGE! EVERYONE ELSE IS OUT OF ORDER

I can’t tell whether Control is regretting his decision, all of them, mostly McCall related or if he’s enjoying this.

“Robert, defend me, don’t destroy me, hmm?”

I feel like Robert is in a law drama and this guy is a professor giving a lecture.

Okay, that’s fun.

Look at these two.