#the ones that worked together for ages. that makes sense. but the other new hire like

[808airsoftbros]

Forgotten or Not (Nana/Bae Suzy)

Author: This is a commission hiring from my good friend @elryuse but I added my own edits and twists to it so I hope you all enjoy it. Also if you want to read more of my fics check out my Masterlist

Y/N's POV

The grand dinner event was a whirlwind of glitz and glamour. The air was thick with anticipation as fans worldwide gathered to celebrate K-pop's meteoric rise. As a relatively new member of the scene, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves.

Suzy and Nana, my two girlfriends, were by my side. Their presence was a comforting balm amidst the chaos. We had been together for several years, our love a quiet, steady force in our lives.

As the evening progressed, I couldn't shake the feeling of a growing divide between the older and newer generations of idols. The younger stars, like Blackpink, exuded a confidence bordering on arrogance. Jennie and Lisa, in particular, were known for their outspoken nature.

I overheard them making derogatory remarks about the older generation, dismissing them as "grandmas" and claiming they were relics of the past. My blood boiled.

“If it weren’t for us we wouldn’t be in this position in the leaderboards!” Taeyeon argued but Jennie simply sniffed.

“Hm. Maybe so but your time is over and there is nothing left for you to give now it’s time make way for new gen idols like us!” Jennie replied and Lisa snickered.

“Enjoy your time Grandma, while it lasts~” Lisa remarked and laughed as they walked away.

I could tell Taeyeon-Noona wanted to say more but she didn’t because we all knew they were right…

I had always admired the pioneers of K-pop. It’s true they had paved the way for artists like me and the fact that our time is nearing but to see them treated with such disrespect was infuriating. Suzy and Nana tried to calm me down.

"Don't do it," Suzy whispered, her voice firm.

"It's not worth it." Nana agreed. "They're just young and naive. They'll learn eventually."

I knew they were right, but my anger refused to subside. As I watched the younger idols perform on stage, I couldn't help but feel a sense of resentment. I had worked hard to get to where I was, and I didn't appreciate being dismissed so easily.

“I know but they didn’t have to be so rude about it!” I pointed out and Nana sighed.

“To tell you the truth… I was just like them when I was there age, when Afterschool debuted we were one of the best there was and for the previous generation of my time, we showed no sympathy in their situation, we thought we were invincible and we’d last forever… But I was wrong, as we got older, dancing and singing along with the ruthless practices got more difficult and eventually our company retired us and were quietly replaced by younger rookie idols and eventually we were forgotten,” Nana explained her story.

“And this cycle will always continue as long as K-pop stands, our companies are always working on training better and stronger idols than will ever be, and eventually as they get older they will soon feel the same as we did, we are lucky enough to still be in the industry as actresses, and in some cases… It doesn’t matter how old or how young idols are, they too will be replaced before they know it,” Suzy finished giving a dead serious look in my eyes.

That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about Suzy and Nana's words. They reminded me of the transient nature of fame. One day, I too would be considered outdated and replaced by a new generation of idols.

It was a harsh reality, but it was one that I would have to face. I realized that I had been so focused on proving myself that I had lost sight of what was truly important. I had been so eager to be recognized as a rising star that I had forgotten to appreciate the journey.

The next morning, as I prepared for another event, I felt a newfound sense of perspective. I had faced a challenge, and I had come out stronger on the other side.

I realized that the future of K-pop was bright, and I was excited to be a part of it. As I stepped onto the stage that day, I felt a sense of peace.

I knew that I had a responsibility to the younger generation of idols. I would be their mentor, their guide. And I would do everything in my power to ensure that they were treated with respect.

But most importantly, I would cherish the love and support of my two incredible girlfriends, Suzy and Nana. Their love was a constant in my life, a beacon of light in the ever-changing world of K-pop.

The incident at the dinner event had brought Suzy and Nana even closer to me. The shared experience had deepened our bond, revealing a new level of understanding and empathy between us. Nana, always the practical one, had taken the lead in comforting me in the aftermath of the event.

Her gentle words and warm embrace had provided me with the solace I needed. Suzy, on the other hand, had offered a different kind of support.

Her quiet strength and unwavering belief in me had given me the courage to face the challenges ahead. As time went on, I found myself appreciating the unique qualities of each woman in my life.

Nana's grounded nature and unwavering support provided a sense of stability. Suzy's quiet strength and unwavering belief in me gave me the courage to face any challenge.

Their love for me was a constant in my life, a beacon of light in the ever-changing world of K-pop. Together, we navigated the ups and downs of our careers with grace and resilience.

We celebrated each other's successes and offered support during difficult times. Our bond grew stronger with each passing day, a testament to the power of love and friendship.

~

Five years later…

As five years passed since the dinner event, though may seem little time has passed but it felt a decade, the industry changed drastically than I could ever imagine. Blackpink who were one the worlds most famous K-pop group eventually fell under.

With new groups such as Le Sserafim, IVE, NewJeans, and others debuting, they got off huge while Blackpink went off the leaderboards with their absence of comebacks and attending other events and the same can be said for the previous generation groups.

As for myself, I decided to propose to my two beautiful girlfriends and when they said “yes” I was ecstatic and we got married a month later, and already discussing our retirement from the industry as we believed we’ve earned it after working for years.

One evening, as we sat together on the balcony of our shared apartment, I turned to Suzy and Nana.

"I'm so grateful for you both," I said. "You've made my life so much richer."

Suzy and Nana smiled at me. "We're grateful for you too," Suzy replied.

[warping-realities]

Online Scam - An OnlyFags Story

Inspired by the concept created by @johnbrand and @boysmentfs

Henry wasn’t having a good day; hell, it wasn’t even a good week or month. He had been stoked for college, ready to hit up new places and live it up, but the truth was that everything was turning into a total shitshow. His roommate was barely tolerable and he hadn’t made a single friend yet. All of this was messing with his head. But what really got to him was being totally broke, not having a dime to his name. His dad sent him a bit of cash, still stuck between being proud of having a son in college and feeling ashamed that son was openly gay. Henry, a name picked by his late mother, who passed down her delicate traits both physically and mentally, knew his dad earned that money busting his ass as a mechanic at a big car shop, and it didn’t come in large amounts, but surely he could send more than the pathetic little sum he was sending. The young man wondered if he’d get more cash if he had a sports scholarship instead of one for his grades.

While hunting for a side gig that could hook him up with some cash, Henry got blindsided by a new message alert on his computer screen. It wasn’t just the message itself; it was who it was from. Larry Thomas was in charge of the more complex systems at the car company where Henry’s dad worked. He was a relatively new hire, and Henry’s dad didn’t get along with the guy at all, with Henry only knowing him from the last company holiday party, since Henry’s dad didn’t want a “degenerate faggot” near his son. The irony of the situation was lost on the old man.

“Hey, kid, I heard your dad telling the guys he cut your funds to force you to man up or whatever. Maybe this will help you scrape together some cash!” the message from the man said, along with a link. Feeling like he had nothing to lose and pissed off at his dad, who he was now sure was punishing him for being gay, Henry clicked the link, which immediately started downloading some kind of app.

“Shit, I hope this ain’t a virus,” he muttered in front of the computer screen.

After loading, a logo popped up at the top: OnlyFags. What the hell was that? Some kind of joke from Larry? Did he team up with Henry’s dad just to humiliate him? Nah, that didn’t make sense; they hated each other. Still, Henry had caught a few looks from Larry directed at his dad that made him think there was some kinda unrequited attraction there… Before he could do anything, a text box popped up asking “Are you a creator or a user?” followed by two more boxes for a username and password. Henry’s computer acted on its own, typing in a sequence so fast he couldn’t read anything that was written or checked. The screen froze for a moment, a spinning circle indicating something was loading, and soon a bunch of boxes appeared on the screen with various profiles.

A massive shock hit Henry with what those profiles showed. He stared in horror and disgust at what they displayed. Mostly dudes between twenty and forty years old with their bodies on full display, playing with pierced nipples, licking feet, or even getting off in plain sight! He moved the mouse, intending to close that crap and delete that app from his computer ASAP.

But fear took over as, instead of shutting down that damn app, the mouse pointer moved on its own to click the profile button in the opposite corner of the screen. The screen loaded again, and there was a profile filled out for him— name, age, height, weight, shoe size, and even dick size. All of it wildly different from reality. A warning popped up quickly: “Your profile picture is outdated! Would you like to take a new one?”

A sudden wave of even greater horror washed over Henry as his hand clicked “yes.” The front camera opened, and his hand set the timer for twenty seconds before propping it against the headboard of the bed, moving to the other side. Almost robotically, he took off his shirt and tossed it on the floor before adjusting his pose for the camera. He moved, trying to get his foot in the shot while flexing one arm, not realizing he’d gained a bunch of pounds of pure muscle and that his delicate size 7 feet had ballooned to a more robust size 10.

Paralyzed and unable to move, he saw a message pop up on the computer screen. “New photo uploaded! Error!!! Photo does not match profile. Correcting parameters!” Scared, he quickly summoned the last bit of willpower he had and tried to get up and shut that app down once and for all, only to be shoved back by an invisible wall, with all the impact you’d expect from a high-speed crash. Dizzy and confused, he felt his face and body go through a sensation of distortion, and suddenly… nothing! The most complete emptiness reigned in his mind. He didn’t know who he was or even his own name. And he stayed like that for several seconds, staring into the inner void.

Until a new notification appeared on the screen, grabbing his attention. “Success! Parameters corrected; new profile picture published!” Immediately, likes started flooding in on his photo and profile, making him focus on the computer screen just as the computer camera turned on again and a live stream began.

He quickly, almost automatically, repositioned himself, flexing one of the powerful arms he’d just acquired. A notification on the app pinged: “New donation from DirtyFaggotMike.”

The app, once again on its own, opened a list of donations from various users with similar and usernames, ranging from small amounts to hundreds of dollars. Henry felt a rush of pride inside him as memories of all the degrading content about that kind of people and the outrageous amounts of cash received for it flooded his mind!

A new comment appeared in at the top of the page with a $100 donation. “Master, your giant hands turn me on; I’d love to be smothered by them.” Henry found himself talking automatically to the screen: “Keep dreaming, faggot. You’re lucky enough to be able to worship them from a distance!” he replied, grinning arrogantly as he admired his own flexed arm.

A part of Henry still intact, lost in the gigantic void that his memories had become, managed to feel mortified; he didn’t want any of those horrible messages to be received by him, let alone responded to that way. That little remaining fraction tried again to regain control, only to be shoved back as the being occupying his body massaged his powerful pecs and spoke laughing arrogantly while getting up: “Where’s my money, you fags? You won’t get shit from me if this account doesn’t start filling up!”

The next message he received was the reply he’d been waiting for—a private message from LickLuckyLarry. “Master Hunter, I’ve been one of your loyal followers for months and I want to pay a good amount to see you jerk off if it’s not too much audacity on my part.”

Henry… Hunter smiled at that message. With a smirk on his face, he replied, “Disgusting faggot. Of course, it’s a hell of a lot of audacity for a worm like you to ask me that! But it’s you pathetic beings that keep my wallet full. I’m willing to accept, but it’ll depend on how much you’re willing to pay for all this!” he replied, grinning wickedly as his hands roamed over his abs and thighs, tentatively close to his cock.

“Master, please,” the guy replied, “I’d do anything to see you work that giant cock until it explodes with your alpha jizz.”

“Great, let’s talk privately; don’t turn on the camera! I don’t wanna see that faggot face of yours, it’ll be hard enough to jerk off knowing a worm like you is watching! And as for the rest of you, take note, faggots, you should all aspire to be like him.”

He leaned forward and closed the live window, before before lying down in his bed and focusing on talking privately in his smartphone with the guy willing to pay to see him play with his own cock. “I said I didn’t wanna see that pathetic face of yours, faggot,” he said upon seeing the man’s face appear on the app chat screen.

“Sorry, Master Hunter, I couldn’t help it; I promise to pay you a much bigger sum, but I wanted to know if you remember me?”

“And why the hell would I remember a pathetic faggot like you?” Hunter asked with a wicked grin.

“Because I work with your dad and… you… you let me suck your cock at the last company holiday party!”

“And? You’re not the first little bitch I’ve let do that! There’s no shame in showing off a bit or even letting one of you kind pay for a blowjob in the absence of something better. And that whore secretary didn’t want to give me any… Anyway, don’t think you’ll get a discount just because you know my old man, and if you try to blackmail me, I’ll use these weapons to smother you in a way way different from what that other faggot wanted!”

“No, Master Hunter… it’s not that… it’s just that you look so much like your dad! You’re a twenty-years-younger copy of him… I… I’ll pay you a bigger sum… but can you refer to yourself as Master Rusty while you jerk off?”

“So you have a fetish for my old man, huh? You sick fuck! But I’m cool with that! Just keep that ugly mug off the screen and don’t you dare talk to me while I do what needs to be done!”

“Thanks, Master Rusty… just one more thing, that mustache you’re growing makes you look even more like your dad… if I may be so bold, I’d say you should keep it.”

“I’ve allowed too much boldness, you worm. Now let’s wrap this up. Camera off,” Hunter said as he laid back on the bed, the camera aimed at him.

“So you want a piece of old Rusty, huh? You little shit?” Hunter teased, while Henry’s little voice tried to fight against the wave of mockery and arrogance filling his mind.

“A new chance to suck that cock? Only in your dreams.” He continued, with vivid memories of orgies with various women and dozens of live streams and videos for desperate gay guys into humiliation flooding his mind.

“You can look and admire, you can worship me from a distance, but this here, this here you’ll never have again pathetic faggot,” he concluded before exploding with a huge load that covered his entire abdomen.

“Thanks for the grand, loser.”

He ended the call and saved a copy of the video showing only the upper part of his body, teasing the release the full presentation for his fans after they donated a good chunk of cash.

As he lay back down, distracted, thinking about the bizarre situation with a coworker of his dad’s and what Old Rusty would think if he found out where the money supporting his son extravagant lifestyle and his monthly allowances was coming from. In that moment of distraction what remained of Henry inside him made one last attempt to surface, somehow managing to miraculously regain a bit of control. Thinking about how to fix this, Henry looked at his body; however, he seemed… normal. His enormous size 15 feet were giving off a potent funk as always. His well-developed calves giving way to tree trunk thighs, while hanging between them was his pride, his massive 10-inch cock, with which he toyed a bit before continuing his investigation. His abs were chiseled like an 8-brick wall, and just above them were the two slabs of flesh that were his pecs. He grabbed his phone and opened the camera, seeing his face; indeed, a near-exact copy of his dad’s face, square and masculine. The overall impression was one of arrogance and disdain, which precisely defined his personality.

He dropped the phone and smiled, satisfied, as he rested his head on his powerful arms. “Damn, Hunter, you’re one hot piece of ass,” he said to himself. “These faggots will never get tired of you,” he concluded, knowing that with a body and a cock like his, money would never be a problem.

Hundreds of miles away from Hunter’s dorm, Larry was finishing up his third or fourth jerk-off session, this time looking at the gif that served as Hunter’s profile picture on the app. That, he thought, was the best decision he’d ever made, seeing the perfect copy of Rusty that Hunter had become, a copy willing to treat him in the degrading way he’d dreamed for months that his dad would do. As he reached orgasm, remembering all the insults and humiliations, he wondered to himself if there was a chance that the son of one of the other coworkers would fall into the same trap; well, it wouldn’t hurt to try, especially if the reward was as delicious as Hunter.

[taxonomicons]

AITA: I (6000+ M) took a long distance job offer after my (6000+ M) kissed me, now he thinks I don’t love him

Hey Reddit, throwaway because I have quite nosy coworkers that know my other account. I have been at this heavenly company for a really long time but a couple years ago they fired me for being involved with someone from a rival company. Now he’s my best friend. He also got fired but he never really like his company anyway and doesn’t seem that upset about it. He lost his apartment though so he’s been coming over a lot more often so he doesn’t have to sleep in his car.

The problem is that the company I used to work for offered me a senior position out of the blue, which has basically been my dream since I can remember. I knew it would mean being away from my best friend though so I worked out a deal to have him come with me, and the company actually offered to hire us both. When I went to tell him the good news he blew up at me and said this isn’t what he wanted and he’d rather start over somewhere new. When I told him this is better for both of us he kissed me and stormed off. We’ve been companions, friends, whatever you would call it for ages but we’ve never kissed before.

After he stormed out he waited by his car but I didn’t go after him. I don’t know if it was the anger or the fear of what he might say but I couldn’t face him. I still took the job and left him because I can’t miss this opportunity even if it means losing him, and this is where I think I might be TA. I’m really frustrated that I stuck my neck out and got both of us jobs again, and he won’t even consider it. Especially after he’s been at my place so much and clearly wants to be more than friends I feel like it only makes sense for us to both work together again. We are such a good team and I don’t understand why he think abandoning our lives makes more sense then trying to repair the ones we’ve got. I really love him and don’t want to hurt his feelings but now he’s not talking to me. Was it wrong to take the job even though I know I can fix things and make it better for him?

Edit: for everyone asking why he wouldn’t want to work it’s because he’s worked for this company before and they fired him and a bunch of coworkers for trying to unionize/question higher management.

Edit 2: Okay I’m trying to respond to as many of these as I can but I get it I’m the asshole. I am going to go after him and try to make things right as soon as I get off work. Will post update soon.

[fancyfeathers]

And Then There Were None

(Yandere William James Moriarty x Author!Reader)

Based on this post

TW//serial killing, panic attacks, slight gore if you squint, smoking, usage of drugs(smoking), kidnapping, implied isolation, heavy guilt, heavy depression

And Then There Were None (Yandere William James Moriarty /w Author Darling Masterlist)

Six months, you spent six months, a half a year, in America, New York City specifically, writing and getting inspiration for your next novel. You did not go alone of course, you made the trip with a friend of yours, Alex Pendel, an American novelist who grew up in Manhattan. You stayed with their family during your trip and you certainly learned a thing or two from the very family who runs New York in the palm of their hand, but that all is besides the point now, because now you are home.

Alex took your hand, helping you as you could pick up the skirt of your dress, as you stepped off the walkway that led from the ship to the dock. You noticed as you disembarked the strange looks Alex got from the people all around, you suppose that the suit she wore would certainly draw eyes, you had gotten so used to her family back in America and they were used to her more masculine sense in fashion, her mother even telling you with a fond tone how much Alex looked like her father. But here in London where no one truly feared her or her family that look was bound to draw stares. You also clocked that your luggage was nowhere to be seen as you disembarked which would make anyone else raise an eyebrow but to the two of you, this was just how any other trip would come to its end.

“You wanna bet how many of them came?” Alex asked as you began making your way down the dock, your heeled boots and her slacks making a sharp and dull clicking sound from each of you both as you walked together, arms interlocked. “I bet Réne and Charlotte will be there, I think Evelyn had that family reunion this week.”

“No that was last week, Charlotte I think is up in York, it is her younger brother’s birthday today.” You remarked after Alex’s comment which drew a hum from her as she released your arm to grab a cigarette from her suit jacket pocket.

Réne Drew, Charlotte Basset, and Evelyn Jay, along with Alex Pendel, they all were your best friends. You were all members of a small writer’s club you formed, there were a few other members as well but you all were the founders, you all made the payments for the building in Mayfair, hired the staff, and sent out the invitations to any promising authors, journalists, and poets who may be willing to join your club and they began to pour in. Evelyn and Réne were the ones who were at the club the most out of all of you.

Réne lived a few blocks away in a flat he began renting after moving to London from Marseille, a port city in France. Hisfamily was old money French family who based their fortune in the wine and alcohol industry, but his elder brother was set to inherit everything, so off to England he went, attending Oxford before settling in London and beginning his writing career and becoming a bestselling author know for his works that silently shatter the illusion of humanity in a poignant way by holding a mirror up to us and saying: look at what we truly are, and look at what we pretend to be.

Evelyn was a young heiress from an old money family as well, but one from here in London, titleless, and she was the youngest member of the club as far as age goes, only eighteen when you all founded the club. She is a seemingly innocent and sweet young lady but the human mind can be a very dark place. She often asks, when you all are at the club, questions that truly terrify you, for example…

“Would hunting another person still be considered hunting an animal because humans are a form of animals?”

“If you were being burnt alive would the smoke or flames kill you first?”

“I think there is a murderer in my neighborhood, I keep on seeing traces of blood by the park… Do you think they are burying their victims there?”

She always had the sweetest smile and is honestly quite kind, if not a bit creepy.

Then lastly there was Lady Charlotte Basset, the eldest child and heiress of a noble family, she has more money than she knows what to do with. She moved to London to find direction with her life but instead found strange happiness in her family’s estate there, so she wrote about it and it sold in the blink of an eye. When not at her desk or at the writer’s club, she is often seen taking you all out on the town to spoil you bunch or out with one of her brothers, gambling and drinking. She often takes Evelyn to visit haunted sites all around London so she can get inspiration for her books and scare off suitors with the gossip of the seances she holds in her own estate, which may or may not be true.

“(Name)! Alex!” A high pitched voice called out to you two as you neared the end of the large pier. You looked to where the pier met the land and spotted a young lady with light brown hair and a long yellow dress that lacked any corset and was quite old, no doubt a gift from her grandmother from when she was a girl in the regency era. But that young lady was indeed familiar to the two of you, Evelyn Jay.

She ran over to the two of you, wrapping her arms around Alex first, which was returned with a hesitant hug and sheepish smile from the New Yorker, similar to how an older sister would greet their younger sibling when their friends were watching. Evelyn quickly broke away to greet you, hugging you slightly less tighter than how she hugged Alex. “Oh I missed you two so much! So much has happened! Réne went to Moscow to meet with a publisher and translated there to see if his next novel could be published in Russia first since it takes place there- oh and Charlotte got to meet the queen on her father’s birthday in the spring, and she said Charlotte looked absolutely radiant and-“

“Evelyn!” Alex cut her off with a wide smile across her face as she set a hand on the young lady’s shoulder in an attempt to pry her off of you. “We just got back, give us time to breathe, you can tell us all about what happened later.”

“I know it is just so good to see the both of you.” She spoke in a rush as she slipped her upper limbs away from your torso and then she took a breath and sigh, finally calming down as she looked over the both of you, her gloved hands folding in front of her. “It is… it is just so good to see you, both of you.”

There was something lingering in her voice, something that did not feel quite right but you just summed it up to perhaps your absence over the half a year.

Evelyn led you both to the carriage that she arrived in, and indeed your luggage was being packed up on the back and top of it. While the carriage driver was working on packing up your belongings, you spotted a man in a blue and brown plaid vest with a matching blue tie, his brown hair and eyes matched the brown on his vest while the gold glasses he wore that matched the gold buttons on his shirt and vest. He had a cigarette between his lips and fingers much like Alex did, and this was another familiar face, Réne Drew. He spotted the three of you and waves with one hand while the other pulled the cigarette from his lips.

“I saw Evelyn run off to look for the two of you, I would have gone with her but I just do not have the same energy she has, not with the nights of sleep I have been getting at least.” The French author spoke as a greeting as the two of you approached within ten feet of the carriage. He opened his free hand and arm to you, embracing you in a small hug for a moment, but not Alex since he knows she is not the affectionate type, with the exception of Evelyn that is. “It is so wonderful to see the both of you, truly it is.”

Something was off in his tone as well, now that was strange, Evelyn was one thing, but both Evelyn and Réne, that was how you knew something was wrong.

You glanced over at Alex and you saw a glance that was exchanged with you, silently signaling that she picked up on what you noticed as well.

“Réne, are you alright?” You questioned your friend as he broke away from the hug and he did not make eye contact with you for a long moment, only bugging his cigarette up to his lips to take a long draw from it. “Réne-“

“Sir… and ladies.” You heard the carriage driver call out to you all, hesitating for a moment as he was about to say ma’am but seeing as there were now three women he was addressing he changed his choice of word. “Everything is packed up.”

“Lovely.” Réne responded as he turned to face the carriage driver for a brief moment before looking back at you and Alex. “Let’s… we can discuss this in the carriage.”

Réne helped Evelyn into the carriage first, then attempted to help Alex who simply slapped his hand away and stepped in herself saying. “Réne, do you need help getting in a carriage? The answer is no and neither do I.”

Then Réne reached out to help you in the carriage-

Suddenly you were knocked over as a gentleman walked past you, the heel of your shoe getting caught in between the bricks that formed the pavement below you. You hit the ground, no doubt dirtying your dress that Alex’s mother got for you in America.

“Oh dear, are you alright Miss?” You hear the voice of the man who knocked you over as he reached out a hand to help you up, his voice smooth and calm if not a little worried in your distress. You looked up at him, he was a young man with blond hair and scarlet red eyes, he was dressed in fine clothes, a brown suit and red tie to be specific.

“Yes, I am, just a little fall is nothing to worry about.” You responded as you took his gloved hand with your own as he helped you up, pulling you to your feet. Behind him you saw another gentleman who looked quite similar only the other wore glasses and had a scar that hid itself behind his hair. You looked back to him and smiled, giving him a little nod in gratitude and you extended your hand to him, more socializing was a habit you picked up in America. “Thank you for helping me up.”

“It was the least I could do since I was the one who knocked you over.” He took your hand in his own, giving it a firm shake and squeeze. “I am Professor James Moriarty, it is a pleasure to meet a lady as polite as you, Miss...”

“Oh (Name).” You watched as his smile turned into an expression of slight shock. “Is something wrong, Professor Moriarty?”

“Not at all, I am just a fan of your work that is all.” He responded, shaking his expression away with a slightly embarrassed chuckle and smile.

“Well that is certainly a nice thing to hear after my trip home, I am glad you enjoy my work, Professor.” After your comment you heard Réne clear his throat, reminding you that everyone was waiting on you. You glanced back at your friend before looking back at the professor and giving him one last smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Professor Moriarty.”

“You as well.” He responded as you gave him a small wave goodbye as you turned back Réne who had his arm outstretched to help you into the carriage.

You stepped up into the carriage, swinging yourself over into the corner next to Evelyn that faced away from where the carriage was headed. Alex and Réne sat across from you, Réne nearest to you and Alex nearest to Evelyn. You felt the carriage begin to move, most likely off to your home first since you lived closest to the docks, though close would be an understatement, but that was besides the point. As you finally pulled away from the docks as a whole, Alex was the first to speak up.

“So what has you two all fussed? I thought you bunch were supposed to be happy we are home.” Her comment and tone would have normally drew smiles from you bunch but instead worried glances were exchanged between Réne and Evelyn, the silence was louder than anything else in this moment.

“Guys, what is wrong? You are starting to scare me.” You questioned, your own tone turning serious and grim as you looked between Evelyn and Réne who were tucked into their own separate corners of the carriage.

“While you both were gone something happened, at first no one thought much of it, that is until something like it happened again a few months later, about a week ago.” He began to explain, his hands nervously fidgeting with the pocket watch chain that was connected to his vest. “We thought about writing to you both when the first one happened but chalked it up to a coincidence but then the second one happened and you were already aboard the ship by then and thought it best to wait until you were back here to tell you-“

“Tell us what, Réne?” You questioned, drawing a brief silence from the French author again and his words were picked up by Evelyn.

“Well you know your novels, the one with a blinding snowstorm and a homicidal maniac and then the other one where the little girl poisoned her grandfather with eserine?” Evelyn asked you which you responded with a scoff.

“Of course I do, I wrote them.” You watched as Réne reached into his satchel he brought with him and pulled out two newspapers, one was slightly worn and older than the other, a few months if you had to guess. Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed, and your heart began to pound as he handed them to you.

Then your heart stopped as you saw the headlines.

“Serial Killer in the Blizzard; multiple found dead.”

“Earl of Kent found poisoned with eserine.”

Your lips fell agape as you stared at the papers in your hands, you were so far away from reality in your shock that you did not even notice Alex snatching them out of your hands and begin reading over the paper herself. You must have been in shock for a few minutes because when you came to, Evelyn was rubbing your shoulders and Alex was swearing up a storm and Réne was trying to get her to calm down.

“The deaths were all nobility, but they mimicked your books.” Evelyn commented as she helped you sit up straight from how you sat slouched in your seat.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean!?” Alex snapped back at the young lady across from her.

“Think about it, think about all the major murders over the last few years, who has been killing the nobles of the nation or their aliases at least?” Réne asked and she fell to silence once again, minus the barely audible swears slipping from her lips, leaving you to piece together everything in your already distressed and confused mind.

“…the… the Lord of Crime.” Your words were breathy and uneven as you spoke your response but Réne nodded, his expression as grim as it has been since you stepped into the carriage.

“We… No one knows his motive behind choosing your books, but Scotland Yard has ruled you out from being a suspect since you were in America when the initial incidents took place, but they still have no clear suspects yet.” Réne continued on, your shaking form barely piecing together what he was saying. “We thought maybe you coming back to England would bring an end to them… but now thinking about that now it just sounds silly.”

“I… this can’t be true…”

The carriage was drawn to silence after you said those words, confirming that this indeed was reality.

—————————

You stood at the train station a suitcase packed that you carried, you were going to go visit your mother for a few weeks in your hometown, tell her about your time in America and all the parties you went to and things you saw in one of the most amazing cities in the world, but more importantly to find comfort after you heard about those murders and perhaps receive a bit of guidance on what to do.

“You have your ticket, right?” Little Evelyn asks as she bushed out the wrinkles in your coat as the train pulled up to the station. She had accompanied you to the station to say goodbye, but in reality your friends have not left you by yourself unless you were home since you found out about the murders of the Lord of Crime, it has been Almost three weeks now.

“Yes and I will be fine, Evelyn.” You replied to her worry with a smile which she gave a little huff to as the doors of the train opened up and made your head turn. You gave a glance back to Evelyn and she, like always, threw her arms around you and squeezed you tight, like she was afraid you would disappear into dust if she let go.

“Just be careful alright?” She spoke as she buried her face into your neck, muffling her voice slightly, to which you hummed in acknowledgement in response to her. She finally let go of you, her hands coming to rest on your lower upper arm, near your elbow. Her gaze flicked between you and the ground, as if she was scared to meet your gaze. “I will miss you.”

“I will only be gone a few weeks, it is not like I am going back to America.” You teased her which drew a wide smile across her face.

“I suppose that is true, just… be careful, please?”

“You already asked me that.”

“You already said that, but I will be.” You responded as you switched hands that your suitcase was in so that you could grab your ticket with your dominant hand and so that Evelyn would let go of you fully. “I’ll tell my mother that you said hello.”

“Please do- and oh ask her for the toffee she makes, I have been craving it since the holidays.” She added on, cutting herself off as soon as she remembered your mother’s cooking.

“I will.” There was a brief moment of silence between the two of you again that was broken with the whistle of the train blowing, telling you that you needed to board the train or be left behind. You turned your body but your head faced Evelynas you began to walk away. “Well I will see you in two weeks, Evelyn. We can have tea at the club when I get back.”

“That sounds lovely.”

You stepped up into the train proper as it began to move, almost catching you off guard which made you laugh slightly at your own stupidity. You began looking through the compartment, finding one that was free for your use, or in other words empty. Eventually you found one and got settled, setting your suitcase next to you for a brief moment while you pulled out a book to read, an American novel you bought during your time in the states, before you closed your suitcase and set it on the racks above you.

Time slowly drifted by as you made your way through the book, it was good, but time spent reading for you had just gotten short and shorter for you the sharper your mind got, so now the hours you spent as a child reading your favorite books from the library had turned into half an hour if that. You huffed a sigh as you closed the book and set it on your lap, but you slipped your index finger between the pages to save your spot, after all you are not some psychopath. You gazed out the window as the city of London faded into the countryside of England, it felt so quiet which was both strange and welcome since you really have not had a moment of silence since you were back in your hometown before leaving for America six months ago.

“Excuse me, would you mind if we joined you?” A voice from the hall asked, which silently told you that you must have left the door opened. You turned your head, ready to politely dismiss whoever was asking but-

“Oh Professor Moriarty, correct?” Your words escaped your mouth before you could even think about what you were saying, your sight and mouth working faster than your brain could process. Indeed the man from a few weeks prior at the docks was before you on the train, along with the other blonde man who you did not speak to at the docks and a brown haired man with the greenest eyes accompanying them.

“Miss (Name), I did not even realize it was you, what a pleasant surprise to see you again.” You gave William the same smile he gave you and silently gestured for the three of them to come into the compartment, after all the company could do you some good to take your mind off of things. William sat next to you and the other two gentlemen sat across from you both. William gestured to the both of them, specifically the one with brown hair first and then the blonde. “These are my brothers, Louis and Albert.”

“A pleasure to meet you both, my name is (Name). William and I met briefly at the docks in London when I was just arriving home from a trip to New York City.” You explained, though the explanation was more for Albert rather than Louis since you remember he was there despite him not saying away, but they both smiled in acknowledgement all the same. You glanced at William who was sitting next to you, and while your prior meeting was brief, he was the one you were most familiar with. “May I ask where you all are headed to?”

“I happen to teach mathematics at the university in Durham, but Albert is headed up there for business and Louis is managing our estate there.” He explained which drew a nod from his brothers. “And what about you?”

“Oh I am just visiting my mother and spending some time back in my hometown before heading back off into the world of editors and publishers.”

“You are from Alnwick, correct?” You heard Albert ask which caught you off guard and you nodded with a shocked expression on your face to his question which drew a laugh from him. “I just remembered William talking about one of your books and one of them taking place in the Alnwick Garden since that is your hometown.”

“Oh good, for a second I thought I had a stalker.” You laughed in relief which made everyone in the compartment break a smile at the very least, but then you suppose you do have a sort of stalker in the form of the Lord of Crime and that thought made your smile fade away. “But yes I am from Alnwick, but I moved to London when I started writing since my publisher and editor were located there and it was easier just walking to their office than having to take a whole long trip down there just to have an hour long meeting with them.”

“I suppose that does make sense.” William spoke with his own smile fading into a more relaxed expression. There was silence among you all once more for a minute or two before William chimed in again. “If I may ask another question, you just returned from America, I would think you would want to avoid travel for a time and stay in London to decompress and relax.”

“Well I just do not think I can relax there right now…” You answered, your gaze falling down to the book that sat in your lap with your finger wedged between its pages, your hands and palms especially growing a tad clammy. “…Since you are a fan of my books then I am sure you heard about what has happened with the Lord of Crime incidents involving two of them. My friends told me about it on the carriage ride back home and it has just been itching my mind in a way I do not like, so I decided some country air and family would do me some good.”

“I see….” It felt like William’s tone in voice changed slightly, growing darker, maybe drawing more into his thoughts for a moment, but only a moment. “Then I suppose it is a good thing to get away from all the commotion to recover from that shock.”

“I do hope so.”

You spent much of the train ride in silence, reading over the book you brought along with you, and then rereading it once you finished. Eventually the Moriarty brothers excused themselves to go to the dining car, they invited you but you rejected their offer since you would be having supper with your mother when you arrived in Alnwick and your mother would not you spoiling your appetite since she would certainly have company over to welcome your return, your grandparents who were still alive and your siblings if they were around. Besides, you wanted to look through your manuscripts and notes from America to see what you could use for your next novel since your stay in New York City was to force creation and inspiration and you certainly could not pull those out around William since you were told he was a fan of your work, spoiling something like your next novel would be cruel.

You read through your old writings and the scene of the city came flooding back to you. Honestly you wished you could go back now, forget about what has happened and just enjoy life, but now it feels like your lust for life has just vanished since Réne handed you those newspapers in the carriage when you and Alex returned home. You sighed, setting your papers, journal, and pen back on the seat and got up, a quick stretch and a trip to the washroom would do you some good. You slipped out from your and the Moriarty brother’s now empty compartment and into the hall. The train was fairly quiet this far into the trip you noted as you walked down the hall and looking around, one of the men in the compartments waving to you as you both made eye contact as you walked passed. The washroom was at the end of the cart while your compartment was at the front, you shut the washroom door after you and turned the lock so no one would walk in. You did not really need to use the bathroom, but you just really needed a change in scenery and a moment to freshen up, fixing your hair and running your hands over your dress to get the wrinkles out.

You smiled as you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, remembering a book you wrote a few years prior. It was on a train like this, an American tycoon was found murdered in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times with his door locked from the inside. The victim was actually inspired by one of Alex’s brothers who you met when he came to London to visit her and to attend to work affairs, whatever that may be, you learned not to ask questions when it came to her family and their family business.

You opened the washroom door before you stepped out into the hallway and began to walk back to your compartment. You thought back to your gardens in your hometown, that would be a good place to write if it was a clear day, write a few chapters of your book over the next few weeks before coming back down and handing it off to your editor which would give you some time to relax in London while he works on that, you could probably have time to meet with that new poet who had just become a member at your club while you away in America, they were from Germany to believed and-

Your thoughts were cut off as you stepped in what sounded like a puddle, that was strange, you were on a train, did someone spill their drink? No that could not be it, you were in the washroom for such a short time that they would probably still be here, trying to clean it up. You looked down at your boot covered foot to see what you had stepped in…

“What?”

That cannot be right, the puddle was a dark crimson red, like blood, how was that possible? Your eyes followed where the puddle was coming from, leaking out from a door to your right that you passed while walking to the washroom. You looked up into the glass of the door…

And the scream that ripped from your throat must have alerted the whole train.

Dead, the man you passed by earlier was dead…

No, that was not possible…

You could not have been in the washroom for more than five minutes…

But there he was, dead.

You did not even realize that the train staff was pushing you out of the way as they came running to the scene. They were also taken by their shock and had to hold back their screams as they could handle the situation. One of them stepped forward, and attempted to open the compartment door…

“It’s locked.”

Your eyes widened at that statement.

This couldn’t be-

“Get her back to her compartment, she needs to sit down.” The voice of one of them told another and you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and guided you back to your compartment. The door opened and the Moriarty brothers were already back and to them you must look like you just met death, and in a way you did. You felt William’s hands come to take you by your forearms to guide you down to your seat next to him while Albert talked to the crewman, but you could not process what they were saying as Louis and William were checking to see if you were alright as far as your physical condition, but mentally…

You were a mess, pale faced, tears rolling down your face, hyperventilating, all things someone should be after seeing a dead body…

Especially a murder based on one of your books.

Stay safe, that is what Evelyn told you before you left, well you do not feel safe anymore.

—————————

It has been months since that incident and you find yourself back in your study back at your townhouse in London. Since then there has been an increase in the incidents based on your books, the last one that happened three days ago was the seventh, and honestly all of this was driving you a bit mad. You had shut yourself in your house most days, your maid running out to the market on your behalf and your assistant running errands to you and dropping chapters off at your editor’s office, the only time you really went out was when you went to the writer’s club, those four walls were a sanctuary for your troubled mind where you pull hear about the stories your friends wrote up or listen to the poetry readings from the other club members.

Your home on the other hand felt as if it grew a frightening aura, the place where you thought up of the tales and deaths in your stories that were an escape from reality became the source of actual deaths and mass murders. Your stories and tales became reality, not the fiction you intended to be.

As for the identity of the killer, no one has even a clue of who the Lord of Crime may be, not even any of your friends or yourself whose job was to write about mysteries and secrets. You all used to get your hands on old unsolved cases from Scotland Yard that were open to the public and solve them for fun as to get inspiration for your books, they were old and the culprit was long dead by the time you got your hands on the file, but this was something else entirely, this was an actual live and real threat.

It was late in the evening and you sat in an armchair in your drawing room, the evening’s newspaper in your lap and a cigarette in between the middle and index fingers of your right hand while a glass of red wine sat on the table next to you, it was an expensive vintage that Réne had gifted to you for your birthday. Across from you sat your friends, Lady Charlotte Basset in the other arm chair with a glass of wine herself along with Alex Pendel laying down your velvet sofa, her head propped up on the arm rest and a cigarette between her lips. Charlotte was a richly dressed woman, dark brown hair and green eyes that were only complemented by the emerald green dress she wore with her white fur shawl that you believed was mink fur. The two of them were going out to a music hall, a cabaret, later tonight but stopped here on the way to check up on you.

“You think this Lord of Crime likes the theater? Cause’ his crimes feel like one big act.” Alex said as she pulled the cigarette from her lips to speak and blow out a large puff of smoke into the air. “Think about it, it is suspected that he is behind the deaths on the Noahtic, and Réne was on it and he told me it literally ended up with them on the stage of the ballet, nearly scared some of the performers half to death apparently.”

“That is certainly one way to make a spectacle of your victims.” Charlotte added as she twirled the glass of red wine in her hand, but her eyes were fixed on nothing in particular, just gazing off as she loses herself in thought. “But you would need other people to assist with all of his little shows, as if the victim and killer are the cast then you would need the crew, the question is who are these allies to this so-called Lord of Crime?”

“Dunno, want me to write to my pop to ask him what he thinks.” Alex’s lips turned up in a teasing grin as she spoke those words. “Eh, but he’ll probably get pissed at the mention of what is happening to your books, I think my parents like you better than me.”

“As much as I love your family, I am not sure I want another crime lord to deal with in London.” You finally chimed in as you set your paper aside on the table next to you where your half finished glass of wine sat. “But honestly moving to America just sounds lovely right about now, do you think your parents will adopt me?”

“Probably.” Alex’s one word answer was responded with laughs from you and Charlotte. Then as silence settled in the drawing room there was a knock from the front door, your maid called out telling you that shade would get it, which allowed you all to continue your conversation. “But I am working on another rough draft for a book, but I am just stuck on the killer’s motive.”

“Oh, and what is your general idea?” Charlotte asked as you heard the sound of distant talking from the maid and your home’s visitor. “Are you going to write another novel with the notes from New York?”

“No actually, it is going to be about ten strangers who are invited to an isolated island by a mysterious host. And then they start to die one by one, leaving the remaining guests to realize that the killer is among them-“

“The problem with that is that the killer would unintentionally out themselves as such when they would be one of the people surviving.” An unfamiliar voice called out, butting in on your conversation. You all looked up to the doorway that led from the front entry into the drawing room and there stood next to your maid a young man, with messy dark hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail and eyes to match, he wore a simple button up and a black suit jacket and pants to match. “It’s just like how in that mass murder case six years back one of the survivors was the killer and they only found out years later when her son found her journal after she died.”

“Do… Do I know you?” You asked the stranger who had been let into your house and both Charlotte���s and Alex’s heads turned to look at him, Alex swung her legs over the edge of the couch so that she was sitting up straight in the presence of a stranger. The man walked up to you, walking past your friends present as if they did not exist and extended his hand to you to shake.

“The name is Holmes, Sherlock Holmes.” You noticed the glances of shock exchanged between Charlotte and Alex from where they sat. This was the famous detective of London, the best detective in the nation if not the world as a whole, and some of his cases did serve as inspiration for your novels. “You are the famous mystery author, Miss (Name), and if I had to guess your two friends are Alex Pendel, the American thriller novelist, based on her appearance on how she sits and the suit she is wearing was made and custom tailored by Catherine Donovan, I recognized it because my brother has suits made by her as well. Then your other friend is Charlotte Basset, another horror author, and she was by far the easiest to identify due to her father’s signet ring she wears on her thumb because it is too big for her ring finger.”

You watched as Alex began looking over her suit and the small brand initials that were embroidered on the cuff of her suit jacket and Charlotte looked down at the ring on her thumb which was indeed her father’s ring that he gave to her when she was a child because she kept on fidgeting with her hair and picking at her nails. You reached out to shake his hand, his rough calloused hands gripping your smaller gloved hands with a firm hold.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of having the best detective in London in my home?” You asked as he released your hand, letting you sit back on your chair’s armrest. “Let me guess, it is because you found a scene in my book unrealistic like those detectives down at Scotland Yard.”

“Unrealistic, your work? Never, they just have never seen a murder scene like the ones in your books, like about a month ago I murder scene that reminded me a lot of one from one of your short stories, it was not linked to the Lord of Crime incidents as the culprit was of of the staff members but that is besides the point.” He grabbed the paper you had sat on the side table by your wine and pointed at the headline, it was about the murder of a duchess who had been abusing her staff and the crime was believed to be done by the Lord of Crime. “I would like you as my partner in solving this case.”

“Excuse me?” The words escaped your mouth in your state of surprise and you could see similar expressions on the faces of Alex and Charlotte. You pushed the hand that held the paper aside and the detective as a whole as you stood up from your seat. You walked across the room to where you fireplace stood, a small fire crackling in the hearth, above which on the mantle sat a collection of your books, custom hard back books that were bound by a book binder in your hometown who knew you as a child, a gift from the people who inspired you to write in the first place. “Mr. Holmes, I am a writer not a detective and I do not want to get more involved with this Lord of Crime mystery than I already am, it could destroy me.”

“But what if it doesn’t, you truly have nothing left to lose at this point.” You snapped your head around at him when he said that, sending him a sharp glare and you watched him stiff up for a moment before shaking it off, you heard him clear his throat and mention something about you reminding him of a Miss Hudson, whoever she is. “What I mean is you have not made a single public appearance since you returned to London from your time in the states and that is presumably about you finding about the related incidents to your work, then not to mention your physical appearance is a clear reflection of that previous observation, bags under your eyes and the redness around them presumably from you rubbing them shows you haven’t been sleeping. That’s not to mention the thin layer of dust I saw on the shoes and umbrella by the door, which shoes you have not been going out much-“

“I think she said she wasn’t interested and had no desire to be like you, Mr. Detective.” You watched as Alex stood up, walking up to where the detective stood, staring him down, and if there was one thing Alex was good at, it was being intimidating. “So please you can see yourself to the door.”

“But she is already like me, I have heard about you all at your club solving unsolved cases that Scotland Yard could never solve that are twenty, thirty, forty, even fifty years old. I think it is pretty obvious that you all are detectives in your own right.” Sherlock looks down at her as he speaks before snagging the cigarette from between her fingers and taking a smoke himself and you could just watch Alex grow more irritated by the second and was about to blow. “Now another thing I remember about my brother is the last time he stopped by he mentioned something about a certain crime family moving into England.”

You could just see Alex’s eyes grow wide while the rest of her face remained still. She stood there a moment before grabbing her cigarette from her detective and turning towards the entryway. “Cmon’ Charlotte, the show is at nine.”

You and Charlotte shot each other looks of disbelief as Alex made her way to the front door, but you just watched as she signed and downed the rest of her wine before setting her glass down on the end table near her seat before following after Alex, wrapping her mink fur tighter around her. You heard the front door open and close in your state of disbelief, leaving you and the detective alone. You both stood in silence for a long moment before he spoke up, breaking the lingering silence.

“So?”

“…What exactly do you need my help with?” Your question was begrudgingly asked and you just saw his expression light up like a child’s on Christmas when you finally gave in. “I cannot promise any help like I am an actual detective since I tend to approach situations how I would write them, I am an author first and foremost.”

“That’s fine, where is your study?” He was quick and straight to the point and you watched him walk out of your drawing room presumably to look for your study and home library. You watched as he walked to the doorway across from the doorway of your drawing room that was also connected to your entryway and he pushed open the doors to your study. You quickly followed him like you were a parent watching their excited child, trying to keep him wrong from wrecking anything. You cringed as he went behind your desk, looking at your manuscripts and journals that sat on top of it. “So this is where the great mystery author writes her stories. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to see where you work or your work before it’s finished.”

“Um… yes, just please do not mess with anything, this is my life’s work after all.”

—————————

You have been working with the detective in your free time to try to solve this case, even then he would be showing up in your home while you were in your office writing or even when you were at the club, it got to the point where you maid had to tell him to stop showing up during your working hours since you needed to write in order to have a job and stay in business since you still had deadlines to meet. Your drawing room had been turned into a mess of Sherlock’s and your own clues, pieced and puzzled together, trying to find connections, though the difference between the two of your work was very clear, your clues were tucked in a series of folders, notebooks, and journals, meanwhile the detective’s were in the form of loose and sometimes torn up papers and notes that were now laid out throughout the carpet of your drawing room, you slightly feared that the carpet would stain with ink since it was a housewarming gift from your late father.

Despite all this, everything single clue you came across came to a dead end and led to no clear culprit. Your investigation made you truly realize what Alex meant when she told you one time how crime was truly a game, an act, to make it a spectacle for others to watch while the performers fight for control.

“How is your novel coming along?” Réne asked as you two sat in one of the lounges at the club. He sat on the couch across from your, his back pressed against the armrest so that his legs extended out on the cushions, he had his glasses resting atop his head so that they pushed back his hair as he worked on a sketch in his sketchbook that he had propped up on the thigh of his leg that was on the outside end of the couch that was bent into a V-shape. “Still struggling with that villain of yours?”

“I am afraid so, I have all the events laid out, the deaths and what not and how the killer did it, but I still have no motive for them.” You explained as you watched the maid of the club pour you a cup of an earl gray tea that Charlotte got for you all from a new tea shop a few blocks away from the writer’s club. You sat on an identical couch to Réne, though much more ladylike as you were about to have tea and not to mention the morning’s newspaper, that you had yet to read, resting on your lap. “Every time that it mentions the killer’s motive I just skip it over and leave it blank-“

“Sugar ma’am?”

“Two please, a dash of cream as well.” You answered the maid’s question as she prepared your tea for you before continuing on. “It is by far the worse writer’s block I have experienced to date, it has been weeks since I started writing and it would be practically finished if I could figure out my villains just give him life.”

“It is a him?”

“Yes… I think so anyway- oh thank you.” You cut yourself off as the maid handed you your cup of tea. You held the saucer in your left hand while you brought the teacup up to your lips, taking a sip to wet your throat. “But honestly this case with Mr. Holmes, trying to uncover this Lord of Crime has left me all sorts of frazzled that I cannot tell up from down when I return home at the end of the day, so I honestly think that I have my novel’s villain as some version of this Lord of Crime, a figure who cannot place, so close yet so far, just out of reach… I probably sound like a raving mad woman right now, don’t I?”

“A bit, yes.” Réne answered which grew a small giggle from you. His eyes never lifted from his paper as he spoke, his fingers still twirling around the pencil as he drew. “Speaking of our Lord of Crime problem, how many of your books are left in his little… hm….”

“Recreations?”

“Yes, that is the word I am looking for!” He said with a slight enthusiasm creeping into his voice as he flicked his pencil in the air at your answer. “But yes, how many are left? He has probably covered all your famous works by now.”

“Yes… well let me think….” Your voice faded for a moment as you went over your books in your head, the number of incidents has increased since your partnership with the famous, though not by choice, Sherlock Holmes had begun, but surely there had to be at least three or so books left, right? Well there was- no that was the first incident that happened while you were abroad in America. What about- no not that one either, you remember seeing that in the morning paper when Sherlock came running into your townhouse about it when you first started working. Then there was a moment of realization as you sat there, staring down at your tea, reflecting your face that has grown and probably aged a few years due to these cases. “…no.”

“No? That’s not a number- oh… that… I… I’m sorry.” Réne stopped his sketching in his realization, you could just practically see his expression when the silence was practically yelling at you.

“…Réne, since there are no books left, what if I am next?” Your question was just followed by more silence then you heard Réne’s pencil quickly scribble something on his paper before you heard the ripping of paper and the shifting of limbs as the fabric of his pants rubbed against the velvet couch cushions. He slammed his drawing down on the table between the two of you, where the tea set sat. You looked down at it and it was presumably of a man in a black coat and hat, but his face was covered by a smiling mask, the Lord of Crime, but across his neck was a thick and scribbled line as if he was beheaded. You looked up at Réne and he had a comforting smile across his face.

“Then I will do everything in my power to unmask him and protect you.” He fell back onto his couch, throwing his arms across the back rest, crossing his legs. “You are one of my best friends and he would be fool to think that I would not risk my own neck to protect you, and I know for a fact that Evelyn, Charlotte, and Alex would do the same… hell honestly Alex would be the worse enemy to have, she could make one call to her father and… well it would not be pretty and that is for certain.”

“Thank you, a friend like you is truly a rare thing, let alone four friends like you all.”

“I could say the same thing about you.”

The terrible silence had faded into a more pleasant and comfortable silence, but you looked down at the drawing and into those black hole of the mask where the eyes would be, faceless and unsettling that gave you a creeping feeling up your spine.

God it was unsettling…

It made you feel like you were being watched…

Just please make it stop…

Stop…

Stop…

STOP!

As if by reflex, you sprung up out of your chair and snatched up the drawing from the table, and this drew Réne’s attention to you again as a concerned expression set in on his face.

“Are you alright?”

“Alright… alr- Yes! I am perfectly fine, I… I just remembered I… I meant to send a letter to my mother and I left it in my study back home, I-I just really needed to do that!” A lie, that honestly you did not know why you told it, not even the slightest clue as to why. You grabbed your messenger bag from the ground, throwing it over your shoulder. “I-I should go do that, before I forget to and the post office closes.”

“O-oh, alright?” Réne seemed unsure of your sudden shift in behavior. “Do you need me to walk you home-“

“No!- I… I mean I’ll be alright….” You two once again stood in a tense silence as you looked back at each other with equally confused expressions. “…bye.”

You could only say that as you turned on your heel as you walked to the door of the club, the maid giving you your hand and coat as you were about to leave which you put on in a rush as you tried to get out the door to get out of the gazes of your friends and colleagues.

You stumbled out onto the streets of Mayfair, you did not bother trying to get a hackney, you needed the fresh air that is what you needed, you think. You nervously fidgeted with the strap of your messenger bag as you walked down the street, your eyes darting around at the brick pavement beneath your feet, not bothering to watch where you are going since the way back home was practically muscle memory-

Suddenly you were knocked over as a gentleman walked past you, the heel of your shoe getting caught in between the bricks that formed the pavement below you, an all too familiar scene for you, but you suppose that is what you get for not watching where you are going.

“I am so sorry- Miss (Name), we have met like this before have we not?” That voice was familiar to you, you looked up to see the smiling face of Professor William James Moriarty looking down at you, his gloved hand outstretched to you like that day at the docks on your return home. He cocked his head to the side slightly as he looked over your form as you took his hand and he pulled you up from the ground. “Are you alright? You look rather pale?”

“Y-yes… I-I am… No?…. Maybe- I really don’t know right now, I-I… I can’t think- god what is wrong with me?” You could not get your mind straight, your hands felt clammy and tingly… your entire arms at that… god was it always this hard to breathe? You can’t think, oh god why can’t you think? “I fear I am going mad, Profe- William.”

“You are trembling- oh dear, you are having a panic attack.” You could not process him coming to stand by your side, taking your messenger bag from you and his other hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades. “My family’s estate is only a few buildings down, let’s get you inside and sit down and Louis can make you a cup of tea, does that sound okay?”

“Y-yes, I think.”

“Okay, just take deep breaths.”

Your vision and memory came in flashes between sight and darkness… walking down the road, turning into a Mayfair estate with an iron fence with a red brick base beneath it… William pushing open the door and calling out to someone as he guided you into the drawing room… Him guiding you to lay down on the sofa in the room while someone else came into the room.

You could feel William’s hand held onto yours, letting you have something to ground yourself on, and you could hear William’s voice telling you…

“Take deep breaths, in and out.”

In and out…

In and out…

In and out.

His voice served as your thoughts, allowing you to calm down from the height of your panic attack. You could finally process what was before you, a white ceiling. You could process what you felt, the fabric of your dress, the velvet of the Moriarty drawing room couch, the warmth and leather from William’s gloved hand that held onto your own.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything?” You heard William ask you as you pushed yourself up with your free hand that was not squeezing the life out of William’s hand. “Louis is making you some tea, he nearly got a fright at seeing you in a panic, ran off to the kitchen in a rush- oh just lay down! You are probably light headed or dizzy, just wait to sit up until your tea is ready.”

“O-okay… thank you William.”

“It is the least I can do.”

A few minutes passed before the scent of citrus and spice hit your nose as Louis stepped into the room, setting the tea tray on the low table between all the pieces of lounge furniture in the room. William set a hand on your lower back, helping you sit as Louis poured a cup of tea for you. Louis gave William the cup of tea to hold with his free hand while his other hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, which was wiser than letting you hold it since your hands were shaking violently still.

“I am s-sorry… I-I…”

“There is nothing to be sorry about, my dear.” William replied as your voice trailed off into your scrambled thoughts. “It is natural to experience such fits under stress… which reminds me, if I may ask, what is on your mind?”

“Um… a lot….” You laughed after those two words, laughing at your madness as you ran your fingers through your hair and tugging slightly, your hat had fallen to the ground when William laid you down and Louis had picked it up and set it on the table. “My novel still has no antagonist, at least not one with a motive to kill nine other people- t-then not to mention I have to worry about a detective, who may or not be the love of my life of the bane of my existence but I may just be thinking that because I am going mad, and him appearing in my house at any hour of the day because he think he found a lead with the blasted Lord of Crime case- AND! That’s the other thing, this Lord of Crime, all of my books have been made a horrible reality by him and now there are not any books left and I have an aching fear in the back of my mind that I am next… I… I really am going mad, aren’t I?”

“You are not mad, you are in distress which is only natural, dear.” He said as he guided the tea cup into your hands, his hand coming to rest on the back of your own to keep you from dropping the cup as you brought it up to your lips and taking a sip. “Perhaps the Lord of Crime is just a fan of your work, I doubt he would dare to lay a finger on you.”

“Well he is certainly a fan I do not wish to have.” You said as the cup of tea parted from your lips and William set it back down on the table with a soft clinck. “This all has been driving me mad… honestly working with him has only made it worse, he is like an eager puppy.”

“By he, you mean the detective you are working with who I am guessing to be a Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” William stated but it sounded more like a question so you hummed softly in response. “I have met him a number of times before, brilliant mind, just a bit childish under certain circumstances. Also if I may suggest perhaps a small break is needed, for the sake of your mental health.”

“Ya… huh, maybe I should just quit this author thing.” You felt William stiff up at the mention of that, his hand that was running circles on your back freezing in place, but you honestly did not pay much mind since there was so much going on in your mind. “Or maybe I should just disappear entirely… that is something I thought about before, faking my disappearance, I know how I would do it too. Maybe take a ferry to France, go off and start a new life in Paris- or maybe America, I do have friends there who would probably adopt me into their family since they like me better than their own daughter, Miss Alex Pendel, you probably have heard of her-“

“You are rambling, breathe.” William cut you off, but you did not feel like you were rambling. “I am just suggesting a break, not to disappear, isn’t writing your life blood after all?”

“Yes… b-but I never wanted it to become this… I have created a monster.” You closed your eyes at that thought. You loved writing, it was why you lived, you thrived from it, but people were suffering from your stories… well they were, you have no more stories for the Lord of Crime to work with, if you did not publish another it would all stop, right? It had to. Your hands fell to your lap, clutching your skirt in your hands, as if you were trying to get your body to agree with your mind who has already made its decision. “…I am done.”

“Done? Whatever do you mean?”

“I… I cannot finish my next book, maybe my unfinished antagonist was a sign to stop while I am ahead.” You were facing forward, towards the table, so you could not see the sorrow and pain come across William’s face. “If I stop writing, then the Lord of Crime has nothing else to work with and no one else gets hurt because of me.”

“I… please think about this-“

“I have to go… I need to visit my publisher.” You stood up from the couch with your unsteady legs, grabbing your hat from the table. You did not spare William a glance as you made your way to the door, only words. “I am sorry William, I know you enjoyed my books, but I can’t live with myself if this happens again.”

The estate grew silent as you let, the front door closing being the last bit of sound within the house. Tears fell from William’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks, but his face remained emotionless. There was a few minutes of silence before his eyes fell on your messenger bag you had left behind. He tried telling himself it was wrong to go through your belongings, but what harm could it do now?

He grabbed the messenger bag from the ground, setting it on his lap as he opened it. He pulled out the contents one by one, makeup, pens, pencils, loose notes with plot thoughts of character ideas, but the two that caught his eyes more than anything else was a drawing, the drawing of the faces Lord of Crime from Réne, and a stack of papers that were bound in a leather portfolio, your unfinished masterpiece.

—————————

You stood in your study, tucking old papers and notes away into boxes to put in your cellar. You could not find your unfinished manuscript, you just assumed you must have left it at the Moriarty estate but it really did not matter since that book would never be seeing its conclusion. You had already written to your editor and met with your publisher, ending your partnership with both of them. As for work for the time being you made a enough money from your book sales still that you would be comfortable for a while, but maybe once things have settled in a few months or a year’s time you would accept one of those teaching jobs as a professor that had been offered to you at women's colleges in Oxford or Cambridge. Or your other thought was moving back up to your hometown in Northern England and help your mother with her shop, disappearing into the shadows forever.

You heard a knock at your front door which was followed by the footsteps of your maid as she went to answer it. You closed the lip on the last of the boxes, setting it on top of the stack of the others that had been packed by you earlier, when the doors to your office burst open to reveal the overly eager detective.

“Miss (Name), I think I found-“ Sherlock cut himself off as he stepped inside your emptied study, looking around only to see your life’s work in boxes, ready to be hidden away forever. He was clearly taken aback by all this, looking around the room with an uncertain eye. “What’s all this then?”

“I am quitting, Mr. Holmes.” That was all you needed to say for the detective’s expression to turn to disbelief at hearing your words. “Every single one of my worlds has been tarnished by this Lord of Crime and honestly I do not want to write another book just to give more fuel to the fire.”

“So you are just giving up?” The detective snapped back at you, taking you by surprise now. He was clearly angry and annoyed at your choice, that was certainly clear. “You are just laying down and choosing to die, is that it?!”

“Sherlock, I cannot continue to write when it will sentence people to death!” You yelled at him, gesturing back into the drawing room across the hall where stacks of clues and evidence sat on any flat surface, waiting to be cleaned up next after you packed everything up in the cellar. “Do you know how many people were going to die in my next book if I finished and published it?”

“No-“

“Nine! Nine people and their blood would be on my hands!” You cut him off with a shout, you could feel tears building up in your eyes as you yelled at him. “I can hardly live with myself knowing that my twisted works of fiction have become reality and taken so many lives, the least I can do is spare nine more.”

“We could catch him and you could continue your books-“

“Enough!” You shouted at the top of your lungs, and you watched as the detective grew red in the face as he became more and more angry and irritated at your actions. “I am not doing this anymore, I… I can’t… you are a detective, your job revolves around reality, I am… I was an author, I wrote fiction and I never wanted it to become reality.”

“Damn it all! It is all his fault! God damn this Lord of Crime” He shouted at you before rolling his eyes with the shake of his head and a heavy scoff. He turned on his heel, waving you off as he walked towards the front door of your townhouse. “Find me if you change your mind, but I won’t give up unlike you.”

You stood alone in your office as the front door opened and slammed shut which drew a squeak in surprise from your maid who was brewing tea in the kitchen for you. You leaned back on your desk, a sandalwood desk, a gift you got for yourself when your sales blew up after your first book which secured your position in England’s high society with your new money. The desk cost you what your childhood home cost when your mother and father bought it a few months before they had you. You worked to where you are today, living in an expensive townhouse in Mayfair, an area famous for its affluent residents, upscale shopping streets like Bond Street, world-class art galleries, exclusive members-only clubs, and its reputation as a luxurious and high-end area of London. You grew up in a small town, making flower crowns with your friends and jumping in the nearby creek that was by your childhood home, now you drink wine and champagne at parties held at manors of Dukes and Duchesses and wearing dresses that costed more money than your parents ever had when you were a child. You went on trips to Paris to study the catacombs and watch the Opera and went to New York to experience the nightlife and parties on Long Island and overhear what happened in the back rooms of the mansions of these new money families that controlled the country, divided among these families.

Your books let people indulge themselves into their dark thoughts without it being considered scandalous but rather a new trend, a competition to be exact, and in the words of Evelyn when she first met you…

“Everyone in London wants to know what is going on in that twisted little mind of yours to come up with the things you do.” It was at a high society party when she told you that, pulling you aside into the drawing room of the manor you were in, giving you a joint to smoke that you found out was from Alex’s family that may or may not have had the tobacco mixed with some form of cannabis, giving you both a small high, which definitely made clear where Evelyn’s moments of inspiration for her books came from that were full of pure body horror. “But then again, they all are obsessed with what they cannot fathom and what they are horrified by, it gives them a thrill, like a drug.”

There was a reason why the most popular authors of the age were of the macabre and gruesome, and Evelyn could not have phrased it any better, they were fascinated by what they could not or did not wish to fathom…

Alex’s stories let people see into the world of the mafia of the new world, romanticized in many ways, but the moods they elicit, giving their audiences heightened feelings of suspense, excitement, surprise, anticipation and anxiety, giving them a thrill. Fear of getting caught in a sex scandal or perhaps trying to hide a body before someone finds out that you were the one who rammed a knife into their skull.

Charlotte's novels touch on fundamental issues of human existence: the nature of the soul, the weighty fact of mortality, and the burden of ancestry and history. Spirits represent heavy-handed instruments of supernatural justice, plunging those responsible for their deaths into a living hell where they suffer for their sins. This world and what comes after.

Réne’s books are all about the terror within, not without. His work shatters the illusion of humanity in a poignant wayby holding a mirror up to society and saying: look at what we truly are, and look at what we pretend to be. Under that mask of civility, there is depravity. Under that thin veneer of society, there is wickedness. Under all the trappings of sophistication, are we not all predators or prey?

Little Evelyn had a wicked little mind, her genre examines a universal fear: our own failing anatomies. You rarely think about what goes on beneath your skin. You understand that the organs operate in harmony: the heart beats, the lungs pump air, and the gastrointestinal system labors to supply us with nutrients. But you don't ponder like she does the minutiae. Like whether embryonic parasites encyst in our brains, or what stage of cirrhosis we might be facing, or if tumors bloom deep in parts of ourselves we hope never to see. You have seen a grown man, an inspector at Scotland Yard at that, vomit after reading an excerpt from one of her books.

Your works on the other hand gave the people a taste of psychological suspense and atmosphere, developed as all the characters' innermost secrets are revealed, there is usually also a gradual build-up of tension before the murders actually occur, as if everything could slip at any moment and everyone’s secrets would be revealed and the world would all but crash and burn all around them, and the people along with it. The key factor, though, is that there is usually some ingenious piece of deception involved, just like how the Lord of Crime has been deceiving London with his mask and his show, drawing them all in all along, and now you were about to crash and burn with it all…

You shared Sherlock’s thoughts when he said damn it all…

Your maid was cleaning up the drawing room from all the papers and clues from your useless investigation with the detective when you finally came out of your study, your face stained red and swollen with your tears and six envelopes in your hands. Your maid looked up at you with a worried expression in her eyes as she saw the state of your face.

“My lady, are you alright-“

“Yes….” You took a nervous breath as you approached her, your heeled boots clicking on the hardwood at first which made your heart skip a beat, which was enough in your scared state of mind. You reached out to your maid with the envelopes in that hand, forcing a smile to come across your face as you did. “Could you drop these off at the post? They are to a number of my friends along with my mother and Mr. Holmes. You can head home after that, I think I shall turn in early tonight and I can handle this mess, after all I did make it with Mr. Holmes.”

“O-oh, very well my lady.” She responded as she took the envelopes from your hand, tucking them into her apron pocket. You stood there in the drawing room, swallowing the lump in your throat as you listened to the footsteps of your maid as she grabbed her coat and hat from the coat closet. You heard the front door open and then her voice called out to you. “Do you wish for me to pick up anything for you when I come back in the morning, My Lady? I remember seeing the bakery two blocks away selling a new sampler box of macarons, apparently their new patissier is from Florence in Italy.”

“Thank you, but I shall be alright.”

“Alright, goodnight then my lady.”

“Goodbye.”

—————————

It was a lovely spring day in London, a rare day without a cloud in the sky. William was walking down the street, his eyes fixed on a letter in his gloved hand that he received this morning, it was penned in your handwriting and the messenger boy said it was dropped off at the post office along with five other letters by a woman who matched the description of your maid, who he had met along with Louis when they ran into her by chance at the local bookstore when he was picking up a copy of your latest book, she and your assistant, a young lady who was hoping to be a journalist one day and you had taken her under your wing, were dropping of signed copies that you were donating to the shop, your maid told the brothers that you would have dropped them off yourself but you were leaving for a six month long trip to the Americas, New York City specifically, so you could research something you were curious on with the night life of that side of the world and who ran it.

He spotted the house with the address on the envelope, 600 North Audley Street, which was, as the street name suggested, just north of Grosvenor Square in Mayfair. The house has a number of barricades around it and a number of officers of Scotland Yard along with four other figures, all of them he recognized, Sherlock Holmes with no sight of Dr. John H. Watson, there were also the famous authors Réne Drew, Lady Charlotte Basset of York, and the little miss Evelyn Jay, and all of them, including the detective, held a letter similar to the one William held, but all of their faces were riddled with worry, except Sherlock Holmes, but William knew he would crack in private.

“I see you all have received letters like myself.” William called out to the bunch who awaiting outside of the door of your townhouse, looking around he also spotted your house’s maid and your own personal assistant sitting on the brick stairs that led up to your front door, surrounded by Scotland Yard officers asking them questions which explains why he could not see them from afar, but they were in such a state of shock that neither of them could hardly answer a single question and even if they could, they did not know the answer. William held up the piece of paper he received with a smile. “I see we all know the author.”

“And who you might be?” Lady Charlotte snapped at him, her eyes narrowing. William knew a bit about her and her family, her brother had been suspected of murder a number of years ago, the summer before their writing club was founded to be exact, which while the heir of the family was found innocent this fact about the club led William to believe she had something to do with it especially since the victim was the man she was arranged to be married to. Her face was as rigid as her clothing looked, a scarlet red gown that probably costs more than most dresses women of the town could even afford and her signature white mink shawl. “I do not recall (Name) ever mentioning you before-“

“Well I certainly did not expect to see you here, Liam.” Sherlock cut the lady author off as he laid eyes upon the mathematics professor. “This is Professor William James Moriarty, a friend of mine, but I am surprised you knew Miss (Name). Now I truly wished we all could have met that day on the train back from York, a competition with one worthy opponent is one thing but with two is another entirely! I thought for a time she might be the Lord of Crime if her behavior did not show otherwise and the evidence proved her innocence under every instance-“

“Would you shut up!? Do not mention this whole Lord of Crime bullshit now!” Réne snapped at the detective, seizing him by the collar and bringing his face close to his own as the French author was filled with a rage that was clear as day. William had heard that the famous Réne Drew was normally a calm and composed man, maybe a bit too relaxed due to his occasional indulgence in wine and the arts, but this was a different man entirely based on their behavior. “My best friend is missing and you thought she was was the fucking Lord of Crime?! Was that the only reason you wanted to work with her?! Answer me, damn it!”

“She is what?” William was shocked by this statement by the Frenchman, he must have looked like a surprised cat when he heard his, eyes wide but the rest of his face remaining still, because all faces turned to him, but the young Evelyn Jay was the one who approached him, and she was the one who appeared most unbothered by the situation if bothered at all.

“It did not mention it in your letter, telling you that she is not to be looked for and that no one would find her even if they tried.” She handed William her letter and it indeed had written what she claimed it did, but it was far different than his own which he handed to the young lady to read, which she did do so. He had only really heard rumors about the morbid young author, that she watches illegal awake surgeries as inspiration for her books or that she had been in the habit of paying people to steal dead bodies for her so she could see how the human body would react to various situations that would be highly traumatic on the body so she could use that for her books. Evelyn calmly read his letter silently before handing it back to him. “It would seem that Professor Moriarty received a different letter than the rest of us seeing as he was not informed of her disappearance. But it is indeed true, she went missing sometime last night, her house is an absolute disaster, but Mr. Holmes found that was done by her due to nothing highly valuable or sentimental being damaged, proving there was not a real struggle, but a set up but the reason why is still unknown. Her maid and assistant were the ones to find the staged scene this morning when they arrived together this morning after having breakfast at a nearby bakery, scared them half to death, then the rest of us arrived not long after, rushing here after we received the letters-“

“Sorry I’m late!” A feminine voice with a thick New York accent called out from down the road, the same direction William arrived in. Everyone looked to see Miss Alex Pendel, dressed in her favorite red suit which drew stares from anyone who did not know her. William had heard about her family, a crime family who practically has all of the state of New York in the palm of their hand; the city that shared the name was the heart of their organization. She waved in her hand a slip of paper that did not look remotely similar to the ones the other held, her own was a telegram, so someone had sent for her when they found out she was missing the three other authors present were the most obvious suspects. But the American author was a part of your inner circle like the other three, so why did she not receive a letter? “Seems like everything that I was told is true, she really is missing.”

“Yes, it is good to see you received my telegram, Alex.” Evelyn chimed in, glancing past William to her closest friend. So Evelyn was the one to send the telegram, but the question was how did she know Alex was the only one not to receive one. Evelyn glanced around at the others who must have been coming to a similar conclusion as the professor. “I figured that (Name) may not write to Alex since she had just returned home from a trip from the Netherlands last night, I only knew she was back because I was the one who fetched her from the docks.”

“I see.” William responded to the young lady’s gleeful tone. She twirled around the center of the circle of the geniuses to face William once again with that ever so innocent smile on her face which was almost unsettling in these circumstances which made William think perhaps to look back into those rumors he heard about her before. “If she is missing then what shall we do since she does not wish to be found?”

“A competition! Let us see who can find her first!” The smile on her face grew even wider when she said those words, this was a game to her, just like the aristocrat who perished on the Noahtic for hunting humans for sport, the difference being that she has a good heart beneath all the gore and horror. “I do not know about you professor, but the rest of us are all forms of crime related geniuses both fictional and reality.”

There was a stunned silence among the other authors, and a smile coming across Sherlock’s face in glee at the idea. William heard a scoff from the American author next to him and he glanced over to her to see her with an expression he could not quite place. “Pass, I’m afraid I will be returning to America in a few weeks.”

“So soon? You went on that trip with (Name) a few months ago?” Evelyn’s smile falters into an expression of curiosity as Alex makes that comment. “I remember you telling us how much your family enjoyed (Name’s) company.”

“There is no need to remind me about their favoritism.” Alex snapped back at her friend before quickly calming back down with a sigh. “But yes, I am afraid so, I need to get some papers settled with my father and brothers about some changes to our family’s mansion.”

That day of your panic attack…

“Also if I may suggest perhaps a small break is needed, for the sake of your mental health.”

“Ya… huh, maybe I should just quit this author thing.” You felt William stiff up at the mention of that, his hand that was running circles on your back freezing in place, but you honestly did not pay much mind since there was so much going on in your mind. “Or maybe I should just disappear entirely… that is something I thought about before, faking my disappearance, I know how I would do it too. Maybe take a ferry to France, go off and start a new life in Paris- or maybe America, I do have friends there who would probably adopt me into their family since they like me better than their own daughter, Miss Alex Pendel, you probably have heard of her-“

“You are rambling, breathe.” William cut you off, but you did not feel like you were rambling. “I am just suggesting a break, not to disappear, isn’t writing your life blood after all?”

“Yes… b-but I never wanted it to become this… I have created a monster.” You closed your eyes at that thought. You loved writing, it was why you lived, you thrived from it, but people were suffering from your stories… well they were, you have no more stories for the Lord of Crime to work with, if you did not publish another it would all stop, right? It had to. Your hands fell to your lap, clutching your skirt in your hands, as if you were trying to get your body to agree with your mind who has already made its decision. “…I am done.”

A small smile came across William’s face as he recalled this and looked at Miss Alex Pendel…

So that is why you did not write to her.

—————————

The heat of the summer day had faded away with sunset, leaving the countryside of England to grow quite a chill as you walked through the dark country paths on your way to the train station, if it could be called that since it was more of a platform as there was no building beside the ticket office from where you bought your ticket the day prior, that as a short walk from the small town you were staying in in a house provided by Alex’s family who aided you in stage it your disappearance a few months prior, three months to be exact. Alex had visited you a few day ago upon her return from her brief trip to her hometown to let you know that everything was ready for your arrival, she gave you a boat ticket, and told you that her mother and father would pick you up upon your arrival and then your new life would begin and this life would be eased into nothing but history, a small price to pay to rid yourself from your old life that had been absolutely tarnished. Your time in America had inspired you for another story, it was not a crime, but a romance influenced by the environment you have seen in both England with the old and new money, and then America with the lively atmosphere there. You had not thought much about it besides the name of one of the characters, the flowers outside your cottage door in this small town you had been staying in these last few months were daisies, you always liked those flowers and that name, Daisy.

You walked up the stairs of the train platform and it was very dark, you could hardly see without the lamp posts that guided your way. Now as you stood at the edge of the train platform you could see a distant figure sitting on one of the benches. There was only one lamp that was posted over the ticket office door, so you could not see the details of the figure who sat on the bench. You could hear the distant whistles of the train, it was a few miles away but you could hear it clearly due to the dead silence of the countryside at night. Your boots clicked against the ground as you approached the bench next to the figure who you assumed was waiting for the train. You sat down on the other bench, setting your hard back suitcase on the ground next to you before reaching into your pocket and pulling out your pack of cigarettes and a match, you lit your cigarette that you places between your lips to hold it along with your other hand that did not hold your match and right as you were about to shake out the flame from the match you heard footsteps of the person on the other bench get up and approach you, making you stop and pause. The fire illuminated the person’s features in a flickering light as you looked up at him, and your expression was taken by shock as he smiled down at you with those red eyes.

“Professor Moriarty… What in god’s name are you doing here?” You pulled away the cigarette from your lips as you spoke to him, looking up at his smiling expression with a confused gaze as your eyes were locked with his which reminded you of blood. Something was not right, you had no doubt in your mind that William went to your house after receiving your letter which told him he could keep the unfinished work you left at his home as a gift to him for his kindness to you, but was he looking for you like the others were in their little competition?

“I finished reading the work you left me on the train ride here and I have to say it is by far your best work.” He spoke, completely ignoring the question you asked which gave you a pounding worry and anxiety in your chest.

“Thank you… but I must ask you to answer my questi-“

“Your killer, the method in which they did it truly fooled me, I never expected them to fake their own death.” You could feel the pounding in your chest as you looked up at the professor who still did not answer your question. You could feel the anxiety and worry in your chest turn into dread as you looked in his red eyes, just like blood.

“William-“

“They do lack a motive still, I remember you mentioning that you were struggling with that detail.” You saw him raise his right hand in your peripheral vision, but you could not quite see what he was holding as your eyes were still locked with his own. “But perhaps I can help?”

You were almost afraid to break eye contact with him and look at what he was holding, god you felt sick, but why?! You felt William’s gloved hand turn your head slightly but gently, forcing you to look at what he was holding, it was Réne’s drawing of the Lord of Crime, or as he titled it at least.

Wait-

That was it!

Your eyes widened in shock and horror at your realization…

That question you asked to Réne the day of your panic attack…

“Since there are no books left, what if I am next?”

You turned your head to look at William once again and when his scarlet red eyes narrowed at you in the darkness, only lit by the fire of your match for your cigarette, it sent shivers down your spine.

“You are the Lord of Crime.”

“Correct, I have to say I have been wondering if you or Mr. Holmes would figure it out first, but it seems you beat him to it even if I had to spell it out for him.” The smoke was building up between the two of you as your cigarette was just burning up, and the smoke was almost making it hard to breathe. Your palms were growing sweaty in your terror, correction, your entire body was burning up like your cigarette and the flame on your match and his smile certainly did not help with that. “I first found out about one of your books when an associate of mine was reading one of your novels on the way back from the mission site. While Louis did not fancy it that much, he did recommend it to me and I will say I was skeptical at first but then I have to say I was proven wrong when I opened up one of your books. People read your books to be taken into the mind and the world of someone they cannot fathom or do not wish to, but honestly when reading your works it is finally a world I can understand, a world created by someone who can understand my mind and keep up with me. I wondered if your fictional crimes could survive in the real world so I took a risk and tested my theory and followed your books like a script and I have to tell you my dear that you fooled everyone.”

“You realize I could report you now, do you not? You have not only revealed yourself but the identity of one of your associates with the mention of your brother.”

“Yes, but I doubt that you will have the chance.” Before you could ask what that meant he spoke up again, drowning out the sound of footsteps approaching you from behind between his voice and your loud heartbeat that roared in your ears already. “Question, if I gave you back your unfinished work, would you finish your villain?”

“Not a chance.”

“Shame.”

Your match went out and everything went black.

—————————

You did not like the new weight on your left hand ring finger, it made it far too difficult to hold paper down when you wrote and it made your fingers feel swollen not to mention how it smears the ink, but William insisted you wear it now since you are to be married in a month's time. You cringed at the thought of being married, especially to him, you two had already met with your publisher earlier this week to have your pen name changed to switch to your future last name for any future printings of your novels.

Then there was also the gossip of these entitled little rich girls who romanticize your engagement to him and you heard the gossip as you walked through the streets on William’s arm saying how they wished to be in your place and you just wanted to tell them they could be, it would be a good reality check for them. Then there were your friends, you have not seen any of them in months, Réne, Evelyn, and Charlotte not since before your disappearance, and then Alex you have not seen some you were engaged. You could not make yourself face any of them now, it would make you sick-

“Dear, are you alright? You look rather pale.” William’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you were back in the drawing room of the Moriarty brother’s estate in Durham, William thought it would be good for you not to be England when your newest book releases so you could avoid the press and fans, all who wanted their questions about you answered, and needless to say William did not want those questions answered.

“Yes… I just find myself out of it nowadays.” You answered as your eyes were still fixed on the cup of tea Louis had poured for you a few minutes prior. You heard William sigh and close the book he was reading and setting it down where he was sitting to move over to where you were sitting on the sofa.

“You have not touched a single cup of tea since you started writing again-“

“Since you kidnapped me.”

“I did what was best for you, it was eating you alive not to pick up a pen again.” He snapped back to your correction of his statement. William sighed as he places a hand over one of your own that was resting on your thigh and he spoke to you with a tone that almost trickled you into believing he cared about you. “I only want what is best for you and you will only strain yourself if you continue to push everyone away like you are.”

You just rolled your eyes and let your mind drift off again as you thought back on these last few cruel months that started all the way back upon your return to England, you should have just stayed in New York…

Ten little Soldier Boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine…

Nine little Soldier Boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were eight…

Eight little Soldier Boys travelling in Devon; One said he'd stay there and then there were seven…

Seven little Soldier Boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were six…

Six little Soldier Boys playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were five…

Five little Soldier Boys going in for law; One got in Chancery and then there were four…

Four little Soldier Boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were three…

Three little Soldier Boys walking in the zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were two…

Two little Soldier Boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was one…

One little Soldier Boy left all alone; He went out and hanged himself…

and then there were none….

…you have to live with the fact that your book took nine more lives and had to hope that one day the tenth would join the others sooner than later.

[merci-bitch]

please write some headcanons with Miranda’s P!

Sure thing!

Absolutely love the Devil Wears Prada and Miranda is just <3

Not my gif!

- Let’s say you’re a photographer for Runway

- And also Miranda’s

- You’ve been there for a while, a long while before Andrea

- You started as a photographer, Nigel found you

- Made you his new project to present for Miranda first

- You were shitting yourself obvs

- It’s thee Miranda Priestly

- You were quite shy, who wouldn’t be in front of the biggest fashion icon ever??

- But when you then later showed her your portfolio she was interested

- You were hired as the new photographer

- Working 24/7 like everyone else

- Emily liked you

- Quite a lot

- You were doing good, and Miranda liked your work, always left little notes on the side of the photos you’d taken

- You’d spent a lot of time together

- Nigel obvs played match maker

- Cocky bastard

- One night you came with the book, Emily had turned in sick at the last possible moment, so you offered

- You had a portfolio to show her either way

- So you went in, left the dry cleaning and then heard her call for Emily

- She was stunned to see you

- A little annoyed too

- It quickly went away as you handed her the book and portfolio

- And then the rest is history

- First time arriving when Andrea was her second assistant, well

- She didn’t know who you were

- Told you that you couldn’t just walk in without an appointment

- So you left with a little smile on your lips

- Went to Nigel, told him all

- Boy

- He was sure Andy was getting fired

- Despite her cold and strict attitude to the world, Miranda is a gentle lover

- When you’re at home, she calls you by pet names

- Darling, dear for example

- She’s still has a hard shell, but she’s ever so soft with her daughters and it is a wonder to witness

- Small touches as she passes you

- HUGE gift gives

- Obviously

- She absolutely loves how close you are with her girls

- Was such a relief when her daughters loved you as much as she did

- Of course Irv was fuming when he found out about the relationship

- Wanted to fire you

- Miranda stood her ground

- With backup from a lot of people

- Surprisingly the press was nice about the relationship

- Only after a few months of course

- The first few weeks was awful

- But it got better

- The internet calls you “power couple”

- You make her laugh like no other

- You really turned her world upside down

- Nigel is of course smug

- He is the reason you two found each other of course

- He likes to remind Miranda about it

- Likes to tease you about starring at Miranda

- You two just fit together like two puzzle pieces

- Of course there’s an age difference

- But it doesn’t define your relationship

- Miranda still does criticise you about your fashion choices

- Practically begs you sometimes to let her dress you in the morning

- Her children have better fashion sense than you do

- Loves to tease you senseless

- She knows she can make you weak to your knees with just one single glare

- She feels exceptionally powerful

[simp4pedropascal75]

Secretary (Javier Peña x Reader)

summary: You graduated from university with dreams of becoming a DEA agent. One year before your graduation, a class trip took you to Colombia, where you met Javier Peña. The two of you quickly bonded over the six months you spent together, but after you left, he grew distant. When you return as a freshly minted DEA agent, you discover that you have not been hired as a DEA agent, but as a secretary.

words: 5.2k

this ff takes place in the late 1980s! (but you still can chat with him? yeah, doesn't make sense)

trigger warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, age gap(reader in her 20s, Javier in his late 30s), explict language, mentioning of s3x in public, fluff, violence, smoking, being catcalled and harrased by a man, a little bit of angst (?), spoilers of narcos season 1 (?), one mention of y/n

a/n: sorry for taking a while for writing a new ff, but i thank you for over 500 likes on bad guy and also thank you so much for over 108 followers<3 this really keeps me motivated to write.

I also apologize if I mess up the plot of narcos and don't get everything right like it is in the series. English is not my first language and I'm not finished with the series yet. I just finished season 2 episode 3, and lord have mercy with this sex scene of pedro.

But please don't spoiler me in the comments what happens next in the series, thanks<3

And I guess I'll be making a little series out of this, when my creativity is working, what do you think?

i wish you a fun time reading:)

-------------------♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡--------------------

You are finally getting your mark on your uniform from your teacher. You stand there with a proud smile, looking into the crowd and seeing your parents.

You finally graduated from university to be a DEA agent.

Since you were a kid, your dream was always being a DEA agent, just like your dad. Your dad was stationed in Colombia, that’s why you didn’t see him that much, but when you came visiting him or he came home to Miami, he told you about his stories. He told you how he chased drug traffickers, went on missions and all the other stuff. As a kid, it just amazed you.

That’s why you began to train early for being an DEA agent. Since you were 5, you started solving riddles, like: ‘who stole grandma’s cat?’ and so on. When you got older, you loved solving murder, drug cases or already solved cases from your dad, which you had to solve again.

And it was pretty fun… and to be honest, you were god damn good.

That’s why after you finished high school with 19 years, you went to a DEA university. You were lying, if you're saying it wasn’t pretty hard… sometimes, when you were on your lowest, you even thought about quitting. But even if it was difficult, you didn’t want to throw away your dream, so, you kept going.

One year before your graduation, you went to Colombia with your class. You stayed there 6 months and of course your lessons continued there.

You visited the station where your dad was working and that was also the time where the hunt of Pablo Escobar started. And also, the time… well, where you met Javier Peña.

Every Sunday, you and your class were allowed to go to the station and were shown around, got told some stories and some tips how life works as a DEA agent. It was pretty interesting…

and who really made it interesting was Javi.

You and Javier got pretty close for the whole six months. You got friends… well maybe a little more than that…

Of course, you also met his partner Steve Murphy and you got along also, but just as friends.

You didn’t remember exactly how everything with Javier started, but in the first weeks you were going to the station, you and Javi always talked and you two just got along well. Sometimes he would steal you from the rest of the group to show you some more private folders, because he knew how interested you were in all of this… and also, to make out with you.

But expect of how good he kisses… or fucks.

He was there when you needed him.

Unfortunately, in the last month, your dad got injured when he was on a mission with Javier and Steve. Your dad got shot bad in a shooting and when you got the news, Javi was there to comfort you. Luckily, your dad did survive, but he was left incapable of working ever again.

Also, you didn’t ever know, what you and Javier really are. You know, he slept with a lot of women, mostly to gain information for work, but he also stopped sleeping with other women, for the whole six months when he was with you,

well, that’s what Steve told you.

But he never actually asked you if you would be his girlfriend or something… but neither did you.

One time when he showed your class around, the topic was the balance between work and personal life. He told everyone that he personally doesn’t do ‘relationships’ because of work and he isn’t interested in it, he finds it more exciting to get to know many women. And that’s what probably kept you from asking him because you were scared to get rejected.

Of course, you fell in love with him, but you thought he didn’t.

Also, your dad doesn’t know anything about what you and Javier had… and if he would have found out, he would probably fire Javier. Since his incident he was very protective over you and worried about you getting a DEA agent like him.

But nothing got in your way again, even if you were really not feeling great because Javi and you barley had contact after you left.

You kept going.

And now you're finally standing on the stage, proud with your mark on your uniform and even graduated as the class best.

At the evening you begin packing your suitcase for the flight to Colombia. You planned since the beginning of your studies, to go back to Colombia and work at the same station your dad did. You feel excited of the thought that your dream is finally going true. Also… how will it be meeting Javi again?

You sigh at the thought and suddenly your phone vibrates. You grab it and look on the display.

-

Javi

‘heard you graduated, congratulations, hermosa.

-

Your heart skips as he writes you that and you don’t notice how red your cheeks get. He didn’t write you often, nearly never, but when he did, he continued calling you hermosa, cariño,… and all the other names he had for you.

-

you

thanks, agent. maybe I’ll be your boss soon.

Javi

you wish. your dad told me to pick you up at the airport tomorrow.

-

You start to get a nervous feeling in your chest, but also can’t help to smile.

-

you

okay, looking forward for tomorrow then, agent.

Javi

see you tomorrow, cariño.

-

You throw your phone on your bed and lay down next to it. You can’t keep down your butterflies in your stomach. The thought of seeing him again after one year has you smiling, but also getting you even more nervous.

What should I say when he picks me up?

Should you hug him? What if he kisses me?!

God, I really need to know what to talk about, I hate awkward silence.

You think and start panicking. You groan in frustration into your pillow. You grab after your phone and scroll through your chats with Javi.

Your smile fades as you see your calls he didn’t pick up, how he responded to some messages from you after literally one month. Sometimes he didn’t even respond. You know, he has really much work to do and doesn’t have it easy… but seeing how he barley contacted you, makes you feel disappointed… you really thought he would like you back…

Maybe I have to high expectations, you think.

Maybe he doesn’t care so much about that, but you do. You gave him your trust in so many ways…

And with that thought, you get up with a sigh and look frustrated at your closet. You watch at some of your bikinis. “yeah, I think I’m going to take this one”, you mumble to yourself with a smirk, taking the string bikini in his favourite colour.

…

You walk towards the exit with your two suitcases and back bag. As you step out of the airport, you take in the warm, tropical breezes. You feel the air brushing across your skin and hair. The sun’s rays are warm and comforting as they peek through the clouds. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, taking a moment for yourself that you’re finally reaching your dream.

“bienvenido a casa, hermosa.”, you hear a very familiar voice saying and you wince.

“goddammit- you scared the shit out of me”, you say out of breath and then take a moment to look at him. He’s leaned against the car, with a cigarette between his fingers. Your feelings are going insane again. He’s still the same, just like when you left. But… he got a little more muscular.

“really? that’s how you act when we see each other after this long time?”, he chuckles and raises an eyebrow.

“shut up”, you mumble as you roll your eyes and walk towards him. You don’t think about it and just wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a hug. You hug him tightly and you don’t know why, but your eyes start to get wet. Smelling his scent again of cigarettes, leather and musk… it’s addicting.

As you feel how he pulls you closer by wrapping his hands around your waist, your heart skips.

“missed me?”, he whispers and you sense his smirk. “maybe.”, you answer and even if you don’t want to, you end the hug and go some steps back to take your suitcases.

As you feel a wet drop rolling down your cheek, you immediately wipe the tear away and pull yourself together to give him a happy smile. “would you mind helping me with these?”, you point out your baggage.

Javi chuckles as he takes the last drag out of his cigarette until he throws it away and takes two of your suitcases, putting it into the trunk. “god woman-, how many clothes have you in these?”, he gasps and closes it.

“‘need something to dress, you know”, you chuckle and roll your eyes while going into the car. You expected him to say something like: “around me you won’t have to wear many clothes”, but… obviously he holds himself back.

You take a seat next to him and he starts the engine, drinking away from the parking lot. You roll down the window to let the warm breeze of Colombia fly against you. As you were driving through the city, you couldn’t help but just stare out of the window. “feels good to be here again”, you mumble and notice how much you missed this.

You expected him to say something like: “feels good to have you near me again”, but no… nothing.

After a while you finally hear his voice again. “class’s best huh?”, he chuckles and you roll your eyes. “yeah. my dad told you?, you ask and see him nod. “yeah”

“How’s the situation with Pablo? I watched the news, but they don’t tell much and you never know if they’re telling real shit.”, you ask while looking at all the buildings. You see kids play soccer outside and smile. “He’s a fucking pain in the ass, that’s what I can tell you”, Javier mumbles while concentrating on the road.

“You know, we’ll be working together now, you can tell me?”, you point out and raise your eyebrows.

“Let me say, the situation got worse. It’s true that he killed all these people by blowing up an airplane”, he answers and you gulp when you hear that. “There’s a fuckin’ war right in Colombia.”, he adds.

You see that he’s tense because of this topic. As you take a closer look at his face, you also notice he didn’t get proper sleep for like a whole month. “And… you’re fine?”, you mumble concerned.

“I’m fine, hermosa. Nothing to worry about.”, he answers and drives in the streets of Medellin. You remember now where you are. You see the streets you and your class walked down. You also remember that you will soon drive past an ice cream truck… and memories pop up in your mind.

…

Javier kidnapped you from a trip with your class through the streets of Medellin, again. You were walking down the road, he was right behind you and constantly staring at your ass, because you wore a shorts.

How couldn’t you? It was like 40 degrees in the middle of the day.

A heat wave was surrounding you and the sun was shining right into your face. “you’re not very unobtrusive when it comes to staring, you know.”, you smirk and take a quick look behind you.

“maybe I don’t want to be unobtrusive…”, he says while taking a drag from his cigarette. You roll your eyes at him. You just continue walking and hear a chuckle behind you as you rolled your eyes.

As you keep walking, you spot an ice cream truck. “You know, I really need to cool down now.”, you say and with that you just cross the street, walking towards the ice cream truck. “ice cream, really?”, you hear Javi saying behind you. “You want one too?”, you ask but he shakes his head to no in response.

“Hola señor, me gustaría una cucharada de vainilla y fresa en la oblea, por favor.”, you order in Spanish. You smile proud as the man in the truck understands you and gives you a smile. “Impressing.”, you hear Javier whispering right behind you what makes you laugh. Your Spanish wasn’t actually that bad, when you came to Colombia as a kid to visit your dad, you heard this language all around you. And in school you also had some Spanish lessons.

The man hands you over the ice cream and you hand him the money instead. “Gracias”, you say with a kind smile and then go on the crosswalk again. You and Peña walked to a shady spot, to give you two a break from the burning sun.

You start licking your ice cream from the bottom to the top. And, he was watching you.

He sees how you take long stripes of the ice cream, sometimes licking just the tip. Because of the hot Colombian sun, the ice cream begins to melt quickly.

Drops of ice cream land on your hot, light sweated neck, your thighs and your chin. Then, also on your tank top. “Fuck…,” you mumble and don’t notice how hard you’re making it for Javier. You take your finger, wipe the ice cream away and lick it off your finger.

“goddammit, y/n.”, you hear him cuss quietly, you look at him and notice the bulge on his jeans. “Ops.”, you say innocently and chuckle. You just continue licking your ice cream while looking directly into his eyes. You love teasing him… and always know where it leads you too.

It doesn’t take long to Javier grab your arm and drag you into a small alley. You let your ice cream fall, because of him. “Javi! My ice cream!”, you say literally heart broken like a kid and pout.

Suddenly you feel his tongue licking up the ice cream, which landed on your neck. “Javi, what are you-“, he cuts you off by smashing his lips onto yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting the flavour of your ice cream.

Some minutes later, you find yourself being fucked from behind and pressed against the cold wall.

…

You don’t notice you’re pressing your tights together, but he does. “How about we get some ice cream? I really want to have ice cream now”, you ask with a slight smile on your face. You wanted to see if he remembered, if his body still responses to the memories of you.

And… it does.

He hesitates and wants to disagree. “Please...”, you beg and you know one thing, he can’t resist your begging… well, not for a long time.

You hear him let out a loud sigh, before whispering a quiet: “okay”.

Yup, still works, you think.

He pulls over and parks right next to the ice cream truck. And it’s really the same as one year ago.

You get out of the car and order yourself an ice cream, you feel him looking at you while you’re waiting. After you finally got your ice cream, you come back in the car and buckle up. You took the same flavours as last time. You take a long stripe of the ice cream and let out a soft satisfying moan.

God, how you missed this.

You hear Javier starting the engine quite impulsive and you can’t help but chuckle.

“So, where we’re going?”, you ask while licking your ice cream. “I’ll let you out at your dads old apartment. You can get yourself comfortable there and unpack your suitcases until I pick you up to drive to the station.”, he says tense but focussed on the road. You let out a cute short “okay” and just continued looking out of the window.

After thirty minutes, you arrive at the building where your dad’s old apartment was. You get out of the car and Javier opens the trunk, taking out your suitcases. As you wanted to take the suitcases, Javier has them already in his grip and getting them up the stairs.

“such a gentleman”, you tease and he opens the door of your building. “just get your ass up these stairs”, he says while rolling his eyes and you laugh.

As you two walked up some stairs, you finally arrived at your apartment. He gets out the keys your dad left for you and locks up the door. You walk through the door and immediately look around while Javier is getting your baggage inside. “It’s cute”, you say and walk to the front door, where he’s standing.

“There you go, cariño.”, he hands you over the keys, “‘gonna pick you up at 4, okay?”, you nod in response. “Thanks”, you say to him with a smile before he closes the door and you see him driving away.

You sigh and everything still feels pretty unrealistic. You go on your small balcony, feeling the hot sun burning in your skin. “I’m back, Colombia.”

You started unpacking your suitcase and made yourself comfortable. You took a shower, put a little make up on to cover the rings under your eyes and got yourself a dress. You’re wearing a white tank top with a shorts, since it’s still very hot outside. “I really need to go grocery shopping...”, you mumble when you’re looking in the empty fridge. You grab an apple out your bag pack and take a bite.

You look at the clock and it’s already 4 o’clock. You grab your cardigan, in case it gets colder in the evening and walk down the stairs, going out on the street and looking around for Javier. It doesn’t take long until you see a black Jeep Cherokee driving down the street.

Yeah, that’s him.

He pulls over and is leaned out of the window with a cigarette in his fingers. He’s wearing the same as in the morning, but now with yellow toned sunglasses.

God, he looks fucking hot.

“Ready?”, he asks while taking a drag of his cigarette. “always”, you reply with a smirk and get in the car. As he starts driving, you feel the excitement building up in you. The thought of you finally working and getting your place in a DEA station, makes your heart jump from happinesses. You worked your whole life for this.

You don’t live far away from the station and as Javier was parking, you saw Steve waiting outside. A big smile comes across your face. You two get out of the car and we’re walking towards the entrance.

“Hello, newbie”, Steve chuckles as he pulls you into a hug. “Shut up”, you roll your eyes and hug him back. “good to see you again”, he says as he lets go of you and you give him a smile. “good to see you too”, you reply and suddenly the door opens and Colonel Carrillo comes out.

You’ve seen him not often, just sometimes when your dad talked with him. “Buenos días, señorita Álvarez”, he says and offers his hand for a handshake. You give him a smile. “Colonel Carrillo.”, you nod and shake his hand, as Javi and Steve greet him too. ”also congratulations for graduating”, he says kind but with a stern face. “Follow me”, he says and walks into the station with you three following.

You squeak quietly because of excitement and your heart beats out of your chest. You walk through the hallway, and already seeing the office of the DEA agent, but instead of walking further, Carrillo opens the door to the secretary’s office.

“There you go”, he says and you just stand there confused. But not only you’re confused, you also feel Javier and Steve’s confusing look. “Um… that’s the secretary’s office”, you mumble and Carrillo nods. “Yeah.”, he says confidently. “I’m a DEA agent, sir.”, you point out, still completely confused.

“Oh, your father didn’t told you yet?”, you shake your head to no. “Your dad wanted you to watch first, to get some feeling for the job before working completely as a DEA agent. Also, the case with Pablo Escobar is kind of heavy.”, Carrillo continues explaining and you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“What.”, you gasp slightly and feeling complete anger flowing through your whole body.

“‘being your boss soon’, huh?”, you hear Javi quoting your message with a chuckle. You find that anything but funny. “Shut the fuck up.”, you growl to him, and then force a smile to Carrillo.

“If you would excuse me for a minute, sir.”, you mumble tensely and get out of the office, walking out of the station and calling your dad. Murphy and Peña follow you outside, watching you walk up and down while holding your cellphone to your ear.

“poor girl.”, Steve sighs while leaning against the wall. “guess daddy is pretty scared for her”, he adds and Javi sighs while lighting up a cigarette, handing the lighter to Steve. “I mean, she isn’t bad… I think she would be a good help for us.”, Javi says while taking a drag of his cigarette while they watch you literally yell into your cellphone.

“Dad what the actual fuck?! You know how hard I worked for becoming an agent, and now you’re hiring me as the fucking secretary?”, you yell upset. “You’re not even working as the Colonel with Carrillo anymore, how can you still decide something like that!?”

“I wouldn’t want to get into an argument with her, that’s clear..”, Steve mumbles as he’s taking a drag of his cigarette too and looks over to Javi, who’s just watching you.

“You’re planning to fuck with her again?”, he asks and laughs slightly. “Shut up, Murphy”, Javi mumbles. “No I mean seriously… I know you like her, man”, Steve says while you’re still yelling into your phone, shortly before throwing it on the street.

“‘dunno… I didn’t reply to her calls, or texts often after she left…”, Javi sighs.

“Wow.”, Steve gasps as he finishes smoking. “You really are an asshole”, Steve points out and claps on his shoulder.

“but seriously, she likes you, Peña. Make it up to her ”, he says seriously while you’re on the edge to destroy your phone. “You really need a woman in your life, man”.

“Dad, I’m fucking 26! I can take care of myself”, they hear and see you scream.

Javi starts thinking about Steve words and finishes his cigarette too.

“she’s not gonna throw her phone, is she?”, Steve asks while raising his eyebrows as he keeps watching you how literally go rage. “If you think that, you don’t know her enough”, Javi just answers and one second later, you hang up and throw your cellphone directly throw it on the ground.

Steve just stays there in shock. “Told you”, Javi chuckles. As Steve sees how you walk towards them, he immediately makes his way into the station again. “‘need to do some paperwork”, he excuses and Javi rolls his eyes at him.

You take a deep breath and walk to Javi. “Well unfortunately my dad thinks I’m incapable of taking care and defending myself, even if I trained my whole fucking life for this.”, you complain and run your hand through your hair.

“'guess being class best and graduating after such a long time, isn’t enough.”, you sigh and try to calm down. Javi just keeps looking at you.

“I’ll talk to him”, he suddenly says and you look at him. “what? with my dad? that won’t help”, you scoff. “No, I mean with Colonel Carrillo. "I have a good rapport with him.”, he tells you and puts his hand into his pockets.

“If it doesn’t help, you can come over to us in secret, going through some folders and stuff”, he suggests and you nod slowly. “yeah…”, you just sigh. “thanks.. “, you add, turn around and take your phone with a pretty broken display from the ground.

“Would you mind driving me to the grocery store? I don’t have my car yet”, you ask after some minutes of silence. He takes a look at his watch. “Well, I have thirty minutes until my shift begins, if you do it quick, then I can drive y-”, he replies while still leaning against the wall. “good, thanks.”, you cut him off and make your way to his car.

…

You're leaned on the card and walk through the market. Your cart is already half full and you’re soon finished. Javi was walking behind you and the whole time his eyes were fixed on your ass, you could feel it.

And that’s why you couldn’t stop smirking. “Stop smirking so much, you’ll get wrinkles”, he chuckles and you make your way towards the checkout. “says the man who’s soon in his 40s”, you tease him back and he laughs.

How much you love his laugh…

When you walk to his car with him carrying your two full grocery bags, he takes a look at his watch again and you hear him cuss in Spanish. “I’m already ten minutes late..”, Javier hisses.

“Oh, I’ll walk the rest. My apartment is not far from here and I have to get my cellphone repaired anyway.”, you say, wanting to take the bags from his hands. “I won’t let you walk home alone on these streets, especially if it’s getting dark.”, he says serious, not handing you over the bags. “I can defend myself, it’s fine. Go to work”, you mumble more seriously and grab your bags, ripping them out of his grip.

“When something happens to you-“, you cut him off. “Go to work”, you shout and make your way on the other side of the street.

You hear him cuss in Spanish behind you and just chuckle. You changed in many ways after one year, but one thing always stayed the same.

Your obstinacy, confidence and trust in your skills.

“maybe if you hadn’t been busy with staring at my ass, you would’ve checked the time earlier.”, you shout with a cheeky smile to him as he goes into his car. You chuckle and hear him drive away.

You know when the whole case about Pablo Escobar wasn’t so serious, you know he would’ve driven you home, but unfortunately it was.

It was getting dark and you made your way to a electronic shop. After you talked with the man behind the counter, he told you, you can pick up your phone tomorrow.

When you got out of the store, it was dark outside and got kinda cold. You wanted to put on your cardigan, but notice that you forgot it in Javier’s car. “fuck..”, you mumble and continue walking with your grocery bags.

A group of men were walking next to you on the other side of the street, beginning to catcall you. You start to feel uncomfortable and walk a little quicker, ignoring them. They were continuing catcalling you, and being a woman, alone on a street while it’s fucking dark, is kind of scary.

But that’s life as a woman, I guess…, you think

But you pull yourself together and remind yourself of your confidence, knowing you would knock the fuck out of them. You were five minutes away from your apartment, but suddenly one of the men decided to switch sidewalks and walk to you.

“Buenas noches, hermosa. ¿Buscas alojamiento?”, he asks while walking next to you.

Someone else calling you hermosa, who’s not Javier, gives you the shivers.

Your Spanish wasn’t perfect, but you think he asked you if you have a place to sleep tonight or something.

You continued ignoring him, and he continues speaking to you, but now you didn’t understand shit… and to be honest, you didn’t want to understand it.

You could sense and smell he’s drunk. “Vete a la mierda”, you tell him to fuck off.

Suddenly he grabs your arm, and that was it. You let fall your grocery bags, grab his hand and kick him right into his balls. He couldn’t react fast enough because of the alcohol, so you also kicked him with your knee right into his face.

You hear a car coming nearer, but ignore it. As the guy lies on the ground, you punch him right in his face. You hear his mates being shocked. “You want too? Come here then!”, you shout challenging, but they didn’t thought twice and ran away.

You just scoff as you see them walking away and bending down to grab to pick up your groceries.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your back. “Cariño, are you o-“, before your brain can process and recognise that it’s Javier’s voice, you punch him directly into his face. You hear him groan in pain and as you look up, you see his car. “Omg- I’m so sorry-“, you panic and take his hand into your face, looking at his bleeding nose. You take out a tissue of your shorts and hold it against his nose.

“I thought it was someone of these men-“, he cuts you off and takes the tissue himself. “You got a hell of a punch, you know that”, he says while holding the tissue at his nose.

A part of your brain starts thinking, he deserves it. For ignoring you for so long. You start to form s slight smirk on your lips, but then throw the thought away.

“What a secretary I am, huh?”, you chuckle and pick up your groceries. He stuffed the tissue into his nose and then helps you, getting all your groceries together and then lifting up your grocery bags.

“Don’t you have to work?”, you ask him confused because it was just 20 minutes ago when he left. “‘told Carrillo I forgot a folder at home, I can’t let a beautiful woman like you, walk home alone.”, he says while going to his car. “but I have to say, you handled the situation pretty well, he’s completely knocked out.”, he smirks and gets the grocery bags in his car.

As he called you beautiful, you blush slightly and take a seat in his car. “‘didn’t train for nothing, you know”, you giggle while he starts the engine and drives you home.

As you arrive after literally 2 minutes, you take your cardigan and get out of the car. “thank you for still looking for me”, you mumble and put the cardigan on.

“no problem… but I kind of deserved this punch, didn’t I?”, he sighs while you take your grocery bags.

Now you can’t hide your dirty smirk anymore.

“Yeah, you kind of did”, you answer and close his car door.

“‘wish you a good shift then, be careful”, you give him a smile and then walk to the building, getting out your keys. “see you tomorrow, hermosa”, he calls after you and as you walk through the door, you hear him drive off.

...

The next morning you finally got your car and could drive alone. Even if you enjoyed Javier’s as your driver. You get to the DEA station and walk to your office…

You see a sign with your name on your desk, and under it is written: secretary.

Yup, still hate that, you think and let out a loud sigh.

You take a seat on your chair and lean back. After a while some woman comes in and gives you some paperwork, and also a folder that you can catch up with everything. Even if the thought, that you normally could work in the DEA office to take down some of Pablo’s guys, makes you angry, you need to live with it for a while now. And then, you get started…

After some hours you hear a knock on your door. “Come in”, you say loud and as you look up who it is, you roll your eyes. “Agent Peña”, you call him while having the folder in the hand.

“‘The previous secretary was fired because being caught flirting, kissing and sleeping with one of the agents’”, you read out loud and then look up at him. “And who might that be huh?”, you ask serious while raising an eyebrow at him, knowing exactly who it probably was.

“Even if you won’t believe me now, it wasn’t me”, he answers and places a coffee on your desk. You raise your eyebrows at him. And he was right, you didn’t believe him.

But, why should you care? You’re not together or anything… but the thought of him fucking another women, makes you jealous… and kinda sad.

“you’re fucking all your secretaries now, Agent Peña?”, you ask cheeky while being leaned back in your chair. He just chuckles while shaking his head and places his hands on your desk, leaning against it.

“No, just you.”, he answers and you choke on your coffee because you took a sip.

“We’re definitely not fucking and I’m not your secretary.”, you say serious to make a point.

He takes a cigarette from his ear into his fingers and puts it between his lips, while making his way out of your office.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that in some weeks.”

[82mitsu]

{18Trip} <CHAPTER 001 SIDE-A: Sun will R1ze!> 001-A04 Dependable(?) founding employees

A translation of 18TRIP's CHAPTER 001 SIDE-A by 82mitsu. ENG proofreading by sasaranurude.

TL Note:

As mentioned in Kafka’s interview: The dog is named Shumai which is Siu Mai, a chinese dumpling. 

Kaede: (The first day of work is finally here! The other new employees will be here too, right… I’m nervous.)

Kaede: (That reminds me… I ran into Renga-kun here last week—I wonder if he turned out to be okay. He wasn’t looking too good there.)

Kaede: (Not that I can do much just sitting around and worrying! Alright, time for work!)

Daniel: Nah, what’cha making all these faces for. Someone’s a busy fella as always.

Kaede: !? Eh, Da-Daniel-san!? What are you doing here!?

Daniel: Ah? ‘Cuz this is my workplace, duh.

Daniel: Lemme take it from the top again, I’m director of HAMA Tours, Iwabuchi Daniel Hiroshi. Nice to meet’cha~

Kaede: …! …! …!

Kaede: (Y-you have got to be kidding me… Does that mean he’s my boss again…!? This guy who doesn’t lift a finger…!? Kafka, why did you hire him of all people…)

Daniel: While it’s our new workplace, you better be working till ya drop~ Chief-san♪ ‘Kay, I’mma head off first.

Kaede: D-Daniel-san, you are one of the founding employees, remember!? So please actually put effort into working this time around, okay!?

Daniel: Wahaha, I’unno ‘bout that.

Sakujiro: A good morning to you two, Chief, Director.

Sakujiro: Chief, we received the flowers you ordered. Thank you kindly for your consideration.

Kaede: Sakujiro-san, good morning to you too! So the flowers arrived safely then.

Sakujiro: Indeed. Young Master… Pardon, the President is most delighted with these.

Kaede: (...Oh, I see now. Sakujiro-san’s also one of the founding employees. Working together with someone who has been looking out for me since I was a kid—it does feel a little bit strange…)

Sakujiro: I am no more than a mere newbie of an ordinary employee, so please do give me orders regarding anything, even miscellaneous affairs at work.

Kaede: Eh… that’s really a bit too…

Daniel: Gotcha, Sakujiro. I’ll let ya take charge of all the annoying things.  

Kaede: Daniel-san… Don’t you have any common sense…!?

Daniel: Gotta use whatever’s at your disposal~

Kafka: Good morning. Everyone’s in high spirits already. Chief-chan, thanks for the flowers ♪ Could it be that you got these arranged in my image?

Kaede: Ah, Kafka, goo-

Daniel: Top of the mornin’ to ya, Bossman. 'Nother day of you looking all spiffy there.

Kaede: (Daniel-san, your tune sure changes with Kafka…) 

Kafka: Good morning. The other two who will also be founding employees are already here. Allow me to introduce them.

???: Good morning, Chief-san and Director-san if I’m right. 

Kaede: (Wah… A calm, proper looking fine young man!)

Kafka: He’s Kitakata Nayuki. He’s an old friend I connected with back in the investor community. This time I brought him on board as the manager for accounting.

Nayuki: If there are any problems related to accounting, please don’t hesitate to ask me about anything. I will properly follow through with you.

Kaede: (Woah, a genuine guy who has it all together…! Thank god…)

Kaede: (Hm? I kinda… feel like I’ve seen him before… Where was it again, like a magazine interview or something…)

Kafka: By the way, Nayuki also has experience establishing JPN’s biggest metaverse service mahorova under the role of COO under his belt. He’s your go-to guy to rely on. 

Kaede: Ah…! You’re the boy genius who created mahorova at the tender age of 12…!?

Nayuki: That is something from 11 years ago. Currently I’m a mere section manager for accounting so please treat me as such without reservation.

Kaede: (Such an amazing track record, yet so friendly and humble… Kafka, you actually hired a respectable guy…!)

Kaede: (...Honestly, why come to our company with a background like that? is what I’m thinking, but… maybe it’s because he’s friends with Kafka?)

Kaede: (...That also reminds me, something’s telling me I heard “Kitakata” somewhere else… What was it again?)

Kafka: Well, Nayuki will be taking on another job besides accounting sometime soon. Leaving that aside for now…

Kafka: There’s one more person, a guy that I employed as an intern but…

(Sounds of glass breaking and rattling)

???: Wah, uwaaaaah, I fell over and the flower vase is………..Guh! Hweeehsorrysorrysorrysorrysorry—--!!!

Sakujiro: Oh good heavens. The flowers we received from Chief are a mess.

???: P-picking them right now!!! Ouch!!! There’s blood from touching the vase shards… bloooooood~!!  

Kafka: Sigh… Sakujiro, lend him a hand, and put the flowers back together.

Sakujiro: I shall wrap this up within three seconds. 

Sakujiro: SWISH, SHWIWIWIWIWISH!!

Kaede: (T-they’re the perfect picture of a clumsy boy and overpowered butler…!?)

???: Ah, awawawah, I blinked and there’s band-aids… G-God, was that you~!?

Kafka: Yachiyo. Come here. Those flowers are VERY! important to me so you better not be coming near them ever any time soon, okay?

Yachiyo: S-s-sorry… I won’t ever be in the same room as them ever again… 

Sakujiro: Fuefuki-kun, if I may. Once you open the door first look to your right, and then to your left. Then proceed to keep a one meter distance from anything that seems breakable on impact. 

Yachiyo: Ye-yeshhhh!!! I’ll write it down!! I’ll make a memo of exactly every single spoken word!!!

Daniel: Oooh, whatta hard worker, takin’ proper notes and all. Intern-kun fella.

Kaede: (It’s kind of like… another unique person joined the bunch…)

Kafka: This is Fuefuki Yachiyo. The details of his application form were unusual and funny so I hired him ♪ Do get along with him.

Kaede: (Hired because it was funny… Kafka, your bad habits are coming out again!)

Kafka: And~ last~ but~ not least~ Ta-daaah, our poster dog Shumai.

Shumai: Borf!

Kaede: Eh, where did Shumai pop up from!? Wait, why did you bring him here!?

Nayuki: What a cute little doggy. Are you acquainted with him, Chief?

Kaede: Uuh, more than knowing him, we found him injured in the courtyard of the hospital Kafka was staying at back in the day…

Kafka: Chief-chan and I rescued him and looked after him at the hospital. I took him in my care when I got discharged from the hospital. Since he came running after me, and all.

Kaede: Really? It’s been so long, I’m glad to see you again, Shumai.

Shumai: Pant pant, boworf!

Kafka: Ah~ so unfair. Only wrapping your arms around Shumai. You should embrace me like you used to in the past, Chief-chan.

Kaede: W-what are you saying, geez…

Nayuki: Fufu, the president and Chief sure are good friends.

Kaede: Eh, no no it’s because we’re childhood friends…! Sorry for messing around at work…!

Kafka: It's not like we're messing around for the hell of it, this is how good friends act ♪ Manager Nayuki, don't go making eyes at Chief-chan, okay.

Kaede: (No, but seriously, what are you going on about, Kafka…)

Yachiyo: Do not make eyes at Chief… I-I jotted that down!!

Kaede: Yachiyo-kun, you don’t gotta take notes of that!

Kafka: Now then, given how all founding members have come together… Suppose it’s time to hold our first strategy meeting.

<<previous chapter / next chapter>>

chapter 001 side A directory: TBA upon completion

[spotaus]

New Age au (og drabble)

Finally gave up trying to post this on my phone and I'm doing it from my computer >:(

Don't mind if this post seems outdated compared to any other lore you've seen, this is the very very very first version of this au that I wrote up in my drafts before making the first post about it here lol- It's inspired by @ancha-aus Real Age AU, and is buried in my bajillion insane Fantasy thoughts. (Knight AU basically, Nightmare is a king, usurped to twin thru prophecy stuff, hired on several murderers + outcasts as his elite group of knights.)

This is all un-edited and un-reviewed, best of luck! (I also lost 90% of the italics I added, unfortunately)

(@papiliovolens too btw! Hi!)

   Oh. Oh.

   The feeling that sloughed through Nightmare's body was one that was foreign and uncomfortable. The sound you get when you walk with a pail of water and it sloshes and slams around inside no matter how carefully you walk? Yeah, that was happening to him. 

   His magic felt like all at once it sloshed to the front of his ribcage, then back again as he recoiled. 

   He was training now. Pinned between his knights as they slashed and charged at him. He always loved to enrich them with fast-paced work outs like today. The task was to try and incapacitate him, and he'd planned to tire them out for a while longer. 

   Now, though? He felt sick to his stomach and his vision doubled as he slid out of the way of Killer's blade. He was trying to keep it together, his movements still confident, but hell was it going to shit quickly. He'd never felt a drain like this. 

   As he nimbly moved out of the way of Cross, he noticed they were corralling him. 

   He wondered if this would pass. If he could finish out their training session without giving away just how horribly off-put he felt. Just how unbalanced he was becoming. 

   And yet when he ducked to evade a magic attack from Dust and nearly slammed directly into Horror's broad chest, he realized he was... not right. He was addled, and his senses were dulling. He was grasping at straws trying to identify the magical signatures of his team. 

   Nothing. It was just as bad as being blind. 

   He spun away again, facing his entire team as he caught sight of them. They were having fun. They were enjoying themselves, focused and invested. He hated to cut that off so soon. 

   Nightmare stood tall, opening his mouth to announce a hault, when... 

   He threw up. 

   Not... not in the way most living creatures do. It wasn't bile or mucus or digested food that flooded from his mouth, but instead all at once his magic seemed to erupt. 

   It clogged his throat, and he reached up for his jaws as it flooded out of him. He hunched a bit, only barely catching the surprise enter the expressions of his team as he stared back at them in shock. In disgust at himself. 

   Then his knees gave out. All at once, sense flooded from his mind and he slammed to the ground, his knees and elbows taking the brunt of his weight, joints jolting painfully as his good eye centered in on the ground. Where his magic was pooling and slipping away from him. Down into the cracks in the stone and the mat beneath him. 

   He trembled there, unable to bring himself to move. To try and hold it in. He couldn't breathe, it was just a flow of his magic like someone was tearing it out of his very core. Siphoning it like a straw. 

   He saw a shadow cast over his view, he heard scuffles. The voices were there, but the feeling of losing his grasp on his magic was too overwhelming. He couldn't make anything out past his out soul beating like a drum in his chest. He was losing it. Something. A part of himself. 

   Then a touch. A contact with his back. 

   Not through the protective veil of his magic, not through the sensation of transmitted contact. A thin fabric held him apart from the bony hand that so gently rested along his spine. 

   He gagged on the magic, seeing as it started coming in spurts. He... did not like that sensation. The gasping and the choking as it continued to rise from his core. 

   In a fit of shaking strength, Nightmare forced his body to move. He caught sight of pearly white bones exposed on his hands when he moved them out of the pile of sludge. He weakly shoved himself towards where he thought the hand was from, and collided with a large body. Someone's side. They were knelt. 

   He pressed his back to them as he continued to heave, and the presence drew closer, almost around him. An arm now covered his back, leather pressing heavily into his weak bones. It didn't matter if it hurt, because it made the heaving less horrifying. 

   It felt like an eternity of agony as the last of his magic dripped out of his throat and onto the ground. 

   His chest hurt, his neck hurt, and jaw hurt. His knees ached from the mat and his entire body still shook. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. Why had that happened? 

   He couldn't feel his team.... his team! 

   Nightmare's head shot up. His breathing was ragged, and he surely would've fallen over had he not been so heavily supported by that body. 

   Horror. 

   Horror was the one who was supporting him upright. Who was staring at him, brow furrowed and silent. Who seemed deeply perturbed by what he saw. 

    Past him, Nightmare could see the others. Cross, Dust, and Killer. They all seemed poised, ready to attack an unknown threat. Their backs were to him. The training room was utterly empty. 

   "M'lord?" Horror muttered in question, almost hesitant. 

   Nightmare stared up at him a few more seconds. His mind was chugging through what had happened, trying desperately to come up with a solution. 

   "Stand down." Nightmare ordered. Though, it felt like a squeak compared to his usual deep tone. His voice had lost any bit it might've held not ten minutes prior. 

   At the order, the other three whipped around and observed Nightmare. 

   Cross seemed reproachful. He looked to the others. He was the newest, probably wondered if they'd seen this before. 

   Dust only really turned a bit. A glance from the corner of his eye. Evidently he wanted to stay vigil. 

   Then there was Killer, who immediately dropped to his knees in a kneel to examine Night more closely. 

   "Lord, are you hurt?" Killer asked. 

   He was the first of them, and knew Nightmare best. 

   Nightmare stared at Killer. He was so earnest and loyal. 

   "I... the apples of the prophecy have revoked their magic. I am... I am weakened." He admitted loosely, staring at Killer. He felt empty.

   Killer frowned, his brow furrowing. "May I check you, Lord?" He questioned then. 

   Nightmare nodded. 

   The feeling of magic flowing through his body was not invasive nor unwelcome. It combed his very being, before revealing itself in script before Killer. 

   Nightmare

   The prophecy will not be delayed. His title may now be challenged. 

   Nightmare winced as Killer seemed to hunch even more down, closer to the ground. "If someone can reach my soul, they become holder of the prophecy. I- Dream will know. He'll come for me." He croaked. "Everyone will come." He added, suddenly feeling a terror strike into his soul as Killer raised his dark sockets to stare at Nightmare. 

   Killer hardly moved his hand, and Nightmare felt a second-wind sweep him up. A rush of adrenaline. Some wild jackrabbit just woke up in his soul and realized with a blood-chilling terror that it was surrounded by dingo.

   He thrust himself out from under Horror's arm before the knight could think to constrict him, and caught himself on his feet. 

   Killer's gaze trailed him. As did Horror's as he seemed surprised. 

   Dust stood perfectly still as he went stumbling backwards. And Cross? Well Cross was- 

   Nightmare wasn't sure what came over him when he felt arms around his sides. He was hoisted off the ground, he recognized the technique, it was Cross. 

   "Cross, release me!" He ordered, bis voice weak and panicked. Some part of him knew Cross wouldn't do it. He knew he'd be delivered to Killer and Killer would carve out his soul. 

   He was carried back to the group of nights, then forced to the ground, Cross holding him in place firmly, right where Killer and Horror were still sat. 

   His vision- it was growing blurry with tears. His composure completely broken at the aspect of being killed so soon. 

   "Killer, please don't."  He pleaded, seeing the skeleton draw closer. 

   Killer seemed to frown, "Lord, have some faith in us. We'd never let anything happen to you." Killer said, sounding unimpressed. 

   He raised his hands, and gently laid them against Night's neck. 

   Warm, soothing magic coated the tight injury, and Nightmare tried to resist the temptation to squirm in Cross' grip as it eased his ailment if only slightly. 

   "Your soul's beating so hard I can hear it from here. Breathe." He ordered then. 

   Nightmare took gasping breaths, slowly, very slowly, trying to calm himself. Of course they wouldn't hurt him. These were his knights. He just... he hasn't been so weak in years. Why did he... why did he panic like that? Why... was he so scared still? 

   He didn't open his socket, his good one, for a minute. He let the ebbing race of his soul calm. He tried to remember that he was the one who taught Cross this hold. A non-lethal hold, one which didn't risk harming the target. He tried to relax, to go limp in the hold, but he couldn't. He was still shaking. 

   He kept breathing. And breathing. He'd trained all of them to go for the kill, none of them enjoyed toying with their prey. They would not kill him. 

   "I apologize. I- I don't know-" He tried to speak, only to choke up again as he tried to open his eye. His body just felt so heavy, and so, so abysmally empty. 

   He squinted at the group. 

   "He hasn't stopped shaking." He heard Cross report unabashedly from behind him. 

   Horror stared for a brief moment, before he sighed. "Magic loss. I can hardly feel his aura, he has to be drained all to hell right now. Running on fumes." Horror announced solemnly, his big red eyelight focusing on Cross. 

   He knew Horror was right. He didn't know why it hadn't occurred sooner. His form was reacting poorly to the loss of a godly amount of power. Of course he was afraid and vulnerable. 

   "Mm. What did he usually do to help me? Soup and bed-rest?" That was Dust, his grumbling tone barely scraping Night's ears. 

   Killer and Horror looked to eachother in agreement, nodding. 

   "Lord, I'm going to assume you're delusional and exhausted from magic loss right now, so I'm not taking the tears personally." Killer voiced then, looking to Nightmare. "Cross and Dust are going to escort you to your quarters, Horror is going to bring your dinner, and I'm going to go triple check that this place is on lock-down." 

   Nightmare stared at him with a wide eye, and it took him several seconds to realize that Killer was waiting for something. 

   "P- permission granted." He muttered, and Killer nodded and raised from his knees to stand. 

   Horror followed him, and Cross took a few moments before he eased Nightmare onto his feet. He realized only then that he was barely Cross' height. Barely tall enough to look him in the eyes. 

   He still shook like a newborn fawn, but felt less weak. Cross offered his hand awkwardly. Nightmare noticed he was avoiding his gaze. 

   Horror and Killer were far out of the room by the time Nightmare could muster a standing position. His cloak was far too long for him now, and he hastily bundled the edges up into a bunch before tightening his belt into them. Dust helped him with the clasp, his hands still too shakey. 

   He pulled up his hood, and gripping Cross like a lifeline, the trio left the training room and headed towards Nightmare's quarters. He was a weak, weak man, he realized. Fragile. Once a servant was turning a corner away, no doubt spooked by Dust, and Nightmare nearly fled out of fear. 

   They opened and closed the doors, revealing the darker room. Cross led Nightmare to his bed and gently helped him out of his training wear, only leaving him in the simple under-clothes, which still seemed to hang off of him. 

   He eased into his bed, and he wanted to say something to Cross as he dutifully fluffed Nightnare's pillows, but he could muster nothing. He couldn't bring himself to- no...

   "Cross?" His voice was a bit stronger again. It hurt less to speak. No doubt Killer's magic settling in. 

   The knight seemed to jolt a bit, looking to Nightmare. Nightmare slunk back under his gaze, unable to withhold the reflexive recoil. 

   "I- Thank you, for disobeying orders." He managed, "I could've hurt myself in my frenzy. You made the right call." He admitted, before swiftly turning his head away. 

   Cross seemed silent for a moment, hesitating at the bedside. 

   "You always said if you fell ill that Killer would be in charge. I just figured this was one of those instances and did as he ordered." Cross reported, his voice meek as well. He seemed to be taking Nightmate's sudden decrease in magic just as hard as the tyrant himself. 

   Nightmare nodded a bit. In agreement. In acknowledgement. Of course Cross would never disobey him on his own whim. Cross had always been a soldier. 

   The room grew still in the wake of the words, and Nightmare felt himself sink a bit easier into his pillows. 

   Cross stationed himself by the door, and Dust settled at the foot of Nightmare's bed, using the trunk sat there as a seat. He'd done it before in the past, and Nightmare had never noticed how defensive of a position it was until that moment. He felt... secure. Like he always did with his knights. 

.

   Horror returned with a meal within the hour, gently awakening Night from his dazed half-sleep which had nearly consumed him. His sockets were heavy when he sat up to take the plate onto his lap. 

   It was a nice cut of meat, and a drink he was almost positive was plain water, with what looked to be fresh plants from the gardens.

   Horror had handed over the utensils, and stood idly near to Dust as Nightmare worked his way through the food. He'd never had a large appetite before, not even as a boy. Now he had devoured everything on his plate, and felt sick for it. 

   It seemed to please Horror, though. As Night discarded the plate to his nightstand, Horror had turned his head and smiled at him. He hardly had the strength to nod back in approval. 

.

   Night had fallen asleep mere minutes after he finished his meal, sinking back into his pillows with a soft repose. Horror had stood and pulled his covers up a bit further. Nightmare was a lot smaller, now. The linens drowned him, and the his bed felt all too large. His frame seemed fragile. Dwarfed in the expanse. 

   It wasn't until Killer entered that anyone spoke. Nightmare had drilled it into them that Killer was the one in charge if anything weren't wrong. 

   "Everything's secure, all the guards know to be on alert." He reported to the other three. His gaze only lingered on Nightmare for a few seconds before his shoulders sagged. "How are we feeling about Nightmare? Does it look like he was right? Prophecy privileges revoked?" He asked quietly, though he could see with his own eyes just how obvious it must've been. Nightmare was small, and frail, and his skull was covered in cracks. 

   Dust hummed, "No sign of his usual aura. Seems like he's going to be okay, though." He reported evenly. Killer didn't need to look to know the others were also looking at their King. Exhausted, tucked soundly into bed. 

   "Surely he can't continue his duties like this. I mean... we scared him. Us." Cross piped up from the door. It seemed he still hadn't recovered from his own apprehension. Killer had seen the hurt in his face when Nightmare had been so afraid. 

   Killer scoffed, "To be fair, I think that's the normal reaction to seeing us, Cross." He teased, "But no, you're right. Even if he's more calm when he wakes up, we shouldn't let news spread of this... change. It would put him in danger." Killer lamented a bit, and heard the others all give grunts of agreement. 

   Horror shifted onto his feet, "We'll have to keep close to him. He seems... younger. I don't like the idea of leaving him alone when there might be threats." Horror had been raised on the outskirts, he was always sensitive to young people. When Cross had joined them, he'd lingered around him so often Cross was sure Horror wanted him gone. 

   The big guy was just trying to make Cross more comfortable was all. 

   Killer tapped at his thigh as he stood there, "We'll take shifts, then. Assume we treat this as an illness for now, follow his protocol, and once he's feeling better we can decide if he's still fit enough to, y'know, order us around." Killer said to the group, though there wasn't going to be fuss either way. Killer was always the one they'd trust next after Night. It was only right. They'd all trust Killer with their lives. 

   They all seemed to silently debate. 

   "I'll take first shift. I was going easy during training, so I'll stay up tonight." Dust finally chimed. 

   Killer agreed, and the others, after some hesitation, ushered out of their king's room and out into the halls. 

   Cross said he'd go back and train some more on his own, Horror said he was going to go get food for himself and Dust. Killer was going to go reschedule all of Night's meetings for other times or assign them to advisors. They all had things to do, and it felt strange to know their King was now not who they once knew. The fear in his eyelight had been the same fear they saw when they got injured, or sick, or hurt. They never expected to cause that fear to the man who had earned their full trust. 

[huntersmoon1]

MAGI:THE LABYRINTH OF MAGIC X LOVE AND DEEPSPACE CROSSOVER IMAGINE IDEA!

The lads men meet their genderbent counterparts who are in a similar situation to Alibaba’s mom only none of them get sick and die.

(Edited: reworked the kids ages.)

(Edited again cuz they made I pic for Xavier and Rafayel too!)

Ok I just saw this great fan art right after watching the episode of Magi:The labyrinth of magic where it explains Alibaba’s past and about how his mother caught the eye of the king and they had an affair,she leaves and becomes a prostitute,gets sick and dies,all that. And that gave me a request idea.

If you wanna write this for me please hit me up. 🙏

I can’t write I just come up with the outline, the blueprint if you will.

This is the fan art the artists twitter is linked click on the picture to go to the page.

•So what if Sylus,Zayne,Rafayel,and Xavier meet their genderbent counterparts in the world of Magi that are in a similar situation in the way that they are prostatutes in the slums in order to survive like Alibabas mom only none of them get sick and die like Alibabas mom did.

You know the three princesses of the brothel in apothecary dairies? Well think of them in that way in the sense that they are the most beautiful and desired, well known prostitutes but not in a brothel and are instead in the slums of balbad. Even if they can’t dress luxuriously they are still the most beautiful. And instead of three there’s five,Sylys,Zayne,Rafayel,Xavier,and Mc.

Most of them will be disowned by their families for getting pregnant out of wedlock since that was VERY frowned upon way back then.

•They know MCs counterpart but she’s not genderbent and is instead a sister figure to them and an aunt to their children.

She is also a prostitute,they found her in the slums wandering around with amnesia when she was (they guessed) 17 years old and soon found out she was pregnant,

they tried to talk her out of becoming a prostitute but knew it was likely her only shot at surviving given the state Balbad had been in since the former king died and his short pudgy son took the throne,

eventually they gave in and showed her the ropes and how to work this job without getting hurt by customers or getting sick from them, how to spot the good,healthy,and rich customers, and how to send away the ones that are trouble or could get her or her kid sick,they helped her when she first arrived.

Mc has one 4 year old and one on the way.

•They all live together or very close by each other. Sylus’s counterpart knows Luke and Kieran,they are genderbent and they were her handmaids.

•Sylus’s counterpart has a 9 year old daughter who looks like her dead lover,a 2 year old daughter who looks like her, and has one more on the way.

She was a high class noble lady and fell in love with a soldier and got pregnant but he died before they could get married so her family disowned her and his family blamed her for his death and chased her away.

She took what little money her family gave her and left for the slums and became a prostitute since no one wanted to hire a ruined woman for any other job.

Her loyal handmaids who are Luke and Kieran’s female counterparts went with her,whether or not they became prostitutes too is up to you but they are her assistants and big sister figures to her daughters.

Her daughter can’t learn as fast as the other kids and has trouble learning and understanding certain things like for example math,or learning and memorising the rules to a new game, due to developmental delays caused by her mother not being able to get enough nutrition while she was pregnant with her since she lives in the slums as well as being born too soon.

She makes enough money so she and her children don’t starve now since she’s more well known by the noble class and not just the men in the slums.

•Zayne counterpart has twins,a girl and a boy. They are none identical but they both look like their mother.

She was a middle class lady, daughter of two doctors,Her husband was a kind medicine peddler, he died after being attacked by bandits not long after her twins were born since he couldn’t get the required medical treatment in time.

Her twins are 6 years old and were born in a land where there was plenty of food to eat so they came out normal and not early.

Their mother came to Balbad with them after she heard their were many sick people there that needed help and didn’t have anyone to leave them with,

She thought she’d be able to make enough to get by without having to charge the poor people by treating rich nobles,

but she didn’t know just how bad Balbads money troubles were so she ended up poor too and moved to the slums since she could no longer afford their living arrangements in the middle class.

She makes a little money as a doctor in various classes of the hierarchy but most of her money comes from prostitution since men of all walks come for her services.

•Rafayels counterpart has one 5 year old girl and a newborn son.

She fell in love with a rich man and he got her pregnant, he said he’d come back for her but he never did and she found him courting another woman,he abandoned her.

She was in the middle class, the daughter of an art dealing merchant, but she didn’t have the funds to support herself and a child, and her family cut her off and disowned her for getting pregnant out of wedlock,

so she sold her house and went to the slums so she’d have a decent amount of money for a while but eventually she had to find a way to make ends meet and since jobs aren’t offered to people in the slums very often she turned to prostitution since that’s the only profesión from the slums the nobles and middle class will pay decently not well but decent. She’s pretty well known by the nobles.

•Xavier’s counterpart has one 3 year old son.

She was a middle class noble lady who fell in love with a soldier and as soon as he found out she was pregnant he kicked her to the curb and when her family found out she was pregnant out of wedlock they disowned her so she moved to the slums with enough money she saved to get by for a while and be able to get enough to eat from the middle class so she would have a healthy full term baby.

But after her son was born eventually that money ran out and she turn to prostitution since no one in the middle or upper class would give someone from the slums a job unless it’s a prostitute looking for clients. She’s pretty well known among the nobles.

[northlt03]

TSHOEH au

Sirius Black, one of the most famous actors of the 20th Century. A womanizer of sorts. The media loves him, his family? not so much.

Wherever he goes, tragedy and drama follow. He's smart, he's cunning, he's charming, he's manipulative. He goes after what he wants and he always gets it.

He's had seven wives, or at least that's how the story goes. Everytime, he's pictured with some different woman. He never really manages to stay with the same one for very long.

He's never been one for subtlety. Always loud and obnoxious and transparent.

At least that's what the media thought of him.

An old Hollywood legend, friends- with the likes of James Potter, Lily Evans, the directors Mary McDonald and of course his own brother he rescued from their abusive parents, Regulus Black.

They're like a galaxy by themselves. Always revolving around one another. All of them stars, but Sirius burns the brightest.

Near the end of his life, he hires his godson to write his memoir. And so Harry Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans, writes the story of Sirius Black, his seven wives, James Potter and his "marriage" to Lily Evans and the peculiar case of Regulus Black.

The public goes crazy, naturally.

The book goes through Sirius' life. At first, how his parents were abusive, how Sirius learned the traits he mastered later to be a good liar, mostly as a survival tactic.

Harry has written about how eventually it got so bad, Sirius had to run away to his best friend's house. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, both being in the film industry had no problem introducing James and Sirius as new talents. Nepotism gets you everywhere.

The book goes onto how Sirius starred in his first movie with James, something about two young boys during the World War. Sirius had finally found his calling. He loved it, the cameras, the attention, the articles. He absolutely loved it and he used his fame for everything.

After the release of his first movie, he gets a letter, just two words. Sirius, help. And so he does. Regulus was an adult by then, and yet unable to escape the grasp their parents had on him. So Sirius did what his baby brother asked. He helped.

The papers went crazy with that one. "FILM STAR SIRIUS BLACK KIDNAPS BROTHER FROM FAMILY HOUSE" It only makes Sirius laugh harder. Because the papers have always been wrong. There hasn't been a single thing in his life the Papers have been right about and if there was, it was because Sirius had laid all the answers in front of them, waiting for them to piece things together.

In any case, he continued his rise to fame. James' second movie was with an actress their age with flaming red hair and just as fierce a personality. James had been in love since the moment he laid his eyes on her.

Lily Evans had come from a poor background, with none of the connections Sirius and James had. And yet she'd proved herself multiple times.

They dated for a while in their early twenties, but it didn't seem to work out so they stayed friends.

Sirius' third movie, Regulus' first, was directed by a woman Sirius was first tongue tied around. Not in the romantic sense, Sirius had just never met a female director until then.

Mary McDonald was a force to be reckoned with. If Lily had been fierce, Mary was a whole different story.

As unprofessional as it was, they dated for a while. The papers had a field day with that as well. "MARY MCDONALD, DIRECTOR SLEEPS WITH ACTOR FOR CONNECTIONS"

Sirius never paid them much mind. He got what he wanted from Mary and so did she. When they eventually stopped dating because they figured out neither liked the other romantically, they continued to stay friends.

When Lily won her first well deserved award, they went out to celebrate. Just them. James drove, Sirius in the passenger seat, Regulus suffering in the backseat grumbling about how he'd rather be anywhere but there.

That's not to say the others weren't successful. James had girls wrapped around his finger, millions would literally throw themselves at him. And yet he never reciprocated, never went out with anyone after Lily.

He was a successful actor in his own right, films after films after films. He was a diverse actor, anything from biopics and romance to tragedy and comedy.

Regulus acted in plays mostly, though he did his own share of films. The public loved him, word on the street was- men mainly.

So they drove and drove to the middle of nowhere. Just Sirius, James, Regulus, Lily and Mary. Until they stopped at some shitty diner surrounded by nothingness as far as the eye could see.

That's where Sirius met Remus for the first time. Just a waiter, a snarky one that seemed to have no idea who they were and was downright rude to Sirius at times.

And still, they all came back. Again and again and again. When Mary won her first award for one of her films, when Regulus won awards for the musicals he starred in, when Regulus ditched theatre entirely and moved to music, when Sirius won his first golden globe- again and again and again. Somehow they always ended up in that diner.

Which is how Sirius found himself visiting the diner alone sometimes, just to get to talk to Remus in that small town where no one knew him. Which in turn is how he found himself in bed with Remus more times than just once.

So when Sirius won his first Oscar, he dedicated it to his Moony of course. And the public went wild as they had a reputation of. "ACTOR SIRIUS BLACK'S NEW SWEETHEART?"

It's not that Sirius hadn't dated before Remus. Hell, he'd even had a Vegas wedding with a fellow actress, a small wild fling with a famous singer and he'd lost track of all the women who wanted him. But this was different. As the times were, he knew the two of them would never be able to live as they wanted. Fame had given Sirius everything he wanted and yet it couldn't give him Remus.

They broke up, they made up, they got back together. Again and again and again.

Later, Sirius wondered why they wasted so much time.

Sirius caught James and Regulus in the bathrooms at the Grammys once. He'd groaned in disgust and made a huge deal out of it, teasing the two endlessly.

Regulus had been beetroot red even as he got on stage to collect his award. James had just hung his head in shame in the audience, only looking up during Regulus' speech where he thanked Sirius and "the sun" whatever that meant.

They were always in each other's orbit. Whether it was because James, Regulus, Lily and Mary wanted a child they decided to coparent, or simply because they were all just best of friends.

Remus didn't like the fame part much, but he tolerated it for Sirius' sake.

As always, rumors arose and so Sirius had to deal with them. He went in public, flirted with a few women, got into pr relationships and a few pr marriages over the following years.

His last marriage was to Mary, or rather his last legal marriage. Because in his heart, he'd been married to Remus as long as they'd been dating.

Fame trickled away, as it usually does. But they were immortalized for their works.

And now, after all of them had gone, Sirius would immortalize them for the right reasons. He wanted to tell the public their real story, not the one they had been acting in for decades.

And so Harry Potter wrote his book.

[rosyjuly]

approximately one million years ago you wrote a little 3 sentence fic about office workers George and Alex and I’m wondering how things are going for them IF you had any divine musings

Wolff finally takes mercy on them; hires three people for social media management. It’s only taken George half a year and two ppt-s to convince him that being under 30 doesn’t automatically qualify you as competent, and anyway his age is a depreciating asset. But they’re here now, and it’s great – they love to feature him, still, but at least it’s not him who has to edit the godforsaken TikTok videos to perfectly match the audio. 

The only downside is that with the new colleagues, they desks no longer fit into the corner of the second floor where George has been withering away for the past two years. It wouldn’t make sense to separate the comms team, so Claire makes them move up to the third. It makes more sense to be with the marketing team, anyway, she says. But now they have got the sales department on the other side, and in the open-plan office there’s just a lot more calls George has to listen to while he drafts the copies for the latest campaign. It makes him miss the data analysts. 

For the first few weeks, it’s not that bad. He either gets lunch with the new coworkers, trying to get to know the boys and girls in the marketing team, or has half a pack of crisps while trying to finish a press release, wiping his hand after every bite to avoid staining his laptop. Then the onboarding finally finishes and he doesn’t need to spend two hours each day to explain the ropes to Frederik. 

All of a sudden, he looks around, watches everyone else type away or nod at their screens with their most faux-genuine face, and he feels deeply, excruciatingly alone. He picks up his phone, opening the WhatsApp thread with Alex. Instead of the steady flow of texts, he can see the date annotated after every message or two. 

He’s told himself that the distance might do them good; that it’ll be healthy to stop looking over at Alex after every joke he cracks, that he shouldn’t be so attuned with Alex’s tea refills. A pint or two on Fridays would still be fine – hunched over a barrel in lieu of a table on the pavement, shoulders pressed together and complaining about the bloody ridiculous prices. But he didn’t expect this. The hollow, tender part in his ribcage that feels half-filled with regret as he thumbs through Alex’s texts about how he didn’t know Quality Assurance could be so bad, and maybe George should still be doing that much overtime if it meant that Alex didn’t have to listen to one more overzealous phone apology. 

You think Sales is much better? he sends back. It’s just past noon. Wanna grab an early lunch? 

YES. You won’t believe the bs Marko pulled this morning, Alex sends back almost immediately. 

George shuts his laptop, doesn’t announce that he’s getting food for once, lest someone tries to join him. Walking back into data analysis should not make anyone feel fond, yet here he is; the philodendron on Patrick’s desk has a new leaf. 

“Here to pick Alex up?” Patrick asks, pushing his headphones back. It makes George’s stomach warm, both with embarrassment and, mortifyingly, with pride. 

“You know how he is,” he tells Patrick, “gets lost in those Excel sheets and I’ll starve to death.” 

“I’m ready, shut up,” Alex says, saving his work with a few efficient motions. “First person to complain about me in the sheets, I’ll tell you that–” 

“And how would I know?” George asks, trying to ignore the hot shiver that runs up his spine. Alex whips around and George almost walks into his chest; when he raises his eyes, Alex is looking at him with his head tilted, like he’s a pattern Alex needs to find in a set of corrupted data.

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fanfiction Recs | Vol 34

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome to the Spreadsheet Digest, my weekly(ish) fic rec post. This is everything I read in the last two weeks. I was on a bit of a Din kick, but fear not, there are other boys here too.

All info provided by the author unless it was blank, in which case I filled it in.

Fic Recs Below!

lost, found

Dieter one shot by @sp00kymulderr

When Dieter is hurt by the words of someone else, he turns to his art to help him. What he really needs is you.

homophobia, unsupportive family, bad family relationships, drug use, alcohol use, implied poly relationship, sex mentions, angst angst angst. There is an ezra in this, whether he is our ezra or not is up to you. writer projecting their emotions on to their favourite character.

Well it's love, make it hurt

Din series by @corazondebeskar-reads

After The Mandalorian begrudgingly teamed up with you for a big-ticket bounty, you find you work surprisingly well together, and you propose a short-term partnership. Weeks become months, and your hunting partnership becomes muddled as you explore a new dynamic onboard the Razor Crest.

BDSM, d/s dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, s/m dynamics, sadism, masochism, bondage, bounty hunting, canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury, p in v unprotected sex, oral sex (m&f receiving), anal, toys, impact play, spanking, use of "sir," no y/n, all chapter titles are taking back sunday lyrics, explicit consent, aftercare, big meat Mando, soft dom din, din djarin removes the helmet but does not reveal his face

you've been a bad girl

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

You’ve been a bad girl and Din decides to punish you by keeping you on a collar and leash

canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), dom/sub, degradation, pet names (good girl, cyar’ika), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praising, no use of y/n

sorgan girls are easy

Din one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Din gets off to a pretty girl he met in the past

male masturbation, PIV (past), infidelity (past), hair pulling (past)

Rescue Me

Din series by @charnelhouse

Mando rescues a girl and develops a life-ruining crush.

Innocence kink. Age Gap. Smut. Screwing someone to get the other out of their head trope. Loss of Virginity (a tad bit of blood). Fluids. Dirty talk. Angst. Smut. semi-public sex. language. ptsd. fluff.

sweaty hands, reluctant hearts

Din one shot by 221bshrlocked (AO3)

He never thought the day would come when he’d hear you saying you wanted to leave (him). Yes there was an understanding between the two of you that you were hired to help him care for the Child and to somehow keep the Razor Crest alive and working. And he knew it made sense for you to find work elsewhere now that the Razor Crest was destroyed and the Child was with his own kind. But he just assumed you weren’t going to leave considering it’s been a couple of months since he’d given the kid to the Jedi and you never brought it up. It hurt hearing you say those words, especially when he realized he wasn’t meant to hear them and that you were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people. Turns out, all Mando needed was to see the Marshal eye-fucking you as you fixed the new ship and overshared your thoughts for him to snap and finally make a move. Hopefully he can change your mind…

angst, smut, jealous mando, the helmet comes off, rough sex, penetrative sex, oral sex, breeding kink, slight exhibitionism, sweaty sex, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, sweet talk, mando’a, shy/fluffy mando, touch starved, post season 2 - no grogu, some non con elements due to overstimulation, but everyone is consenting.

i wonder if you stopped his world like you stopped mine

Frankie one shot by @chronically-ghosted

watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

ruthless

Joel one shot by @whatsnewalycat

Joel is essentially your step dad and he catches you sneaking out instead of manning the radio like you're supposed to... so he punishes you.

DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

the warmth of your gaze, the lingering of your touch

Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

After an evening out with Joel you come home to go to bed together, leading to some other activities before the night ends.

reader is disabled and uses a wheelchair, no outbreak AU, Joel can lift reader, fingering, oral sex, praising, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (darlin’, pretty girl, baby, angel), fluff, no use of y/n

undercover

Tim Rockford series by @secretelephanttattoo

It's been 20 years since you left LAPD and stopped answering his calls. What happens when you partner up again after all this time?

Idiots who won't admit their feelings. Or if we're being polite: friends to ex-friends to work partners to lovers. Miscommunication. Slow burn romance with eventual explicit smut. The holsters come with their own warning. the dressDave Yorkseries@janaispunkYou’re having an affair with Dave York. When he takes you on a week-long vacation, you realize that you have deeper feelings for him than you should. explicit smut (18+ only, mdni), angst, infidelity, fluff, somewhat questionable relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dave, sub!reader, able-bodied reader, dave pulls her hair, no use of y/n, idiots in love, more specific warnings at the start of each chapter

the dress

Dave York series by @janaispunk

You’re having an affair with Dave York. When he takes you on a week-long vacation, you realize that you have deeper feelings for him than you should.

explicit smut (18+ only, mdni), angst, infidelity, fluff, somewhat questionable relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dave, sub!reader, able-bodied reader, dave pulls her hair, no use of y/n, idiots in love, more specific warnings at the start of each chapter

My Recent Fics

Trust - Din Djarin x gn!reader - season 2 finale drabble (prompt fill)

Ravage - Ezra x f!Reader - saltburn AU, vampire scene

Only Good Girls - Dave x f!reader - D/s, punishment, mirror sex

Happy Reading!

[misslavenderlady]

Love at First Bite 💞

David/Female!OC & Male!OC/Female!OC

Summary: David and the Lost Boys always have their eyes out for new brides to claim. However, when the vampire queen becomes smitten with a sweet redheaded boy, it may lead to the first time a groom is added to the coven.

This was inspired by @ghoulgeousimmaculate and her characters from the series Party the Pain Away and the various fics that take place afterwards. Ghoulie and I discussed the possibility of having another boy join the coven after so many girls were brought in. So everyone meet the new kid on the block! We hope you like him as much as Sis does~

WARNINGS: Fic contains mentions of fear, emotional manipulation, power dynamics, toxic relationship dynamics, PDA, mentions of blood/murder and alcohol. This has references to Ghoulie's stuff, and takes place in the modern world, not 1987. Part 2 HERE credit to hellobeautiful.com and artmoda.by for the pics of Daniil Kalinin and Chloe Bailey for face claims of Oliver and Sis.

Oliver was no stranger to working hard. From a very early age, his father taught him the values of an honest day's work and the appreciation of those who took on the most challenging jobs. Things like sanitation, customer service and food preparation were to be respected, as they were thankless jobs with poor compensation.  

He kept this in mind as he got settled into his new job after moving to Santa Carla. Not too many places were hiring as much due to the tourist season dying down for the year, but he was able to get hired at a local Italian restaurant. According to the manager, they had recently lost a waitress and needed to fill the position as soon as possible. 

After seeing the ins and outs of the restaurant himself, Oliver could see why it had a lot of business, even after the summer rush. It was a gorgeous place, and he was quite impressed with the quality of the food. Putting on the server uniform made him feel quite proud of the work he was going to do. 

His first few shifts went well. Oliver got settled in with lunch services and was sure to always work with a smile and a positive attitude. The customers enjoyed his friendliness and dedication to making sure their meal was perfect. Even if he was still very green, he had plenty of potential. 

That's why his boss made him a very particular offer. 

"Hey, Oliver," the middle-aged owner said to him. "Now that you're getting more comfortable, I'd like to get you set up for a dinner shift. We could really use the help during that time."

"Oh yeah! No problem!" the redheaded boy agreed. Little did he know that around the corner, his fellow servers were looking at one another with a shared sense of nervousness. Oliver had no idea he was getting into. 

The night shift brought quite a lot more customers to the restaurant. Oliver was working twice as hard as before to make sure everyone had full drinks and hot plates of food in a timely manner. He wasn't perfect by any means, but his hard work and dedication was clear to everyone. 

He was so focused on putting orders into the POS system that he didn't notice a new couple being welcomed in by his boss. 

"Saluti signore e signora! Your usual table is all set up. Right this way!"

By the time Oliver turned back around to see who had walked in, they were already out of sight. 

"I'm not taking their table. You go take it."

"Fuck you! I took them last time! You do it!"

Oliver couldn't help but overhear two waitresses bickering quietly off to the side. They had been more casual around other tables during all the other shifts they worked together. It was a surprise to see them so adamant about not serving the couple that had walked in. 

He'd dealt with his fair share of nasty customers in past jobs. There was one elderly woman at a cashiering job that had threatened to beat him senseless with her cane over an expired coupon. If he could handle that, he could handle anything.

"I can take their table!" 

The two girls turned toward him, looks of shock plastered on their faces. 

"Really? You WANT to take them?"

"Yeah! It's no big deal, really."

They didn't look entirely convinced, but they were still appreciative of Oliver's offer to take the burden off of them. They handed him a pair of menus and silverware before each giving him a soft smile.

"Your funeral, bud."

Oliver played it off as a harmless joke, snickering playfully as he headed off to the new table. Little did he know how serious his coworkers were with such a warning. 

He'd never served anyone in the space behind the curtain before. He didn't know what to expect when he pushed the black velvet fabric to the side in order to step forward. When he got a good look at one of the diners, he nearly dropped all the items he had in hand. 

Sitting pretty in the booth across from the entrance was the most stunning woman that Oliver had ever laid eyes on. Her beauty was enhanced by her long locs, brown eyes, flawless makeup, plush lips, and glowing skin illuminated by the candles. 

Oliver could practically feel his jaw hanging open at the sight of the mystery woman. If her looks hadn't caught his eye, then the bold dress she wore certainly did. There was barely any fabric on the top half, just mere straps crossing over her curvy figure. 

If he wasn't careful, he'd start chubbing up before he could even take her order. That would be embarrassing enough if it were just her. But there was also a tall, blond, and handsome gentleman cozied up next to her. Clearly her date. 

Oliver was just grateful for the thick fabric of the apron and his notebook covering up the area. 

He finally mustered up enough courage to step to the front of their table. When the lady looked up at him, her eyes shimmered. It was as if she were admiring some kind of precious gem or a beautiful flower. Still, Oliver wasn't confident enough to believe she was as amazed by him as he was to her. 

"Good evening!" he greeted the two. "My name is restaurant, welcome to the Oliver." 

Immediately, the boy's skin flushed to a deep shade of red when he realized he got his line backwards. He slapped a hand over his mouth in embarrassment, wishing he hadn't screwed up like that. 

"I-I mean…my name is OLIVER. Welcome to the RESTAURANT. I cannot believe I did that…"

"Aww, you nervous, sweetheart?" the woman cooed, clearly amused. "This your first night? I haven't seen you around here~"

Her voice was as warm and sweet as fresh honey. The sound alone made it feel like his heart was pumping faster and faster and his blood growing hotter with every moment. 

"Well…kinda," he admitted, smiling sheepishly. "It's my first dinner shift. I've been working lunches for a couple of weeks now."

The lady nodded, seemingly understanding of his situation. While she was warm and welcoming, her date seemed to be cold as ice. His frosty blue eyes were staring directly at Oliver, scanning over him carefully. It was like he was trying to figure out his entire personality with just a look. 

It really put him on edge. Oliver wouldn't lie to himself about that. 

"Well congratulations! You picked the best place in town to work!" she smiled. "We're regulars here! You'll be seeing us quite a bit. My name's Sis!"

She held out her perfectly manicured hand to the boy, happy to introduce herself. Oliver smiled right back as he slipped his hand against hers. He was a bit surprised to find it chilled to the touch, but not to a point of discomfort. After all, with hands as soft as hers, nothing about the experience was unpleasant. 

After a good shake, the two let go. Not even a second after she released his hand did her date push his own hand in, grabbing hold of Oliver. The man had a much stronger grip, squeezing the fresh rather tightly as he shook. 

"I'm David. Her husband."

Oliver felt his stomach drop as if he were riding on the world's steepest roller coaster. This wasn't some random date. This was a man she was in a committed relationship with. 

"Oh my God, stop drooling over a married woman, you idiot. Dad raised you better than this!" Oliver scolded himself inside his head. 

"Well, it's really nice to meet you! B-Both of you!" 

David seemed to tone down his icy demeanor, giving Oliver a slick smile as he leaned back against the fabric of the booth. He tugged his wife to his chest, letting her cuddle up to him. Even with their intimate embrace, she still watched Oliver with big doe eyes. 

"So! What can I get you started off with for drinks?" 

Sis opened her mouth to speak, but wasn't able to get a word out. David deprived her of that.

"Bottle of Pinot Noir for the two of us to share. Red is the best. Right, doll?" 

To Oliver's surprise, Sis didn't look happy with that choice. Her lips were stuck in a pout and she was looking down at her lap in disappointment. 

"David, I've told you a thousand times, I don't like red wine. I want Chardonnay!" she whined. 

"Hush, darling. Daddy knows best for you~"

That didn't sit right with Oliver. Seeing her uncomfortable made him uncomfortable too. Did her husband have a habit of forcing choices she didn't want? He seemed pretty pushy. Not to mention condescending as hell. 

He nodded as he made his way past the curtain and down the hall to where the wine cellar was. While he was able to find the Pinot without issue, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the wall of white wines. 

It wouldn't be very fair to not at least offer the lady a choice. 

When he made his way back into the private area, Oliver held out the two bottles he had grabbed on his way out. David raised his eyebrows in surprise when he noticed the Chardonnay label. 

"I hope you don't mind! I wanted to provide some options so everyone could get what they wanted."

The blond didn't like the decision to bring out the white wine, but it thrilled his wife to have her favorite drink as an option. Oliver couldn't deny she looked extra beautiful with the look of happiness on her face. 

He popped open both bottles, carefully pouring each drink into their glasses. While David stared him down with deep focus, Sis was more relaxed with her expression. She mouthed a 'thank you' when she had her wine prepared. Oliver gave her a polite nod, but little did she know that on the inside, his heart was getting quite fluttery from the way she looked at him.

"Now then! What can I get the two of you for tonight?"

"Oh? Did they not tell you our regular orders?" David asked, raising an eyebrow. His lips were curled back into a smirk, taunting Oliver with a deep smugness. "You seem to have a long way to go in this business, kid."

He wanted to tell the guy off for mocking his newness to the restaurant, but Sis beat him to the punch. 

"Oh David, be nice! You're gonna scare the poor boy off!" 

David turned his gaze from Oliver back to his wife. There was a deep, intense focus in his icy blues. It was as if he was trying to speak to her without speaking out loud. The way Sis slunk back into the cushion of the booth made it seem like whatever message he was attempting to give got to her. It was like watching a small bunny cower under the intimidating stare of a wolf. 

Oliver gripped his pen and notepad tightly, fighting back the anger boiling within him. He still remembered how, when he was a little kid, his father taught him that men who tried to control and hurt women were cowards. Pure Scum of the Earth. This guy was no different if he thought it was okay to act that way with his own wife. 

"She'll have the chicken parmesan and a Caesar salad."

"Actually, Sir," Oliver spoke, not bothering to write down the order. "I would rather let the lady speak for herself, so I know for certain she's getting what she wants."

David didn't like that one bit. It positively baffled him that someone would talk back to him in such a way. Oliver stood his ground, not breaking eye contact with him for even a second. 

Though David was furious at such treatment, Sis was elated by it. She appreciated the respect the redheaded server was granting her. The smile on her pretty face was all Oliver needed to know he did the right thing. 

"Well! As a matter of fact, I was interested in trying some New York strip. I've been hearing really great things about it from my girlfriends!"

Oliver was more than happy to write that down for her. He eagerly scribbled away as she told him how she wanted the steak cooked and what kind of veggies she wanted for a side. Oliver even made a note to bring her extra potatoes as a way to show her extra care. 

"I'd be happy to get that for you, Miss."

"Oooh! I haven't been called 'Miss' in quite some time. Aren't you a charmer~"

His cheeks were positively flushed with redness from her sweet coos of praise. It was worth it, even with her husband staring him down with a burning hatred. 

"And for you, Sir?"

"The same. But make my steak rare. I have quite an appetite for something bloody."

Now Oliver wasn't feeling as confident in himself. Normally he would dismiss these comments as coming from someone trying too hard to be tough after listening to too many podcasts on being an "alpha male". 

This was not one of those times. Something about the way David looked at him made it seem as if that was to be taken as a genuine threat. That he better mind his business or else he would be the one to become a bloody piece of dead meat. 

Any confidence Oliver had before was promptly shut down. With a quick flick of his pen, he finished writing out the order and gave a nod before scampering off back to the kitchen. The sooner he got out of David’s sight, the better. 

“How’s it going back there?” one server asked Oliver while clumsily put in the order. She must have sensed his nervousness from all the way back in the kitchen.

“It’s interesting…” he admitted. “That woman is really nice, but her husband looks like he wants to bite my head off.”

Oliver had been exaggerating when he said that, but when he glanced over at his coworker, she had a look of genuine concern on her face.

“Listen to me, Ollie. Just play it safe. David is not someone you want to mess with. Just be quick, respectful, and get out of his way so he can spend time with his wife. It’s your best chance at surviving the night.”

The redheaded boy let out a deep sigh as he passed the order along to the chefs. She was right. He couldn’t let his budding crush on a random customer cloud his judgment. All he had to do was work hard, and not let his emotions get the better of him. If everyone was happy, then he would be happy too.

“Okay. I can do that,” he said. “I appreciate everyone looking out for me.”

“No problem,” she replied, giving him a pat on the back before turning to leave. However, she didn’t get far before thinking of one last piece of advice to give. 

“Oh! By the way! Don’t be shocked if those two are…heavy on the PDA. David’s quite wealthy, so Giuseppe lets him get away with more lewd stuff. If you see something, don’t say anything.”

That certainly wasn’t something Oliver was expecting to hear in terms of advice. He wasn’t even sure to what extent she meant by that. It wasn’t until he grabbed a basket of fresh bread for their table and made his way back to the area behind the curtain that he finally understood.

And boy, did he get an eyeful.

David had Sis firmly perched on his lap, letting her straddle him as he feverishly kissed her. Her hands were holding onto both sides of his face, stroking his beard lovingly. They both moaned into their kiss, pawing at one another as if they hadn’t experienced a sensual touch in ages. Tongues dancing together and bodies moving.

David had pulled down the fabric of her dress, letting the girls out for anyone coming by to see. It wasn’t a surprise that she didn’t have a bra on under such a skimpy piece, but it was still quite a shock to see a half-naked customer going at it with their lover without a care of who came their way. 

Oliver kept his mouth shut, still very much shocked by the lustful display, but now knowing better than to say anything. Even if this wasn’t normal for the restaurant, he would still be a bit too shy to ask them to stop. All he did was silently move to place the basket on the corner of their table. They could take the basket whenever they finished..

His green eyes glance up just for a mere moment, moving without his control. He didn’t mean to, but even in that split second, his gaze locked onto the lady. Sis’ eyes opened, catching Oliver in her peripheral vision. The poor boy froze in place, hand still on the bread basket and eyes widening as the beauty watched him. Meanwhile, David’s eyes were still closed, his mouth now on her neck to nibble and kiss at her soft-looking flesh. Only Oliver and Sis were watching one another.

Oliver was certain she was going to scowl at him. Tell him to beat it so she could continue getting frisky with her hubby. But she didn’t. In fact, she did the opposite. 

She smiled at him. 

A smile that was a perfect mix of sweet and spicy. Something that showed she liked having him nearby for company, but also a hint of desire from him watching them. Her beautiful brown eyes were shimmering in the light, while her long lashes fluttered in a playful manner. She puckered her lips to make a kissing motion at him. 

Was she….flirting with him? All while riding her husband?

Oliver was far too overwhelmed to even consider the idea. He scampered off out of the room, leaving the couple be in order to rush back to the kitchen. Better to let them be before his face went full-tomato in color. Even still, while he tried to keep busy with his tasks, his heart was beating a mile a minute. 

By the time the dishes were ready to be served, he had managed to pull himself together enough to bring out their food with complete professionalism. 

Sis and David looked more than satisfied. All snuggled up with one another. They had dressed up again, and their hair was a bit messier and faces flushed compared to the last time Oliver had popped in.. All he had to do was act like he HADN’T just seen them in a romantic embrace.

“Here you are! I really hope you enjoy the meal!" 

The excited grin on Sis' face as she watched him set her plate of food down was all too sweet. She really was a beautiful lady, and every moment he made her happy ended up making Oliver happy, too. 

Still, he wanted to make sure both of them were satisfied with their service. With the same friendly smile on his face, Oliver turned to David to set his own dish down, too. Unfortunately, he didn't get the same expression of delight that Sis had shared. David kept his lips pressed tight in a grimace. His entire body was in a tense form. Eyes of crystal blue were watching him with unblinking focus, like a hawk stalking its prey. 

Everything about David was making Oliver nervous, but it wasn’t the intensity that finally made him stumble. It was how, for a split second, the color of his irises seemed to flash to a bright yellow right before Oliver’s very eyes.

Oliver jumped as he was setting the plate down, knocking into David’s glass of wine in the process. A sea of dark red wine sloshed outward, cascading onto the table, the cloth on top of it and down onto the lower half of Sis’ dress.

“Ah!!” she gasped. “SHIT! No! I just got this from Italy!”

The boy’s eyes widened in shock, tearing away from David and focusing just on the lady whose dress he had just ruined. She looked so upset, and it made him feel deep shame and fear, overwhelming his senses with panic. The blood in his face drained, leaving him completely pale. 

“O-Oh! I am SO sorry, Miss!” Oliver stammered.

“Now look at this mess,” David tsked, crossing his arms and shaking his head. Unlike Sis, who was showing worry over her beautiful gown, he had an aura of disappointment. He was acting like a parent getting ready to give their child a firm scolding. 

Unbeknownst to Oliver, David was already planning how he would teach him a lesson for ruining his wife's belongings. He would make the poor server boy realize just who he had messed with. Really make him sorry for his actions. 

But he didn't get the chance. 

"Please let me fix this!" 

The redhead was quick to jump into action, first grabbing an unused cloth napkin and dunking it into an untouched glass of ice water to soak it. He kneeled down in front of Sis' seat and began gently blotting at the stain on her dress. Even with the dark fabric hiding the redness, he wanted to prevent any discoloration on the garment. All the while Sis watched with a worried expression. 

"Don't worry! I know some tricks to help with this."

In between dabbing with the wet, cold rag, Oliver grabbed a nearby salt shaker and sprinkled some salt into his palm before rubbing it evenly over the red stain. 

"Let that sit for a few minutes," he explained, getting back up to his feet and moving the items on top of the table around so that the soaked tablecloth could be removed from their sight. "After I toss this into the laundry pile, I'll grab some more stuff to finish cleaning!"

Oliver was off like a shot, racing against the clock so that the stain wouldn't set. He wouldn't possibly forgive himself if he ruined their night by his clumsiness. He wasn't even thinking about the odd moment with David's eyes. All he remained focused on was getting all the necessary supplies from the cleaning closet. 

With his tools in hand, Oliver returned to the dining area, kneeling once again by Sis' side. The salt had come in handy for pulling a good amount of the red color out, but the next part would add an extra kick for help. Oliver's hands moved in a blur as he poured dish soap and hydrogen peroxide into a spray bottle. With the liquids measured to his liking, Oliver sealed and shook up the bottle to a sudsy consistency. 

"Wow! Aren't you an efficient thing?" Sis smiled, holding out the fabric so that he could evenly spray the stain. "Where'd you learn this trick, honey?"

"Oh, my dad knew a lot about preserving clothes whenever they got stained, ripped, or worn out," Oliver explained. "Growing up, we had to make our stuff last as long as possible. Didn't have money to burn on new clothes all the time."

That's the understatement of the year, he thought to himself. Piles of bills and his father's restless nights worrying about being able to feed his child weren't something to take lightly. Still, he didn't want to burden the couple he just met with his life story. All he wanted to do was to fix his mistake so their date wasn't spoiled. 

"Listen, I do feel bad about the mess. If the stain is still there by the time you're finished with your meal, I'd be more than happy to pay for any other cleaning you get done for it."

As much as Oliver wanted to offer to pay for the dress itself, he could not possibly afford the cost of a luxury brand dress straight from Europe. Not unless he saved his money for the next 50 years. Still, Sis' kind smile told him the offer he had given flattered her. 

"Don't you worry your sweet head, hun," she cooed, tucking a finger under his chin and tilting his head up a bit more. Oliver softly gasped at the gesture, cheeks flushing red once again. 

"Yes. She's right," David spoke up. Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin when he remembered her husband was right next to them. "Thank you for cleaning her up. It's good to know Giuseppe knows how to pick the best and most competent people to work here."

After a dinner of going back and forth between smugness and fear-inducing intensity, it was a relief to see David actually pleased with his work. Oliver quickly scampered back to his feet so he wouldn't push his luck with being so close to the guy's wife. Even if it was nice being around her, he wasn't a home-wrecker. 

The rest of their night went off without a hitch. Both of them got to enjoy their delicious steak dinners in peace, and Oliver managed to keep their glasses topped off without spilling another drop. By the time he delivered the check to their table, it was safe to say he had redeemed himself. 

"It was a pleasure serving you both tonight! How's your dress looking now?"

"Good as new all thanks to your quick thinking, hun!" Sis beamed, showing off the bottom half of her dress. Sure enough, Oliver's work had left it spotless once again. "I want to properly thank you for doing that for me."

Oliver wasn't one to take on acts of service for any rewards. He simply liked to make himself useful and ease the burden of others. But with the excited glint in Sis' eyes as she nudged her husband, he couldn't bring himself to decline such an offer. 

That was until David dug into his pocket and pulled out the most massive wad of cash Oliver had seen in his entire life. He was practically bug-eyed at the sight. David reached out to place the stack of bills in his hand, but he shook his head 'no'.

"Wh-Whoa! That's very generous of you, but I can't possibly accept that much money from you!"

David was already intimidating enough. Having the ability to throw money around like it was nothing didn't help that feeling. Besides, he was just doing as his father would have done. Not accepting charity for basic decency. 

"It's nothing! I haven't had such amazing service in a long time!" Sis insisted. "You worked hard and I can already tell you're gonna be our favorite server here. Let me show my thanks, Oliver."

Sis plucked the cash wad out of David's hand and reached her hand out to tug at Oliver's apron. He softly gasped as she tucked the money into his pocket, giving his chest a light pat afterwards. He felt like his head was going fuzzy.

"Besides…I have a soft spot for cuties with freckles~" 

Oliver's heart was practically doing backflips in his chest. The couple smiled playfully as they put their arms around one another, ready to leave together. By the time they had moved past the curtain and exited the restaurant, he was still standing in place with a bright red set of cheeks and a pocket full of hundreds. 

He would definitely be asking his boss for more dinner shifts going forward. 

"It's amusing he put in all that work fixing the stain, considering you're gonna get it covered in blood for our hunt later."

David and Sis were enjoying the remaining moments of their date night together. With the light of the full moon illuminating the path of the Santa Carla streets, they could enjoy each other's company and keep their eyes out for a victim or two.

"He was a sweet guy," Sis sighed, nuzzling against her husband's shoulder. "Very polite, dedicated, hardworking. I overheard his thoughts, too. Poor thing struggled when he was growing up. He comes from humble beginnings."

"Yeah, and he thought I was being an asshole."

"You're just soooo intimidating, Daddy," Sis cooed, stroking his ego. "And he backed off when he found out we were married. He's a respectful boy."

Little did Oliver know that David was one of several partners that Sis was romantically involved with. Humans and their ideas of monogamy were all too amusing to vampires. 

David smiled kindly down at his wife, noticing the substantial amount of bliss she was experiencing. 

"You really liked him, huh?"

"Yeah. I did," she sighed dreamily. "He was like…a loyal puppy"

Little did she know that the gears in David's head were turning. He adored seeing his queen so happy, especially after the recent traumatic events she had gone through. She was a fighter to the end, and she deserved to feel safe again. 

Perhaps the pup would come in handy to his queen. 

end of part 1

Tag List: @britany1997 @michael-after-hours @6lostgirl6 @kurt-nightcrawler @bezinful @american-idiot-jpg @vampirefilmlover @legal-lost-boy @crustyraccoon @ghoulgeousimmaculate @crustyboypix @oceansrose2002 @desoolate @palomam18 @themarginalthinker @bloodywickedvamp @vigdys @charlizekkelly

[rocknrolloccultist93]

The Soulless Vincent Theory

Ok so, this is something I typed out on Discord on a whim but I've been thinking about it FOREVER and needed an excuse to finally put it into words that make sense. TW because the Black Butler lore is fucked up, obviously. Also sorry for the lack of paragraphs

Am I the only one who thinks it's possible that Vincent either has no soul or only has a partial soul? Assuming Undertaker is the father, it could be the case that reapers aren't allowed to "meddle in human affairs" because only two humans can create a child with a whole soul. We know reapers should be able to have children because they're essentially in an OP human body (and Grelle's whole motivation in the Jack the Ripper arc revolves around being jealous of cis women specifically which suggests that if she were a cis woman, she'd be able to have children, reaper or not.) This would also make sense of the "new recruits" (citing the reaper ova here) seemingly being all the same age and younger than the on-duty reapers. If reapers have children together, they can't give birth to a body with a soul unless there's a fresh suicide victim's soul waiting in the wings, because if they could, there would be no shortage of staff for Will to complain about. Back to Undertaker though, if he had children with Cloudia, just as in real genetics, they'd have a mix of the parents' traits. So, maybe Francis got the white hair and wicked fighting skills, and Vincent got the lack of a soul. There's something wrong about Vincent's demeanor to me. He's always smiling, it's basically his neutral expression. We almost never see him actually emote about anything, and though he does seem to care about others (his family, for example), so does Real Ciel, who we know for a fact, doesn't have a soul. The same behavior we see in Vincent, we see in real Ciel, not just because they're father and son, but because they both lack a soul. Real Ciel does act more like Vincent in the flashbacks, but not to that extent. He clearly emotes and cares deeply about his brother and his family, to the extent that he wants to give up his position as earl to be with Our Ciel forever. We see no such concern in Bizarre Doll Ciel, who actively sabotages everything his brother worked for and forces him to go on the run. He no longer seems to care for Our Ciel's safety. Similarly, Vincent doesn't even think to train both the boys in the same manner to take over the earldom and title as watchdog, even though there's a chance the younger might have to. Francis on the other hand, trains both her children the same way, because whether or not they're going down the same path, they're still skills that will help them survive and succeed. Vincent, frankly, doesn't seem to care that much about the younger twin's ability to thrive after he's gone. Real Ciel doesn't lack the empathy required to care about others when they're not benefitting him, neither does Our Ciel despite his attitude. Vincent and Bizarre Doll Ciel do. They know enough about human emotions to say what's expected of them. Of course BD Ciel cares about Lizzie, because she's supposed to marry him. Of course Vincent cares about the elder sibling, because he's supposed to take his place as Earl and Watchdog. The people these two care about benefit them in some way. Our Ciel cares about people regardless. He has no reason to let Prince Soma and Agni watch his townhouse, he could just order Sebastian to prevent intruders either himself or by hiring guards. Soma annoys him, but Our Ciel keeps him around despite that.

[those70scomics]

Fictober Day 13: "that's not the point"

That '70s Show Fanfiction

In Eric's office at Blinkhorn Toys, Kelso described integrating a dynamic programming language into a new line of educational toys for kids. His facility for computer code never cessed to be impressive -- or surprising for someone with Kelso's lack of common sense. But he'd always been good with numbers, and Eric was glad the VP of toy development agreed to hire Kelso as a consultant.

"And you can make cartridges to swap out for different learning games," Kelso said, sitting across Eric's desk. "It'll be the Sesame Street version of a Gameboy." He shoved his proposal aside and laved his fingers together on the desk. "Now let's talk about you knocking up Donna with a kid."

Eric choked on his coffee. His coughs were whispers compared to the cacophony in his brain. Kelson couldn't know Donna was pregnant. Neither of Eric's parents would've told him, and Donna sure as hell wouldn't.

Kelso stood, dashed to Eric's side of the desk, and patted his back hard. "Arms up."

"I'm fine," Eric coughed out, but Kelso insisted on hitting his back more. "Enough!" He swatted Kelso away, but Kelso stayed close. "What -- what do you mean, exactly?"

"Betsy's got cousins and friends, but Brooke wants her to have a sibling. I can barely handle one kid, and who knows if Jackie and Hyde'll ever become parents, so if you and Donna ... "

"Oh, thank God." Eric's throat was raw, but Kelso was just being Kelso. Eric directed him to return to the chair across the desk. "Betsy's a good kid. You're way more capable of fatherhood than you give yourself credit for."

Kelso was seated again and said, "That's not the point. I never want Betsy to feel like she's not important, the most important person to me along with her mom. Having another kid now would kill her sense of reality. She's already ten. My older brothers were basically out of the house by the time the twins were born. It's all sorts of messed up."

"Wow. You've become introspective in your old age." Eric was joking about the last part. Kelso had turned thirty this year. He was hardly elderly, but he did think a lot more deeply. "How would Donna and me having a baby help you?"

"Well, you could name me and Brooke your kid's godparents. Then we'd visit each other a lot more often, and Brooke would get to hold an infant in her arms again."

The muscles in Eric's back tensed. He and Donna had already chosen Hyde and Jackie's as godparents. They were doing a great job as Betsy's, and they were more than friends but family. "So Brooke's missing baby-time, and you want to give her some without actually having another one. That's really sweet of you, man."

"Actually, it's selfish." Kelso grabbed the blind proposal he'd written, and his thumb repeatedly rubbed the corner of it's cover. "I want Brooke to remember how much work having a baby is -- the no-sleeping, the puke, the poop -- and realize we made the right choice having only one."

"But all that stuff's temporary," Eric said. He'd been reading his dad's baby log about him, and the relief Dad experienced once Eric was potty trained had jumped off the page. "What about all the fun and joy you have raising Betsy?"

Kelso stopped fiddling with his proposal and scratched his jawline. "Yeah, she'll be a teenager soon and won't hang out with me and Brooke as much anymore. Then she'll go to college ... and Brooke and I had Betsy when we were barely in our twenties. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad having another kid, except ... "

"Except ... ?"

"The no-sleep, puke, and poop will take our attention away from Betsy. She might feel like we've replaced her."

Eric drank what remained of his coffee. What he said next could influence Kelso in either direction, and he didn't need that responsibility. So he took a moment to craft his words carefully. "Why don't you and Brooke ask Betsy how she'd feel about have sibling?"

The tortured expression on Kelso's face vanished. "Ask Betsy! Eric, you're a genius!" He patted the proposal and said, "Okay, you talk to your VP about this. I've got to get back to Chicago. ... Ask Betsy -- why didn't I think of that?"

"Don't forget that she's ten!" Eric shouted after him. Kelso was already at the office door. "She won't understand what becoming a big sister means unless it's fully explained to her."

"Brooke'll be good at that." Kelso was halfway out the door. "Thanks for everything, Eric!"

He disappeared into the hallway, but Eric wasn't sure if his advice was good or if he should've kept his mouth shut. Friday the thirteenth produced strange effects in people, and a sense of eerieness invaded his body.

He'd be making decisions for a helpless being soon enough -- he and Donna would be -- and mistakes were an inextricably part of parenthood. Of life. His errors might be fatal, and he finally and truly got why Donna was reading all those baby books.

He picked up the receiver of his office phone and dialed his mom. She only worked part time at Point Memorial Hospital these days and never on Fridays. When she picked up, he said, "Hello, Mom? ... No, everything's fine. ... My voice is not squeaky -- anyway, when's the earliest date we could schedule a one-on-one babycare lesson?"

[kindheart525]

What do the Thirdverse Mane 6 couples do for their dates, when not preoccupied with work and their kids?

Twilight Sparkle x Sunburst: They have a sort of book club that’s just the two of them, where they both read a book and then take one or two days a month to write a thesis together on it. They get extremely passionate and in depth about it, with a number of papers easily exceeding 50 pages. I would imagine they publish some that they especially want the world to see but not always; it’s all in good fun as an intellectual bonding activity. It really brings them closer together as they engage in healthy debate and learn more from and about each other. Also they still love to go antiquing together just like in the show!

Applejack x Sugar Belle: They send the kids on a few days away with Big Mac or Apple Bloom and they take the kitchen to themselves for a baking weekend! It’s a passion both of them share and I think they’d spend the time not only discussing different recipes but also the goings on of their life and their personal values and whatnot. Much like when they were dating; it makes for a healthy and communicative relationship. The kids would certainly come home to tons of apple-flavored treats to enjoy (and even some with other flavors thanks to Sugar’s more varied palate)!

Rarity x Filthy Rich: Rarity would 100% love to take extravagant trips so she and Rich would absolutely go on a lot of those, distinct from obligatory travel for business or other high society commitments. They do bring their kids along, not wanting to leave them to miss out on any once-in-a-lifetime memories, but they hire a babysitter/nanny to come with them so they can reserve some of the itinerary for just the two of them. There are pretty much endless opportunities for what they could do together, depending on where they travel to. Rarity and Rich thrive on these experiences giving their relationship so much variety, but with how busy they are all the time, I imagine they’re also happy to spend a date night alone at home with wine and rose petals.

Rainbow Dash x Big Macintosh: I can see Big Mac loving nothing more than to lie back against a sturdy old tree and watch his radiant love perform dazzling tricks in the sky. Rainbow Dash loves the attention of course, knowing she’s admired so much for her talents, but I imagine she would also wish he could join her up there. Thus leading to her trying to carry him with her (she’s so strong yet so small - would she succeed?) or otherwise looking for some other way to get him up there. Big Mac would appreciate that even more than the stunts she performs, the fact she thought about him. If not that, they might race around with Dash flying through the trees and Big Mac running along with her, letting loose for some good lighthearted fun.

Fluttershy x Quibble x Pharynx: Nature hikes or weekend camping trips would be their favorite pastimes; they sometimes go with the kids and sometimes without. Fluttershy has lots of fun talking about all the fauna and flora while Quibble is enjoying learning new things, definitely taking notes along the way. All the while Pharynx is playfully joking about being their bodyguard, even going so far as to stand outside of the tent and keep watch at night. (I’ve recently developed the headcanon that only juvenile changelings need regular sleep and that adult changelings can stay up for days).

Pinkie Pie x Tempest Shadow x Luna: Since all three of them have a sense of humor in some way, I think they might enjoy lighthearted, harmless pranking sessions even as grown middle aged mares. Or they’d have dates at Sugarcube Corner, like Pinkie and Tempest before they became official, which holds even more meaning because Pinkie no longer lives there so it’s nostalgic for her. They would also love stargazing or watching fireworks (created by Tempest herself). Luna would love their nighttime dates the most, and she and Tempest would both find it adorable how enamored Pinkie gets with the colorful lights or how she always seems to find unexpected and unique constellations among the stars.