#even when i was like girl i am in an emergency situation i asked for the cheapest charger as fast as possible because i HAD to answer a call

[hueningkoi]

Nothing no updates. I slept like crap but at least some sleep was had. I should probably eat something I didn't eat dinner yesterday I was too anxious

[p0orbaby]

For a Good Time, Call…

summary: you send a nude to the wrong number, you don’t expect what happens next.

warnings: Leah, yeah that’s a warning, suggestive themes

a/n: one of my favourite of bits of writing ngl

word count: 2.1k

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | epilogue

-

You’ve never felt dread like it.

“Shit shit shit!” You repeat as you try and stop the message from sending.

The woosh and the delivered sign told you it had already been spat out into the ether. You want to leave the city. The country even. Perhaps fill the next available spot on a space shuttle.

All of the above possibilities rattle through your brain as you pull your t-shirt down from where it was hitched around your neck. Yank your shorts up from where they lay low on your hips.

“I’m dead. I am so dead!”

If your heart wasn’t racing before, it definitely was now.

Panic sets in as you contemplate the impending fallout. Terrible thoughts race through your mind, and you highly consider drafting an apology that somehow erases the embarrassment. The gravity of the situation hangs heavy, and groveling seems like the only viable option.

Could she get you benched? Maybe. Could she stop you from getting another international call up? You really fucking hoped not.

In the midst of your demise, you realise another sorry soul will have to bear the consequences of your actions. Bar Girl. The intended recipient of the half naked photo you signed, sealed and delivered to someone else.

You decide, rightly or not, that she has now become collateral damage. And the decision to ghost her emerges as a seemingly reasonable response.

The potential repercussions from your inadvertent exposure now cast a grim shadow on all aspects of your life, making abandoning Bar Girl a desperate attempt to shield yourself from further embarrassment.

The idea of changing your identity hovers temptingly in your periphery.

Desperation takes hold, and for a moment, you entertain the delusional thought that maybe you had imagined the whole debacle in some lustful daze. However, when a subtle movement on screen catches your attention, reality hands you a more damning blow – the weight of the situation crashes down as ‘read’ replaces the once-hopeful ‘delivered’.

Acknowledgement from Leah has shifted from a delivery confirmation to active viewing.

As if it had just set alight in your hands, you hurl your phone across the room. The reality sets in that there’s no turning back; the message, along with its aftermath, is now etched into the digital realm.

The room echoes with the crash of your phone meeting the wall. As the device lies discarded, its screen cracked, you’re left to face the reality that there’s no undoing the chain of events.

In a desperate release, you roll over and scream into your pillow until the muffled sound becomes an agonizing buzz in your ears.

-

The next day hits hard as you trudge into the changing room. You barely slept. Tossing and turning most of the night in an anxious bubble. And when exhaustion finally took over, your dreams were more like nightmares.

You were tempted to call in sick. But you decided that wallowing in your own despair would probably just make matters worse. So you settled on a compromise.

Avoid Leah at all costs.

Your hood hangs low over your face as you pass by several of your teammates and make a silent beeline for your cubby. But that may have piqued their interests more, as Beth finds herself invading the space you so desperately crave.

“You look rough. Bar Girl give you a run for your money?”

“Something like that” you grumble, hands making quick work of unpacking your bag.

She hums at you and smirks at how disheveled you look when your hoodie comes off. You know where her mind has gone, but you don’t try and dissuade her from writing an excuse for you.

“So, when are you going to make it official then? You’ve been talking for almost a month right?” Beth asks, her eyes flitting around your face and down your neck in search of marks left behind.

You offer a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not sure if I will. I’ve still got the feelers out” you reply, the words sounding awkward and detached even to your own ears.

Beth raises an eyebrow, you gather it’s not the response she expected. Especially from you.

“That doesn’t sound like you”

“No?”

“I thought you were all about the long game?”

You offer a half-smile, choosing your words carefully. “Opinions change, you know?” you reply, slipping your training kit over your head and turning away to fold your discarded clothes, hoping she’d get the point.

Beth studies you for a moment, her eyes searching for something beyond the surface. “Fair enough. Keep us posted though yeah? She seemed nice”

You wince at her words. Jesus, you felt like a bitch, but you nod anyway. It seems to do enough. When you hear her walk away, you release a breath.

“Oh” she voices unexpectedly behind you, and you immediately tense up again. “Leah’s asking for you”

You turn on your heels, spinning so fast you almost topple over. “Did she say what it was about?” You ask. You try not to seem nervous but the sweat above your brow is giving you away.

“No. Just that she wants you to meet her in the gym when you’re ready”

You nod again, and swallow hard. Your throat was dry and you felt like you could pass out. “Sure, yeah. I’ll head there in a second”

Beth eyes you again suspiciously but when she eventually turns and leaves the room, you’re left to grapple with your jitters in solitude

“Shit” you mutter to yourself. And as you stand there trying to regain yourself, it becomes very apparent that you don’t actually have a back up plan.

If you really do lose minutes on the pitch, your career could be on the line.

Conscious that you've already left her waiting too long, you dart out of the room with a newfound sense of urgency.

The corridors blur as you navigate the familiar path, the door to the gym looming larger with each stride. And when you get there you’re out of breath and clammy.

Is it weird to say you're grateful that a door handle is cold against your skin? Perhaps, but you are. It grounds you a little as you stand there panicking.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you open the door and step into the gym at last. The air feels charged with anticipation as you brace yourself for a meeting that could have repercussions far beyond the boundaries of the training facility.

But Leah is nowhere to be found. The lights are all off and the room looks the same as it was left the day before.

Is Beth having you on? Or is Leah trying to mess you around, torture you until you break down and leave on your own accord.

Don’t be so silly. She wouldn’t do that, would she?

“Hey”

You jump out of your skin as the silence is disrupted. You turn in fright and she’s lucky she’s so far away because you're a fighter, not a flighter, and you’re sure you would’ve punched her straight in the face.

“Why the hell are you hiding in the dark? You idiot!” you blurt out, the initial shock now giving way to frustration. The tables have turned, and you can’t help but question Leah’s peculiar choice of location for this conversation.

Leah lets out a short laugh. “Hiding? I wasn’t hiding. Just needed to grab a few things from the cupboard”. She lifts up her hands to showcase the foam rollers you deduce she was looking for.

“Beth said you wanted to talk”

“That’s right”

“Do I need to ask what it’s about?”

She laughs again and you start to lose your patience a little. She notices and glances at you with a more serious expression when you don’t look impressed, so she gestures for you to join her in a quieter corner of the gym.

“I get it; the suspense isn’t helping,” Leah admits, her tone softening. “But you’re not stupid. I think you know why I’ve called you in here”

As you follow her, Leah’s demeanor takes an unexpected turn. The serious expression gives way to a playful twinkle in her eye. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing. Nudes, I mean,” she teases, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “Nipple piercings too? You’ve been hiding some interesting secrets, haven’t you?”

Leah’s teasing catches you off guard, and your words stumble over each other as you stammer, “I, uh, well, it’s not—I mean, I didn’t…”

“Don’t get all nervous on me now” she says as she perches on the edge of a massage table. “You seemed pretty confident last night”

You attempt to salvage some dignity, but Leah’s mischievous grin suggests she’s thoroughly enjoying your discomfort. “I didn’t mean to send it to you. It was a mistake”

“No?” She pops her bottom lip out in a pout. “That’s a shame”

You feel a knot forming in your stomach, and your attempts to defend yourself only seem to fuel Leah’s amusement. “I-I…” you struggle to form a coherent response. And you silently curse yourself for not being able to hold your ground.

“If not me, then who?” She asks as if it’s any of her business. If you weren’t so stunned by the whole thing you’d have told her to fuck off. But the words don’t quite make it past your lips, and you find yourself at her mercy. “I won’t judge”

There’s a pregnant pause where you decide if you should tell her. Then with a reluctant sigh, you decide to reveal the truth. “Someone… a girl I met last month”

“Bar Girl” she deduces.

You were never really close to Leah. You played for the same teams, sure. But you never frequent the same social circles. Not really. So to find out she knows about what you get up to in your free time is a little jarring.

“Yeah, her,” you admit, feeling exposed in a way that extends beyond the painful fact she’s seen your tits.

“Hm” is all she says before she holds her hand out to you. And you take it without even thinking.

“You know” she starts. Settling you so your front is almost flush against hers as you stand between her legs. “I’ve always wondered what you’ve been hiding under that jersey of yours” she finishes, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. Her fingers brushing your skin and setting it on fire.

“The same parts as you, I’m guessing”

“Funny”

“I do try”

There’s another lull, and in the silence you swear you can hear your heart beating.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Her question is barely above a whisper.

You shake your head no. Because she isn’t making you uncomfortable. Confusing you, yes. Intriguing you, certainly. But uncomfortable? Not exactly.

Leah leans back slightly, studying your expression. “Good, wouldn’t want to cross any lines.” Her fingers continue to play with your hair, a casual touch that feels anything but.

“Lines can be subjective” you say, your eyes trained on hers as you watch her mouth pull into a smirk.

Where this new found confidence has come from you don’t know.

“Can they?” She questions. Her eyes glint as she tilts her head to the side. Is she mocking you?

“Sometimes”

She likes your answer, you think, despite the still of her hands in your hair. Because her expression shifts and she leans in, her gaze dropping to your mouth.

“Interesting,” she murmurs, untangling your hair from her fingers and brushing her thumb over your bottom lip. You catch a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as she notices the blush deepening on your cheeks.

Without breaking her eyes from yours, Leah leans in just enough to tease. Close enough that you can feel each breath angst your skin. Far enough away that it’s infuriating. Then she pulls away, leaving you hanging on the edge of anticipation.

Then she’s gone.

You stand frozen while she unfurls herself away from you, sidestepping from the space she occupied between you and the massage table.

You only turn when she clears her throat behind you.

“Message me again sometime?”

The way she asked was softer than you expected. Softer than how she was talking to you for the last five minutes. It catches you off guard and a response gets stuck in your throat again.

You nod because that seems to be your default reaction to all of her questions. A smirk must be hers to you, because she flashes another one in your direction.

With that, she was gone. Leaving you alone in the dark with a skip in your pulse and two discarded foam rollers at your feet.

And a sneaking suspicion your spot for both club and country were going to be okay.

[teyvathandymenclub]

Bring Your Child to Work Day

Characters: Neuvillette, Itto, Cyno, Ayato

TW: None

Neuvillette

It has been two days since you fell sick not being able to leave your bed. Your husband was always really caring, but his loving personality shined especially on days like this. You have never been more thankful for him being by your side. Neuvillette even took time off from work which happened only once when your daughter was born.

But being such an important figure in Fontaine comes with responsibilities that he could not ignore, so he had to leave for a few hours.

“Honey, what are you doing?” You almost laughed when you saw him packing your daughter's backpack.

“Packing for our business trip.” Neuvillette smiled at you happily, seeing you feeling a little bit better. 

“I am fine, she can stay with me.”

“No. And I am not going to discuss that any further.” Neuvillette hugged you tightly and left with the little girl in one hand and her backpack in the other.

After arriving at Palais Mermonia, the little girl started shuffling too much so Neuvillette put her down. She immediately straightened her dress and stuck her chin up just like her daddy always does after entering the building. Neuvillete went straight towards his office not realizing his daughter mirroring his majestic walk, filling the hallway with loud taps right behind him as she tried to keep up with him. 

Everyone almost melted at the sight of the little girl, but no one dared to speak to or touch the child of the Judex.

Neuvillette settled behind his desk and gave his daughter all the supplies to keep her occupied for some time. She took out all of her crayons and started to draw. Neuvillette almost tapped himself on the shoulder for amazing management of the situation until he realized that he was blessed with a drawing of a weirdly mixed pony and snake on one of the contracts that he just signed. When he took it away from her, she grabbed another. 

“No baby, these are daddy´s papers, these are yours.”

He had to wrestle her for the papers for a moment until he gave up and put her down from his desk.

“That is my chair. I want to sit in the big chair.” The little girl protested.

“No, that is my chair, but I will let you sit there when I finish…”

“Daddy splash, splash!!” She interrupted him.

“No, Daddy can not, he would make a mess in his office my dear...” 

But before he could finish his sentence, the little girl summoned her power out of nowhere as she started running around and made a huge puddle in every corner of his office. 

Neuvillette jumped up from his seat and started to chase her. He even almost slipped once before he finally caught her and carried her out of his office under his arm like a bag of potatoes.

“I did not know that my daughter is such a devilish little dragon.” He mumbled as he was looking for a melusine. 

“I know I have never made this kind of request, but can you entertain her for a few minutes? I would not ask you if it would not be an emergency.” He said, almost ashamed. 

“Absolutely! However long you need.” One of the melusines smiled, excited from such an unexpected task.

After quickly finishing work in peace, Neuvillette packed the pink backpack thinking about not bringing it again, and left to look for his daughter. It took him a while until he heard her giggle in one of the administrative rooms. The little girl was surrounded by at least four melusines playing games unknown to Neuvillette. 

“I do not know how to thank you.” He said full of gratitude.

“Do not mention it Mr. Neuvillette. We were glad to help!” Melusines said almost in unison and waved goodbye as he picked her up into his arms.

“I think we deserve a little treat after a long work day.” He smiled at his daughter in the streets of Fontaine. 

“Yes! Yes! Ice cream!” She jumped. “And for Mommy too!”

“Absolutely! We can not forget to pick medicine for her and her favorite treat to cheer her up.” Neuvillette smiled.

“Balloons!!!” The little girl screamed and ran away.

Neuvillette ran after her while he thought about whether or not shops sell leashes for little dragons.

Itto

That morning you woke up with someone standing right next to your side of the bed.

“Itto? What is going on?!” You asked confused.

“I have decided that today is the day when I am going to introduce our son to my gang.” Itto smiled brightly with a baby carrier strapped to his body.

“Your gang? You do not have a gang anymore.”

“But we stayed friends and still call ourselves a gang, Mrs. Smart.” Itto rolled his eyes.

“I know, I am just teasing you.” You pulled him down to you to kiss him. “I think it is a good idea, but you need to be careful. Can you promise me that?”

“Absolutely? You do not know me? I am the most…” Itto stopped himself after he saw your raised brows. “Do not worry, wifey. Love you. Bye!”

Itto suddenly disappeared, leaving you confused when you heard your son coo in his crib. After a few minutes, the door on your home opened with Itto´s head peeking into your bedroom.

“Did you forget something?” You asked, not making it easy for him.

“Yeeeah, about that… Have I left our son here? Or should I look elsewhere?”

“Itto? Are you joking??” You looked at the baby in the crib.

“Of course! Of course, I am joking.” Itto reached for his son and strapped him into the baby carrier. “Bye-bye.” Itto waved at you with little Oni´s hand in his and left.

Once he met with his gang he could not stop bragging how strong and amazing his son is. Just like his father, obviously. 

After they finished lunch, Itto dragged them into the woods on a mission to find a big beetle that he could train for his son.

“But Boss! He can't even walk yet.” Argued one of the boys.

“He can start any day now, I need to be prepared. It is not easy to train a new champion. You need to start early!” Itto shut him down.

After a few hours of unsuccessful searching for the biggest and mightiest beetle, the gang left for lunch number two. And also the baby boy smelled because he needed a clean diaper.

As Itto left the restaurant with a full belly and the baby with a freshly changed diaper, he heard the sound of some kind of rock music in the distance.

“Boys! There is a concert that we are missing! We need to check it out!”

When they finally arrived, Itto frowned, realizing that he could not take a baby to the concert with such loud music. 

“Boss! Where are you going?”

“I will be right back!” Itto ran away, holding his son's ears.

And he truly came back in a few minutes with a sleeping baby in the carrier and big noise-canceling headphones on his little head.

Not long after it was time for dinner, the whole gang visited the local market with freshly cooked food. The place was crowded, but it was worth it to stay there for all the delicious meals they offered there.

“Oh, sorry big guy, I am leaving crumbles all over your head.” Itto looked down and realized that the carrier was empty. “In the name of the lavender melon, no!” Itto screamed.

He immediately gathered everyone from the gang to look for his son. Itto was never afraid of anything. Except beans. And his wife. And if she finds out that he lost little Oni, there would be no Oni left after she is done with him.

In the meantime, Kuki looked after the baby, because she saw Itto had been occupied with ordering food. When she saw all the boys running around the market like headless chickens, she realized that someone had forgotten that the baby was with her. After letting them marinate in fear she finally took mercy on them and brought the baby back to the big Oni.

“Kuki! Where did you find him?!” Itto kissed his son´s face. “You just saved my life Shinobu!” He reached out to her to do the same, but she immediately stopped him.

“Just say thank you, Boss.” She smiled.

“Thank you! And…” Itto lowered his voice. “Do not tell my wife. She would have me sleep on the couch. No cuddles for me for the rest of the month. Can you imagine?”

Cyno

You were never into the idea of Cyno training your daughter. But he kept begging you and you knew that he would not put your child in any danger, so today, with a heavy heart, you finally let them go. 

“But only for a moment, before work. Ok?” You looked at him with worry.

Cyno could not contain his excitement as he sat down with his girl on his forearm and left your house with a bright smile. He was toying with the idea of going behind your back, but he quickly brushed it. He respected and loved you too much to do something like that.

Now, after waiting for so long Cyno was on his way with the child holding him around the neck. With a bag full of water and snacks on his back, he reached his favorite spot where he used to train by himself when he was just a kid.

“Here we are!” Cyno smiled at his girl. “Now Daddy is going to put you down and we can fight a little. What do you think?”

“You are going to lose!” The little girl, barely school age, said with a confident smirk.

“Why do you sound just like your mommy?” Cyno chuckled.

He knew his daughter had the soul of a fighter, just like her parents, but she still surprised him. Every stance, every move… She quickly adapted and Cyno´s heart was full when he saw her reaching for his polearm.

“One day it will be all yours. Mine gift only for you. But not today, ok?”

A silent cry was her answer and Cyno knew it was time to go.

“Someone is a little cranky. How about we head back to the village.” He said to himself and packed the stuff that he brought.

With a tired child positioned on his forearm with small hands wrapped around his neck again, Cyno headed back to civilization. Now and then he stopped to show her beautiful flowers that were typical for this part of the world and explained them to her. With each stop, the little girl was less and less interested in the fauna that her father was showing her.

“That is ok.” He mumbled. “We have the whole life ahead of us to teach you everything I know.” Cyno smiled proud of being able to share his wisdom with his own blood.

When they finally reached the village, Cyno settled in his office after he tucked his daughter on the small sofa in the next room. After dealing with the most important tasks of the day, you surprised him with lunch and a plan to take your daughter home with you.

“A meal for our child. Take it as an exchange type of business.” You laughed.

“But she was supposed to be with me the whole day,” Cyno argued with an upset look all over his face.

“You are about to head out. You thought that I would let you take her to visit criminals?” You raised your brow.

“I would not… You shelter her too much.”

“So do you. Just in a different way.” 

You kissed him and with a smile, you left with your sleeping child in your arms.

Cyno wanted to argue that he did not know what you meant by that, but he knew all too well. Since he held her for the first time, he could not stop imagining the day when he would no longer be there to protect her. If there is only one thing that he would be able to accomplish in his life, it would be to teach his daughter to protect herself like he protects both of you.

Ayato

Ayato always took pride in his family. First, his sister. Then he met you. When you blessed him with your yes, he hardly could have imagined to be even happier than he already was. Proud husband of the most beautiful and intelligent woman he ever met. But then your son was born. His world, his heart expanded and there was not a moment when he would not talk about the two of you. Everything crushed when he visited you in the garden as he came back home after his work travels. As he reached for you to kiss you, your son tried to push him away. 

Ayato froze.

“Oh, do not mind him.” You smiled. “You have been gone a little too long this time and maybe he just needs to get used to you being around again.” You tried to reassure him as you hugged him tightly.

Ayato smiled at you and got down on his knee to hug his son. You knew it was not a good idea, but did not interfere. As expected, the boy pushed him and ran away. 

“I got used to it, but he is too small to accept the concept of someone traveling for days without him. Give him time.” You comforted your husband.

“You are right, my dear.” Ayato hugged you around your waist. “As always.” He smiled.

“Maybe you can show him what you do, hm?” 

“You mean… Like to take him to work with me? What a strange idea.”

“Trust me.” You silenced him with a kiss.

The next morning, Ayato was already prepared to start his day before dawn when he remembered your proposal. When he opened the door to his son's bedroom, he found him deep in the sleep. Since that moment, Ayato felt like he had done everything wrong. He woke his son and tried to make him dress up for the day.

“Shhh, we do not want to wake up your mommy.” Ayato tried to calm the boy politely.

After exhausting fighting in the bedroom, it was finally time for the real fight. Ayato did not want to miss his daily morning sword training.

“I have got something for you.” Ayato handed his son a beautifully packed box. 

When the boy smiled, Ayato felt a deep relief. Until the boy opened the box where he found a perfectly crafted wooden sword from the highest quality wood ever found. Ayato expected to see his son´s face to light up as yours always does when he brings you gifts from his travels. But the boy looked at him with disappointment written all over his face. He never showed any interest in the art of swords, but Ayato kept telling himself that it was just a matter of time. 

Ayato tried to train for an hour that felt like an eternity, but his son did not want to cooperate. All he got was a huge bruise on his shin after the boy swung his new sword with the power of a grown man.

Your husband tried to keep his composure in front of you during breakfast and your questions about his weird walk were not answered. You knew all too well what happened because the screams of your son were probably heard by the whole island so you checked on them. 

“We will be in my office if you need anything.” Ayato kissed you and picked up the boy.

“Are you sure?” You smiled knowing just by looking at your husband how tired he was.

“Yes, my dear. Have some faith in me.” 

You wanted to, but knowing your son´s hyperactivity and Ayato´s need for peace and order… It was like a clash of titans and you wanted to help. Then you realize it is time for Ayato to step up as a father. To show your son the right example of a good man. So you stayed away. Even after hours of listening to constant running around the office, tearing sound of the papers, knocking down decorations… Until you heard the last knock. The doors of Ayato's office suddenly opened. When he saw you, he did not say a thing. He did not need to. His clothes were drenched from ink. Ayato disappeared for a moment so you peeked into his office and found it in complete disarray. Your boy was sitting there playing with an empty bottle of ink so you started picking up all the loose papers.

“Leave it. Please.” Ayato said out of nowhere. “I will take care of it later. Now is time for a little walk.”

Dressed in clean clothes he reached for his son and left. Your heart almost sank. It was not funny anymore and all you could do was to hope that their relationship would get better as soon as possible.

Ayato felt completely lost. How is it possible that he could make a deal even with the worst diplomats that this world has and he is not able to find a common ground with his own son?

As he walked down the lane full of Sakuras that he used to walk by with you by his side when he was still courting you, lost in his thoughts, the boy started shouting.

“Mommy, mommy!” 

Ayato turned over to look for you, but they were alone. “Mommy is home. She is not here.”

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” The little boy kept shouting while reaching for something.

Ayato looked up and realized that all the boy wants are the flowers blooming on the trees. So he reached up to pick a few and handed them to the little one. The boy instantly got quiet and looked almost… content.

“Mommy. Yes, little man. You are right.” Ayato smiled. 

How could he possibly forget? On one of your walks, he picked a Sakura flower and put it in your hair. Since then, you always wear some once in a while to remind you of your beginnings.

“Let us go back and bring Mommy your gift. Ok?”

When they finally reached the borders of your home, the little boy started running towards the gardens. He spotted you immediately in your usual place and with a loud mumbling of random words he gifted you a beautiful bouquet of pink flowers.

“Wau! What a beautiful gift.” You kissed your proud son on his head as a thank you. “Did you pick them all by yourself?”

“No!” A loud shout filled the peaceful garden. “Daddy! Daddy, help!” The little boy shouted as he ran to Ayato and hugged him tightly around his leg.

“Oh? What a good daddy!” You smiled and looked at your husband. You would swear that you spotted tears in his eyes. 

Ayato was looking at you, unable to look away. No matter how hard his day was, he knew he would not want it any other way. Then he looked down at his son still hugging his leg and realized that he is going to be tall like him. He could not know it for sure, but he just knew. Tall just like him, with the hair of his beautiful mother and eyes in a perfect blend of both of you.

As he sat down next to you with your son in his lap, all he could think about was how thankful he was for being made to slow down and appreciate your work for your family. He always admired you for being a perfect wife and mother. But after this day, he was thankful even more and promised to take at least one day off to be with both of you.

Ayato that night held you and kissed you with so much care and love just like the day you gave him your son. He forgot for a moment that family will always be the most important thing. And he will never forget again.

[suzukiblu]

Day thirty of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut, the final day!! Eyyyyy, gang, we did it! Full month of daily updates for this one, haha. Ended up writing about 24k, give or take a few hundred words. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

The alert on his communicator goes off again, and then again a few seconds later. Tim represses another frown. Nobody double-texts him on Tim Drake’s phone. The only people who ever would are Dick and Steph, and Dick never texts Tim Drake’s phone outside of emergency situations where Tim’s not suited-up and Steph doesn’t have Tim Drake’s number at all; they just use burners and the occassional dead drop. So who . . . ? 

The alert goes off a fourth time. Tim definitely doesn’t panic, but also definitely turns his wrist in his lap underneath the fall of his cape and taps the little armored pocket where he hides one of his micro-receivers for situations where he can’t pull the full-sized one out of his utility belt without being obvious about it. Cissie’s distracted with whatever’s distracting Cassie and neither of them can see his eyes behind the lenses of his mask, so it’s not difficult to slip it into his palm and out from under his cape to glance down at as he thumbs it open to wake up the tiny little screen. Four text alerts, and the caller ID is scrolling “UNKNOWN NUMBER” across the screen. 

Okay, so his civilian number is getting spam texts now. Jesus, he was worried, that’s so–

The actual number of the unknown number scrolls across the screen after the text. Tim . . . blinks. 

. . . that’s Kon’s number. Specifically, the number of the phone he bought Kon. Who is literally right outside, according to Cassie, and . . . texting somebody. While he’s out there. While he’s out there, and Tim is in here, and is being Robin. 

Tim has literally no idea how he feels about this situation, and honestly neither does Robin.

He opens the text log, and there are, in fact, four texts from Kon in it. 

so like 

superweird questin 

liek uh rly superweird tbh but uh 

cn u wish me luck babe??

Tim stares blankly at the messages. “Wish me luck”? That’s–what? 

Good luck, Kon, he texts back after a moment, figuring it’s the logical response anyway and assuming that using the other’s real name will help him feel better about whatever he wants the aforementioned “good luck” for. He’s going to have to try and get a read on him when he comes in, see if he can’t work that out. If it’s something to be concerned about . . . 

thx, Kon sends back with a blue heart emoji and literally nothing else. 

Blue, Tim thinks, yet again having to repress a frown. What the hell does a blue heart mean? Does that mean anything? 

He barely bites back the question, because it’s way too risky to ask even if if anyone knows what different-colored heart emojis mean it is definitely a teenage girl and if he texts Steph with a random question with no context attached and then doesn’t stick around to talk she’ll get annoyed and might leave another glitter bomb in their next dead drop. 

He really doesn’t wanna have to explain glitter in his cape to Bruce again. Or worse, explain glitter in his cape to Alfred. Alfred did not appreciate the glitter tracked all over the cave last time. Very, very much did he not appreciate it. 

Maybe Kon just picked it because he likes blue. Or maybe red seemed like too much to him? Or maybe– 

“I’m back!” Suzie announces excitedly as she spills into the room, and Bart bolts through her smoke trail a moment later and stops on a dime right next to the kitchen table. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, wrinkling his nose down at Cissie and Cassie. “Are you crying? Is it because your wig looks weird? It’s not that weird. I mean, kinda.” 

“That HeroWatch magazine thinks it’s your real hair!” Suzie offers brightly. “So it can’t be that weird.” 

“I am not crying and HeroWatch thinks what?!” Cassie demands, whipping her head up to stare at them both with a horrified expression. “It’s not even real hair! It’s like, synthetic! I buy the stupid things off Amazon!” 

“You should stop doing that,” Tim advises reflexively. There are so many ways for that to end badly for her secret identity. Genuinely so many that he doesn’t even know where to start, in fact. 

“And do what instead, exactly?” Cassie asks with a sullen scowl, leaning back just enough to fold her arms. “I can’t just clear out Spirit Halloween every–” 

She cuts herself off and stiffens, then jerks to her feet very quickly and straightens her wig and jacket even quicker. Tim has half a second to remember that while Cassie’s hearing isn’t super, it’s definitely enhanced, and then Kon walks into the room. 

“Yo,” he says, half-waving a hand at the table and then making a face. “Shit, I’m the last one here? Figures.” 

Tim . . . blinks. Blinks again. Cassie looks downright agonized, and Suzie and Bart both tilt their heads in opposite directions. Cissie raises both eyebrows and looks him up and down. 

“Jesus Christ, Kon, that is borderline indecent expo–” she starts incredulously, and Cassie immediately claps a hand over her mouth and leans down to hiss into her ear: “Cissie, you are my best friend and I love you and shut the hell up right the hell NOW.” 

Tim attempts to make his brain work. It needs to, like–do things. Be usable. Functional. Brain . . . able. 

The problem with that is the fact that Kon is currently wearing the tiny little jean shorts that first made Tim aware of the existence of the other’s thighs and the S-shield crop top that people really should have more respect for Superman than to have made and sold commercially with his usual leather jacket and sunglasses and a pair of heavy black boots that Tim also bought him, plus the sapphire stud earring from their last date with a little bit of eyeliner and chipped black nail polish and . . . thighs. Just–thighs. Kon is very, very much wearing thighs right now. 

. . . thighs.

Tim suddenly understands literally everything about the way Cassie came in acting and literally everything she’d said on top of that. Also, he isn’t sure, but he thinks maybe this is worse than the changing room was? Like, this might be worse than the changing room was. Because Kon’s not posing to show himself off like he was there, and “Tim Drake” isn’t here for him to be showing off for. So Kon is, presumably, wearing this outfit just because he wants to be wearing it. 

Tim needs a minute. Or a year. Or maybe a hard reboot and a new identity and a new reality to move to. Not permanently or anything, just until he can remember how to function like a reasonably-normal person again or he needs to send Kon his allowance, whichever comes first. 

It’s going to be the allowance, he already knows. It’s definitely, definitely going to be the allowance. 

“Huh,” Suzie says, looking a little perplexed. 

“Oh, is that what hormones are?” Bart says, looking surprised. “Weird.”

[maluustrawberry]

Undesirable encounter

(Claude Frollo X Female reader)

Synopsis: You were the new seamstress in Paris and Frollo suspects that you were harboring Romani in your shop. It looks like your first start was more tense than you expected...

A/n: I confess that I am in love with the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and I especially love the book. I hope you readers like it, and if you want to give me tips I accept (you can correct me too) If you want other Disney characters, you can ask me💕.

Part.2 (Final)

(Guys, I don't know if you know, but the word "gypsy" is a slur and should not be used, the correct one is "Roma" Or "Romani people" I put "Gypsy" only in Frollo's lines since you know the type of person he is.)

It was just another ordinary day in Paris, you had arrived in the city a few months ago and worked as a dressmaker. You immediately became known for the beautiful dresses you produced for the girls and the beautiful clothes for the boys too. You had an excellent aesthetic sense.

But what you had in the way of talent, you also had in the way of kindness. When you heard about the persecution of the Romani people, you felt touched by the situation and decided to help them. It was very risky, but you weren't going to stand by and let it happen like the other citizens of Paris were doing, letting themselves be manipulated by Frollo and his hate speeches. There was a basement in your house that you used to store fabric and sewing materials. You took advantage of that room to help some Romani hide in case of emergency if they were being chased by the guards and if there was no time to run to the court of miracles.

And so it went on, you were extremely careful not to leave any traces, until one day or another these "rumors" ended up reaching the judge.

You were sewing up the sleeves of a client's dress, which had been placed in the moulage to make it easier for you to work, and your attention now turned to the bell that rang as soon as the door was opened. Immediately, the atmosphere of the place changed when you saw who had entered. You knew those clothes, the face worn by age and you couldn't forget that look of superiority and pride, because himself thought he was important and better than everyone because of his opposition and faith. Looking behind those glass windows, you could also see some of his men at the front of the store:

“Bonjour, madame.” Frollo said sternly, snapping you out of your thoughts. That thick, authoritative voice gave you the creeps. “I'd like to know who owns this establishment. Your husband is here?”

“A-Ah! Good morning...” You forced a smile and stuck the needle into the moulage so you wouldn't lose it. “Your Honor, I'm the owner, and no, I don't have a husband.”

As you said this, the judge looked you up and down with contempt. Of course, in the 16th century, a young woman like you not being married was a disgrace to society, and on top of that, being able to read and owning your own business was even worse. You weren't tense or nervous with him in your store, on the contrary, you were so calm... After all, you cleaned out the basement and removed any evidence as soon as a family of Romani's moved out recently:

“I've received information that you've been harboring gypsies in your house and I'm here to find out the facts, have you been harboring gypsies?” He got straight to the point.

“No, sir.” You pretended to be as honest as possible, fortunately you were good at lying.

“You know that if you lie, the sentence for insubordination is death...” He moved closer in an attempt to intimidate her.

“My conscience is clear. You have permission to investigate my store, since my words don't apply to you.”

“If I wasn't allowed to, seamstress, I'd still make a point of searching this place from top to bottom, whether you agree or not.”

The older man signaled for some of his men to enter the store before you could protest or complain. Since you were the only one who seemed to have enough courage to go against the judge's ideas when you were right. They went in and started rummaging around for clues, looking everywhere, even under the skirts of the dresses on the mannequins.

Frollo looked you up and down in an nothing unobtrusive way, you didn't notice the glances, but as soon as you did, it gave you the creeps and you avoided looking back at him. He had never noticed you in the city before and he noticed your accent, deducing that you might be a foreigner. The judge couldn't take his eyes off you, you were a very beautiful woman and seemed so delicate, and it seems that some feeling awakened in him when he saw that you were without gloves and your dress showed your shoulders. He came out of his thoughts when a guard approached:

"Sir, we've looked everywhere and found nothing..." Being a clever woman, an idea came to your mind: perhaps it would be better if they looked at everything to leave you alone.

"Have you looked in my basement, gentlemen?" you asked, kicking the rug that hid the small door in the wooden floor of your store.

Frollo was suspicious, but sent his men in to search every corner of the small cellar. Fortunately, they didn't find anything either, just sewing materials and expensive fabrics. After looking around in vain, the men left the store, leaving you and the judge alone:

“I apologize for this inconvenience.” He said as you went to the moulage to finish the dress.

“You shouldn't believe every rumor out there, Your Honor, not all of them can be true.” You said politely. “but apologies accepted, I know it was for the good of Paris and you care a lot about the city.”

Returning to work, you thought he would leave after all that had happened and notice you "busy" sewing, but no, he stayed in the store while walking slowly around analyzing his surroundings:

“This basement...” He pointed to the carpet above the small door. “Why was it hidden?”

“I don't see the need to show everyone that I have a basement here.” You replied nonchalantly. “and besides, I think that old door would spoil the pretty look of my store.”

Frollo didn't seem to believe in that very much, but you shrugged and continued sewing. There were a few seconds of silence, you could only hear his footsteps coming towards you and could feel that man's gaze on you all the time, causing you a certain nervousness or fear. What did he want anyway?

“Do you want anything else?” you asked in an attempt to break the silence and take your mind off the discomfort of feeling his gaze on you, stopping your sewing and looking at him now.

“I just want you to know.” He said, standing close and looking at her with disgust. “I'll keep an eye on you, I won't trust a literate, single woman so easily... I know women of your kind.”

“I don't think who I am or what I do has anything to do with helping... Ouch!” You interrupted yourself with pain when you felt the needle pierce your finger. It was normal for this to happen when were working with sewing, but it had never been this deep, Maybe it happened because of the anger you was feeling at that moment.

Immediately you dropped the needle out of sheer instinct, and in a quick and daring moment Frollo grabbed your hand with a certain amount of force, bringing it in front of his face, which had a small smile of satisfaction on it. The judge was a sadomasochist, he enjoyed seeing someone in pain, especially when it was someone he thought deserved such a punishment. You were shocked by his attitude, you weren't expecting it and didn't know how to react. What was he doing? Frollo continued to hold your hand, watching the small drop of blood ooze from your pricked finger, but his attention wasn't just there, it was on your fingers, your soft skin and the sensation it brought when you touched it with the contact of the warm hand and his, which was a little cold:

“What are you doing?” You asked, with a bit of hatred for such a vulgar and daring attitude, and he laughed a little.

“What would the church think of a woman exposing her bare hands in front of a high-ranking man like me?” You had no reaction for fear. Gradually his fingers entwined in yours and you saw that his eyes went to your small cleavage and your bare shoulders. “And it's not just your hands that are exposed...”

You quickly pulled your hand free and he looked at you incredulously:

“My hands are only exposed because I can't wear gloves when I sew, and you still don't have the right to do that. It's in the Bible; If your eye or your hand causes you to sin, throw it away!” A small smile came to Frollo's face when he heard that.

“So bold... It's typical of women like you to turn away from guilt in order to confuse men's minds with pagan thoughts, but that doesn't matter any more...”

He walked away, heading for the door to leave, but first his attention turned to you:

“It was a nice chat, seamstress... I want you to make me a cloak and sew me a pair of gloves, I'll be expecting you to deliver them tomorrow night.”

After saying that, he left, leaving you with no reaction to what had just happened. You were angry, but at the same time relieved that he hadn't found out. As soon as he left, you stared at your hand, which he touched and intertwined with his large, thin fingers. You'd have to be more careful now, he'd be stalking you and the reason wouldn't just be because he suspected you of helping the Romani people, it would be because of something else and you know exactly what it was and what his intentions were...

End...

[immoral-stranger]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 // 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑. 💋 “I can get a little drunk, I get into all the don’ts but on good days I am charming as fuck.” – Tove Lo, Moments.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem! reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None except alcohol and drunkenness.

A/N: Sike, you're getting the first letter tonight. It's cute as fuck. Dedicated to all my girlies (gn) who get Tove Lo drunk when aiming for Pitbull drunk.

Charles wasn’t sure why he had agreed to go out tonight. Monaco’s nightlife, as dazzling as it was, had become an overplayed record to him. Especially during the summer with all the tourists. He remembered being freshly turned 18 and discovering it (legally) for the first time. It had been magical. Now it was a done deal, a well-rehearsed story, knowing how it would go from beginning to end. Maybe that was why he actually preferred spending time on his yachts or on some small remote resort on some small remote island during his summer break from the racing calendar. 

Alas, here he was, tipsy from an overly sweet cocktail in a VIP booth at Jimmy’z. His friends were having fun, as were his friends’ friends and whoever else could get close enough to leech on, knowing that Charles was definitely the one paying the tab. It seemed to be the primary talent of those people, sticking close enough to the rich and the famous to get something for free out of it. 

Charles found it braindead. 

He sighed, swaying half-heartedly to the DJ’s relentless house music. Was he even a fan of house music? He didn’t think so. Between the thumping bass, the flashing strobe lights, and the endless game of shouting over the noise just to make small talk, Charles felt tired.

Maybe he was getting old. But he hadn’t even hit thirty yet. Could you have a quarter-life crisis at 27?

It got to the point where he started counting down the minutes until it would be socially acceptable to excuse himself for a “bathroom break.” The moment came, and Charles seized it, weaving his way through the dance floor. He lingered in the queue for the toilets longer than necessary, opting for a stall over a urinal so he could sit in peace. He didn’t even need to pee. He just wanted to be alone. His head was spinning slightly from the alcohol. Not drunk, not even close, but his famously rigorous fitness regimen had turned him into something of a lightweight. Not that he’d admit it.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he navigated the narrow corridor leading back to the main area of the club. That was when he felt it—a tug on his arm, insistent and clumsy. Before he could fully process what was happening, he was yanked backward and down onto a bench. Or a sofa. One of those little black pleather-clad, trashy club furnishings. 

For a fleeting moment, he considered all the reasons he hated being famous. Whatever was about to happen—selfies, autograph requests, or an inebriated declaration of undying love for Ferrari—he was sure it would test the limits of his patience.

“Hi!” a voice chirped. “Are you busy? No?”

He blinked. Sitting beside him was a girl—young and lively, a light shining in your eyes as you spoke excitedly. Or maybe just drunkenly. You had that half-glazed look of someone balancing precariously between charming and completely hammered. You spoke English. A tourist most likely. Dressed up nicely. Not like you had another choice. It was Monaco. 

As Charles was too shocked to answer, you continued talking in a heartbeat. 

“Great! Not busy.” You clasped your hands together as though you’d just agreed to the most wonderful thing in the world. “You…” you announced grandly, pointing at him, “are going to help… me.”

“I am?” Charles asked, caught between amusement and disbelief.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, as though this were obvious. You leaned heavily on Charles’ shoulder for support, your words tumbling out in a rush. “Okay, so. Here’s the situation: I lost my bag. Then I lost Emma while looking for my bag. And now—” you gestured dramatically, nearly toppling over even when sitting up—“I am stuck here. No bag, no Emma, and way, waaay too much tequila in my system.”

Charles stifled a laugh. “And you think I can help?”

“Of course!” You nodded vigorously. “If you find my bag and Emma, then this—” you gestured vaguely at yourself,—“this will no longer be a problem.”

“If I find your bag?” he found himself repeating. 

“Mhm, then you can come here to me again,” you slurred your speech a little, nodding again like your head was constantly stuck doing it. “With Emma and the bag and no problems.” 

“You can’t do it yourself?” 

“Exactly!” You pointed at him, impressed, narrowly avoiding touching his dimpled cheek with your long nail. “See, you get it. You’re a lifesaver.”

You seemed to have no idea who he was, and you were definitely drunker than you had first led on. He saw it in the way your body slumped and in your bloodshot eyes. Your hair was messy, your makeup smudged, and your dress a little wrinkled. And you were undeniably funny, totally capturing and taking over the conversation without letting Charles speak. 

He helped you to lean against the sofa, getting himself out from being your human crutch. Still, he couldn’t find a way out of being your lifesaver. 

“All right,” Charles sighed. “What does your bag look like?”

“It’s black, sparkly, and small. Like… impossibly small. A wallet with delusions. But I bought it in Paris—”

“Okay, I got it.” Charles suppressed a smile. “And Emma?”

“Tall. Blonde. Looks like she’s judging everyone but will absolutely cry over a military homecoming.”

“Right. Tall, blonde, and emotionally complex. Got it,” he repeated. “Are you sure I can leave you on your own?” 

Charles stood from the sofa, glancing at you as you leaned your head back against the wall, your eyes fluttering closed.

“I’m fiiiiine. I just need the room to stop spinning.”

For a moment, he hesitated. Enthralled by your giggle and the way you looked sort of fairy-esque with glittery eyeshadow in patches around your eyes. There was something magnetic about you, even in your dishevelled state. He couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t also slightly concerning—a young woman alone in a drunken state. You were a happy kind of drunk right now, but he had a feeling that might change quickly. 

With a final look at you, he set off into the chaos of the club. Back underneath the strobe lights and the pulsating music. Back between the warm and drunk bodies of others. Somewhere, a girl in a sparkly dress was yelling about her ex to anyone who’d listen, and he thought for a fleeting moment how easily you might have been her—except you weren’t yelling. You’d asked for his help.

He heard his friends yell after him from their place in the VIP area, probably wondering why he’d been gone for so long. But Charles was on a mission—to find a minuscule bag and a blonde woman in a crowd of not that many bags and way too many blonde women. 

The bag was easier to spot than he expected. Its sparkles caught the light as it lay abandoned, right by his feet on the dance floor. That seemed too good to be true. He picked it up, the thing so small it felt absurd in his hands. What could you even fit in here? A debit card? A single lipstick?

Charles didn’t mean to pry, but he opened it to make sure it actually was yours, and much to his surprise, he found a debit card, some spare euros, some sort of makeup product, a tampon, and a driver’s license. Fuck, you were the kind of person who looked gorgeous in official portraits. And he knew your name now. Maybe he should’ve asked for that before he decided to agree on being your knight in shining armour. 

Emma, however, was more elusive. Verging on needle in a haystack territory. He scanned the floor and the booths, getting nowhere. Looking for a girl as equally lost as you were turned out to be harder than he thought. Everyone fit so well into the orchestrated act of nightclub hierarchy that no one looked out of place. 

Admitting defeat, Charles turned to walk back to the corridor outside the toilets, hoping to find you exactly where he left you. Before he could even round the corner, he heard your voice cut through the noise. 

“I know, Emma. I know that I do this all the time and that it scares you to death.” 

Your tone was half-pleading, half-explanatory, like you were trying to win a debate and console her at the same time. The sound of it made him stop in his tracks, curiosity anchoring him to the spot.

As he edged closer, you came into view, seated exactly where he’d left you. Beside you stood Emma, arms folded tightly across her chest in a way that broadcast equal parts frustration and affection. She was, as Charles had guessed, tall, blonde, and distinctly more polished than you at the moment. Similarly dressed but with an air of sharp control. 

Emma was the kind of person you’d send in to fix a mess—not become part of one. Clearly switched into full mom mode, she had already given you a glass of what Charles prayed was water and had tied your hair into a haphazard ponytail, probably anticipating the worst-case scenario of tequila-induced disaster.

Charles lingered just out of sight, gripping your little sparkly bag as if it were a trophy. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but your voice was unmistakable and loud enough to rival the DJ. 

“I get a little drunk and I get into all the don’ts, but on good days? I am charming as fuck, and you love me for it.” 

Your voice, slurred but insistent, filled the hallway. You reached out toward her, your hands wobbling in the air until she sighed and took them. Her annoyance cracked just enough for Charles to catch the tired laugh she let slip. It was the kind of laugh that said, Yes, I love you, but you’re impossible, and I have considered leaving you in a bush once or twice.

Charles smiled to himself, your declaration replaying in his mind. Charming as fuck, indeed. He wasn’t sure if the grin tugging at his lips was due to the absurdity of the situation or the undeniable truth of your words.

He wasn’t invisible, after all, so when you were done with your exclamation to Emma, your gaze easily landed on Charles, standing somewhat pathetically, waiting just a few metres away. The moment your eyes met his, you lit up like you’d just remembered something incredibly important.

“And look!” you exclaimed, pointing toward him. Drunk you had a thing for pointing. “I had this… hot guy here to help me. He’s found my bag! You, sir, are a lifesaver.”

You’d just managed to call him both “hot” and “sir” in the same breath, and Charles wasn’t sure if it was because you didn’t know his name or if you were trying to drive him completely insane.

Emma’s head whipped toward Charles, her face shifting from surprise to a kind of restrained horror as recognition dawned. Her posture stiffened again, her folded arms tightening. While you hadn’t known who Charles was, Emma definitely did. 

“Y-you roped Charles fucking Leclerc into looking for your bag?!” 

“A what now?” you mumbled, looking between the two of them with confusion written across your face.

Charles stepped closer, handing you the bag like a peace offering. “I am… a Charles Leclerc.” 

“It’s a thing?”

“No, it’s my name.” 

You squinted at him, as though trying to decide if this explanation satisfied you. Then, with a dramatic sigh, you let your head fall back against the wall. “You should have led with that,” you pointed out. “I need to sit down. Oh wait—” You gestured weakly at your own position. “Already doing that.”

“Charles Leclerc,” Emma said, gesturing toward him with an incredulous sweep of her hand. “Formula 1 driver? Like… literally one of the best in the world?”

“Ohhh, right. We’re in Monaco,” you mumbled to yourself. 

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered something about you being impossible. Then she straightened, looking at Charles briefly before her gaze shifted to the dance floor. “I’m going to find the others and tell them it’s time to go. Don’t let her wander off again, please.”

Before Charles could respond, she disappeared into the crowd, her blonde head bobbing toward the pulsating lights. He watched her go, unsure if he’d just been handed a babysitting gig or a challenge. When he turned back, you were studying him, your head tilted slightly.

Charles hesitated, then he sat down beside you again, leaning back against the worn pleather as he looked right back at you. Up close, the club lights caught in your hair, making it shimmer like an accidental halo. He wondered if it was the alcohol in his veins or just the moment, but you looked… luminous.

“So, what now? Bag found, friend located. Mission accomplished,” he asked, almost proudly, as he relaxed further into his seat. 

You drunkenly fumbled through the belongings inside your bag, in disbelief over everything being there. “You really did solve all of my problems… Thank you,” you said softly, a hint of genuine gratitude creeping into your voice.

He smiled, his amusement softening into something warmer. “You’re welcome.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze slower now, more deliberate. “It makes sense that you’re famous,” you said finally, as if you’d unravelled some profound mystery. “You’ve got a really pretty face.”

Charles chuckled completely unguarded. “I think that’s the tequila talking.”

“Nope,” you said, grinning with certainty. “That’s all me.”

He couldn’t help but be drawn in by your confidence, your complete lack of pretense. On top of the almost sticky pleather sofa, he could see your hand move tentatively, dancing over the fabric, aimless yet perfectly intentional. He wasn’t thinking when he grabbed it, intertwining his fingers with your own, but it felt right—and something innocent that felt this right couldn’t be wrong. 

“I think you were right,” he said, not scared to look you in the eye. “About you being charming as fuck.”

“Good,” you replied, raising your glass of water in a mock toast. “Because I think I’m keeping you here for a while.”

“Still too drunk to walk?” he teased. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” you declared, each syllable landing like a punchline. 

He laughed loudly, letting the chaos fade into the background, his hand grounded in yours, feeling more intimate than any drunken kiss had ever done.

Charles wasn’t dreading being in the club on a Saturday night for once, not counting the minutes until he could leave without being called boring. Instead, he found himself thinking about where you might go next—and wondering if he could come along. Even if that was a hotel room after-party or a rented apartment in Nice. You were more interesting than anything else Monaco could offer right now, and filer à l’anglaise would leave the leeches to pay for their own enjoyment. 

Thank you for reading, hope this is a good introduction to what the rest of the love letters will be like! Please comment, like, reblog, bombard me with messages, I feed off that stuff 💌

Taglist: @koko-mei @anamiad00msday @floweringanna @lucyysthings @yelenam5 @firefirevampire @alexxavicry @emails-i-can-send

(if i haven't tagged you it's because your age wasn't visible for me to verify on your blog, i keep that as a precaution even if i'm not always posting smut)

[msschemmenti]

emergency contacts 📞

jemily x reader

a/n: life imitates art or whatever oscar wilde said :)

it really wasn’t that bad when she looked at it. but the blaring alarm from her phone was not helping the situation at all right now. y/n maneuvered her car out of the lane and onto the shoulder to put the car in park. it was 8:47 pm, dark as hell, in the middle of one of the busiest highways and of course she gets in a wreck. not her fault, but still very inconvenient. as she got out of the car she gazed around the passing cars and sighed at the sight of the car that had hit her.

the teen had come stumbling out of the car in a panic. apologizing profusely. and y/n could see, she needed to be the calm adult in this situation. the girls car was most definitely totaled and with the incident towing on their way, y/n couldn’t let the girl wait outside alone. so now they sat in her damaged rental on the side of the road waiting for all the appropriate officers to arrive. y/n had lent the young girl her phone to call her parents and once she’d returned it she was a little shocked to see the amount of notifications she had flooding her phone.

35 missed calls

20 messages sent in lovers <3

what the hell? y/n squinted as she unlocked her phone. what could possibly be going on right now. y/n went to open her text chain when her phone started ringing again— this time garcia.

“garcia? what is going on?” y/n asked feeling a low panic course through her. the team was in office and everyone should’ve been at home so something happening to her girlfriends was an extreme she wasn’t ready to entertain.

“are you okay? are you hurt? i’m pinging your location and it looks like you’re on the side of the road. i also see that emergency services have not been dispatched to the area yet. what is going on? your girlfriends are fre-eaking out right now. why haven’t you been answering your phone? are you okay?!”

“woman, slow down! what are you talking about? why are you pinging me right now?” y/n broke through garcia’s ramblings.

“angel, the girls got an emergency alert about you being in a car accident and when you didn’t answer the phone they called me demanding i find you.”

y/n pulled the phone away from her ear in disbelief, “they got a notification? since when was that a thing—“

“hey hey, focus! what happened? and quickly before jj and emily put a bounty on my head.”

“right right, a girl rear-ended me on the highway. i’m fine, i’ll probably be a little sore but nothing i can’t handle. we’re waiting for local pd to get here now.” y/n answered easily.

“oh thank god you’re okay. i need you to call them back now and let them know because im kinda scared of jj when she gets like this.” garcia urged before bidding the younger woman goodbye.

the phone barely rang once before jj’s voice filtered down the line. “baby? are you okay?” the panic was oh so clear in her voice and when y/n her call through the apartment for emily she frowned at the stress this whole thing had caused her girlfriends.

“jay, i’m fine. i got rear-ended on the highway—“ y/n attempted to soothe but the mention of the minor accident seemed to only egg the women on.

“rear-ended on the highway? are you getting checked out?” emily’s voice interrupted.

“no, i’m fine. not even a headache.” y/n tried to excuse.

a rather frustrated groan left both jj and emily’s throats and y/n knew they weren’t having it. “try again.” jj spoke first.

“i am fine. i don’t need to be check out, id just be wasting resources for people who actually need to be tended to.”

“nope, you know better than to try that shit with us. i want you thoroughly checked out before tomorrow.” emily all but growled.

“i don’t think this is fair. you literally just told me about the time you were shot at and you didn’t go to the hospital. you wouldn’t even sit in the back of the ambulance.” y/n rebuffed.

jj seeming to have calmed a bit snorted at their girlfriend’s words, “i bet you’re regretting telling that story now.”

“shut up jj.” emily grumbled.

“listen, i know you’re a little shaken up by the notification. and i know it’s not very helpful that im traveling for work and you can’t physically be with me but i need you guys not to freak out okay?” y/n pleaded quietly down the phone.

both jj and emily sighed before agreeing, “at least stay on the line with us until you get everything squared away with local pd?” jj suggested.

“of course, baby. anything for my emergency contacts.” y/n appeased.

“is that why we got the notification? i had no clue phones did that…wait we’re your emergency contacts? since when?” emily rambled.

“i don’t know, you remember i had that allergic reaction last month? both of you were gone but i knew you two were the first i wanted to know if anything happened to me. you don’t mind do you?” y/n asked self-consciously.

“no not at all baby, we love it.” jj soothed.

“yeah keep it that way.” emily affirmed.

“yes ma’am.” y/n spoke softly down the phone.

[katiascraft]

“am I too much for you? maybe I’m too much for everyone” | CL16

parings: Charles Leclerc x insecure!reader

summary: you feel insecure and you’re struggling but Charles makes sure you know how important you are to the world (specially his world).

now playing: “If I weren’t me” by Katherine Li

warnings: not English native speaker could there be errors. None proofread. Talk about sadness and destructive inner talk. Insecure reader. Readers pov’s.

words: +1,5k words.

a/n: heyyyy I am back!!! I disappeared for a year 💀 consistency it’s not my thing I guess. I’m finally finishing university this year!! So I guess I’ll have more time to write. Hope you like it! First on Charles. New obsession: F1 drivers. Get ready I got plenty more on my plans :p. Remember to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3

MASTERLIST

The piano tiles made the sound of the soundtrack of my sadness in this moment. My fingers touched them softly like they were fragile - like me.

Today was a nightmare from the start. Since I woke up I had a knot in my stomach that became bigger and bigger as the time passed through my routine. Sometimes itʼs really hard for me to do daily tasks such as cleaning or even eating. And it was harder if I need to go to events or meetings.

I have episodes of deep sadness Iʼve been treating on therapy. Sometimes I just canʼt control it. Today was one of those days where black and grey took over everything I felt and did. One way I found by being suggested by my therapist was writing down every thought of pain to find kind of a relief. Today itʼs really hard. Iʼm struggling really hard.

Iʼve been alone the whole day. Charles had to go to the Ferrari factory and do his driver tasks as usual. When I woke up he was gone. And maybe that contributed even more to my desperate and pathetic situation. Though I shouldnʼt talk about it like that and be more gentle with myself. It always felt to me negativity has always been my best friend and worst enemy at the same time.

Playing piano helped me so much. Write a song about my pain. Try to give a little light to all of this mess I find myself emerged in. Itʼs really hard for me to open up and seek help when I need it. Specially when it comes to Charles. I donʼt wanna be a burden to him. And I donʼt wanna stress him out with all of my dark side. I always try to brush it off when heʼs around. Most times I just pretend Iʼm happy and everything itʼs alright. As if I wasnʼt feeling too much for him. Or too less. Like Iʼm not worth of his love. Of his attention. Of his smiles. Of everything he did for me.

The fact that Charles asked me out had me shocked. Iʼve never felt like I could compete with all the models and influencers and singers and every really beautiful girl in this world. Iʼve never felt beautiful nor attractive. Yes Iʼm pretty good making jokes. And I talk too much. But Iʼve always felt I cringed people out. Dating people wasnʼt a thing I was really good at. Actually I sucked. And I think I still do. Always overthinking and second guessing every move. Every promise. Everything.

Charles was so sweet to me. He said “youʼre beautiful. Iʼm sure people tell you all the time. But you really areˮ. I couldnʼt help but get really nervous and blush. The most beautiful man Iʼve ever seen was talking to me and saying all of that. I blinked a couple of times. My smile huge. I just laughed softly trying to brush it off.

Since then we became a team. Inseparable. Charles became my best friend. My rock. I donʼt know what I ever did to deserve his love. The way he loved me was so gentle. So caring and loving. At first was hard because his love language was physical touch and that was something I wasnʼt used to. But little by little I got used to and felt amazing. Iʼve never felt so comfortable with anyone but him.

I hate my body. I feel ashamed of my personality. Most times I feel so dumb. So stupid.

I didnʼt realized I was already crying when I felt my tears dropping in my hands on the piano. I didnʼt realized I kept playing in auto-mode. When I was conscious again I started crying badly. I started shaking. I felt so bad. So guilty for even feeling this way. I didnʼt realized Charles have arrived home when I felt his deep voice from behind.

“Baby... whatʼs wrong? Youʼve been crying for a whileˮ I heard his voice and that sent shivers down my spine. I try to hold it together because I feel so embarrassed heʼs seeing me like this.

He sat next to me and hugged me. I hid my face on his neck feeling contempt. Thing is I started crying worse. I couldnʼt control it once it took on me.

“Itʼs okay baby. Itʼs okay.ˮ He whispered on my head while he stroke my hair and my arm pulling me closer. I thanked him mentally for this. I never thought I needed it so much.

Took a while until I calmed myself in his body. I part from him slowly and whipped my face with my hands. After I did he did the same. He whipped my tears so gently. He did the same looking me with bright eyes. Worry was all over his face. I licked my lips. “Iʼm sorry.ˮ I said quietly almost a whisper.

He denided with his head taking my head into his hands and stroked it softly.

“donʼt be sorry baby. Iʼm worried. Whatʼs wrong? Iʼm sorry I wasnʼt home to be with you. Why didnʼt you called me?ˮ I could feel the worry in his voice deep and cracking.

“I didnʼt want to bother to be honest. Itʼs one of those days. A really hard dayˮ my tears wanted to go out again but I holded them.

I saw his eyes turned into a sad look. He leaned on me and kissed my cheek to hugged me strongly in his arms afterwards. I buried my head in his shoulder. His smell calmed me down. I holded him pretty close to me. Strongly as him. I didnʼt want to let go.

“do you wanna talk about what you are feeling love?ˮ He whispered softly. I swallowed hard and pulled away from his so I could look into his beautiful eyes. I loved his eyes. So bright so blue sometimes. To me they felt like staring at the ocean. I stroked his face gently. He grabbed my legs on the little couch in front of the piano it our living room.

“This is one of those days where I donʼt feel enough or maybe too much to handle... all of this darkness in me that sometimes I just canʼt control it. You deserve someone confident and happy just like youˮ I told him softly and honestly. And it felt good to take it out of me for finally. I wanted to cry again but I was making my best efforts to keep it together.

“Cher... you are more than enough for me. You are the most beautiful soul Iʼve ever met. The most beautiful woman Iʼve ever seen. You are the sweetest most caring and fun person. Always there for people. You have the brightest personality. Every time you enter a room you shine. Everyone smiles. To me youʼre happiness though I know that isnʼt the whole you. Youʼre human baby. You are allowed to feel. And to not be okay. And to be okay too. You are not a burden for me. Youʼre my best friend. Mon amour. My future wife. The one whoʼs always there for me. My shoulder to cry on. The one with the greatest jokes. The life of every party I assist. You give a meaning to my life. A reason to live. You are a great daughter. The best friend someone could ask for. The greatest sister. You are a light for every single person that knows you y/n. Donʼt ever feel that you are too much to handle. And I really wanna go and kill the people who made you ever feel you were, I sware. You are amazing baby.ˮ While he was talking you couldnʼt hold it together. You just started crying. He let you do it while he whipped your tears lovingly. He seeing you like this broke his heart. You didnʼt deserve to feel like this. And he wished he could take away all of your pain. That you could see yourself the way he sees you. And feel how happy and enamoured you made him feel. “You can talk to me every time you need itˮ he continued. “you can trust me and we can figure it out together. You donʼt have to go through it alone. Okay? I love you with everything I am y/n. If I could I would take all of this pain away and just make you feel how I feel about you. I promise to me youʼre even better than Carlosˮ he said lastly jokingly making me laugh through my crying.

Now he had a huge smile on his face knowing he could make you feel better. I gave him a peck on his lips as a thank you and as an I love you.

“I donʼt know what I would do without you Charles...ˮ I said sincerely and full of love in between the lines. He gave another kiss back but now it was deeper in feelings. We kissed for a while and it felt that as the kiss continued my pain was going away feeling better every second. After the kissed I hugged him tightly. He gave kisses to my neck making me giggle a little. “I love you Charlie. Youʼre my angelˮ I whispered on his shoulder and he tightened the hug in response.

“And you are mine chérie“ he said burying his face on my shoulder.

——————————————————————————————

Charlie won COTA 🥹.

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have ideas my inbox is open for requests!

[lolaandthens0me]

Your rules for your 24/7 D/s dynamic?

Thanks for the question, Anon!

I absolutely love living within my 24/7 D/s dynamic with my partner/Daddy and it's something that I'm passionate to share about as I know it can seem like a really fun, but daunting idea. How do you take that fantasy and walk it out in real life within a committed adult relationship in a life partner sense?

I began wearing diapers 24/7 because @resonantyes expressed an interest in creating that rule within our budding dynamic a couple of years ago. We discussed what that would practically look like and also what we would want this rule to feel like to us within our relationship. I loved the idea as it would make me feel connected to him on a daily basis as we were in a long distance relationship at that time.

We came up with a few blanket rules that are still in effect today:

Diapers are the default, always. (Even when with potential other play partners and with my other partner.)

I am allowed to wear pull-up type undies (Goodnites, Ninjamas, etc.) when I am with family and also when I'm teaching or taking a yoga or other fitness class.

I can always ask if there are other reasons or occasions that I wish to wear pull-ups or undies. This request will be heard with good adult reasoning and may or may not be granted. ie) for a fancy dress situation, because I want to wear a lingerie set, for creating content, because I'm getting rashy and my skin needs a breather, etc.

A newer rule that emerged as time went on is that I am to use my diaper for everything...everything except in the case of traveling, staying with family/friends, or some other socially inappropriate time.

I have come to view my diaper as my collar of sorts. It is a sign of my commitment to Daddy, a role that he takes very seriously and with great care, honor, and respect. There is this low-level current underscoring my life reminding me that I am his, just as he is mine, with every crinkly step I take. We always leave space to bring concerns to each other and even purposely have check-ins about how we're both feeling within our dynamic. We ask questions like does anything need to be adjusted or perhaps added? Are we feeling happy and fulfilled in the ways that we want to be? Am I being a good girl? Is he being a good Daddy? Is this still the best thing for our relationship?

Other things that aren't necessarily rules but come along with being in our 24/7 D/s dynamic include always being changed by Daddy when we're together, having friends hold me accountable and doing diaper checks when he's not around and I'm at kinky get togethers, sending diaper check pics when we're not together, the occasional maintenance spanking over his knee just as a submissive act, the rare spanking as punishment, calling him Daddy when we're alone together or with kink friends, but using his real name in all other contexts, and generally behaving as a loving, caring, responsible partner above everything else. Just one who has rules, discreetly wears diapers, and is also his submissive.

[mym1na]

୨ৎ SKATER GIRL ─ HANNI PHAM.

— 001. RAN OVER, half written.

#FLASHBACK!

11:40 AM | 📍some sidewalk idk man

Hanni, on a random Friday, continued her routine. She got ready, left her house, and then skated to Minji’s house to hang out with the older girl.

Hanni was too busy enjoying the music that was playing on her headphones, letting her music and skateboard guide her through the path she takes almost every day, not paying any attention to her surroundings. So imagine the surprise she had when, the moment she gained consciousness, she suddenly noticed a figure that emerged from nowhere.

“What the fuck—” A sudden, panicked voice yelled out. Hanni's eyes bulged at the figure, skidding to a halt and nearly falling off her board after hearing the other faint voice. Hanni removed her headphones before looking over the girl to make sure she didn’t hit her in any way. “I’m so sorry!” Hanni says with a panicky and awkward stare.

“Did you almost kill me by running me over with a skateboard?” Yn’s brows furrowed with disbelief that she had almost died in a skateboard accident. Absolutely embarrassing.

“Well, I didn’t mean to,” Hanni replied, awkwardly grabbing her skateboard from the ground and sliding it under her arms to keep it still.

“And also, I doubt you would’ve died from it, so—uh.”

Yn frowned at this. “You don’t know that.” She says this while looking down at her watch.

“Shit. I’m late. Thanks for almost running me over; you made me even more late, gosh.” Yn says while moving away from Hanni, speed-walking past Hanni without any glance.

Hanni just watched the girl walk away, staring at her until she slowly disappeared from the distance.

“I should’ve asked for her number,” Hanni muttered to herself before blinking herself out of the trance she was stuck in. She shook her head before continuing the path she was on, on foot instead, just to make sure she wouldn’t almost run any more pretty girls.

12:05 PM | 📍Minji’s place (🏳️‍🌈)

“So, let me get this straight—” Minji paused to take a bite of the ice cream she was eating. “You almost did a hit-and-run on a skateboard; she was slightly rude, but yet you still wanted her number?” Minji said, trying to understand the situation properly and finding the whole thing silly in the best way possible. “What? I like them a little mean.” Hanni says with a huff, leaning into the chair she was sitting in as Minji snorts at the response she was given.

“Until they get too mean.”

“That’s why I said a little mean.” Hanni said.

Hanni let out a depressive sigh. “You think I’m going to see her again?”

Minji shrugged, putting her ice cream down beside her and pulling out her phone. “I don’t know; probably, apparently, we all meet someone twice.”

“I hope I meet her again.”

“That girl probably told you to kill yourself, and you’re over here like, 'awhhh, I miss this girl'; you don’t even know her.” Minji made fun of the girl for being in a lover girl era with someone who seems to not give a fuck.

“Okay and?? Don’t be jealous that a pretty girl looked in my direction.” Hanni rolled her eyes with a huff.

Minji snorted once more, now scrolling on her phone, probably wandering around in the jungle called the internet. Minji’s brow furrowed in curiosity as she stared down at her phone. “Haerin replied to a tweet.”

“Okay…?” Hanni questioned why Minji was telling her this, as, you know, everyone replies to something.

“To a girl who is complaining about almost getting run over by a skateboard.” Minji finished her sentence, and not even two seconds later, Hanni was by her side, looking at the girl’s phone.

“What.” Was all Hanni said before grabbing Minji’s phone out of her hands, quicker than the flash.

“Hey!”

“Shhh.” Hanni moved her hand towards Minji’s mouth, covering it so the girl could keep quiet.

Hanni stared at Haerin's reply. Going to the girl’s account and straight to the following so she can find her “hit and run” girl.

“Is that stalking?” Minji muffled from Hanni’s hand. Hanni quickly took her hand off Minji’s mouth to give her a quick slap on the head before landing her hand right back on Minji's mouth. Earning herself a small “ow” from the girl.

“No.”

“I’m gonna text her.”

Minji quickly removed Hanni’s hand from her mouth, snatching her phone back. “Text her on your phone, not mine, you stupid gay.”

Hanni let out an annoyed sigh before rushing to pull out her phone. Repeating the same steps as before, she stopped and thought to herself, Maybe it did seem like she was stalking if she just sent her a dm.

“I’m gonna text Haerin.”

“Why?”

“…I don’t want to look like I’m stalking.” Hanni sent Minji a glare, knowing the girl was going to take that as a win, like Hanni was admitting to stalking.

Minji went to open her mouth, but before she could, Hanni spoke before her.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Minji acted shocked, throwing her hands up in the air as if she wasn’t going to do anything.

MASTERLIST | NEXT

[OPEN] TAGSLIST ༄ @saysirhc @aeriigfs @sixflame438 @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @luvqiris @frenchyypoo @wintersgff

[in-som-niyah]

Jason todd who would def cut patrol short when reader calls him cuz her vibrator died??? idk i literally see his weakness as being needed in any way... <333

a/n: anon ur so right

"I'm on my way pretty girl, just sit tight for me."

warnings: piv sex, explicit smut, semi-rough sex, reader masturbates, reader has a vibrator, mentions of other sex toys, jason todd is a whore, no beta we die like men, jason uses spanish petnames because its sexier i dont make the rules, reader has a vagina, reader masturbates, sexual frustration, mentions of heaven & idk what else

The chill of another Gotham night kissed your supple skin. Fresh out of the shower, you made your way back to your Jason-less bed for the night.

The routine of Jason being gone on patrol was painfully familiar, but the ache it left in your chest remained foreign, no matter how many times you experienced it.

This time, he left in a hurry after you both left your business unfinished. His lips sucked at your neck and made their way down to your collarbone, only for his alarm to go off and his helmet to be tugged on. 'I'll see you after patrol, amorcita' he said, knowing full well he would be home around 4 am.

This left an ache in you. Not a fire yet, no, but a craving to be fed what he starved you of hours ago.

Finally dry and setting your towel down, you find a pair of clean underwear and a loose pyjama shirt and lower yourself into bed.

It was a cold night, the frigid sheets and absence of Jason only making it worse. Despite the discomfort, you couldn't deny yourself the subtle pleasure of rubbing your thighs together to satiate the pressing situation between them.

It had been so long since Jason left, and you were fucking needy for Christ's sake.

Deciding to get the job done yourself, you pull out the bullet vibrator that you used when Jason wasn't around. It wasn't that you deliberately kept him from it, he just never asked, and you needed a little escape when he left you in such a state.

Spreading your legs under the covers, you lightly stroked your clit with one hand, while the other toyed with your nipple.

You haven't even turned the damn thing on and you're a panting, dripping mess already, soaking your surrounding area in sweat and stickiness.

Your index finger pressed on the power button, and you increased the pressure on your clit. Instantly, you saw stars and the relief was unimaginable.

Just as you got a steady rhythm going, everything stopped.

You pressed and held down the power button again, but nothing happened.

Your puffy pussy begged for more stimulation, something as intense as the now-gone vibrations, but it was too late. There was no time to charge and all your other toys were dead.

Trying to still at least finish, you employ both your hands between your legs, one rubbing hard circles on your clit and the other prodding at your weeping entrance.

Tears of dissatisfaction burned rivers in your hot cheeks, and your fingers began to tremble and give out. It had been 45 minutes of trying to get yourself anywhere near an orgasm, and your desperation has reached its limit.

Jason always told you to call him in case of an emergency, and this was beginning to be a fucking emergency.

Jason was taking down a group of goons with his guns, while punching and kicking those who came too close. He was much less coordinated tonight (thanks to the tent in his pants), which the gang members took full advantage of. Thoughts of you and your supple skin ran marathons in his head, clouding all focus and occupying all his mental real-estate, making it hard to pay attention to the current pressing issues.

Just as he finished his last one off, his helmet alerts him of an incoming call from you. This is extremely strange, as you don't call or text when he's out at all. He picks up though, panting but quite anxious at the sudden change.

Before he has a chance to ask, you cut him off.

"please jay i-i need you..."

"Huh? What happened princess? Are you alright? Are you safe?" Jason blurts in a frenzy.

"y-yes but i n-need you and it hurts..." You whine pitifully.

"What hurts hm? Tell me, princessa." He continues worriedly as he mounts his motorcycle ready to speed back to you.

You moan at the pet name, sticky fingers returning to your abused cunt and beginning to rub at your clit again in hopes of creating some friction.

"Darling?"

Sudden embarrassment kept your form being straightforward with him and you resorted to another whimper of dissatisfaction once again.

"J-just come home, please Jay?"

"I'm on my way pretty girl, just sit tight for me." Jason responded with a click of the line going dead.

In the meantime, you were a pitiful writhing mess, voice hoarse and hands shaking. The covers have long been forgotten, leaving your open thighs trembling with both frustration and the cold.

Jason was shitting himself. Between your defeated pleas for him to just come home coupled with your reluctance to be specific, he was terrified.

His mind kept replaying scenarios of horror and bloodshed as he ignored every single traffic law to get back to you.

Finally outside your shared apartment, he flung himself up the fire escape and through your kitchen window. When it was deemed safe, he took off his mask and called out to you. He was met with a desperate sobs in response, which only made his worry grow.

Hard footsteps could be heard making their way closer to you, making you flinch slightly.

Upon flinging open the bedroom door, Jason was sorely unprepared to meet such a pitiful sight.

There you were, spread open for all to see. Cunt swollen and wet, dripping like a faucet onto the sweat-soaked sheets. Your braids ran wild behind you as your bonnet had slipped off and your entire body was trembling due to the chill in the air.

Even as his huge form stood over you, your shaky and tired hands continued to rub at your clit, desperate for relief. Your bitten lips were still being chewed and your teary eyes remained squeezed shut.

Jason softened and hardened at the same time, but in different places.

You open your eyes to find him in his tactical gear looming over you and your hands immediately fly up from you body to make grabby hands at him.

He manages a genuine, soft smile despite the carnal desire brewing in his pants.

Before he indulges though, he need to make sure you're okay first.

"Hey, I'm right here love. You alright?" He whispers over your shaking body, his hand volunteering to rub your calf in effort to soothe your shaking.

"J-Jay? fuck I need-" you sob as your trembling hand returns to your abused clit once again.

He catches your hand and kisses the back of it, knowing that this will only overstimulate you. However, this was all the confirmation he needed. Jason stripped himself quickly and crawled his way up to you on the bed.

"Shhhh I know querida, I know... Does it hurt?" Jason questions, trying to gauge the situation the best he could.

You nod fervently, just wanting some fucking relief. Your hips were sore from being in such an open position for so long, your breasts and nipples were raw, and oh god you didn't want to acknowledge the burning between your legs.

Just then, Jason captured your lips with his as soft reassurance. This gentleness didn't last, as your desires began to overtake your mouths and soon, you were both hungrily devouring each other.

Jason was here, with you, right here, right now. 

His hands began to roam, your body, soothing all the tension and frustration that was once there. It hurt him to feel your muscles trembling in such a painful way, but also inspired him to make them shake for a more intimate purpose.

Jason's mouth made its way down your body, from the back of your left ear to your collarbone, making your gasp as he left marks of his devotion in his wake. His journey led him to the valley between your breasts, where his hands began to knead your right breast with practiced skill.

"J-Jay please- oh~"

At your call, his head perks up from where he was kissing down your stomach, just above your navel.

Jason's lustful green eyes settle on your pleading and desperate gaze, to which he smirks and settles the side of his head on your soft tummy and continues holding your gaze.

"Tell me how you want me, cariño"

You bit your lip. All this longing has robbed you of your ability to think, and in the most crucial moment, your mind went blank.

Seeming to notice, Jason moves himself back up to your face, silver chain dangling from his neck over yours, and employs his left hand to smooth your braids from your face.

"You want me to fuck you like the heavens have forsaken us, hm?"

You moan and nod, one of your hands moving to his weeping length and beginning to stroke it.

Jason devours you again, making you eat his moans and whimpers, and finally positions himself between your legs.

Upon swiping a thick finger between your folds he realizes that he's completely good to go, no prep needed.

"Deep breath, mami~" he grits out. He doesn't wait for a response before he's pushing himself all the way in.

You both moan in unison, and continue to do so as Jason's thrusts pickup speed and force.

As soon as he's found a rhythm his mouth and hands didn't leave your body. His chain dangled closely above you as he kissed your cheeks and neck, and his hands kneaded and squeezed wherever they went.

Surprising to neither of you, Jason's pace quickly became brutal, but he continued hitting all the sensitive spots inside your warm walls. His roughness never overshadowed his ability to bring you pleasure, he made sure of that.

Remembering your sore hips, Jason pulls a pillow under your ass to change the angle, which allows him to reach that much deeper inside you.

Your pussy clenches hard at the newfound pleasure and the coil in your lower tummy begins to unravel.

"You like that 'ma? This tight pussy tells me you do." He chuckles.

All you can do is moan and grip the soft sheets for dear life; Jason was making you see Andromeda. 

The coil, never forgotten, was closing in quickly, by which Jason was undeniably privy to due to your walls closing on on him.

You threw your head back and tried to stay in the moment without getting lost in the anticipation of your impending orgasm.

At this, Jason's now free hand found the back of your head and lifted it back up to meet his gaze.

"Amorcita? I know you're close, mi vida. You know what I want" Jason whispers against your mouth, his breath ghosting over your bitten and swollen lips.

The coil was becoming unbearable now. You were teetering on just the edge, just the painstaking precipice of and absolutely mind-bending orgasm.

You notice that Jason was getting sloppier, and his thrusts quicker and not as deep. His quick breaths became laboured and his eyes screwed shut. He was close. 

"You're right there darling. C'mon, cum with me." He says before he smashes his lips on yours and thrusts hard. The coil in your tummy finally snapping at the surprise.

Galaxies and other stars bathed in white bliss was all you were able to perceive as the long-awaited orgasm claimed every blazing nerve in your body. No longer cold, but cozily warm your body felt as the waves of pleasure continued to cascade throughout your body.

Your other half was pushed over the edge by your climax, which then painted your insides a sticky white while he groaned in your ear upon release.

You were too far gone to notice his thrusts coming to a stop and his hands running themselves up and down your sides, gently coaxing your back in the present with him.

"Mami? You back with me yet" Jason whispers in your neck.

You barely register what he's saying, outside stimulation being very hazy and distant.

"Hmm?"

"I asked if you're with me yet." He says with a laugh. You looked so lost but finally content.

You nod your head, but this was't sufficient.

"Words, querida."

"Yeah, I'm good." You respond with a sigh.

Though you knew tomorrow morning would be hell on your muscles, you were finally satisfied and happy.

Jason kissed your forehead and got up to get a towel, but stopped once he got to the ensuite bathroom and turned to look at you while leaning on the doorframe.

"Oh and baby?"

You turn over to look at him, your eyes not being able to fight the urge to roam the expanse of his glorious body as if your guts weren't already rearranged.

"Hmm?"

"I hope you never charge that vibrator again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n pt2: PHEWWWW YALL THIS TOOK SO LONG AND MY BROWSER QUIT AND I ALMOST LOST ALL MY PROGRESS

anyways its 3am night night

[penelopepine]

‘Mini Me’ was the CUTEST thing ever!!! I’m also here to beg for more Graves x Reader content 🙏. Could you write about Graves saving Reader from a home invasion?

THANK YOU! I'm so glad you liked it, and I hope you like this. I had a blast writing it so thank you for the ask!!

Intruder Alert!

Phillip Graves x Fem Reader

Content: Home invasion, light angst, fluff, guns Word Count: 1930

It’s become something of a habit for you both to call each other whenever possible at this time. You’re already laying down in bed, your favorite show is on and a book lays in your lap, when Phillip calls you right on the dot as usual. 

You turn off the TV and answer before the first ring is even finished as you happily exclaim into the phone, “Phillip!” 

“Evening sweetheart, you doing ok?” He asked; his voice low but comforting. “You better be in bed at this hour.” 

With a slight huff you reply, “I am, I am don’t worry. Just reading the book you got me. You didn’t have to do that you know.” It had been a total surprise for you when you came home one day to a package on your doorstep knowing full well that you hadn’t ordered anything recently. Even more of a surprise when it had been the final book of a series you had been raving about to Phillip just a few days ago. You had also mentioned how the last book had just come out as well.

“Nonsense, I gotta spoil my girl even when I’m not there.” 

“You’re too good to me, baby. Thank you. I love it so much; I’ll have to show you some appreciation whenever you come home.” 

You hear through the phone Phillip take a sharp breath when he hears your words before chuckling to himself as he growls out, “is that so? What sort of … appreciation do you have in mind?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to give anything anyway.” 

“Sweetheart, it’s not nice to-.” 

Crash!

That was the sounds of glass shattering downstairs, but that's not all though - you can hear someone cursing and the sound of footsteps under glass. You're suddenly regretting having those big bag windows installed.

It takes you a few seconds to realize that Phillip is calling your name; there's actually a lot of noise coming from his side of the phone now.

"Philip, I think someone's in the house." 

"Sweetheart," his voice firm, but filled with concern, "You need to do exactly as I say; do you understand?"

"I- I understand." 

"Good good, everything is going to be alright. I'm on my way to you now." You can hear the sound of a car door slamming as he says that. It's a half an hour drive from the base to here; you've seen him make it in twenty though. "Get up - slowly, and lock the bedroom door." 

Shakily you do as he says; trying to calm your thundering heart as if whoever is here can hear it and will come barging into the room. The tiny click of the door lock sounds out like a church bell on Sunday.

"It's locked." You're honestly not even sure you spoke with how softly you whispered those words, but you must have because Phillip is giving you his next command as soon as you're finished speaking them. 

“Now in my night stand - bottom drawer, is a case grab it. Go to the bathroom and lock that door as well before doing anything else with it.” 

“Isn’t that your-?” 

“Yes. Grab it.” 

It was Phillip’s gun case. He’s shown you how to use the gun inside of it about every month. For emergencies he had always said; you’ve never thought about having to actually use it on another person though. 

Pushing that thought down though you quickly get yourself settled in the now locked bathroom. “I have it; the door is locked.” 

“You know what I’m going to ask next, sweetheart. Just … just keep it close and ready. I’m almost there.” You could tell that Phillip was trying to calm for your sake right now. This was something you two had talked about though being a possibility. It’s so different being in the real situation though. 

Sitting down on the cold floor you open the case, and pull out the gun. It feels so much heavier than it ever has in your hands. 

It was in that moment that you heard the unmistakable creak of third from the top step on the stairs - it was the only one that ever made any noise. Whoever was here was now on the second floor, and only a few steps away from you. 

Quickly you pull the phone away from your ear to check how long it’s been. Everything feels as if it’s been going a mile a minute surely Phillip is almost here - six minutes. It’s only been six minutes. It could easily take another twenty for your husband to get here. 

The intruder must be at your door now because the next thing you hear is the rattle of the locked bedroom door. It wouldn’t be something you would normally hear, but in the dead quiet it's the only thing you can hear. That and the sound of Phillip’s car speeding his way towards you over the phone. 

All you can do now is wait and hope that this is just some thief who is there to steal whatever they find valuable, and not for anything related to Phillip because if they are, you know a locked door is not going to stop them from getting to you. 

It’s silent for a few minutes after that, and you really think that the locked door has deterred whoever it is that entering is not worth the hassle. That is of course not true because the next thing you know is that the bedroom door is being kicked open with a loud bang as the door and wall collide with one another. 

You can’t help but gasp as you hear it, as you do Phillip is worryingly calling your name. When you don’t immediately reply he continues, “I’m almost there; hang in for a few more minutes for me. I’m-” 

Phillip’s voice suddenly cuts off from whatever he was going to say. Pulling your phone away from your ear again you see that your phone has died. Oh.

Meanwhile in the bedroom you can hear the person shuffling around; drawers being opened and closed with no consideration for noise. You pull the gun up and steady your aim to the door. It’s only a matter of time before they try and knock this door down as well after all. 

You know you're only going to have one real shot though. Whoever is on the other side is definitely more prepared for a confrontation than you are - probably a lot stronger than you are too. 

Looking to your side you debate going out the window. You’re on the second floor, but as long as you do a somewhat decent landing you’re not in any danger of dying from the fall. It’s the fear of breaking something though that stops you from just making a run for it. Breaking a wrist or arm would hurt like a bitch, but it’d be doable. A leg though would probably put you in a worse situation then the one you’re currently in. 

With minutes that feel like hours you wait for the inevitable to happen. Only that’s not what happens because all of a sudden you hear a loud pained grunt and what sounds like two people fighting. 

Phillip. 

It has to be him. You don’t think anyone else would be inside fighting the intruder. 

You don’t open the door though. During your talks about this kind of situation Phillip always told you to wait for him - he’d be the one to give you the signal that it was safe to leave whatever hiding space you managed to find. 

Just as quickly as it started though it’s over. You can’t hear anything anymore. That is until four knocks on the bathroom door sound out - the signal. 

Immediately you're running to unlock the door. When throw open the door Phillip pulls you into his arms, and guides you back into the bathroom. “Thank fuck you’re alright, sweetheart.” 

“I’m alright,” You’re more concerned about him right now though, “What about you though? Are you hurt anywhere?” 

Try as you might to pull away and check him over his grip on you does not loosen. “I’m fine. Just let me hold you right now.” 

You don’t know how long the two of you stand there just embracing one another, and frankly you don’t care to know. It would have been longer if not for Phillip’s phone suddenly ringing out. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to let go quite yet with how he gives you one more hard squeeze before letting go, and grabbing his phone. 

“Graves speaking … good, come inside and handle the trash. I’m heading back to base.” It’s fairly obvious who he was talking to, but you still have to ask.

“Are the shadows here? How are they here already?” 

“I called Erikson to get his ass here with a few boys after our call was cut out.” Phillip releases a deep breath and rests his forehead on yours, “You had me cursing up a storm when that happened, sweetheart. What have I told you about keeping your phone charged?” 

Of course he knew it was because your phone died. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to let it get below 50% after this.” 

“Probably for the best.” You watch as Phillip now pulls away fully and grabs the gun from where you had left it; hostlering it to his side. “Now let’s get out of here. You’re staying on base until I get a new security system installed.” 

He is then pressing you into his side as his hand comes up to cover your eyes. “Phillip?” 

“Don’t want you seeing anything, sweetheart. Let me guide you out of here for now.” 

You don’t put up anymore of a fuss at that, and you also don’t really want to see whatever lies in the bedroom right now. With that he’s quick to get you out of the bedroom, and out into the hallway. There he does finally let you see again as he continues to pull you down the stairs. 

As you get to the bottom a small group of shadows are entering the house. They give Phillip a nod before hurriedly passing him as they make their way up the stairs now. 

“Wait, I should pack something before we leave.” You say remembering how he had said that you’d be staying at the base. 

“Well come by in the morning, sweetheart. After the boys get things cleaned up.” He reassures you as he practically carries you out of the house to his car. The ride for the most part is silent besides the low singing from the radio. Philip also doesn’t let go of your hand once during the whole ride as if he let go you’d disappear. 

Once back at base the first thing he does is get you settled in his room and bed. He lays down next to you, having you flush against his chest. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“I love you too; I’m here - I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Damn right you’re not.” You feel Phillip relax for the first time tonight as he gives your neck a small kiss. 

You can’t help but think how everything, despite what happened just about an hour ago, right now feels perfect. Being in Phillip’s arms will never not fix everything for you. With that thought you drift off into sleep knowing that everything tomorrow will be alright as long as you have him with you. 

[agoodroughandtumble]

Roronoa Zoro x Reader - I Didn't Need Saving Part 2

Status: Incomplete Summary: Reader is hurt after battling with the marines Warnings: 18+. Language, injury, implied violence (in keeping with the show)

It wasn’t Zoro’s proudest moment, walking away from you. Not when you were injured, not when you were looking at him so desperately. Not when the entire situation was a direct consequence of his actions. You had saved his life, thrown him away from a danger his arrogance hadn’t even registered. And now you were beaten and broken all because of the misguided assumption that somehow his life was more precious than your own.

Fuck he hated you. Hated that you could so casually throw away everything, hated that you were so stupid enough to think that it would be possible for him to carry on without you.

He didn’t know what love was but if it was self-loathing and guilt at your expense he had that in abundance. If it was the way your smile made his heart leap, the overwhelming urge to be close to you, to be good enough for you, to rip open his chest and let you make yourself a home there, well, then he was fucked beyond all reprieve.

Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was the worst thing. Either way, he wasn’t going to risk being alone with you again. At least he could be certain of that.

Two days later he was stood outside your door. Pacing. Nami had said you had been asking for him. That meant one of two things: Nami was tired of covering his shifts so was passing on the buck, or you actually wanted to see him. Which, after how he left you, was not something he was particularly looking forward to. Unfortunately, you were a request he was fundamentally unable to refuse – even if he had actually wanted to.

Hence his pacing.

The irony was not lost on Zoro. The Demon Pirate Hunter was scared of a girl with a hole in her side. But scared of what he wasn’t quite sure. Scared you would yell at him, or be disappointed, angry, spit venom at him again. But what if you didn’t. What if he allowed himself to consider the possibility that you felt a fraction of what he felt? What if you had saved his life because it was him and not because he was a crew member and you were clearly an idiot with a death wish.

Guilt prickled its way up his spine. He was, at least, going to have to acknowledge you at some point. He knocked on the door frame – the door being open in case of an emergency, but he had deliberately been pacing out of sight.

No answer.

Fine. Good. He could leave now – tell Nami he tried but you weren’t up for seeing anyone.

He made it two steps.

Fuck.

Zoro turned around and walked into the room with the determination that only someone who nearly lost it all could have. He’d come this far.

“Come to kill me then?” There was humour in your voice, albeit laced with sarcasm.

He let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you weren’t that pissed off with him. “Only if you pull a stunt like that again.”

You shuffled under the covers and he couldn’t help but be grateful at the ease with which you seemed to move. “I’m promising nothing.”

“Yes you are.”

His sudden serious tone caught you off guard and you hoisted yourself onto your elbows, and although Zoro would rather you didn’t exert yourself he was glad to see you moving without wincing.

You looked at him expectantly, “What am I promising?”

He slumped onto the chair Nami had placed at your bedside and rested his swords against the wall by the headboard next to you. “You’re promising not to leave me.”

You rolled your eyes. The nonchalance with which he spoke failing to convey his meaning until it was too late. “I didn’t leave y- … oh.”

Once again, Zoro felt the familiar rising of guilt starting at the base of his spine, slowly traversing upwards as he watched a thousand expressions cross your face, felt the weight of a thousand unspoken promises embedded in his shoulders. When he looked down at you it was nigh on impossible to say anything that wasn’t his hopeful heart trying to meet yours. He cast his gaze very firmly on anything, everything that was decidedly not you. Anything but you. “A swordsman is no swordsman if he can’t protect his friends.”

Your face dropped only a fraction of a second sooner than his heart. “Well I’m glad we’re friends.”

Zoro searched for some sarcasm only to be met with something else. It was a rare shade on you – embarrassment - and one he didn’t much care for. He sighed. Somehow he had already managed to make things worse. Not for the first time, he wished he could be someone else for you. Someone better. Someone like Luffy with his endless optimism to put a smile on your face, someone like Usopp to take you on an adventure with his fantastical tales. Hell, even someone like that shitty cook who never had any inhibitions when professing his undying love to whichever woman was the latest to catch his eye. But he was Zoro. And apparently that meant all he was good for was failing you.

Failure was not something he was accustomed to. His whole life was built around striving for perfection – whether that was through swordsmanship or being first mate. Failure seeped into his bones, became an obsession, clawing at him. And here you were, unbeknownst and unapologetic. Seeped into his bones. Carving your way into his soul as if it was the easiest thing in the world, as if you had belonged there all along. But you were friends. Because Zoro had failed. Again.

He really should have brought some sake with him. The look of uncertainty, the way you pulled the covers to try to hide as much as yourself as possible, make yourself smaller would be much easier to swallow washed down with alcohol.

He wanted to reach a hand out, rub a reassuring thumb across your cheek. To tell you he was being an arsehole – to somehow articulate that the feeling of hope of reciprocation your actions had arisen in him could in no way compare to the fear of losing you. He wanted to tell you he wasn’t worthy of such an act – and he was so, so angry that you would rather he lost his soul, his heart, his only chance at true happiness over his life. He could happily, willingly, die a thousand deaths if you lived. But if you died. If you left him devoid of all hope and salvation, he could certainly learn how to hate you then.

“I should go.” It was almost a question but one he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Zoro watched as you shuffled further into the covers – protecting yourself. He should be protecting you. He should be holding you in his arms. He should be doing everything and more. But he wasn’t. He was walking out of the door before you could respond. He was failing.

[bimbosanddolls]

State of the Bimbo - New Year, Same Kiki

Hi Barbie!

A new year is approaching and, after the emotional roller coaster that was 2023, I’m deciding to dedicate 2024 to being the best version of myself because honestly… I deserve it. 

With that in mind, there is something that I've been debating telling you all for a long time. I’ve hinted at it in asks and such for a while, I’ve talked openly about it with people in DMs, but I’ve never actually said it outright on my blog.

I am a trans woman. I have always been a trans woman. I am also a bimbo. This isn’t just a kink for me; it’s a big part of who I am and who I'm becoming more and more every day.

So why did I wait so long to say something? Time for a quick history lesson and some Kiki lore. When I started this blog like 10 years ago, there was a super popular bimbo creator named Summer (also known as @bimboisbetter) and there was a huge controversy because Summer came out as a catfish. She was a man pretending to be Summer. Looking back, part of me wonders if Summer wasn't also trans… but it really isn’t my place to speak on that. (Also, that being said… Summer, if you’re still out there somewhere and reading this, I hope you’re doing well) Anyway, people were super upset because Summer deceived them. I, despite early accusations of being a woman, claimed I was a guy because I was masc-presenting and not even sure if I was trans or not at this point. I also RPed frequently as a tgtf (transgender transformation) that would get bimbofied. And playing a girl just… made sense. In retrospect, it felt more authentic to who I actually would realize I am way more than the masc person I believed I was “supposed” to be. But all I knew for sure that I didn’t want to face the same criticism Summer did, even if our situations were super different. Flash-forward a few years, a couple hiatuses, and a whole lot of soul-searching later, I’m now very comfortable with my identity. I know who I am. I know I was always her, even when I was making awful jokes like this. I’ve always been KIki; it’s just in the last few years that I’ve truly let her emerge from her cocoon. And I can’t wait to keep growing and becoming the best bimbo barbie I can be!

xoxo,

Kiki 💖🏳️‍⚧️

[shakespearean-dream]

took me long enough

honorable mentions to @vasyandii for general inspiration, @/x_.0rion._x on tiktok for the hate speech on the tie idea and @average-hyperfixator for helping me with AM’s eyes 😭 go look and follow all of them they are all very talented and cool 🙏

WOW my eyes hurt after looking at this for roughly four hours... and 36 minutes 🤦‍♂️ it’s pretty easy to tell if you look at my art for long enough that i very much lean towards desaturated colors, but i wanted to be a little experimental for AM and go neon— but girl. after i applied the effects to him that SERIOUSLY brightened him up and i had to back down and make the bg a darker pink😭 my eyeballs are already not on my side i do not intend to strain them any further💀

here’s the unedited but rendered version as a treat lol. u can for sure see what i mean here 😭

when i was trying to figure out what to do with AM i realized i haven’t put very much thought into my hc’s for him— which ykw that’s okay because there’s never a better time than rn. i imagine AM as more of a really envious toxic guy who claims to hate their ex (humanity in this case) but does literally everything he can to imitate them, mostly thanks to the radio drama cause damn did you hear how jealous he was there???? ridiculous 😭

so with that in mind i tried to give him a bit of the vibe of a kid just now realizing they can actually express themselves through their appearance—hair, makeup etc— but is still kinda being held back by their environment, or in this case his coding. eventually he’ll get it figured out and be able to consistently look human (even as glitchy and game looking as he is now, it takes a lot of energy to stay like that for extended periods of time) but for now he’s stuck as a rock or computer monitor most of the time. and it drives him SO nuts.

i’m not quite sure where to go with my thoughts from there, so if you wanna comment or throw an ask in my ask box we can talk about AM and his silliness 😭 i truly think he’s one of the most interesting characters in media just because of how powerful yet emotionally blinded he is. tbh, i live to create and be emotional and just be human so in AM’s situation i’d go a little crazy too. not kill everyone except for 5 people and torture them for 109 years crazy, but crazy for sure💀💀 i’d like to hear your guys’s thoughts about it :]

ok it’s late i’m gonna go conk out 😭 one more quick reminder to check out my commission page if you have not, there has still not been an update on yolanda 😔

gn!!!!

[shegatsby]

Heyy,

Hope you are doing well! If you are still open for Hannibal requests, can I request an NBC Hannibal x reader (preferably female or undisclosed) one-shot or headcanons where the reader is a doctor?

Maybe they met at a mutual friend gathering or some sort of event, and there is a medical emergency, so the reader immediately jumps in to stabilise the situation. Such boldness gets Hannibal really interested in her.

~♡~

A/N: HI GUYS! I'm in my prime era. Not me posting everyday lol. Thank you guys so much for your support, love you all. xxx

After working for 18 hours shift Y/N couldn’t even remember how she managed to drive home and threw herself on the soft couch but she woke up on it, in her scrubs, her hair a mess and a dry mouth. She coughed really hard and slowly sat, her head in her palms. She loved her job, she loved helping people that’s why she choose to work in a State hospital instead of a private one. If she worked at a private one her life would be much easier, however she wanted to help people who didn’t have resources to get the treatments, medicine they desperately needed. Over time she got famous for providing medicine without asking any money, talking to other doctors to help patients etc.

She huffed as she stood up, thankfully today was hers and hers only, Y/N had her everything shower, hair masks, face masks, body scrubs, oils and everything. It took her at least 45 minutes but she enjoyed every second of it. Later, she had a late brunch which consisted of bacon and eggs, avocado paste on a warm bread and coffee. She watched her favorite show to laugh a bit. It was The Big Bang Theory. Her day was going great until she had a phone call from a dear friend, Jack Crawford.

The situation was urgent, she knew that the FBI was chasing a killer whose victims were young women in their 20s, Jack called her to tell her that the killer left a living victim behind in the forest, thankfully a woodworker had found her and called 911. Now the poor girl was being transported to the hospital and Jack asked if she could go and check up on her, he added;

 ‘’You’re the only doctor I trust.’’

She was on her couch, reading a classic when she had the call, it was Jack and she couldn’t say no to him so she immediately got dressed. She wore a black skirt, a white turtle neck, she quickly put on her make-up and left. ‘’I’ll only be there to check up on the patient and that’s it.’’ She said to herself as she was driving to the hospital, ‘’And then I’ll go back home.’’

She was greeted by Alana Bloom, Jack had introduced her to Alana and Will before, they became good friends over time but a tall man standing next to Alana was a stranger to her. ‘’Hello Doctor Y/L/N.’’ the man said, extending his hand, the first thing she noticed was how controlled he was. She shook his big hand, ‘’Hello, I’m sorry have we met before?’’ she had to ask, he smiled but it was a small one. ‘’I’m afraid not. I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter, a psychiatrist who helps your friend Jack Crawford.’’ She nodded, ‘’We’re on the same page then.’’

Together they rode the elevator to the floor where the alive victim being kept, the floor was completely empty, there were two guards at the door. As they entered Jack stood up to greet her, ‘’Thank you so much for coming Y/N.’’ he said, ‘’How could I refuse you Jack.’’ She said as they hugged. Her attention went to the girl laying on the bed, her skin pale as porcelain, her long black hair covering the white pillow like the pit of a dark well. She was sleeping, a weary expression on her pretty face, She had an IV bag on her right, as she observed she had no idea a certain maroon deducing her profoundly. ‘’Here.’’ Jack gave her the reports of the girl. ‘’I want you to be her doctor Y/N.’’

Y/N was shocked, ‘’What do you mean? You asked me to check her vitals and give her doctor my thoughts…’’

Jack seemed uncomfortable, ‘’Y/N, this girl was almost killed and the killer will learn soon enough that he couldn’t finish the job so he’ll most likely come after her.’’ He started explaining, ‘’I want you to be her doctor, when she is recovered physically Hannibal will take over, giving her sessions till she is fully stabilized and free of trauma.’’

Y/N knew Jack just wouldn’t ask her to check up on the patient, ‘’Here I am thinking I have the day off.’’ She rolled up her sleeves, ‘’Don’t worry, I’ll be her doctor and babysitter.’’

Jack knew she would understand, ‘’Thank you, I knew I could trust you. Hannibal also will keep you company just in case if she wakes up we need him to sooth her.’’ With that Y/N turned to face Doctor Lecter, his maroon eyes regarded her deeply, she only nodded. They all left leaving her with Hannibal.

She was reading the file Jack had left, every detail about the killings, the pictures and medical reports were there, ‘’He is active.’’ She found herself saying and then she looked up, ‘’Sorry, I’m just… criminals fascinate me.’’ And then she went back to the reports but Hannibal, turned to her on the arm chair, ‘’How come?’’ he asked casually but he was intrigued. She look up from the papers, ‘’I had criminal psychology lessons when I was studying and.. the way they think, behave, very interesting to study. What are your thoughts on our killer Doctor?’’ she asked, ‘’I am sure you have created a profile by now.’’

With this question Hannibal made his posture more dominant, ‘’Yes, I have.’’ And he began to explain, ‘’The killer has an obsession for beauty in women, he is going after them to cover up what he lacks.’’ It got her attention, ‘’Which is?’’ Hannibal noticed the shimmer in her eyes, ‘’Beauty. I believe he has a deformity, maybe on his face or his body I am not sure yet but once the FBI catches him we’ll have more information. If you want… I can arrange a prison meeting because I will be there frequently to guide the interviews.’’ His offer made her heart beat faster, she had always wanted something like this, ‘’I would love to Doctor, thank you.’’ And then Hannibal asked for her email and phone number which she gladly gave. In the mean time they started to hear beep sounds from the machines, Y/N bolted to her feet to rush, the girl was awake and having an attack, she checked her vitals, they were rising crazy and she pressed the red button to call a nurse, thankfully the nurse rushed in quickly, Y/N listed the injections she needed and the nurse with skill full hands had them ready, Hannibal was watching the scene from the corner, he didn’t want to intrude and let her do her job. She was so calm and determined that Hannibal found himself wanting to get to know her on a more personal level. She was knowledgeable and had a curious mind which was rare to find these days. Once the girl calmed down and her vitals were stable Hannibal watched her thank the nurse, he had never seen something like this before. The nurse smiled and nodded and left them alone.

‘’Miss Y/L/N, would you like to have dinner with me.. at my house?’’ he asked with a calm tone, his hands in his pockets. She smiled warmly, ‘’Sure.’’

Thank you for reading. :)