#i told him i knew him from the forums and that i thought he was awesome (like a kid admiring an adult)

[idkimnotreal]

i had a club penguin blog back in 2011 and people sent me friend requests on the game because they knew my nickname from the blog.

similarly, i once had someone recognise me on world of warcraft (a druid in cat form. i believe a worgen) because they saw my forum posts and they always thought they were funny. that was on the brazilian forums, where the community was more tightly knit and smaller (also rip. blizzard nuked the old forums).

based on those events i can say that i have an idea what it's like to be famous. (sarcasm but kinda)

[yaymiyas]

THE HUSBAND

warning: female reader, saer being….saer, yan!isekai!crown prince

a/n: i was so burnt out so lets see what i come up with ….its short ik and yes im cooking up something w cynthia LET ME COOK 🫡🙄🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯

the idea of divorce was swimming in the mist of your mind hours before you regained most of the movement in your body. you knew you had to get out of this situation in a peaceful but quick manner. in your mind, leaving saer should have been easy since he hated edina more than the devil himself. he saw her as a shit stain satan left on earth to torture him for all of his days. so why are tears running down his face…thats odd? from all of the tweets, forums, and blogs saer had close to no emotions for edina. he hated her through and through. in the original story, he would’ve cheered of joy if she simply asked to part ways. so why was he sitting in front of you crying? was the bacon too salty? was he remembering the good ol’ times with his late father? ever since you’ve transmigrated into this story, everything has been so weird. aside from you being close to perfectly fine after being fed poison, saer has became more careful.

in the book, saer was close to a bubbling idiot. every single assassination attempt was stopped by a maid because he was stupid. he always played it as cynthia and amanda favoring edina but that wasnt the full truth. he was just too obvious with everything he was doing. you actually kind of felt back for the dummy, no wonder gracie wants nothing to do with him. regardless of any of that, you actually started to feel a bit bad for him. it was obvious saer didnt know why he was crying or how to stop it by the way his face was balled up in red confusion. maybe it was out of guilt or for the plot, either way you wanted to help him. maybe he wanted to kill you but seeing a grown man cry really did break your heart.

“now, saer..”

gently pushing your hand out to cover his larger ones, you put on a voice of concern. you want to help the poor idiot but you also want to get out of this house alive. maybe playing the sweet docile wife could do you some good, maybe—

“ugh, stupid bitch get off of me.”

slapping your hand off of his, saer attempted to keep a face of pure disgust plastered for you to see. why on earth was he crying, and why on earth are you being so off-putting? at first, your new actions didnt really bother him. were they different? yes, but they weren’t unpleasant. but now...it was as if the poison made you utterly indifferent to his presence, which he told himself he loved, but the lord knows thats a lie. you quietly sitting there, dry-face, with a slight frown and uninterested body language, angered him. saer was crying purely for reactions. he thought that crying would help him close this conversation and make you jump up and beg for his forgiveness, but no. all you did was lift your grimly, beastly fingers to ‘comfort’ him. what a joke of a woman.

“im finished with my breakfast”

the scream of the chair was louder than your own thoughts, kicking you out of your own subconscious. what even was that about? you were TRYING to be the version of edina you thought he would like, second from you killing yourself right there and then. so why was he acting like you were trying to jump his bones? he is such a wicked man….such a sad excuse of a person. its such a shame his attitude is so sour, you were going to try to soften his walls to see if he would lighten up on the poisoning situation. how did he get it? who did he get it from?

“madam,”

lightly placing her hand on your shoulder, cynthia appeared. scaring you out of your thoughts, you straightened your back and put on the best fake smile you could. you knew cynthia didnt really care for you, as demonstrated by the bath she gave you earlier, but you thought that maybe you could melt this ice queen. her soft ginger coils shaped her face in all the right places, giving her olive skin the type of glow women in the real world would kill for. she had green eyes to match alone with it, making it easy to find yourself lost in them. cynthia was a beautiful woman; just how did she become a maid for this jackass?

“his royal highness has ordered for you to be sent to your room.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for scamming my ex out of an extremely valuable virtual pet?

🐓🥤to recognize. This might be a very long post with a lot of added context for a very niche hobby and a very small actual conflict.

I religiously play a virtual pet site called Chicken Smoothie. It's a pretty old site as far as virtual pet games go, starting back in 2008, so there is a pretty solid established site economy. Just for some context, Every pet on the site has a rarity, ranging from "OMG So Common" to "OMG So Rare", being the most common and most rare respectively. But there are rarities within those rarities, where some OMGSRs can be worth more than others based on species and demand. For example, an OMGSR dog from 2008 will be worth more than an OMGSR rat from 2008 despite being the same highest rarity and year, because people prefer the dogs over rats. These pets can get extremely valuable. You can't sell them for real money (according to site rules, but of course there's a black market), but the site has its own virtual currency you can buy (with real money) and trade for called Chicken Dollars, and you can also trade a valuable pet for other valuable pets. It gets very complicated, with the community coming up with its own set of value terms each pet can have. I'm not getting into specifics there, that's not important.

Every year, on December 18th, CS has gift boxes you can adopt from. These gift boxes can contain any rare pet from any previous year, including special "Unreleased pets" that you can only get from these Dec 18th boxes, with a very slim chance. These unreleased pets are some of the most valuable and rarest in the game.

Recently, I had seen my ex posting on the forums. I didn't know he had an account, he had made it within this year, long after I got the fuck away from him, and I only knew it was him because he uses the same username everywhere. This person had groomed me, physically abused me when we were together (we no longer live anywhere near each other, thankfully) and has always been emotionally manipulative. He does not know I play, and he wouldn't recognize my account as me. I took a note of his account and left it be for a while, until December 18th hit and I took a peek at what he had got. And what he got was one of the new Unreleased pets, which currently at the time of writing this only looks like a box of cereal. (Most pets on the site have growth stages.) And even better, all his groups were open for trade, so I took a chance and sent an extremely terrible trade. I told him that this pet would only be a recent rare, and I offered him a "Very Rare" rarity (but not very valuable) pet from 2018, telling him I was overpaying. (In the CS community, this is known as Ninjaing, and it's Not A Good Thing To Do). I didn't expect him to accept it, I at least thought he'd be smart enough to ask in the trade advice thread that is literally pinned on the home page for December 18th, but he didn't. He took my word for it and accepted the trade, and now I own an unreleased pet that will eventually end up as an OMGSR.

What I did was not a bannable offence. He will not get his unreleased pet back. The CS mods are laughable at worst, incompetent at best, and don't do anything to stop scamming. They have an "eh, sucks to be you, sorry, be smarter next time" mentality when people get scammed (Which is insane because there are literal single digit aged children allowed on this site!!!)

After taking a bit to think about it, I do feel a bit guilty because I really would not do this in any other circumstances. I hate scamming. I did what I did out of anger and contempt, and I do feel a bit guilty because in essence, I scammed a new player that didn't have much else and didn't know any better.

I'm still keeping that unreleased cereal box no matter what though

What are these acronyms?

[pearlzier]

hiii! i hope you’re having a good day/night ^_^ i was wondering if you could wirte either sam or dean winchester with a bimbo reader!! smut or fluff i dunno ahhh TY!!

☆ ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ this took me so long m'so sorry ml !! ۫ .

☆ warning ; tad bit suggestive i mean. it's dean ,,

“pass me the fuckin’ uh..” dean ran his hand through his hair, crouched beside baby. it was a one in a million day where dean had no shit to do, so he found himself doing checks on baby even if she was in perfect shape. doesn't mean he can't check in on his girl, whilst his girl is sat on the precariously stored chair. yeah, he'd told you if you fell he'd absolutely laugh at you however he knew full well that he'd literally perform an act of magic on you to keep you safe.

“uh, screw driver?” you bat your lashes at him, legs rocking as you typed on your phone, snorting out a laugh at the emoticon that charlie had sent you. of course, you liked to help dean out. but the weather was so good, and the sun was good for your skin, or so that forum that you read at the library when you went with sam said. also, you and charlie had a lot of gossip to catch up on, so.. you weren't on your game as much as you usually were.

a soft laugh slips past dean's lips as he shakes his head, looking back at the toolbox in your lap. you watch as he gets up, his hands a little stained with car oil, which in fact, does not suit the white colour of your babydoll top, clinging to the curve of your chest. which dean took much pleasure in, but besides—so you squirm back a little when he comes closer, “dean, you cannot touch me with your hands like that, i love you, but no—”

“relax, sweetheart, just tryna get a wrench,” dean teases, “can't a guy get a wrench? jeez,” he raises his hands teasingly before he carefully grabs a wrench from the tool box. not before swiping his thumb over your nose which causes you to squeal, and he quickly makes his way back to baby before you can retaliate.

“dean!” you gasp, rummaging for your pocket mirror in the pockets of your baby pink hoodie, finding it and soon looking at yourself in the mirror. a little smudge of darkness glistens on your nose and the pout you give dean makes him cackle a little.

“c'mon, it adds character, don't you think?” he does a little tinkering under the car, to which you have absolutely no clue what he's doing. did you want to know? no, not really. you wanted to know why you had oil on your nose! you knew why, but why dean did it was a mystery, and you huffed.

“you'll know what character is when i'm done with you,” you mumble back sassily, giggling when you see the surprise fill dean's gaze. so, he rises from where he is, and saunters his way back over, having used a rag to wipe down his hands so you wouldn't throw a little hissy fit.

“is that right, hm?” his green eyes lift to yours, and leaning against the chair, he bites his bottom lip. hell, he likes when you get fiesty with him. “gonna show me character?” his low, gravelly voice cooed softly as his hands brushed over your sides.

this knocked you down a few pegs, because to be fair, if your bombshell of a boyfriend is speaking like that and holding you like this, well, who isn't gonna get a little flustered. “uh—yeah, character.” you do notice how his eyes flit down to your cleavage for a vague moment, and you speak up, a little uncharacteristically but in a way dean adores—“eyes are up here, deano.”

a groan slips past his pink lips, and you soon find his green, piercing eyes hooded and looking up at you. “tease,” he mutters under his breath, and a flush dusts his skin that he never expected to happen. “think i know where your eyes are, doll, just enjoying..” he traced a finger over the lace containing the spill of your tits, “the view. know you're enjoyin’ mine.”

you thought he wouldn't notice! you'd been staring at him for a while now, considering the fact he'd blessed you with the sight of not only his arms in a tank but sweats? your man was a slut, you couldn't even deny it. “dean, stoppp,” you mumble, getting a little heated as he brushes his fingers over you. “shut up.”

he pouts playfully, pressing his forehead gently against yours. lifting his thumb to your glossy lips, he pulls it gently before letting it go, a giggle slipping past his lips. “now you're being mean, pretty baby,” his hands slide down from your chest to your thighs, squeezing them gently. “mean to your ol’ dean?”

you push at his chest playfully, tapping your acrylics against his chest with a little laugh. this causes dean to dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh a little and pull you against him. “you were bein’ mean to me first, dean!” his brows raise, “you know exactly how. oil? nose? coulda’ gotten it on my top!”

he rolled his eyes at your behaviour, it's not like that top was expensive anyway. you two got it when dean had literally stolen 20 dollars from a wallet he found on the floor this one time. but that's besides the point. “can always get you a new one,” he shrugs his shoulders, flashing the signature winchester smirk. “kinda always been itchin’ to rip this one anyway. doesn't do that body justice.”

“dean,” you two were literally outside the motel, you couldn't do anything like dean was absolutely suggesting. and judging from the way his hand was sliding up under your skirt to cup your ass, well, he was suggesting a lot. he gives a gentle squeeze, growling softly before he lifted you up off of the chair, causing you to squeal. “dean!”

he swung you over so you'd sit on the hood of the impala, watching as your little skirt hiked up. a grin played on his lips and he sighed softly. “how'd i get so lucky, huh?” dean lifted ring clad fingers to brush the side of your face. “grumpy hunter like me.”

“fine ass hunter like yourself,” your retort was instant.

“i didn't say it, you did, so it ain't braggin’,” dean wiggled his eyebrows instantly, drawing you impossibly closer as his hands groped at your thighs gently. he was clearly a big fan of your body.

“dean, there are people walking past,” you nudge him, not before placing a glossy kiss to his cheek. he shrugs, glancing over at a passing woman and her boyfriend on the street. in usual dean fashion, he gives your ass a pat and winks at the couple, not that you realise.

“well, maybe, they wanna piece of this fine ass,” he squeezed, looking up at you through his lashes. “they'd have to go through me, first though,” literally before you can even realise it, you've been hiked up over his shoulder with your ass practically out.

“dean, my skirt!” dean acts oblivious, but slides a hand over you to keep the view at bay, a laugh slipping past his lips. “relax, sweetheart, i got you,” does this calm your nerves? no, not really, but, you relax into his grasp.

“you're the worst,” as you shake your head, your earrings shimmer under the dim lights of the motel as you make your way in. dean's practically a deer in headlights looking at you before he focuses again, and taps the doorframe of where sam's in.

“keep an eye on baby, alright? got some uh, things to be doin’, sammy,” it's like sam didn't even have to ask as he saw dean give you a playful swat on the ass, herding you to the bedroom. 

“yeah, sure, whatever,” sam was ninety-five percent sure he might have to go do his research in the impala because knowing you two? you were loud.

tags ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ @onlynextdoor ۫ .

☆ 𝜗𝜚 ( your honor, i loveeee himmmmmmmmm.... lmk if u wanna be tagged in spn works lolz

[minminbunny]

Stalker X Stalker AU - Dom! Lee Minho/Sub Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"Good morning, gorgeous," you whispered, taking a few silent photos from the roof into Minho's room. His sleeping body looked so precious with Dori snuggled against his face. You shuddered an exhale, licking your lips as you pulled away. Minho chuckled, watching you through his phone, "Kitty, you look so desperate," he cooed, zooming in. You realigned your camera, disappointed to see him sitting up, "It's too early, darling. You should sleep more," you whispered, watching Minho scroll on his phone. 

Minho crossed his legs, his back facing the window, "Aww, they're sulking," he chuckled, endeared by your obvious pouting. You hummed, watching the time on your watch, "It's almost here," you whispered, keeping your camera in exchange for a burner phone. The parcel arrived at Minho's doorstep, "I didn't order anything," he murmured, bringing it into his room. You gulped, shakily calling his number. 

Minho felt his phone ring and picked it up, "Hello?" he asked, making your breath hitch. You turned on your voice modifier, "Hope you like the gift, darling. It's curated for you," you said, breathing heavily. Minho bit back a smirk, "How did you find my address?" he asked, faking a worried victim. You shivered at his voice, "You shouldn't sign random forums, pretty. You wouldn't know who's getting them," you said, before hanging up.

Minho faced away from his window, chuckling into his palm. Making it seem like it was crying with his shaking shoulders. Guilt swirled within you but you knew the gift would cheer him up. Minho wiped the tears in his eyes, "Such a sweetheart," he cooed, tugging on the ribbon. The box was a stunning red with a cream coloured ribbon. 

Minho lifted the lid and his eyes widened, "This isn't fair, kitty," he smiled, seeing his favorite pudding, cat treats for his children and a lovely looking letter. He shuddered, smelling a tinge of blood coming from the letter, "As much as I don't like knowing you got hurt, kitten. You really do excite me," he groaned, opening the letter. It wrote: 

"To my dearest darling, 

Was my gift to your satisfaction, I wanted to make you feel special. I hope I didn't scare you too much. The way your face lights up when you take a bite of pudding makes my heart swell. I'm always watching, gorgeous. Please dream of me.

Your admirer,"

At the bottom of the letter lies a kiss mark, Minho gulped, tracing the perverted stain, "Fuck, your lips look pretty," he whispered, checking his phone if you were still on the roof. After seeing the empty rooftop, he kissed the mark and held the letter close to his chest, "Definitely one for my collection," he chuckled, opening a secret door being his clothes, a room filled with pictures and items you've used before. "I wanted to extend our little game but after today. I don't think I can hold back," he chuckled, messaging his friend to set him up on a blind date.

You huffed, getting dressed for a date you don't want, "Lix, I told you. I'm not interested in dating right now," you sulked, letting him comb your hair. Felix chuckled, "It's just one. Plus, Jisung said it was their treat. So, you get a free meal and have a good time," he said, patting your shoulders. You frowned, "I guess," you murmured, looking into the mirror. Felix really dolled you up, your lips plump and glossy. 

Your eyebags covered nicely. It was a total one-eighty from your usual attire. Felix nuzzled his cheek against yours, "Ready?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. You gulped, "Ready as I'll ever be," you said, grabbing the necessaries. Minho loosened his tie, "It's time," he whispered, waiting for you at the table. He laced your glass with sleeping powder, hoping this date would go smoothly. You exhaled, pushing open the door. 

You faked a smile and looked for the table number. 'No way,' you thought, seeing your darling, sitting where your date was suppose to be. Excitement flooded your senses, 'Is this a dream?' you thought, making your way to the table. You tapped the table, "Are you Jisung's friend?" you asked, trying to be calm as possible. Minho smiled, nodded his head, "That's me. My name's Minho," he introduced, reaching out his hand. 

You wanted nothing more than to screenshot this moment like an otome game, "Nice to meet you, Minho," you said, taking his hand. Minho crossed his legs, hiding his growing bulge, 'My name just glides off their tongue. I can't wait to hear them cry it,' he thought, gesturing you to sit down. You took a sip of water, finding the taste to be odd but you didn't want to ruin the mood, "Have you ordered?" you asked, wondering why the table didn't have any menu. 

Minho nodded, "I have, it's allergen free. I didn't want to you wait long for dinner," he said, pouring you more water. You beamed, "Thank you for your consideration," you said, sipping more of the water. Minho allowed his mind to spin, your pretty smile, your stunning figure, the way you dressed up for the occasion. A brief thought of jealousy surged through his thoughts, 'They dressed up not knowing it was me. Does that mean that anyone would've since my kitten like this?' he thought, gripping his knife. 

You anxiously glanced peeks at him, his pronounced jawline, his piercing eyes, the veins on his arms. 'Fuck,' you thought, trying to keep your eyes from rolling back at the thought of his fingers pounding your hole apart. The waitress placed your dishes on the table, "Enjoy," she said, walking away. You jolted from your dazed, smiling at Minho, "Dig in," you beamed, eating your dinner. 

Minho did the same, watching your movements get more sluggish from the powder. 'Don't worry, kitty. I'll take great care of you,' he thought, enjoying the night.

You groaned, waking up in an oddly familiar room. One you've only seen through your digital camera. One you've come to love over the years. You tried to sit up, only to feel your wrists tug against the bed frame. Minho chuckled, sitting by the window the whole time, "Slept well, kitten?" he asked, moving towards you. He stroked your hair, gently grazed your arms and thighs for any weapons you kept hidden. 

You gulped, pressing your legs together, trying to hide your dagger between your thighs. Minho clicked his tongue, "Now, now. Good kittens don't hide dangerous things," he cooed, brushing his hands between your inner thighs. His smirk grew, feeling a leather holster. He unclasp the holster and placed it aside, "There we go, all helpless for me," Minho chuckled, brushing your hair. 

You couldn't help but feel aroused, every sense in your body melting into his dominating presence. Minho hummed, "For a perverted little kit, you sure are obedient aren't you? Did you like watching me, sweetheart. Do you touch yourself while stalking me?" he asked, holding your neck. You moaned from the pressure, you eyes hazy with pleasure, "I do. I'm sorry, Minho. I'm sorry," you whimpered, tears spilling down your cheeks. 

Minho cooed, tightening his grip, "You're not sorry at all, kitten. I love hearing your unbashful moans when you ride your pretty little dildo," he chuckled, loving the confusion on your face. "What?" you whispered, staring up at him. Minho traced your bottom lip, "You should really close your windows, kitten. It was so easy to hook up a camera in your room," he said, booping  your nose. You moaned at the realisation, "You know everything?" you asked, desperation lacing your tongue. Minho kissed your forehead, "Everything, kitty. You're not the only one who's been watching," he chuckled, stroking your cheek.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"Hhgh, hah, hah," you moaned, riding his cock at a relentless pace. Minho chuckled, spanking your plush ass, "Clench for me, kitten," he growled, thrusting his hips upwards in tandem with your bounce. You did as told, your ribbed walls contracting around his girthy veiny hot cock, "Hah! Good, so good," you whined, burying your face into his chest. 

Minho groaned, his fat cockhead kissing your tiny crevix with each thrust, "How many times have you imagined this, kitty? Tell me," he growled, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You hiccuped, gasping and moaning into his chest, "Every other day. Needed you, needed you so bad," you sobbed, licking his puffy nipple. 

Minho groaned into your hair, his face buried in the scent of your shampoo, "Yeah? Needed my Fat. Throbbing. Cock. dragging within your swollen little cunt, huh? I watched you play with that girthy dildo the other day. Tell me which is better, kitty. My cock or that toy?" He rambled into your ear, his tongue licking your earlobe with a lewd squelch. 

You whimpered, shuddering within his hold, "Your cock. Yours Minho," you cried, tears dripping onto his chest. Minho grunted, pumping his thick shaft up your cunt, his hand reaching down to rub your puffy clit,  "Say my name. Say it," he growled, picking up the pace. You arched your back, clawing his chest in sheer pleasure, "Minho! Min, Min, Hhgh," you whimpered, your thighs sore and aching. 

Minho groaned, feeling his cockhead ease beneath your cervix, "Cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel your obsession," he hissed, feeling you clench hard around his shaft. Broken moans escaped your lips, drool got mixed with your tears and snot. "Hah, hhgh, cumming!" You gasped, creaming around his throbbing cock. Minho groaned, his head pounding from your tight searing cunt. 

"Fuck, fuck, hah," you moaned, his semen coating your inner walls white. You panted, catching your breath from the raw intensity. Minho kissed your forehead, "You can't escape me now, sweetheart," he whispered, licking your jaw. You clenched around his sensitive cock, "Neither can you, darling," you beamed, staring into his equally possessive gaze.

AMAB

"Hhgh, hah, hah," you moaned, riding his cock at a relentless pace. Minho chuckled, spanking your plush ass, "Clench for me, kitten," he growled, thrusting his hips upwards in tandem with your bounce. You did as told, your ribbed walls contracting around his girthy veiny hot cock, "Hah! Good, so good," you whined, burying your face into his chest. 

Minho groaned, his fat cockhead kissing your tiny prostate with each thrust, "How many times have you imagined this, kitty? Tell me," he growled, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You hiccuped, gasping and moaning into his chest, "Every other day. Needed you, needed you so bad," you sobbed, licking his puffy nipple. 

Minho groaned into your hair, his face buried in the scent of your shampoo, "Yeah? Needed my Fat. Throbbing. Cock. dragging within your swollen little hole, huh? I watched you play with that girthy dildo the other day. Tell me which is better, kitty. My cock or that toy?" He rambled into your ear, his tongue licking your earlobe with a lewd squelch. 

You whimpered, shuddering within his hold, "Your cock. Yours Minho," you cried, tears dripping onto his chest. Minho grunted, pumping his thick shaft up your hole, his hand reaching down to rub your puffy cockhead,  "Say my name. Say it," he growled, picking up the pace. You arched your back, clawing his chest in sheer pleasure, "Minho! Min, Min, Hhgh," you whimpered, your thighs sore and aching. 

Minho groaned, feeling his cockhead ease against your prostate, "Cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel your obsession," he hissed, feeling you clench hard around his shaft. Broken moans escaped your lips, drool got mixed with your tears and snot. "Hah, hhgh, cumming!" You gasped, creaming between your torsos’. Minho groaned, his head pounding from your tight searing hole. "Fuck, fuck, hah," you moaned, his semen coating your inner walls white. You panted, catching your breath from the raw intensity. Minho kissed your forehead, "You can't escape me now, sweetheart," he whispered, licking your jaw. You clenched around his sensitive cock, "Neither can you, darling," you beamed, staring into his equally possessive gaze.

[spencerreidswhore187]

False Confidence

Don't take yourself so seriously / Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N hate each other, they just don't realise they have been anonymously messaging for months.

Word Count: 2.8k

T/W: Mentions of murder and death

A/N: For @sackofpissandshit . I came up for the premise of this as a plate of prawns fell onto my head at work. Enjoy! ◡̈

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SherlockHolmes1887: You were right. 

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face; you replied immediately, the half-drunk coffee in your hand forgotten. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Feel free to say that again.

He did.  

Briefly, you looked up from your phone to cross the road. You were on the way to work having just received a message from Hotch. It sounded urgent. 

NapoleonOfCrime: So what made you realise that, as per usual, I was right? 

You had spent the better part of the night trying to convince him that Sherlock Holmes was in love with Jim Moriarty. You had met him online several months ago, on an Arthur Conan Doyle forum and have been messaging ever since. 

He, except for the one and only Penelope Garcia, was your best friend. You told him everything. Except for who you are. 

Early on in talking you both had agreed not to exchange names, tell each other where you lived or what you did for a career. You knew what SherlockHolmes1887 favourite film was (Star Trek), that he liked wearing mismatched socks and his mum used to call him ‘Crash’ because he would crash into things when he was younger. You knew that, like you, he had four qualifications, liked Sherlock Holmes and had an unhealthy obsession with coffee. You just didn’t know his name. 

Your phone vibrated. 

SherlockHolmes1887: “The greatest schemer of all time, the organiser of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations—that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. [...] Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor—such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson.”

Your phone buzzed again. You silenced it as you walked into the BAU elevator. 

SherlockHolmes1887: I reread ‘The Valley of Fear’ last night. 

You were about to reply when a voice cried out. 

“Hold the door!” 

Instinctively, you stretched your arm out between the closing elevator doors. 

The person entered beside you. 

If you had known who had asked, you would have let the doors shut. 

Dr Spencer Reid leant on his cane, drumming his fingers against its metal top as the elevator moved upwards. He had recently been shot in the leg on a case. You would never tell him but when that gun fired, you thought you were going to be sick. Your heart ached. It made you hate him even more.

“Reid,” you said, staring forward. You refused to look at him.

“L/N,” He replied. 

That was the most words you’d exchanged in days. 

When the doors finally opened again, you both headed towards the round table, where the rest of the team was waiting. 

You and Spencer were the last to arrive. 

It’s not like him to be late, you thought.  

You took a seat between Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan - you were sat as far away from Spencer as possible.

“Now that you are all here,” Hotch began, pulling you from your thoughts, “let’s begin.” 

Penelope connected her computer to the screen; there was a picture of a body. The flesh was rotten, decayed from what was evidently years hidden away. Your eyes are wide as you saw it: a long cut, rough and jagged, stretched from neck to naval. You recognised this signature. 

“The Brooklyn Butcher,” you said, interrupting the silence. 

Hotch nodded. 

It was a case that had occurred six years ago and ended up going cold. 

Spencer recalled, “Eleven women, all under the age of twenty-five, all with red hair, went missing and then their bodies always turned up three days later with a long knife wound across their torso.” 

“The only body,” you continued, “that was never discovered was Sharon Lewis’. The first to go missing. The wife of Mitch Lewis, the prime suspect during the investigation.” 

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” Derek asked. 

Spencer answered before you could, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. Why did you want to run your hands through his hair? 

“There was no evidence. The police’s only theory was his wife was his first kill and he killed all the other victims who resembled her in an attempt to relive the thrill of the kill.”

“He had an alibi for Sharon Lewis’ disappearance,” you added. 

“Correct - they also never found her body. They couldn’t prove their theory without her body.” 

“Well,” Hotch said, “they have now.” 

“Sharon Lewis, aged twenty-four, was the first victim in the Brooklyn Butcher killings. Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

JJ leant back in her chair and pressed her pen to her lips, “So the cut was postmortem?”

“According to the coroners.” 

“But that was not the case for the rest of the victims?”

“No,” Hotch replied. 

“Our UNSUB gained confidence in his kills.” 

Lewis was likely his first-ever kill. You wanted to message Sherlock and ask him what he thought. He was intelligent beyond belief, you were sure he would add valuable insight to this case but you couldn’t tell him. Then he would know you worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. You couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t know who you were. What would he think then? When he knew you were more comfortable around dead bodies than real people.

“How was the body discovered?” Spencer asked. 

Hotch had that dark look in his eyes, the one he got when an UNSUB scared him. You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since Haley died. 

“The body was left on an empty police vehicle parked outside a station in Brooklyn. There was a note attached to it.”

Penelope clicked a button on her laptop and the slide changed to a screwed-up piece of paper nailed to the shoulder of the body. 

Hotch read it aloud, “You have three days before I kill another. Happy hunting, the Butcher.”

He stood up from his seat, “Selene Harker was reported missing twelve hours ago. We leave for New York now - wheels up in twenty. Penelope, you’re coming with us.” 

She smiled nervously, you gave her a discreet thumbs up. 

Everyone stood up from the round table and headed towards the door, you had grabbed the handle when Hotch stopped you.

“L/N, you need to stay here.”

You froze, confused. 

He continued, “Reid has not been cleared to fly by his doctors yet and I need you to go through the old Mitch Lewis interrogation clips, find out whether he told any lies. Stay in touch.” 

With that he left the room, leaving you there with Spencer before you had a second to protest. 

You weren’t really sure how you did it, it’s an ability you’ve had since you were a kid. It’s how you were flagged by the FBI. You could tell when people lied. Everyone has a tell and, like the lie-detecter you are, you knew how to spot it. 

When you and Reid had first met, three years ago, he had told you all the statistics about lies: “Did you know,” he had said, “10% of all lies can be defined as exaggerations, though 60% of all lies are considered to be deceptive.” 

You remembered how you had nodded, anxious as it was your first day. 

“Of all liars, 70% of them claim to be willing to do it again. Every week, Americans tell 11 lies. In a study of 11,366 lies told by 632 people over 91 days, 75% of them lied between 0 or 2 times per day.”

“You know a lot,” You had laughed. 

Reid seemed kind. You liked kind people; you dealt with a lot of horrible people growing up. 

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187.” 

That was the first time you and Spencer had ever spoken and it was the last time you ever spoke like friends. 

You spun on your heels to face Spencer. 

“You leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. Understood?” 

“Understood,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. 

“God, you are so infuriating.”

“I hate you,” he retorted. 

You noticed the way his jaw tensed. 

You grinned, “Lie.” 

Spencer groaned and left the room. Through the window, you saw him take a seat at his desk. 

Laughing, you walked into Penelope’s office and pulled up the police footage. 

You were three hours into the Mitch Lewis footage and he had told three lies. 

The first was that he did not know what happened to the other victims. Although, this could mean he had read about the case online. 

The second was more interesting. Lewis said he was at the pub when his wife disappeared. Even though there was security camera footage to confirm this, he was lying, 

The third made your head spin. He said he didn’t kill her. True. He said he didn’t know where she was. Lie. 

You paused the interrogation and contacted Hotch to tell him what you had found. He replied telling you to take a break as they searched for Mitch Lewis. 

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for your phone and messaged Sherlock. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Hi.

He replied almost immediately. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Hey.

NapoleonOfCrime: So you read ‘The Valley of Fear’ in one night just to try and prove me wrong? 

SherlockHolmes1887: If that’s how you want to interpret it :) 

NapoleonOfCrime: And?

SherlockHolmes1887: And…they are very much in love. It’s almost blindingly obvious. 

NapoleonOfCrime: “It has been an intellectual treat for me to see the manner in which you have grappled with this case.” The definition of enemies to lovers.

SherlockHolmes1887: Enemies to lovers? 

You don’t think you ever smiled as much as when you did with him. 

NapoleonOfCrime: It’s better you don’t ask, or else I’ll be sending you links to Moriaty x Sherlock fan fiction.

SherlockHolmes1887: What are you doing right now?

Your fingers danced along the tiny keyboard on the phone screen.

NapoleonOfCrime: Work. You? 

SherlockHolmes1887: Work. 

NapoleonOfCrime: How is it? 

It made you nervous that he didn’t reply instantly. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to figure out what you do or who you are. I like the mystery. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Horrible. But it’s not really work that’s the problem. There’s a girl. 

It hurt a little to know there was a girl, of course it did, but you didn’t mind. What you cared about was how he seemed distressed. 

NapoleonOfCrime: If you want to share, I’m a good listener. 

He typed for what seemed like an eternity. 

SherlockHolmes1887: We, her and I, have worked together for years. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. So beautiful. But she hates me. I messed up when we first met, I was so nervous around her that I just ignored her. Whenever she tried to speak to me, I would walk away or just act like she wasn’t there. And, now, I am finally more confident, she can’t even be near me without glaring in my direction at least once. 

You yearned for someone to talk about you that way. No one had ever told you that you were beautiful. You didn’t need someone to tell you because you didn’t believe it, it’s just that sometimes, on the inevitable bad days, you want to feel wanted. 

NapoleonOfCrime: I’m sure if you explain it to her, she will understand - you said she’s smart. I can see why you like her. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Yeah, I fell hard. 

I fell hard. 

You recalled what Hotch had said, “Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

You recalled how the cut was messy and hesitant whilst the rest were neat. 

 You recalled how it was done postmortem whilst the rest were the cause of death. 

You ran out of Penelope’s office, straight to Dr Spencer Reid. 

“Spence,” you shouted.

You were both alone in the room. 

Spencer looked up from his phone. It was strange, to see him on a phone. You had always thought he was the type of person to hate technology. Instead, he seemed thoroughly invested in whatever was on his screen. 

“Who are you messaging?” You asked, acting causal.

“No one,” he said.

Lie.

“A girl?”

“No.” 

Lie.

Spencer’s face had gone bright red. It was cute; it made you smile. 

Why did it make you smile? 

You decided to change the topic before your face went red. 

“Do you have the coroner’s report?” You questioned. 

He dug through the many files covering his desk and held it up for you to see. 

Blunt force to the frontal lobe, that confirmed your suspicions. 

You stared into Spencer’s brown eyes.

“I know what happened to Sharon Lewis.” 

You explained how it must have happened. Sharon was reported missing by her friend at 19:37. She was supposed to be meeting her a 18:00. Mitch Lewis was at a bar from 17:30-20:01, this was confirmed by camera footage. This means that Lewis can’t have kidnapped his wife. Or, perhaps, she never went missing. She tripped getting ready to see her friend and fell down the staircase. She would have died upon impact.

Spencer nodded in agreement with your theory.

“When Lewis got home and saw his wife’s body sprawled out at the base of the stairs, he saw an opportunity…” 

“He dragged her downstairs to the basement, explaining the deep scratches on her back noted in the coroner’s report.” You said, “Lewis worked in construction, he had a table and tools down there, he said so in one of his interrogations. He placed her on that table and cut her. He butchered her. And then did the same to others to try and recreate the high of killing his wife.” 

“We need to call Hotch.” 

Four hours later and Mitch Lewis had confessed and was in police custody.

Derek and Emily had found Selene Harker chained to the very same table Lewis had carved his wife like a cold slab of meat. 

The team was on their way back from Quantico.

You found Spencer sitting on a bench outside the FBI building. Spinning the silver ring your grandmother gave you around your index finger, you sat down next to him. 

You both stared forward, at the road. 

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who was affected by cases like this. You were glad that you weren’t the only one overwhelmed by empathy. Your mother once told you that empathy without boundaries was self-destruction but you were just glad that after so much time in this field, you still felt something. 

Spencer eventually broke the silence. 

“It scares me, Y/N, how easy a life can end.” 

Spencer clutched his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white. 

Gently, you eased one of his hands off it and held it in yours. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. It was deafening. 

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always tripping over things. I walked into doors, tables, you name it. My mum would call me ‘Crash.’”

He laughed dryly whilst your world began to crumble around you. 

You dropped Spencer’s hand. 

“Sh-she called you what?” 

Spencer turned to look at you, confusion and worry were etched across his face, “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

It’s not that you were upset, in fact, you felt almost the opposite of that. 

Your voice was steadier than you expected when you spoke.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson.”

“Y/N?”

“He is the organiser of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.”

“It can’t be.” 

Spencer held his face in his hands. 

“Disappointed, Sherlock Holmes 1887?”

You said it mockingly but you were terrified of what Spencer would say. 

“No, Napoleon of Crime. Not even a little bit.”

True.

“You told me to explain how I felt to that girl so here goes. The first thing I noticed about you was your smile. I saw it from the other side of the room. And, Y/N, it was contagious. Just looking at you made me smile. You are so beautiful and so intelligent and I have wanted to tell you how desperately I liked you since the day we met.” 

He cradled your cheek with one hand. 

“And now I know that this whole time, as well as being the person I can see myself falling in love with, you are my best friend, my favourite, my person.” 

“I hate you, Spence,” you say just before you kiss him. 

Smiling against your lips, you hear him whisper, “Lie.” 

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Eighteen - CSS DEAD

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

Warnings: Guns, death

1.7K words

Series Masterlist

LH44 has anybody heard from CSS?

LN4 CSJ55 is safe but haven't heard from CSS

FA14 haven't heard anything down here

CSJ55 I am gathering my men to get back into my house

CSJ55 will keep everybody posted

"What's this?" Y/N asked as she leaned over her husbands shoulder and placed her hand on his shoulder, looking at the screen in front of him. It was clear what it was, a chat forum. But she couldn't make sense of any of the names.

Carlos leaned back, his head against her stomach. Her touch on his shoulder was light, but it was enough, for now. "Guess which one is your brother," he said as she leaned closer to read the screen.

There were so many usernames. LH44, LN4, CSJ55, CSS, CL16, AA23, MV33, JV1.

LN. Lando Norris. Y/N pointed to his last line of chat and Carlos nodded. "Okay, who is everyone else? Who is CSJ55? Why doesn't CSS have a number?"

Carlos told her all about the chat forums. It was kind of funny, actually. That mafia families used chat forums. "My father hasn't responded since we escaped the house," he said, scrolling back through the chat.

Carlos had two chat windows open. One with all of the heads of families and one with his men. Not all of his men were responding, anxiety bubbled up in Carlos's stomach.

That chat with the heads of families kept going. Everybody had responded, everybody but Carlos's stomach. He had tried to check the cameras inside of the house, but they'd all been disconnected or destroyed.

Carlos's phone vibrated against his chest. He picked it up, reading the text. "What is it?" Y/N asked softly, gently. Carlos wasn't hiding the screen from her or anything, but the text was in Spanish and she couldn't yet read it.

"My mother," he answered as he replied to the message. She was okay, had been in contact with Carlos ever since she'd made it to Alonsos safehouse.

As much as the Sainz family and the Alonso family hated each other, they had an agreement in place. If anything happened to the Sainz, those who could get out were to get to Alonsos territory if they could. It worked both way, with the Sainz offering sanctuary for Alonso and his men if needs be.

Señora Sainz had made it to Alonsos territory. By the time she'd gotten there, the attackers had left Alonsos. It was in a state, everything broken, documents missing, just like Carlos's house.

Alonso hadn't escaped like the Sainz family had. He had a bookcase that he could hide behind. Once he was behind it, the bookcase looked bolted to the wall, unmovable. Nobody thought to look for Alonso in there.

When Señora Sainz arrived at the Alonso house, he took her and her daughters to his own safehouse.

"My mother," he said as he placed his phone back on the desk. "She and my sisters are safe, but she hasn't yet heard from my father."

Y/N squeezed his shoulder. "He's gonna be okay," she said softly. There wasn't a lot she could do to comfort him, she knew in that moment. "He's a smart man. He'll know how to save himself," she said and Carlos nodded his head.

But he wasn't so sure.

He turned to his wife, who still had a hold of his shoulder. But she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at the gun he had beside the laptop.

It was the only weapon Carlos had brought with him, which was terrifying. If somebody found them, if a group of people found them, how was Carlos supposed to protect her?

She was staring and Carlos had no idea what she was thinking. He placed his hand over her own and used his other to pick up the gun.

"For my entire life," Y/N began as she touched the gun. Carlos still had it as she ran her fingers over the components. It was loaded, the safety off, and there was no way he was letting go of it. "Everybody around me has been carrying these things around," she said. "I was always afraid of them, and I never, ever wanted to learn to shoot one."

It may have been the way she was saying it, but Carlos knew there was something more. Whether she was going to voice it or not, he didn't know. But he could guess. With how she was behaving before they had to run, he could guess. "Would you like to learn to shoot it?"

She went to nod her head, but then she stopped. "Yes," she said, standing up just a bit straighter. "I'd like that."

Like wasn't quite the right choice of word, she thought as soon as she said it. What she would have liked would have been to never have to shoot a gun, to never be in this situation in the first place. But it had become necessity. Necessity for her for learn to protect herself, to be stronger, to protect her husband.

It was strange for them, to be outside of the cabin. Since they'd arrived only Carlos had gone outside, and that was only from necessity, or to smoke a cigarette. He'd gone to the shops, gotten them food, water, clothes, anything they needed. And every time he had been in some way disguised.

But not now. Now, he and Y/N stood outside of the cabin, surrounded by the trees. It was cold, colder than Y/N expected it to be, and she found herself wrapped up in Carlos's jumper.

It smelt just like him. That combination of smoke and pine. She couldn't stop herself from lifting the collar of the jumper to her nose and inhaling. Again and again she smelled the fabric until it surrounded her, consumed her.

Carlos set up the empty spaghetti cans on top of a fallen tree. He wasn't very good at placing them, and they wobbled and fell off more than once. When he had them all lined up, he waited a moment, made sure the cans weren't going to fall, and walked back over to Y/N.

He pulled the gun from his pocket and placed it in Y/N's hands.

Shooting a gun wasn't supposed to be romantic. But somehow it was. Somehow the way Carlos stood beside her, with his arms wrapped around her, was romantic. Shocker.

He focused on her aim. It wasn't good, and the recoil had Y/N struggling. She tried her very best, and hit the top of the can in the middle, but didn't do much else.

"Can you just show me?" She asked after deciding she'd wasted enough bullets (Carlos had shown her how to reload, too. That she had gotten quick at).

When Carlos nodded his head, Y/N stepped back. She pressed her back against a tree and watched as Carlos, using just one hand, with one eye closed, shot every can sitting on the log.

It was... Hot. A huge turn on, but she couldn't stop herself from pouting. As hot as it was, she wanted to be that good. She wanted to be able to shoot with such precision. And she wanted it now.

Carlos laughed as he walked over and offered her his hand. He pulled her up from the tree, pulling her close before very quickly letting go. "No matter, my pretty little wife," he said as they walked back towards the cabin. "We can try again tomorrow."

Y/N nodded her head, but it was somewhat reluctant. If it wasn't for wasting bullets, she'd keep going. But she followed Carlos into the cabin and sat herself down on the end of the bed.

She still wore Carlos's jumper. The inside of the cabin was warm, but she didn't care, she just wanted to wear the jumper.

Carlos sat himself at the desk and opened the laptop once more. He logged on, going straight to the chat he had with his men. There weren't many that managed to get away from the house when the shooting started; only twenty of them were responding to him. Nobody from his fathers house was responding.

Laying back on the bed, Y/N grabbed her book and began reading as Carlos scrolling through the chat.

"Shit," he suddenly whispered and pushed the laptop away. He stood up suddenly, knocking over the chair, and grabbed the carton of cigarettes from the bedside table.

"Carlos," Y/N called as he grabbed the cigarettes and marched out of the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him.

She walked over to the window, looked outside and watched as Carlos, with the cigarette held between his lips, lifted his lighter to the end of it with shaking hands. He pulled the cigarette away and released the smoke from his lungs, sinking to the floor.

Y/N walked out of the cabin. She walked over to him and got down onto the floor, the ground beneath her knees cold.

He rubbed at his eyes as Y/N wrapped her arms around him. He wasn't crying, no. Mafia bosses weren't allowed to cry. And he was the boss, now wasn't he?

She didn't say anything, just held him. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him against her chest.

But then Carlos pulled away. He stood up, leaving Y/N on the ground, and finished his cigarette. She watched him, unmoving. Unsure of what to do, she only watched him. Confusion was written on her face as Carlos finished his cigarette and walked back into the cabin, leaving her there on the floor.

Y/N immediately stood up and dusted herself off. She followed after him, pushing her way into the cabin.

Carlos stared at her. She stared at him. Neither of them said anything. His hair was a mess, like for the few seconds he had been alone he was pulling at hit. His eyes were red but no tears stained his face.

She wasn't going to let him be an asshole to her, not anymore. As much as she wanted to attack, demand his respect, she couldn't do that. That wasn't who she was.

Instead she walked over to him and, again, wrapped her arms around him. "Just talk to me," she whispered and ran her fingers through his hair, trying to sort it out. But then she read the words on the screen in front of him.

CSS DEAD

Carlos Sainz Senior was dead.

Taglist (open): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @ashy-kit @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa23 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool @evans-dejong

[undying-love]

'Well, let's just say there's someone in the music industry--a fairly famous someone--and he's pretty certain it [Starting Over] was written for Paul, and that Paul damn well knew it was...but that in the wake of John's death most everyone thought it would be disrespectful to Yoko and Sean to dispute who John had in mind while writing it. We were talking about it after an email correspondence I started having with a friend here who says she believes it was as well. I agreed with her. So, being my curious self, I just had to ask around, and that's the information I got. Whether it's totally 100% or not, I can't say. But hearing about it from this guy in particular was enough to confirm my belief that it was. It's not only his opinion but something that seems to be pretty well known amongst a lot of industry folks. We talked about it at great length and honestly, I was a bit surprised it was something he feels so strongly about....as well as their relationship, in general. When I told him straight out at first that I thought they were a 'couple', he said, "Well, no shit! Anybody who thinks otherwise has to be a fucking idiot!" I thought that was funny as hell! Not to bash the nay-sayers round these parts, but this guy isn't one to mince words and I'm just repeating what he said so don't go yellin' at me. Couldn't help laughing when he said it. And he knows a LOT of people in the business. Far more than I could ever dream of encountering...'cause he's quite a bit older than me and way more experienced in these circles. He used to be a session player ages ago and branched out on his own a long ways back....so he's definitely been AROUND and knows his shit when it comes to the 'who's who' of the music world and all the dirt that gets turned up at its surface. I trust him totally or else I wouldn't be so certain he's right about the stuff he says. He even said that the 'recording-style' and vocal effects used on that song, in particular, are what John specifically wanted in order to send a certain message to Paul." ------------------------------------------------

This is a comment made by a woman in an old forum, who said she spoke to an industry insider. I have read many similar comments (and I myself have been in contact with someone who claimed to have spoken to a couple of people who were once close to the Beatles) that have said that John and Paul's relationship was an open secret in the music industry. Maybe that's why Howard Stern is often asking Paul a lot of uncomfortable questions about John, and even suggested that "Maybe I'm Amazed" was written for John, lol.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I hate myself for this but... sigh, I can't help it. At least this one is soft and not angsty

Aaron Hitch x Dad Male Reader

Hotch has been having trouble moving on from Haley (maybe divorce?) Despite it being 2 years. Garcia decides to talk him into going on a few blind dates, one of which is a friend of hers from an online RPG. Hotch is reluctant but agrees, trusting Garcia with her taste in friends.

When Hotch arrives at the small restaurant and stares hes there for a reservation that Garcia set up, he's lead to Reader already waiting at a table. Garvia failed to mention that Hotch's blind date was a man and so he's caught off guard. Through the date, it's obvious Hotch and Reader are awkward until Hotch mentions his son. As it turns out, Reader is a single dad as well after his fiance walked out

They bond over being parents and agree to meet up again. So they do, multiple times. They even set up little get togethers between the kids

Hiya, sorry this has take me so long (actually I'm sorry all of my requests are taking me so long aha) but I hope you enjoy it, it was a really cute request! :)

Description: What is says on the tin, really aha

You watch a man approach you and you know its him. Garcia knows your taste in men well and you have no doubt she would have ensured that the date she picked out for you would be perfect.

He approached you awkwardly, seeing that you were the only individual who was on their own. "Are you here for a blind date?" He asked, cheeks tinting pink.

"Yeah, I'm (Y/N), are you Aaron?"

The man, Aaron, nods. He's awkward, which makes you awkward. He sits down, "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting a-"

"Man?"

"Yeah,"

"I see... We, er, we don't have to do this, if you don't want to-" You rush out, already standing up.

"No, no, it's okay," He said, giving a small smile, sitting in the chair opposite you. "So, how do you know Garcia?"

"We play the same RPG, but we started talking on the forums and then eventually met up," You nod.

"RPG?" Aaron tilted his head, "That's role playing game, isn't it?"

You nod, grinning, "Yeah." Man, he was just too cute.

He nods as well, with a small smile.

Another minute passed in awkward silence. "So... Garcia mentioned you had a son?" You asked.

Aaron nods, a small smile already painting his face, "Yeah, Jack. He's just turned six."

"Oh, wow, my son's five," You nodded.

"You have a son?" Aaron asked, eyes widening slightly.

"Yeah, Ethan," You grinned. "His favourite thing at the minute is cars,"

"Jack's the same," Aaron said with a small laugh, "Cars and trains,"

"See, Ethan's not hopped on the train trend just yet," You laugh, "He's definitely on the dinosaur trend though,"

"Jack's not gone through that phase just yet,"

"Oh, cars and dinosaurs are all Ethan talks about," You smile.

After that, the rest of the meeting (*cough* date *cough*) went rather well, the initial awkwardness has dissolved and the pair of you stayed out late, talking about anything and everything. He now knew that Ethan's mother had left when he was still a baby, and you knew about the nasty divorce with his ex-wife Haley. You had even arranged a second meeting (read: 'date - sort of') where Jack and Ethan could meet each other the following week.

It was next week before you knew it. Ethan was so excited, practically bouncing off the walls.

"Are they here yet?!" Ethan asked, running in again.

"Bud, I've told you, I'll let you know when they're here-" You said with a small laugh, getting cut off by the doorbell ringing. "And it looks like they're now here,"

"Wooo!" Ethan cheered. "I can't wait to meet them,"

Ethan babbled as he followed you to the front door. "I'm sure Jack's just as excited to meet you," You grin. You really hoped the pair of them got along, you thought as you opened the front door.

"Hi," You breathed, seeing Aaron (that polo shirt on him? Damn).

"Hi," He replied. You grinned slightly, seeing the tips of his ears go pink.

"Hi! I'm Ethan!"

"I'm Jack!" Jack exclaims, equally excited.

"You wanna go play? My dad got me some new cars!"

"I love cars!" You smile as Ethan grabs Jack's hand and they both run off to go and play.

You turn to Aaron, "That looked like it went well,"

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

13/16

<<< previous part

Word count: 3.9k

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The sun crept across the floor of the room, crawling towards your bed as it slowly began to rise and you hadn’t slept a wink. Charles had told you he had a late meeting but when he had crawled into bed that night, trying not to wake you - you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of meeting would run until that time. It wasn’t until you saw the tweets last night saying everyone had met without you that you felt a pit in your stomach.

Your eyes flickered to Charles as he slept beside you, the sheets pushed down his torso as soft breaths passed through his lips. Why would the whole grid meet without you? Why would Fernando, Esteban and Max leave part of the way through? All of the questions were buzzing through your head and you knew you could wake Charles to ask but if he hadn’t told you about the meeting in the first place why should you?

Instead you sighed and grabbed your phone off of the dresser, wincing as bright light of the screen before you turned it down a little. Your lock screen was flooded with notifications - at first you thought maybe you had done something but when you realised that it was your fellow drivers tagging you in posts on instagram the uneasy feeling settled a little.

They were all making posts supporting you.

From Lewis and Seb to Kevin and Lance. Each of them had posted something on their profiles about how they stood with you - some more detailed than others but each showed just as much respect for you. Your eyes welled with tears as you read Seb’s words especially, the image was simple but he had poured his heart into the caption - and you felt so much love for your former teammate. He had been there for you through thick and thin and hearing just how much you meant to him in such a public forum was enough to bring the first genuine smile to your face since you were assaulted.

As you scrolled through instagram, taking in all of the kind words from your rivals - you couldn’t help but notice those who were missing. Fernando was no surprise as he was very old school about dealing with your criticisms but it was a little disheartening to see that Max, Pierre and Esteban had not posted anything.

And neither had your boyfriend.

The man who had spent the night in your bed hadn’t posted a single word on any of his social media platforms and you weren’t the only one who had noticed. Rumours that you and Charles had broken up was trending just below the IStandWithThirty hashtag the drivers had been using.

“...Charles.” You whispered, gently shaking him.

He grumbled, snuggling further into the bed. “Too early.”

“The internet thinks we broke up.”

His eyes snapped open and his once relaxed face was overtaken with confusion. “W-What? Why?”

“I don't know, maybe it’s because the rest of the grid has written these posts supporting me but my own boyfriend hasn’t?” You raised a brow. “What happened in that meeting, Charles?”

“Sebastian and I didn’t like the way you were being treated and we wanted to do something… so we called the meeting and suggested doing what the others have been doing - posting their support. But Max and Esteban weren’t happy, said it wasn’t enough and both stormed out of the meeting - and Pierre was angry at himself for how he treated you so joined them.” Your teammate felt it best to be honest with you, you’d seen this outpouring of support from your rivals but not your own boyfriend and childhood friends - he didn’t want miscommunication tearing what you both had down. “...And after I sat with it, I agreed with them. I didn’t want to post some blanket statement, you deserve more. You deserve better.”

He studied your face, your eyes flickered across him. “Charles-”

“Before you say you don’t deserve more, just… just don’t.” You watched as he sat up, bringing up a hand to cup your jaw - a thumb brushing softly over your skin. “I just want to show I stand with you with more than just a post, Cherie.”

You lent into his touch. “I love you, and appreciate you.. So much. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but… to stop the internet from thinking the worst of us, maybe you could’ve done both?”

He watched as the corner of your mouth lifted into a playful smirk and he chuckled softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Probably. Max just got in my head, said he was disappointed in me for not doing more for you.”

“Max said that?” It was your turn to look confused - since the Dutchman had discovered the truth, it was true the two of you had reconnected but you were surprised by his willingness to speak up against your boyfriend. “...do you know what he has planned?”

“No. I need to find him though - he joked about burning down the FIA HQ but I’m not 100% sure he was joking.”

“...we definitely need to find him.”

***

***

Pierre groaned as the knocking on his door persisted, only seemingly getting louder - so begrudgingly he pulled some clothes on and climbed out of bed. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he crossed the hotel room and opened the door to see you and Charles.You shoulder barged him out of the way and stepped into the room. “Morning to you too.”

“What is Max’s plan?” You looked more like the y/n he’d grown up with than ever - arms folded across your chest, frown etched on your face and foot tapping impatiently. “Because I like you guys but I’m not having you rioting for me.”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t find him and he wasn’t answering his phone.” Pierre approached you, eyes flickering across your face. “But I’m not going to help you stop him, if I find him I’m following him. You deserve to have people fight for you.”

“Pierre, I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.” You whispered. “It’s not worth it.”

The eldest driver looked over your shoulder to your boyfriend who was leaning against the wall. “Bet she’s used the same line on you, huh?”

“I don’t know how many times I can repeat myself. But, I want to do this right, Pierre. In a way where we do what needs to be done but none of us end up out of a seat or in major trouble.” The Monegasque explained. “That's why I was leaning towards just making a statement.”

“You posted something?”

“I should’ve done it in the first place, people were thinking we broke up. Just because I want to do something more, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give people a reason to question us.” Charles stepped closer to you, eyes not leaving Pierre. “We need to find Max, I don’t want to stop him, I just need to know what he’s planning.”

Pierre considered for a moment, before he looked back at you. “I hope you know, you’re stuck with me. Whether you like it or not, I’ve got a lot of making up to do… so, I’ll help you find Max.”

You wrapped your arms around him and sunk into his hold as he returned the favour, squeezing you tight as if he was making up for lost time. Charles watched the interaction unfold - this wasn’t like any other time Pierre had touched you before. It was innocent - like you both had gone back in time and he could almost see you both as kids again.

“Now c’mon, there’s an angry Dutchman on the loose.”

It took the three of you nearly the whole day to find Max, asking everyone who might know something until you realised you were missing the least but somehow most obvious person. Esteban. He’d followed Max out so of course he knew where he was - in fact, when you ended up finding the redbull driver, the two of them were together at a small cafe nestled away in a narrow street hidden from the crowds.

“Now, this is not something I’d ever thought I’d see.” Charles chuckled, pulling up a chair for you both at the table. “I know you’ve moved passed the stuff in the past but-”

“We’re not exactly best friends, I know.” Esteban smiled, standing up to greet you. “Hi y/n, it’s really good to see you again.”

You shook his hand. “You too, Esteban. Please don’t do anything that will get you in trouble.”

He laughed softly and shook his head. “I could do with some trouble.”

“What do you have planned, Max Emilian?” You huffed, sitting beside the Dutchman - narrowing your eyes a little. “I know you could get away with murder being Christian’s golden boy but I still don’t want you getting barred or disqualified or whatever just for me.”

“Nothing that bad y/n. Look…” Max sighed, leaning forward a little. “I just don't think that an instagram post is gonna do shit. The people who use violence aren’t going to read some preachy text.”

“So you’re not going to tell me what you’re up to?”

He shook his head. “Nah, you’ll just try and stop me. I know you probably don’t think you’re with all of this but despite us growing apart over the years, I still care about you. And I can’t just sit by while these dickheads, who are my fans, get away with hurting you.”

“Max-”

“C’mon, y/n, I’m not naive. I’ve seen photos of the guy, I see the profile pictures and usernames… a lot of these twats are my fans.” He grumbled. “So, hopefully, if they listen to anyone, they’ll listen to me.”

Charles placed a gentle hand on your thigh. “Why don’t you go back to the hotel, cherie? I’ll make sure whatever they plan isn't crazy. Okay?”

He smiled softly as you jut your bottom lip out in protest, before nodding and standing up from your chair - casting your eyes one more time across the unlikely group before you. “Just… don’t be stupid.”

“How can we? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Max grinned, making you gasp and smack him playfully upside the head. “Sorry, sorry. Kidding.”

“You better be.” You turned to Charles. “Text me when you’re on your way back, please?”

The Monegasque nodded. “Will do. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You took a deep breath before leaving their fates in their own hands - you had no idea what they were planning and honestly? At this point you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Instead you hopped into a cab and started messaging your fellow drivers, thanking them for their kind words and support on instagram. Even after you reveal, you had really only spoken to those who had known who you were before - so when Lando asked if you wanted to join him and Carlos for a beer, you decided to go.

Maybe it would take your mind off of the scheming Max was doing with your boyfriend and childhood karting rivals.

“This is a pleasant surprise.” Carlos smiled, as you sank down into the booth beside Lando - a gentle smile on his face. “If I thought you were out of Charles’ league before, you definitely are now.”

You laughed. “Thanks Carlos. And thank you, Lando for inviting me out - I’ve been wanting to get to know everyone better.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t believe you said yes.” The young Brit grinned, you could tell why everyone liked him - he had this boyish charm. “This is sick. I’m hanging out with the Thirty!”

The pink took over your cheeks within an instant and you rubbed the back of your neck. “It means a lot that you don’t see me any differently now you know I’m a girl.”

Lando took a sip of his beer, ignoring the buzz of his phone against the wood of the table - more interested in what you had to say. “If anything that just makes you cooler.”

“So, colour me curious.” Carlos spoke up, propping his elbows up on the table. “Who knew about you before? Obviously Charles and Sebastian, but who else?”

“Just Max and Lewis. They both had me figured out so I just came clean, but it was only really a few weeks that they knew.”

Carlos huffed a little and leant back in his chair, strong arms folded across his chest. “Can’t believe my own teammate knew and I was blind as a bat, I thought I’d noticed him acting differently around you.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Carlos raised a brow. “Well he went from being super suspicious of you one minute, to indifferent. He told both me and Daniel he expected you but neither of us believed him… sorry about that.”

“I wouldn’t have believed him either, y’know?” You smiled reassuringly. “That was kind of the whole point of the story that the team came up with.”

“You got me there. Well, cheers to this new friendship, aye?” He grinned, the three of you clinking your beers together - Lando’s phone continuing to buzz on the table. “You gonna answer that, mate?”

Lando huffed and picked it up. “Some of the others want to crash later, turn it into a real party but I was only gonna stick to a couple of beers.”

“…I mean… I could party.”

Carlos grinned. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

And that is how you ended up doing shots with Carlos and Daniel - as the evening had progressed the music had got louder and the bar had gotten more crowded. It was distracting you from the fact Charles still hadn’t texted you despite you having sent him a few question marks. You were scared of what was taking the four of them this long to plan - there was no way this wasn’t going to be trouble.

“You okay?” You felt a warm hand on your shoulder, Lando gently tugged so you were facing him - his eyes were somehow still bright beneath the flashing lights of the dark club. “For someone who ended up on the podium, you don’t seem to be particularly happy.”

“Lannn.” You whined, leaning into him a little - the alcohol buzzing through your veins. You thrust your phone in his face, the bright light of the screen making him squint a little. “Why hasn’t Charles’ text me?”

He chuckled softly, draping an arm across your shoulder - coaxing you gently towards a booth where a few other drivers were sitting. “Uhm, not sure. Where is he?”

“Planning some dumb thingy with Max, Pierre and Esteban. They’re going to get in trouble for me and I don’t want that.”

Lando shook his head. “It’s cus they care about you, I bet. They wouldn’t do this for just anyone… Pierre and Esteban in the same place? Those two haven’t got on since they were kids, you know that better than anyone.”

“You think that’s why?” You pouted softly. “I’m gonna text him again.”

“Okay, y/n. You do that… I’m gonna get you a glass of water.” He patted you gently on the shoulder before heading back over to the bar, leaving you in the company of Carlos, Daniel and George.

You shuffled further into the booth and tucked yourself under Carlos’ arm, the Spaniard squeezing your shoulder. “You okay, hermosa?”

“Charles is ignoring me.” You grumbled, propping your chin up on his shoulder - whatever he was wearing smelt manly, and with Charles preferring a more subtle fragrance it was noticeable.

Daniel laughed. “Well that’s not very nice of him is it. Are you having a good time though?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it's nice to get to know you guys. Just can’t help but miss Charles, he’s my rock. Feels weird having fun without him.”

“His loss then, hmm? You can have a great time with us instead.” He chuckled, his eyes boring into yours, a kind smile on his face.

“Oh can she now?”

You moved your gaze from Carlos’ dark eyes to the source of the voice to see Charles stood in front of the table with his arms folded across his chest - his brow raised. “Charl.”

“Did you not get any of my texts… or calls?” He said, sitting beside you in the booth - wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you away from Carlos and into his side.

“Did you not get any of mine?” You frowned, fishing your phone out of your pocket - eyes widening a little when you saw none of your messages had gone through to your boyfriend. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Charles teased, leaning in to kiss you. “Were you worrying, Cherie?”

“…maybe.”

“And did you get drunk to distract yourself from the fact you were worried?”

Your cheeks flushed. “…maybe.”

He laughed and thanked Lando as he placed your glass of water on the table. “Thanks for your text mate, I was starting to think I’d lost her.”

“I saw the non-delivered when she showed me her phone so I thought it might be a two-way issue.” The Brit smiled softly. “You gonna stay for a bit?”

“Only a little while, I think this one has had enough fun for both of us.” Charles smiled at Lando before looking down at you - your cheeks flushed a pretty pink. He let his gaze wander to Carlos for a moment but the Spaniard didn’t meet his eyes.

Not another one. He groaned internally. Sooner or later he was going to have to put a flashing neon sign above your head to remind the other drivers that you were his girlfriend. It wasn’t purely selfish either, there had been one too many tweets calling you a paddock bunny, so he didn’t want to give anymore fuel to that fire. So if he had to give Carlos and Lewis a not so friendly warning, he would. Pierre had become less of a concern since the two of you had reconnected - the Frenchman starting to see you as more of a little sister, like he used to back in the day. But Carlos and Lewis didn’t have that connection with you - so you were just this insanely talented and beautiful woman to them. He hoped that his relationship with you would be enough to keep them at bay but he couldn’t help but feel a little worried.

“Charl.” Your warm hand on his jaw brought him back to reality - your eyes were transfixed on him when he looked down at you. “Where did you go, amour?”

“Nowhere, cherie, I’m here with you.” He smiled, the sparkle in your eyes was enough to put him at ease - it didn’t matter what the others did. You were as in love with him as he was with you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple. “Wanna go home?”

“Yeah, but kisses first please.”

You keened as Charles curled a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss. You draped your arms over his shoulders, letting him lead the show you knew he was putting on for the others - he didn’t have to say out loud that he had felt jealous of Carlos, but it was never going to be Carlos. It was always going to be him.

As you pulled back, you let your eyes meet his as you smiled. “I love you.”

“Je t’aime, y/n.”

Lando gagged, reminding you that you weren’t alone - Charles relished in the way you hid your face in his neck. “We get it, you love each other. Get a room now, gross.”

You made sure to give each driver a hug before letting Charles lead you outside to grab a cab - you watched him as he tapped away on his phone, his breath leaving his body in soft clouds. When he caught you staring, you weren’t embarrassed, you simply stepped closer and let him wrap you up in his arms. “Charl, are you going to tell me what you boys were planning for so long?”

“Mhmm, I don’t know. Don’t know if I want to ruin it for them. I promise you it’s nothing crazy.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, before opening the door of the taxi for you both as it pulled up on the street. “Now, early flight tomorrow, need to get you to bed.”

“Fiiine, only ‘cus you’re pretty and I love you.” You giggled, tilting his chin down so you could kiss him before sliding into the taxi. “I will get that plan out of you by the end of the night.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, climbing in beside you - going to protest your claim but when you pulled him in for another deep kiss, his words were stolen from him and his mind was distracted by your hands running all over him, a hand ghosting over his belt. “Even if that means we get a fine for fooling around in this taxi.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Your playful smirk told him that you absolutely would so he used all of his willpower to move your hand away from his trousers. “Okay, okay… So here’s what’s going to happen.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling away so they were ghosting over yours - the way your breath hitched in your throat was delicious but he was going to behave. It was his turn to smirk now, his hand trailing up your side.

“This is what’s going to happen, Cherie.” He purred, pressing a kiss to the pulse point under your jaw. “We’re going to go back to the hotel, get some sleep and in the morning I’ll tell you all about what Max has planned okay?”

You were in no place to protest, your brain foggy with lust as he pressed kisses along your neck and jaw - so you simply nodded, dipping your head to catch his lips in another kiss. “Can… Can I add one more thing to the agenda?”

When your eyes met his, you could barely see the green - his pupils blown wide and he seemed to have as much trouble catching his breath as you did. His strong hands gripped your waist and he pulled you in closer. “If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, then we can definitely add you… add that to the to do list.”

He captured your giggle with a kiss, not wasting a second as the taxi pulled up outside the hotel. After a generous tip to the poor cab driver, your teammate took your hand in his and led you through the hotel. With a swift kiss as a distraction, he swiped the keycard from your pocket and opened the door.

You kicked your shoes off and turned to face your boyfriend. “Well we can tick off going back to the hotel on the to-do list…”

Charles chuckled and took your waist in his hands, pulling you closer. “What was next?”

“Let me remind you.”

*******

Next part >>>

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[haitaniapologist]

mon soleil ( lyney x fem!reader )

warnings — royal au, general fluff, indications of human trafficking, misogyny, class clash(?), if you squint enough spoilers of the fontaine archon quests and lyney's story quest.

hi! june making a comeback bc lyney is my newest obsession. reblogs and comments are appreciated!

you never understood why you were so fascinated by magic. maybe it was because of how it could bring a bit of color to your dull life, or maybe it was because of the pair of violet eyes from your childhood that always managed to make you smile with some tricks. 

the second option was the truth, but you never spoke about it out loud. the memory of grayish hair and purple eyes was so old that it was almost fading away, and you couldn't remember his face nor his name — sometimes you wondered if he was just an illusion your mind made up to compensate for the lonely years of your childhood, however, your gut always told you he was real. 

the magician from your childhood plagued your dreams with the doubt of his very existence, until a fateful day when a magic show was held in the chief of justice's state.  

as the daughter of one of fontaine's forum members and a count, you were expected to follow your father and sit pretty at his side during such endeavors, maybe to find a husband or just as an ornament for him to show off — but you hated it, because it only showed you how lonely you were. all the other girls were friends and could dance freely with whoever asked for one, while you sat at your father's side, though, sometimes, the conversations you heard were quite interesting. 

your father always said he was doing it to protect you, so, when he announced another ball at the chief of justice's state, you paid no mind. a new dress and new jewels were at your bed when the time came, and you got ready like you always used to. 

the way to the chief of justice's house was the same, though you could see more commoners than normal crowind in the streets. before you could even ask your father if there was having some kind of celebration for them, he already started to complain, and the mask took over your face — it was how you called your ability to hear what the nobles said with a neutral face, even if you wanted to roll your eyes and sneer at their nauseous word. 

the mask stayed in your face the whole way and even when you arrived at the fancy state, greeting the other nobles and hearing them talk nonsense about the crowd in the way. the ballroom was decorated slightly differently, as if the chief of justice prepared a show for his guests, as the chairs were facing a stage and unknown staff members were running around. 

the talk only stopped when the chief of justice himself arrived at the small circle you were in with your father, and you averted your eyes to your shoes. monsieur neuvilette, as kind as he was, still had a position greater than yours. 

“mademoiselle y/n.” he greeted you, gloved hand taking yours and soft lips caressing your knuckles. you gave him a courtesy, the mask still on your face, though you felt nervous — you could feel a pair of eyes watching your very movement, as if waiting for you to notice them. “i hope the magic show will be of your liking.” 

at the word magic, your eyes lit up, and you finally looked at the chief of justice's face. “magic show?” you asked in surprise, mind already thinking about the violet eyes of your childhood.

the mask probably slipped off, as when you focused back on neuvilette's face, he was giving you the gentlest smile you ever saw. “indeed. i saw one of the magician's shows with the supreme judge, and i thought it would be good to change our endeavors this time.” he explained, hand still holding yours. 

“what's the name of the magician, monsieur neuvilette?” it was fruitless to ask for it, since you couldn't remember his name, but you were still curious. you knew about some magicians of the court, but never about one who caught lady furina's attention to the point of her going to show of theirs. maybe, just maybe… you knew he was going to be talented someday. 

neuvilette kissed your hand again. “i think the show is about to start, mademoiselle. shall we go?” he offered you his arm and took it without thinking, though maybe that was what your father wanted — having his daughter married to the chief of justice was a great honor, after all. however, it wasn't what you wanted. 

maybe you just needed a closure from your childhood — to say you were in love with someone you only saw thrice was madness, but he made you feel like a normal person for once in your life. he made you laugh and smile like no else did, and he was the only person that saw you without the mask. monsieur neuvilette, with all his rich and soft words, would only make you more miserable. 

you followed the chief of justice to the front row of the chairs, sitting next to him albeit uncomfortable. all the eyes were on you two, since he never expressed any interest in anyone until, apparently, now. the blonde traveler, who arrived at the court some days prior, was sitting at your side too, and you enjoyed hearing their traveling companion talking about everything and anything with neuvilette. it was good to hear mundane words coming from a different mouth but, as soon as when you started to feel more comfortable around them, the lights were turned off and you could see two silhouettes at the stage. 

“monsieurs and mademoiselles, welcome to lyney and lynette's magic show!” an enthusiastic voice spoke up and, when the lights above the stage were turned on again, you grabbed the end of your seat's armrests. 

the eyes. the eyes from your childhood were looking directly at you once again. 

“is everything alright, mademoiselle y/n?” you heard neuvilette asking and you could only nod, eyes never leaving the magician's figure. it was him — it was the boy who made you dream with flowers and sincere laughs, the boy who made everything else besides him feel so dull and boring. unconsciously, you smiled, and you watched as his smile, too, grew bigger, eyes never leaving your face. 

the show was mesmerizing and incredible. you always knew he would be talented when he grew up — the determination in his eyes to make you smile whenever he performed a magic trick for you back then was what brought him there, to the applause and screams of nobles and senators. lyney knew how to hold a crowd's attention, his charming smile and playful words, in combination with lynnette's calm and soft movements made them an unstoppable duo.

you held your breath when he made lynettte disappear inside the water, squealed when she came back in the middle of the chairs, giggled when he made birds and even a tea set appeared from his hat. you couldn't tear his eyes away from lyney, not even when neuvilette spoke to you — how could you not look at him, now that you've found him? 

“now, monsieurs and mademoiselles, the last trick of the night is going to happen, but not the least important.” lyney smiled at the crowd, a wooden box being positioned behind him. “and, for this trick, i will need the help of the audience. any volunteers?” the nobles started to scream, and you frowned, an ugly feeling spreading out inside your body. 

did lyney remember you? or you were just his first guinea pig? 

you took a deep breath, not trying to jump into conclusions. you needed to talk to him, and you would — if not today, then in another day. you knew who he was now, and that was the biggest step you ever took. 

but before you could revert your eyes to his form, gloved fingers held your chin and turned your head towards their owner, and you blinked in surprise at how close neuvilette's face was. however, before he could even open his lips to say something, another pair of gloved fingers were holding your hand, and you returned your face to where it was, meeting lyney's eyes once again. !would this beautiful lady accept to be my assistant in this trick?”

it was refreshing how he asked you, and not neuvilette, and how he didn't even mention the fact you were being his companion. “yes, of course, monsieur magician. it will be my pleasure.”

“splendid!” he exclaimed, fingers squeezing your hand. despite both of you wearing gloves, you could feel his warmth. “dear sister, if you may.” you were passed from lyney to lynette, who led you to a twin of the wooden box on the stage. 

“he finally found you.” she whispered in your ear, voice as quiet as the wind, that you almost didn't hear because of the screams of the crowd. you managed to capture the disappointed eyes of your father, like they were knives being targeted at you by an assassin. but, for the first time in your life, you didn't care. 

you tried to listen when lyney started to explain the trick, but lynette's words were still resonating in your head. they meant he was also looking for you, wasn't he? that was a good sign, you thought. you entered the box with the help of another assistant, lynette nowhere to be seen — she would probably play a part in the trick, after all. 

it was dark and a bit quiet inside the box, but you could feel someone, for some reason, moving it. you would never question a magician's way of doing his tricks, but you hoped nobody could see what was happening now. lyney deserved to win the favor of all these nobles, to have many sponsoring him and lynette. soon, the box stopped, and you could hear the audience counting to zero. that was it, then — the trick was about to end.

the crowd cheered, and it seemed like it worked. soon, the door of the box opened, but all you could see was lyney — the playful glint in his eyes and his happy smile. you accepted his hand and stepped out of the box, and the crowd cheered once more. you gave the magician a soft smile, remembering to use the mask in front of all these people. 

but you were sure they could see the redness on your cheeks when he kissed your hand. “you are, mademoiselle, the most beautiful assistant i had so far.”

and with that, the magic show was over. 

— 

you needed to find him. 

after the show ended, all the nobles wanted to talk with lyney and you were whisked away from the stage by neuvilette, who led you to another cycle of nobles — this time, not your father's friends, but younger senators who had similar ideologies to yours. it was refreshing to hear young people talking about what to do with the poor of the country, those who were suffering in the streets, then blaming them for the economic crisis fontaine was going through. 

however, you weren't in the mind to talk about politics, far from it. you needed to talk with lyney, but he wasn't nowhere to be seen now — until you saw a pair of violet eyes looking at you through the windows of the balcony, and you knew that was your cue. 

“monsieur neuvilette?”  you whispered for him in the middle of a conversation, and he leaned in to hear you better, while still paying attention to the senator talking to him. “i will go to the balcony to get some fresh air.” you didn't need his permission because he wasn't your husband — he wasn't your anything, actually — but social rules were still expected in a woman's behavior. 

“of course.” he kissed your knuckles once more, but what he said next made your stomach drop. “but be back soon, my dearest, your father has an important announcement to make.”

that could only mean your marriage to him. it would make sense why you were kept at his side throughout all night, why he was calling you by such an endearing term only reserved to those who had the blessing of the supreme judge. it made your heart burn and your vision to be blurry, but you were determined to reach the balcony — no one dared to interrupt you, maybe because the mask was off and no one saw you expressing that many emotions before. 

you opened the doors of the balcony quickly, hoping he was already there. but you found no one, and your heart burned even more — you were sure you saw his eyes asking you to meet him there! were you too blinded by his presence that you were seeing things now? 

“i am deeply sorry for making you wait, mademoiselle y/n.” you heard his voice and turned around to meet him, lyney's hands already finding yours and making the right one to rest on his chest. you could feel how quickly his heart was beating, almost in sync with yours.

you stayed in silence for a few moments, all the words you wanted to tell him now gone in his presence. “who i saw here, then, since it was not you?” it was what you managed to stay, though not what you wanted to. 

he chuckled, and you swore it was the most beautiful sound you ever heard in your life. “lynette. the nobles weren't leaving me alone, and i needed to speak with you.” he whispered, his breath fanning your face. “having a twin sister has its perks.” you nodded, lips parting to ask him all the questions you wanted, but he was quicker than you. “can i make a magic trick?”

you leaned your head to the side, unconsciously, a little bit confused, but nodded anyway. lyney took his hat from his head and took a flower out of it, handing it to you. before you could thank him for it, he took it again from your hands, hat already sitting comfortably at his head, and made it disappear. 

“lyney! that was such a beautiful rainbow rose!” you scolded him, but despite the tone of your voice, he was smiling fondly and with something more shining on his eyes. 

“we never lose something in magic, mon soleil.” you felt his hand on your ear, putting some strands of your hair behind it, his fingers staying there for some more moments than necessary — he had an electric touch, one that brought your heart back to life after so many years of being sleeping, just waiting for him like in the fairytales. “do not you feel something different?” he whispered, his face the closest it ever was. 

you were too lost looking at his eyes to notice anything before, but there was an additional weight on the same ear he touched. you lift your fingers and the flower petals met your skin, as soft as the silk sheets you slept every night. you gasped, though that was the same magic trick he did with you the first time you met — you were crying in the garden after some rude words from your father, and lyney took as his mission to make you smile and forget what it was said to you. both of you were still children, both faces with immature features and innocence shining in your eyes, but even if now you were older, you still felt like the same girl from back then. 

you still felt the same happiness she did at his presence. 

“how can i repay you?” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes, the waltz playing inside just a quiet sound that made the moment more intimate than it should be — but you weren't asking to repay for just now or the magic tricks he did, but for the moments of happiness and humanity he gave you. in those small moments of your childhood, lyney reminded you that you were first a human, and second a noble. it was hard to remember this with the position you had, but you always remembered his smile and the giggles he managed to coach out of you. 

he smiled at you, hands now cupping your face. “would my y/n be willing to give me a kiss?”

giggling, you lifted your head a bit more, meeting his lips while grabbing his shirt to bring him even closer.

you were no stranger to kissing, the stable boys having the honor of being your guinea pigs for this art, but kissing lyney was the first time you kissed someone with such raw emotion — the way your hands gripped him in desperation, too afraid of him going away without any explanation again, the way his hands held you as if you were his most treasured prize, the way your lips touching spoke more than any words could. 

lyney broke the kiss, resting his forehead on yours, and you closed your eyes — to feel him. “i am deeply sorry for my disappearance,” he whispered. “there was not a day that you were not in my mind, y/n.” you could only nod, kissing his jaw. 

“it is alright,” you whispered back. “i know my father's deeds. what he did to you and lynette, lyney?” you weren't dumb and knew your father was a horrible man, especially to his staff. he would sell them to other nobles just for making a small mistake, and whenever one of your young ladies disappeared, you knew he sold them to be bed warmers of one of his friends. 

it was disgusting, but you couldn't do anything — your position as his daughter forbid you to do so. 

“he sold lynette.” he admitted, and you opened your eyes, this time holding his face between your hands. 

“you do not need to tell me what happened.” you comforted him, kisses on his face followed by your words. “what matters is that you and her are now here and thriving. i always knew you would be talented, lyney.” your words felt like an antidote to a poisoned man, and lyney could only smile. although he only started to do magic tricks for you to see if he was as good a magician as his master, your smiles and giggles became his reason to try better everyday — and after he left, seeing you again became his fuel to become the best magician the court ever saw. 

“and i always knew you would become the most beautiful lady of this court, mon soleil.” 

before your lips could meet again, the chief of justice's surprised voice rang in the air of the balcony. “mademoiselle y/n?” you and lyney turned around, your eyes widening at the sight of the man you were probably going to be engaged in a few moments. you could see disbelief and anger in his eyes, but hurt and sadness shined the brightest. you didn't know what to say, hiding behind lyney who stepped in front of you, maybe to shield you what was coming next — you never demonstrated any interest in the chief of justice, in anyone actually, then why was he looking so forlorn at seeing you in the arms of another man? 

you were saved from any explanations by a scream coming from the inside of the ballroom, which made the chief of justice turn his attention to what was happening inside his home. 

“were you engaged to him?" lyney asked, still in front of you and looking at the commotion inside. he hoped lynette managed to get away safely. 

you furrowed your brows. “no, of course not. i think my father wanted to make his bride.” you explained, brows still furrowed by what was happening. people were screaming and running, and you could hear some servants saying a maid found a dead body. 

“good.” lyney whispered, turning his face to you once more. “lynette killed your father.” he admitted, no shame on his features. although the news were supposed to shock you, were supposed to make you sad beyond human comprehension — after all, the boy you've loved for years just admitted his twin sister killed your father — you just nodded. 

that caught him by surprise, but lyney soon chuckled. “you have two options, mon soleil. stay and be the bride of the chief of justice, or go with me.” he offered you his hand, eyes shining with hope. “i can not guarantee you will have the same life you did, but i can promise that my heart will always be yours and, while i live, nothing is going to harm your beautiful face.” lyney poured his heart out to you, and sighed in relief when you squeezed his hand. 

“how i can let you go again, lyney? take me wherever you go.”

@softbajis here you go loser

[ghuleh-witch]

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Teen Warnings: GHOVIE SPOILERS, references to death and grief Relationships: Copia x GN Reader Characters: Copia, GN Reader, unnamed Sister of Sin Additional Tags: gender neutral reader, comfort fic, slight dirty talk, no beta Chapter Word Count: 970 Summary: Copia is getting fitted for his new uniform and is having doubts about his promotion. Author’s Note: Ignore that the cover image is the cardinal uniform, I'm trying to make this part as spoiler-free as possible. Also, apologies for any spelling or grammar errors. I won't be posting this to Ao3 until after the ghovie is done airing in theaters.

He was being fitted for his new uniform when you walked into your shared chambers.

In the middle of the living room, he stood on a step stool in front of a mirror while a Sister of Sin knelt on the ground behind him pinning the hem of his trousers legs. You’d seen the woman before. She always did Copia’s tailoring, and it seemed now was no different. From your angle, the uniform looked similar to the black suits he wore as a cardinal—sleek, soft, and formfitting. You took the time to run your eyes over his backside, admiring the dips and curves that the fabric seemed to cling to before realizing that Copia’s eyes were on you in the mirror.

“Do you like what you see, il mio tesoro?” He asked, turning his head slightly to look at you.

You walked forward and around the stepstool to his front and gasped audibly. His uniform was tailored to perfection. The black, sparkling clerical collar sat at the base of his throat. On the sharply pointed lapels of his jacket were large rubies surrounded by small, gleaming onyx gems. The chains that hung from them led to an onyx-encrusted grucifix with a small ruby pendant hanging from the bottom. It was different from anything he wore before, but you could see the subtle nods to his prior outfits.

“Oh my god,” you said. You looked him up and down and marveled over the magnificent man in front of you. “You look amazing!”

A slight blush crossed his cheeks as he looked down at you. “Thank you, amore,” he said looking back at himself in the mirror. “It’s quite different from what I wore as Papa. But also not…” He was silent for a moment—lost deep in his own thoughts. You knew he replayed the events that led him here. You were at the hotel waiting for him to finish the show the night Sister Imperator passed. Swiss called you to tell you what happened and how you needed to get down to the venue right away. You knew you’d never forget how he looked when you found him sitting on a bench behind the Forum. He was still in shock; his paints streaked and smeared from crying and his red sparkling jacket was discarded on the seat next to him. Your heart broke for him. What should have been the best night of his life had become the worst. 

He told you about the letter Sister left him that named him head of the clergy. It wasn’t what he wanted though. You knew if he could continue on as Papa he would, but Copia had come to terms that his time on stage was over and that his purpose was now to help bring the dawn of the new era for the Ministry. You watched as he shifted his weight nervously on the stool and you felt your heartbreak for him all over again. 

“Sorella, can you give us a minute?” Copia asked as the sister returned her pins to the pin cushion on her wrist.

“No problem Pa—I mean Frater,” she said. Her face flushed slightly from the accidental slip-up. She bowed her head and walked out the front door of the apartment. 

Once the door had closed with a soft click, Copia carefully stepped off the stool and sighed. “I can’t do this,” he confessed.

“What are you talking about?” You asked brow furrowed with concern. 

“This,” he said, gesturing to his outfit and sighing. “I can’t lead the clergy. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m an entertainer. I’m a singer. I can’t do what she did.” 

“Baby,” you said gently as you stepped closer and cupped his face between your hands. His painted eyes were downcast and there was a slight tremble to his lip. “You can do this. I know change is scary. All this is scary for me too, but change is inevitable. We all must go through it. You, me, the whole ministry, and all the Ghost fans—We are all experiencing this change together. You are not alone in this, I promise. I will be at your side through it all.  If Sister…If your mother didn’t believe you could do this she wouldn’t have named you Frater Imperator.”

“Sì, I know,” he sighed. “Can’t blame a guy for being nervous though.”

“I know, I know,” you replied. Your hands left his cheeks and smoothed the lapels of his jacket. “If it helps, you look hot as fuck in the new uniform though.”

Copia chuckled as his arms encircled you and pulled you closer. “Thank you, amore. It does help.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, the paint of his upper lip now smeared slightly. His hands ran down your sides before they came to rest on your hips. “Wanna show me how hot this getup makes me?” He smirked.

You couldn’t help but smile as every filthy thought crossed your mind. You looked him up and down, noticing the growing bulge in his already tight pants. “I would, but we probably shouldn’t ruin these clothes just yet. They’re not even officially done,” you said as you glanced down at the colorful pins lining the fabric around his ankles. “I don’t want to mess up all that poor sister’s hard work.”

He let out an exergated groan. “Fine,” he said before he smiled at you. “But you owe me. I need to celebrate becoming Frater somehow.” 

“Oh once this is finished and you have a spare set, I fully plan on letting you bend me over the closest service and ravish me while wearing this.” You smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “Come on, let’s get this fitting finished up. I have a couple ideas of how we can celebrate once you’re done.”

[bbrissonn]

𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 - 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡

☆⋆｡°‧★ in which dahlia goes to yet another hockey games, and runs into her mystery boy after ☆⋆｡°‧★ will smith x dahlia monroe ☆⋆｡°‧★ wc: 1.6k ☆⋆｡°‧★ au masterlist

if someone told dahlia a week before she started college that she would be attending a hockey, she would've scoffed in their face. telling her she would be going to two of them would've sent her into a fit of laughter. yet, here she was a week later sitting in the same seat as before.

"i can't believe im doing this again." the girl mumbled as she sat down in the seat. violette chuckled slightly as the players started coming into the ice for warmups. "he's gonna think im crazy."

"he won't, trust me." dahlia didn't know this, and neither did will, but on wednesday morning, gabe approached the black haired girl. of course violette knew who he was, and she knew that he wasn't sitting next to her to get to know her.

the boy waisted no time mentioning the previous friday night and small moments their two close friends shared. at the end of their lesson, the two had made it their mission to at least get the two to meet each other, but without forcing it.

if there was one thing that violette knew about her best friend is that she would never ever start dating a guy she met through someone. dahlia loved her romance book, the slow burning loves were her favourites ones. so, just bringing the two together was a big no, which led to the two girls sitting in the conte forum yet again.

"he totally will." almost as if on cue, the two made eye contact. will was standing on the red dot across the ice from them, stickhandling, when he looked up as he lost control of the puck and their eyes locked. "oh gosh."

"aw, how cute." violette giggled from besides her receiving an elbow to her ribs.

just like a week ago, the two shared loads of eye contact during the game, will sometimes even looking back over his shoulder and sending her a soft smile. when the boy scored his first goal of his college career, he wasn't shy to send her a wink once again.

for most of the night, dahlia's cheek were a deep shade of red, which violette often reminder her of. as for will, the boys now how knew who this mystery eye contact girl was, and they were not shy to give it to him in the locker during the intermissions. they all now kept an eye on the two, which is why when during a media timeout, they all noticed how his stare was stuck on her. the way he softly smiled whenever she'd laughed to something her friend said.

"smitty, you better find out that girl's name soon." one of the junior said as the team celebrated their win in the locker room. will just rolled his eyes at the statement.

"gosh, not this again." the boy mumbled seconds before all of the boy started pouring out whatever they had to say.

"a little more and you would've jumped the boards, bud." ryan said, making all of the boys, besides will, to chuckle.

"little smitty's in love." malone said from besides the freshman as he noticed how pink will's cheek had flushed.

somehow, will had managed to get out of the locker room even quicker than he had last week. he was surprised at how many people were still lingering in the forum. as he made his way to the door, he saw all the stares coming from people around him and the quiet mumbling all around. the boy just shoved his airpods in with the volume at max.

will hated to admit it, but he somehow let his brain get lost in the though of the girl whos name he didn't know. the small little glances, her soft smile, and her angelic laugh he could hear every once in a while. he so desperately wanted to get to know her, or at least say hi, but he knew it would never happen. he was lucky enough that she had showed up again tonight, but there was no guarantee that she was going to come next weekend as well.

will had been so deep in his thoughts that he didn't even realized where he was walking. his feet just started moving once he got outside and he never once stopped to think about where he was or where he was going. he took a quick glance around him and realized he was on the opposite side of the campus, one he had never been to before. the worst was that he didn't even know how to get back to his place. thankfully, maps was going to be able to help him back, but of course, as soon as he took out his phone, it died.

great. his sister lived off campus and had probably made it home already, and he had no clue where he was. thankfully, there were barely any students outside, meaning no one saw his confused look as he stared turning left and right, trying to at least find his way back to the forum, but it was useless. well, that was until a soft, beautiful voice spoke from behind him.

"lost?" will was scared at first, not having heard anyone walking behind. and then even more when he turned around. their eyes met for the millionth time that night, both of their eye going a little wide as they connected.

dahlia had decided to go over to her boyfriend's frat house for the night, meaning dahlia was on her own to go home. she tried to hold back a chuckle as she noticed a blond boy looking quite confused. she was a little confused herself as to why he was wearing a suit, but didn't think too much about it and instead approached the boy from behind.

the though of the lost boy being the boy had never crossed her mind, she was a little surprise that he was even out of the rink before she was.

"a little." the boy answered with an awkward smile lifting his phone up a little to show that it was dead. the girl bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back her smile.

"which dorm?"

"uh, i'm just trying to go back to the rink." will answered as their eyes stayed connected.

"just go back that way, across the parking lot and you'll see it." the girl explained, pointing to the direction she had just came from.

"thanks." the boy mumbled loud enough for the girl to hear, but he showed no signs of moving anytime soon.

"'course. i should... get going." the girl whispered as she continued making her way to her dorm slowly. thankfully for her, she had to walk past the boy, which allowed their eyes to stay connected for a little longer. the girl prayed deep down that the boy would ask for her name, or even propose to walk her to her dorm, but he stayed quiet.

"wait!" will called out as he turned around a couple of seconds after the girl had pasted him. his brain still hadn't fully understand how she was standing right in front of him and talking to him. which is why it took him so long to realize he was probably blowing his only shot with her.

dahlia turned around at the sound of his voice, as the hockey player started making his way to her. they were standing no more than a feet apart, and it wasn't until this moment that both of them realized how big their height difference was. the girl would be lying if she said she didn't feel small butterflies in her stomach as she looked up to the blond boy in front of her.

"can i have your number?" the boy asked after just standing there for a bit. dahlia held back a smile, deciding to mess with him a little.

"don't you at least want to know my name, my major, my favourite colour, just something before you ask a stranger for their number?" the girl questioned with a small smirk. will's face went blank, scared that he had completely messed it up. until, the girl let out a soft giggle which sounded like heaven to him.

"i'm just messing with ya. you look like a ghost." dahlia giggled, a wide smile on her face as one grew on will's face as well.

"i'm will."

"i'm dahlia." the girl's mind blanked out a for a bit, stuck in a trance as he body moved without her even knowing what was going on. when she came back down to reality, will's finger were typing on her phone. when he was done, he handed her phone back, along with a pen he hand in his pocket.

dahlia stared at him confused as he reached his hand out towards her. will chuckled a bit before talking. "write yours down." and that's exactly what the girl did. her hands were slightly shaking as she wrote her number on the top of his hand. she suddenly felt a wave of confidence take over, and decided to draw a little heart next to her number.

the second she was done drawing the little shape, she regretted it. she wasn't a bold person, she had never done this before, let alone give her number to a stranger. but it was too late, will had pulled back his hand, smiling down at it.

"i'll see you around." will whispered in her ear as he leaned down a little. dahlia swore she felt a shiver go down her spine as she turned around to watch the boy walk away, his pen still in her hands.

[green-eyedfirework]

Wintergreen blinked at the request.

He usually spent time listening to the pulse of the underworld, monitoring contracts on various forums and sites, talking to his sources, managing the web of contacts he had to find the kind of jobs that Slade would take.  He was meticulous about it—Slade was attached to his reputation, and Wintergreen still had to hear his bitching about the one and only job he ever left unfinished, even though completing it would’ve meant killing Jericho.

Often, Wintergreen was approached directly.  Several people wanted Deathstroke the Terminator’s services in particular, and most were smart enough to use him as an intermediary, rather than be faced with Slade’s uncertain mood.  Wintergreen filtered through those as well, though most were Slade’s usual style and paycheck.  There was a certain responsibility in essentially being a pseudo handler, a responsibility Wintergreen had accepted years and years ago, and he made sure to bury any contract that would destroy more of Slade than was already gone.

This particular contract...well.  Wintergreen didn’t know what to do with it.

It was from a verified source—it was from Nightwing, so the morality of the job wasn’t in question, but Nightwing had never put out contracts before.  Strange in and of itself.

The pay was generous, but then again, Dick Grayson was newly in control of the entire Wayne fortune, so that made sense.

The job was...unusual.

Wintergreen reread the contract, hoping it would make a little more sense this time.

Stand-in for Batman.  Mission parameters strictly non-lethal, and minimum collateral damage.  Mission includes patrolling Gotham City and assisting with containment of Gotham Rogues.  Suit and gear will be provided.  Particulars available upon acceptance. 

Batman was dead.  The whole world knew it, even if the Bats and the Waynes attempted to cover it up by sticking someone else in the suit and hiring a lookalike to play Bruce Wayne.  Anyone with half a brain could tell that the Bats were fracturing—though in all fairness, they’d been fracturing for a while, Batman was just enough of a terrifying specter to cover it up.

And now Nightwing wanted to bring that specter back.

Well.

Wintergreen thought through the logistics—Slade was certainly capable of it, and the job wasn’t unreasonable—and then the implications—Dick Grayson must be truly desperate, if he was going to these lengths—as he considered the contract.

He finally came to a decision.

If nothing else, at least he’d get to see the look on Slade’s face.

~#~

“You’re going to need to repeat that again,” Slade said flatly.

“If you haven’t heard it the first twelve times I told you, Slade, I’m not sure what one more is going to do,” Wintergreen said.  The bastard was amused, Slade could hear it.

“You’re telling me,” Slade growled, “that the goody two-shoes Robin is asking me to play Batman.”

“He’s Nightwing now, and yes, that is what I’m saying.  I’m glad your listening comprehension isn’t failing.”

Slade made an inarticulate snarl.

“Are you accepting the job or not, Slade?  It’s a yes or a no question,” Wintergreen hummed, looking away from the screen and down at his keyboard.

“You can’t be serious.”  It wasn’t April 1st, and Wintergreen wasn’t in the habit of playing jokes, but if one of the kids had gotten to him—“Whose idea is it?  Joey?  Rose?  Given that the man is dead, it’s in poor taste.”

“It’s not a joke,” Wintergreen replied.  “Confirmed with Nightwing himself.  It’s real, and yes, they’re really asking for you.”

“Why?” Slade asked, honestly bewildered.  “I thought someone else was filling the suit.  And even if they aren’t, why not get one of the other heroes to do it?”

“Nightwing was doing it, but he sprained an ankle, and the situation is too precarious in Gotham for him to take a break.  No one else was available.  Or so he says,” Wintergreen added, looking up.

“And you think this is a legitimate contract.”

There was a long, stretched silence.  “Yes,” Wintergreen said finally, quiet, “I think it’s legitimate.  They need someone with the skills, the control, and discretion, you fit all three.”

Aside from the fact that he was a mercenary, he’d fought them all once before, and now they were willing to trust him with the keys to the empire?

“I saw him.  Nightwing,” Wintergreen clarified.  “He looked exhausted.  I doubt he had the energy to come up with an elaborate lie.”

“The kid’s a good actor,” Slade said automatically, and ground his teeth.  “It’s most likely a trap.”

“You’re Deathstroke.  Nothing they try is going to keep you down—”

“Just going to jinx it, are you—”

“And besides, Slade—aren’t you the slightest bit curious?”

Damn him.  Damn him to the deepest pits of hell.

Slade always loved a challenge.  If Nightwing was attempting a double-cross, Slade would enjoy shredding his plan to pieces and exacting retribution.  And if he wasn’t...playing a hero?  One of the first heroes, the infamous Dark Knight?

His blood was singing already.

“Fine.  Get me a plane to Gotham.”

~#~

The meeting location was a rooftop in Gotham, which was typical.  What wasn’t typical was Dick Grayson stumbling out of the rooftop access door on crutches, dressed in dark clothes and a domino mask in an attempt at secrecy.

Slade had thoughtfully foregone the Deathstroke armor, given the particulars of this request, but Grayson didn’t look armored or even armed.  “Slade,” Grayson said, with something approaching relief.  “You made it.”

“You have a job for me?” Slade said archly, watching as Grayson hobbled over.  Sprained ankle, his ass.  Something was at least cracked there, or Grayson would’ve foregone the crutches entirely.

“Yes,” Grayson wavered on one foot to run an absent hand through his hair.  In Slade’s professional opinion, the kid looked like shit.  “I’m assuming Wintergreen told you—”

“I’m not sure I can believe what Wintergreen told me,” Slade raised an eyebrow.  “Seemed a little too fantastical to be true.  You sure you want me for this job, kid?”

“You’re the best, aren’t you?” Grayson smiled, and it was a shadow of Nightwing’s charming grin.  No wonder the kid had broken something, if he looked this close to passing out.  He’d probably worn himself straight into the ground.  “But if you’re accepting, we can take this downstairs.”

Slade should’ve said no.  Should’ve walked away.  Gotham was a sinking ship without its protector to hold it afloat, and best case scenario was that the place wiped itself off the map.  He could even consider it a civic duty.

But the lines of exhaustion on Grayson’s face stopped him, the lines of exhaustion for a face that young, and besides—what was life without a little risk?

‘Downstairs’ apparently meant the basement, because of course the Waynes had a penthouse apartment with rooftop access and an elevator down to a secret bunker below the building.  Wayne had really gone overboard with his bases, how many toys did the man need?

No, Slade was not jealous, and besides, there wasn’t a single gun down here.  Not a single blade either, except for the one a twelve-year-old was currently menacing him with.

“So this is who you obtained to play theater for a week,” the kid sneered, and he sounded just like his parents.  Both of them.  “A trained pet who sees the world through a scope.”

It might’ve been insulting, if the kid wasn’t twelve.  “Al Ghul,” Slade greeted, walking past him like the katana wasn’t even there.

“Wilson,” the kid spat, and those prickles were all Talia.  The scowl was definitely Wayne’s.

“Is he going to be part of this too?” Slade asked, because he was demanding a raise if that was the case.  The kid was a biter, and Slade wasn’t a babysitter.

“No,” Grayson replied just a little too quickly, his eyes going wide for a fraction of a second.  “No,” he repeated, calmer.  “Robin will be staying off patrol until I recover.”

“Tt,” the kid sneered, “I shouldn’t be handicapped by your mistakes, and I already told you that I’m more than capable of patrolling—”

“We already discussed this, Dami,” Grayson said, his light tone at odds with his pinched expression.  “And my answer hasn’t changed.”

Slade could practically feel the kid’s seething glare, and mentally marked down a note to watch him.  Twelve or not, the kid had been raised an assassin.

“Now, Alfred will be down soon to make sure the suit and gear all fits properly, and I’ll teach you how to throw batarangs in a bit, but first we’re going to go over the rules,” Grayson said, easing himself into a chair in front of a large computer setup.  “First rule.  No killing.”

Slade took a deep breath, “I’m well aware of your moral code, kid—”

“No killing,” Grayson repeated, blue eyes sharp.  “Not for any reason.  Not if you think it’s the only option left.  There’s another way, there will always be another way, and you’re smart and fast enough to find one.  Batman doesn’t kill, and if you’re going to wear the cape and cowl, I need to know you can stick to that.”

Grayson was acting like this was the first non-lethal mission Slade had ever taken.  “No killing,” he repeated mildly, and Grayson deflated slightly.

“Great.  Rule number two…”

[heavywithourbabies]

Going Feral

The wooden chair beneath Abby creaked softly. She couldn’t see her feet, but she felt their width, expanding over the past several days, radiating with soft pain. Her tank top, having given up its pursuit, hung limply over her engorged breasts, large circles of moisture encompassing each nipple. Having forgone panties that morning, she slid the hem up over her monstrous belly, noticing the convex line stretching vertically, dissecting her belly into two hemispheres.

“That’s what I am now - a globe.” She thought sadly to herself. She was a world containing two, wriggling baby boys who refused to emerge. She remembered her hunger for cum. Back when her stomach was flat and untouched, she yearned for that stickiness deep within her womb. But She didn’t realize this would be the result: a body foreign to her, blown up to caricature proportions, working against her. And the ceaseless hunger between her thighs.

She had met David online through a forum about breeding and the pair instantly shared a connection. It wasn’t long before messages over Reddit turned into texts and phone calls. When he finally revealed where he lived she was almost in shock. He was less than an hour’s drive away from her. She was apprehensive about this but couldn’t deny the fact she was more than just drawn to him. She ached for him. He would make her laugh and was refreshingly earnest and empathetic. A kind and gentle man that had a biting sarcastic tongue and was just as intelligent as she was. All of these factors made her attracted to him. But it was his other side that made her desperate for him to fill her. When he was aroused he became an almost completely different person. His voice would go deeper and when he was excited he couldn’t help but growl with excitement. Driven by desire he would whisper the filthiest things she had ever longed to hear and she was reduced to knee shaking orgasms when she heard him cum. There really wasn’t any way to fight the eventuality. She gave in and agreed to see him. She told herself that she wouldn’t sleep with him on the first date. She swore up and down that she wouldn’t give in to her own libido. That she wouldn’t dare tempt her want to be taken and claimed by this man.

5 hours later after they first met face to face, she was on the edge of the bed with her legs up and over his shoulders as he mercilessly drove into her. The sheets beneath her drenched in sweat and her own cum. She begged and pleaded with him to fill her, an endless mantra in her head kept saying “cuminmecuminmeohpleaseohpleasecuminmecuminmeeeee”.

As she felt his cock twitch inside of her and his pace quickened she couldn’t believe how loud her orgasm was when he snarled “Do you want to be my swollen pregnant cum dumpster?”

She was silently ashamed of that. That something so crude and misogynistic would bring her such pleasure. Little did she know that was exactly what he would reduce her to in the following nine months.

Her life completely turned upside down. First there were the positive test results she cried over. The doctor’s appointment that confirmed the news. Having to tell her parents who seemed so disappointed. And then telling him. He could barely contain his joy or how eager he was to take care of her. Abby tried to tell herself that she could do this mostly on her own and that she would handle the hardships but once she found out it was twins she began to panic. As she swelled larger and heavier with David’s babies she lost more and more control over her life and her body. It was if carrying his sons only made her want him more. To give in to him. To let him own her. She couldn’t resist or deny his want for her and that also seemed to get worse the larger she grew. One time during the 6th month she found herself crying as she was unable to fit into a former favorite dress. She turned to him and whimpered “I’m so pregnant” and the next thing she knew she could barely catch her breath after three straight hours of the most intense sex she had ever had. It didn’t matter to him that she was tender and sensitive all over or that she was the mother of his children. It didn’t matter to her either. They both just gave in more and more to their basic instincts and became two wild animals fucking each other with abandon. It was at the start of her third trimester that she quit her job and moved into the secluded house with him. And that’s where she stayed, growing bigger every day and waiting for his return.

It was late in the day, and she knew he would be home soon. She was a week overdue with the boys and she was more desperate than ever. She literally hoped he would fuck the babies out of her. That his thrusts would be so hard that her water break over both of them. All she wanted was to safely play at breeding. Now she would give anything to finally have the babies out of her. She would cry over the cumbersome weight of her belly that taxed her hips so. She wanted them out. She wanted her libido under control. She wanted to think straight and to have her light body back. She wanted herself back and to try and forget the swollen sex crazed creature she had allowed herself to devolve into.

A wave of exhaustion washed over her like a heat wave, and she didn’t want to move. But she knew she needed to be ready. She had promised him that today she would finally start getting things together and the house would be cleaned. They had made a pact last night as they finally calmed down on their soaked sheets that they would do better and have more control over themselves.They were even going to get the nursery ready on Saturday. She leaned forward bending her knees to stand, and the edge of her chair softly clipped her exposed and engorged clit. There was no pain, but she cringed before she even felt the bolt rush between her legs. Suddenly she was leaking down her aching thighs. She could feel the moisture coating her lips, her legs moving easily against each other as her natural lubrication entered overdrive.

Pressing both palms against the oak table, she tried to steady herself, one breeze away from collapsing with the hunger in her sex. Her knees bent as she pushed back against the desire she felt.

“I can’t be like this. I can’t let myself react this way.” She thought for the millionth time.

Remembering the rough, delicious romp that brought her here, running over the memory of him pumping his cum into her unprotected cunt, she dropped a hand to her clit. Her arm circles around the globe, stretching, stretching a little more. Slowly, She rotated two fingers in circles. Her belly bumped up against the table edge gently. Her head droped back as her lips parted with a gasp. Her other hand caressing the top of her stomach. “Your daddy do this to me,” She thought. “Your daddy made me this way. And I like-“

She heard his car pulling up and parking outside. She turned quickly as she could and began slowly waddling her way across the room to retrieve some pants, shorts, a skirt - anything. The engine turns off. A door opens, slams. And the softer sound of gravel under boots. She is still bottomless, her chest heaving with desire, her face flushed, and her pussy drenched. She had wasted another day going from one extreme to another. Moping and feeling sorry for herself or unable to keep her hands off of her own body.

David entered and saw her there. Without realizing what he was doing he took in a deep breath, smelling her pheromones permeating the air. His hand instinctively went to the crotch of his jeans and he had to fight himself to pull it away. “God that smell” he thought. It was everywhere now. That deep earthy musky scent that made it hard to think. It had gotten steadily worse as Abby entered the third trimester and it seeped off of her in waves. “She’s just started her ninth month. What will it be like in a week? Two?” David thought as he silently put down the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. “Will we be nothing more than animals fucking each other raw?”. He began to put away the items he purchased for the two of them. Soon to be four. “And what about the twins if we keep up like this? What if I can’t help myself and hurt her or send her into labor when she’s not ready?” David looked towards Abby who was stretching as best she could with her hands on the small of her back. The massive dome of her belly shot out into the air. New angry red stretch marks had appeared and he could see the veins in the taut firm skin. “What if she begs me to stop but I won’t because I can literally feel her contracting around my cock?” David groaned at the idea as he felt himself twitch in his pants. It was almost like he could feel the weight of his full testicles sitting on his warm thigh. It was starting to hurt. David tried to focus by looking at their home and any hopes he had for normalcy were put out. Half of the clothes which he had washed were still sitting in the basket while the rest had been thrown all over in a frenzy. “She couldn’t find anything comfortable to wear” he noted. Dishes still sat untouched and stacked on the kitchen counter and sink. The kitchen floor was covered in crumbs and take out boxes sat untouched by the mounting garbage bags. Random “debris” was everywhere. Items they had knocked over and slammed into when they tore into each other were still strewn about. She hadn’t done anything all day.

He sighed as felt useless frustration rise up inside of himself. We just - we talked about this -"He stopped dead in his tracks when he looked at her. She had tears welling up in her eyes as she stood there, feet aching from the weight. “I’m sorry” she trembled as her left hand caressed her massive belly. The other hand was below her belly with a mind of its own. Her fingers running through the dark thicket that grown wild and taken over. “I don’t want to be like this” She whimpered as a tear ran down her cheek. Her dark nipples were rock hard and poking through the soggy material of her tank top.

[thezombieprostitute]

Fireflies

Written for Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration.

Prompts: catching fireflies; “who thought a place with mosquitoes was a good idea?”

Summary: Jake helps you kick off your vacation in the best way.

You've been having such a rough few weeks, maybe even few months at work and Jake has been trying so hard to help you out. You finally have some time off coming up and he's been working hard on figuring out all the things you can do, that you need to do, to help you really relax and enjoy the time off.

He's definitely starting you out on the right foot by picking you up from work. You step into the car, give him a kiss, and just collapse into your seat.

“So what's the plan, Jakey?”

“It's a surprise,” he smiles. He hasn't hidden the fact that he'll be taking care of you but he refused to tell you all the ideas he'd come up with.

“Can we get some food first?”

“That actually is part of the plan! Let's go get your favorite fast food.”

“Yes! You're the best, Jakey!” You lean over and kiss him again before buckling up and heading out.

It's about an hour-and-a-half later and you swear Jake is driving to the middle of nowhere. The only reason you're not grumpy is because he got you extra fries without even having to ask if you wanted them. The sun is low in the sky and you haven't seen any signs of civilization for a while.

“Jake, are we lost?”

“Nope,” he answers confidently. “I've got the GPS and I managed to bounce off some...unsanctioned satellites so we can always have a signal.”

“So, where are we going?”

“I told you, it's a surprise!”

You give him a suspicious look but his grin never falters. He takes a left onto what looks more like a path than a road and drives for another twenty minutes or so. At least the scenery is nice. You don't often get to the woods like when you were little. You kinda miss them. The path is taking you through quite the forest and you think it'd be nice to take a walk through them with Jake. Maybe that's what he has planned!

The path ends at a clearing in the woods with a small lake. Jake immediately declares “we're here” and jumps out to start getting things from the trunk of the car. You chuckle at his enthusiasm and step out, taking a look at the area. You and Jake are the only signs of civilization out here. It really is just a lake in a clearing. You know you've told Jake you wanted to get to the woods more, but you'd kinda hoped he'd opt for a cabin or something.

You feel a mosquito bite on your arm and instinctively slap at it. Then another. Then another!

“Jake,” you call to him, “please tell me you brought bug spray!” Jake is walking towards with a cooler and he stops. His expression betrays his answer. “You brought us out to the woods without bug spray?! It's mosquito season and we're right by a body of water!” You're still smacking spots on your arms.

Jake's head drops, “I...I didn't think of that.” He winces and you know he's been bit as well. “I just...this spot is...” he drops the cooler and starts smacking the bugs that are increasing in number with the darkening skies.

“Let's get back in the car,” you suggest. He doesn't argue and makes sure you're safely in before he puts gets in. Within the safety of the car, the swarm of mosquitos dwindles and you're both able to take out the few that make it into the car.

Jake lets out a sad sigh, “they said this place would be best.”

You turn to Jake, “who thought a place with mosquitoes was a good idea?”

“I cross-referenced a bunch of firefly websites with angler forums to find the best places we could go to for fireflies. I wanted you to start your vacation with a little magic and I fucked that up.” He sags in his seat, resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

Your heart flutters at how sad he looks. He really did want to do something nice for you. Something he knew you would love. Taking you to the woods, seeing fireflies. If it weren't for the mosquitos, or the lack of bug spray, it really would've been a wonderful night.

You gently caress his cheek, “hey, you tried. You put in a lot of effort for this and you know I appreciate that.” He turns to you and sees your gentle smile. “We still had a night of good food and even better company.”

“You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” you assure him with a kiss. “We should probably head home, though.”

Jake nods and buckles in while you do the same and look out the window.

“Jake!” you quietly yell. “Jake! Look! The fireflies!”

Sure enough, the telltale flickers of light are starting up all around the car. You're absolutely giddy with excitement, even tearing up a little. It's been so long since you've seen so many in one place! You stop making coherent statements and just give appreciative noises of delight as you unbuckle and practically bounce around inside the car to look at them from every window.

By the time you calm down, Jake is just staring at you with loving eyes. You grab him for as big a hug as you can get in the vehicle.

“This was the best, Jake! Thank you so much!”

Tagging @alicedopey; @bigtreefest; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly