#yes his employer was clearly trying to make money

[suga-kookiemonster]

i honestly feel like hybe played jk. he had nothing to do with the creative process of this song ( the writing, production, etc.) It's a somewhat catchy pop song for the western masses that they got jk to sing because of his following. this whole thing, even the lato feature was just a big business deal. and it waters down jk's musical capabilities. i dont hate the song. but i was just expecting more. sick of the western music industry downgrading genuine talented artists to bubblegum pop.

it definitely felt like a song made directly for the western market, and i kind of assumed latto was under one of the sister labels. tbh, at the end of the day, while music is art, it's also a business, so it is what it is

..but you also forget. jungkook loves bubblegum pop. this is the type of music he listens to, so it's not a far reach to say this is the type of music he'd like to make. he is JEON JUNGKOOK--if he didn't want to do it, it wouldn't have happened, period 💁��‍♀️

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Four

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.4K

Warnings: drugs (not taken), gun violence, descriptions of piano playing even though i don't know how to play piano

Series Masterlist

It had been three lessons, and she was still terrified of him. That was clear. Every time he pulled up his sleeves, she flinched.

Charles noticed every single time. What had she heard to make her fear him so? More importantly, what had Arthur told her?

It made the piano lessons incredibly difficult. Charles could play one song and it was only ten seconds long (he had been a little surprised when she first taught him to play happy birthday, but he went along with it, at least slow progress was being made).

The three lessons happened in the span of a week. In that week Charles had met with the Gasly family, reunited with his old friend Pierre, had collected the money from the other clubs (since Arthur had taken the drugs out of the lounge) and had attended her performances almost every night.

It was amazing, she was amazing. Charles didn't care if he sat there with an empty drink, just watching her. He didn't notice his glass was lacking, not when he couldn't pull his eyes away.

Charles never had a chance to daydream. He was forced to grow up early, was never able to let his imagination run wild. At twenty-six years old, Charles understood why. He understood why he was never allowed to daydream.

As he sat in the meeting with Lorenzo and Esteban Ocon. Esteban Ocon was a mystery in the mafia world. He was a normal kid, hadn't grown up in a mafia family Charles, Arthur and Lorenzo. It was a mystery how he got to this point.

Somehow, as a teenager, Esteban ended up under the employment of the Gasly family. He and Pierre became good friends, but that friendship soon ended. Nobody but Pierre and Esteban knew what happened between them, but guns were pointed at each other and Esteban had to flee. He ended up in Monaco, under the protection of the Leclercs.

Charles was staring at Esteban, clearly making him uncomfortable. But Charles didn't notice. He was too busy daydreaming, imagining being sat at that piano with her, the crowd before them clapping as they finished their song.

"Charles," Lorenzo began, but Charles didn't respond. He was still staring, a stupid, dopey smile on his face. "Charles, Charlie," Lorenzo tried again. He knew just how much he hated being called Charlie, but even that wasn't getting him to respond.

Lorenzo turned his attention to Esteban. "Did he take something?"

But Esteban shrugged his shoulders and leaned across the table to snap his fingers in front of Charles's face. Charles flinched away from him, blinking rapidly as he sat up straighter. "What the fuck?"

"Are you concentrating now?"

Charles glared across the table. "Yes, I'm concentrating," he spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

But still, it was hard to concentrate as the meeting went on. Charles couldn't stop his mind from drifting back to her. He stopped imaging the crowd watching them. Just them, sat around the piano. enjoying each other.

"You know Verstappens boy, don't you?" Asked Lorenzo.

Charles nodded his head. He knew Max incredibly well. They were best friends when they were kids, before Jos became the head of the Verstappen Family. It had been a good few years since they had seen each other last, but Charles doubted anything would change.

"Stay on Max's good side and maybe Jos won't try and kill us," Lorenzo muttered. "Get ready to meet them tomorrow. Don't take guns, but be ready to fight if you have to. And take Arthur with you," he said, ready to dismiss them.

"Arthur? No way. He's still got a fucking gunshot wound in his arm," Charles threw back at his brother. He sat back in his chair, staring at Lorenzo. "Why can't Esteban come with me?"

"Because Max hates me," said Esteban.

"I'm not taking Arthur."

"You're taking Arthur. And that's final."

Lorenzo finally dismissed them. He sent them out of his office, turning his attention to the papers in front of him. Charles was the first out of the room. He stood up with such force that his chair fell back. Esteban followed him out of the office, falling into step behind him. "I can come if you want," he said. "I can sneak around and make sure that nothing bad happens to your brother," he offered.

Charles shook his head. "There's no sneaking around with Jos," he replied. "He'll kill you without hesitation."

He climbed into his car and quickly drove off. Esteban was one of the only friends he had in this world. It was lonely, but Esteban made it a little easier.

Charles didn't know where he was driving to. He was heading somewhere, his mind too consumed to know where. Thank God the people of Monaco knew to get out of his way.

When did he arrive at the lounge. He sat in the car for a minute, just staring at the building. He wasn't there for sanctuary, for comfort. He was there to confront her.

He was angry, but it wasn't at her. His anger was nothing to do with her, but he couldn't do anything to fix the reason why he was angry. He could do something about her.

He pushed the doors open, walking into the lounge. "Mr Leclerc," she called, standing from the piano stall.

That just fuelled Charles's anger. She watched as he stormed over to her, his jaw clenched. Her back was against the piano as he climbed the stairs and walked across the stage.

He stood so close until she was consumed by him. Every breath she took was him. And she was terrified. "I thought I told you to call me Charles," he said, his voice low.

How she wasn't shaking, she didn't know. "Mr Leclerc, please," she whispered, trying to get away.

Charles grabbed the piano lid, trapping her between his strong arms. "Why are you so scared of me?"

She opened her mouth, but no words left her lips.

His arms tensed and he pressed himself closer. "Tell me. Now."

"Please," she whispered, trying to get away from him. "Mr Leclerc, Charles, please." But she couldn't get away from him. It was too much, far too much, and she had to get away.

Charles hadn't expected her to push him. He didn't expect her to press her hands against his chest and push. But she did. She pushed him away and he stumbled back. "No way," he said, a grin crossing his face.

"I'm not scared of you," she said, standing strong (even if it was a lie).

And Charles knew it was a lie. He pulled his gun from his waistband, watched as her face fell, and put it on the floor. "I don't want to hurt you," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Slowly, he walked toward her again, like she was a startled animal. This time, she didn't flatten herself against the piano. As he sat on the bench, she moved away from him, standing beside the piano as he pressed his fingers against the keys.

Charles had dreams like this. Her against the piano as he played. It wasn't something impressive, just happy birthday, but she sang along.

At the end of the ten second song, Charles stopped. "I don't want you to be afraid of me," he said. I know what I've done, I know what you've probably heard, but I promise, I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Because you need me to teach you piano?"

His hand touched hers, where it rested against the top of the piano. "Yeah," he answered and swallowed thickly. "Yeah, because I need you to teach me piano." At this part in his dream, she would reach for his tie and pull him close, kissing him.

But, in reality, she pulled her hand away from his. She quickly walked away from the piano and off the stage. She disappeared into one of the back rooms, and slammed the door shut behind her.

Charles fists slammed down onto the piano. It was a miracle it didn't break. "Fuck!" He shouted, his voice echoing around the lounge.

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[thefandomdirtymind]

I would love to see a story where reader and sanji were dating until he left to go with the straw hat pirates and a year or two passes and they meet again but reader seems more interested in zoro and so we get some jealous sanji but reader still loves sanji and so they make up 🗣️🗣️

A/N IMPORTANT:  First of all Thank you for your request anon, second i'm so sorry it take me so long ! Due to my job schedule I have only few time to write and my request list was kinda long. So thank you also for the wait. I have fun with the drama and jealousy in this one as well at throwing some Zoro and Sanji Fan Service. I hope you will like it !

You left me

OPLA - Sanji

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

-----

The morning air, that day, was fresh and crisp.The perfect day for sailing. As you were watching by the second floor window, you saw Sanji, a foot on the boarding plank, looking behind, clearly searching for something or someone in the small crowd of the Baratie employer. But he will not find you there, he made a choice and you did yours.

“...You said yesterday that you were not leaving…that Zeff needed you, that it was where we are...” You said, watching him throw his clothes in his travel bag. 

“Well the old man seems to say he doesn't want me here anymore he wants me to go” Sanji harshly replied, the argument with his mentor still burning.

“And what’s that mean for me…for us” You enquire, afraid to already know the answer. 

“ Come with me, think of all the things we will see and live together!” He simply replied, small hope coloring his voice. 

“Becoming a pirate? I can’t Sanji…My parents need that money to take back the bakery, I need that money “ You protest, guilt, anxiety and sadness starting twisting your guts. 

“ Y/N we are talking about finding the All Blue!” Sanji replied, putting the last items in his bags.  

“ Yes, your dream is important, but us, our future, were all you told me were empty promises? “ You asked, seeing that said future of running the Baratie side by side, getting old together and love each others more and more crumble before your eyes. 

“ No but Zeff is right, staying here will not help me find the All Blue…” The tall blond says, defeat, seeing himself the realization of the inevitable situation rolling up in front of his eyes. 

“Then leave” You whispered, shock slowly flooding your system. 

“Y/N” He pleaded, trying sadly to reach for you. 

“ Leave !  “You suddenly shout, taking him by surprise. 

It was still only after he had closed the door behind him that you let yourself fall on your knees, crying, as your broken heart seemed to be aspired to by an black hole.  

You knew that things could have been taken differently, should have taken at least a more compromise turn. But everything had been so sudden and you had become so quickly frustrated that he didn’t understand the situation he was putting you in, that you didn’t want to try to be rational, he had chosen adventure and a mystical part of the ocean full of fishes, you had chosen your family. Still, as you watched him disappear in that ship, you couldn’t stop the burning tears from running down your cheeks. 

Two years later 

Sanji almost wished he had stayed on the ship. The atmosphere in the tavern was too loud for his current mood, the drink either not cold enough to be enjoyable or badly mixed and the food was so blank he had to fight the urge to enter the kitchen and throw the faulty chef out. But, Luffy had insisted on going out with everyone and nobody could resist their idiot but joyful captain.

That part of the year was always kinda bittersweet for him. Even with all the happy or more hard events that had followed his departure from the famous floating restaurant. The best cook of the east blue couldn’t help himself from missing his old man, keeping as a reminder, a small jar of oregano at his eye level in his kitchen. But it was you that he was missing the most, your tender eyes on him as he was talking about a new recipe, your humor finding a way to make him laugh or smile, your lips soft under his, your body warm and fitting perfectly between his arms. 

The guilt of your last conversation had frequently haunt him, during those years, your eyes full of tears, a recurrent memory of how badly he had handled the delicate situation. With time, the culpability had little by little given him some rest as the realization that it had been indeed one of those impossible cases nobody could have gone out without dommage. Yet, you were still a souvenir tormenting his heart he didn’t feel the need to share with his crew members. 

“ Nami, how far are we from the next group of islands?” Zoro asked, coming back from the bar, new bottles of alcohol in his hands. 

“ Few days, maybe a week, why ?” The navigator answered, trying to see behind the tall form of the swordsman. 

“ I would ask for a temporary place on your ship if it’s possible” A feminine voice answered, making Sanji lift his head and knock down his glass, spilling the mediocre liquor across the table,surprising everyone. 

If the tall blond was honest with himself, he would admit that for the most part of the first year, he had searched for you in every crowd he had crossed, stupidly hoping that you had a change of heart and had finally decided to go with him. But everytime he had believed seeing you, he had ended up with some cruel deception.

However, this time, he couldn’t make a mistake.Standing at the side of Zoro, in an elegant but simple dress he never saw, your hair pinned in a way Zeff would never admit in the kitchen, you were absolutely stunning and real. As real as your surprise but shock, gaze on him. 

“ I found her talking to the barman about a way to travel to the next water, I thought of catching her before Luffy somehow tried to recruit her.” The green haired man said, letting you sit before taking himself a seat.  

“ Y/N.. ? “ Sanji asked, himself shocked to see you in front of him, so far from the restaurant.

“ Do you already know each other ? “ Usopp asked, his eyes traveling between you and the cook, clearly reading with Nami a tension the others didn’t already catch. 

“ Hello Sanji. Yes, we had worked together at the Baratie under Zeff command “ You replied, trying to avoid his hypnotizing blue eyes, cursing the universe for reuniting you. 

“ What, what are you doing here ? “ Sanji asked, cleaning the table with a rag a waitress had brought. 

Looking at the straw hat crew, somehow embarrassed to be so suddenly the center of attention, you adjust your dress, preparing yourself ,like if you doing a difficult task, to answer Sanji, trying to raise as far as you can the barrier around your heart. 

“ Well, my parents died so I had to get back home for the funeral yesterday. “ You replied. 

A vague sympathy and condolences enveloped you as you tried to not again be submerged by the emotions of the devastating event. You casually start to play with the discarded paper of a straw. 

“So you will take back the bakery “ The blond asked, wondering why you weren't already there instead of trying to buy yourself a passage for some island. 

“ I sadly have nothing to take back, the bakery was the cause of my parents death. A fire had caught in the middle of the night, they didn’t wake up in time. The neighbors tried to help but it was too late. “ You confess, taking a deep breath as the hand of Sanji advances to press your hand in sign of reconfort. 

But, it was the hand of the swordsman giving you one of his beers who reached you first, before tapping uncomfortably your shoulder in an essay of recomfort. As you gave a look to Sanji, his hand still half-way, you realize that you never saw  what seemed like blue flame in his eyes before.

Offering a thank you smile to the clearly well-intentioned but more reserved man, noticing for the second time of the night that he too, has some really fine features. You face every member of the crew. 

“ I can pay for my transport, name me the amount of Berries and it’s yours. So, will you accept me on board ? “ You asked as Luffy exploded in an exclamation of joy despite his already mouth full of food and Nami’s smile enlarge at the mention of Berries.

—

His hands gripping the rope, showing the strong muscles of his forearms while sweat was sticking on his naked back and torso . Zoro was keeping at a comfortable height one of the heavy stabilizers, letting Usopp do his carpenter magic, while you were sitting with Nami, in one of the chairs in the upper deck, clearly enjoying the show. 

Well, at least of what Sanji could see. He was as well on the lower deck, trying to avoid the many discard tools while collecting fresh tangerine for one of his dessert idea, ideas who had recently start flowing again since your two path have cross again Yet, even if his hands could blindly and with ease found the perfectly ripe tangerine, his gaze alway seem to linger to you, drooling on that moron of a mosshead.

Like if it wasn’t enough of a torture for him to having you so close but at the same time so far, since you was barely talk to him except for the polite minimum. He had now to watch you fall for a pile of muscle with no brain, who already thought he was better in combat than him. No, he couldn’t tolerate it. For four days, he had already endured enough of your smiles toward him, or your genius question about his show off three swords and the sweet way you had answered his observation about your knife technique. For god sake, Sanji was the one who had shown you and helped you perfect that skill, he should have been the one complimenting you about it. His blood boiling in his veins at the thought, pulling too harshly a very ripe fruit, he felt it crush in his hand, staining his shirt with the sugary juices. 

“ Merde! “ The cook exclaimed, extending his arm to avoid spilling more of the citrus liquid on himself. * Shit

Abandoning the basket behind, his mind full of french curses addressed to the damn swordsman, who clearly wasn’t aware of the ultimate luck he has to have caught your attention, Sanji slammed the door of the kitchen behind him, letting go of the smashed fruit in a small bowl before discarding his now dirty shirt.

“ Oh…sorry you had forgotten your basket...I just wanted to...” You said, stopping in your tracks as your eyes fell on his shirtless frame.

It wasn’t the first time you saw the bare chest of Sanji. In fact, you had often joked that you knew his form so well that you could easily draw a map of his naked torso with your eyes closed. However, as you admired the sun highlighting new muscle lines on his shoulder and chest, you couldn’t deny that the life at sea had given him some benefit and had turned your previous mental map of him almost useless. Trying to keep your head cold and not ruin four days of hard effort in the salt water, you bite your lips and gently put the basket on the kitchen island. 

“ See you later “ You simply said, counting your breath, adding mentally some bricks to the crumbling fence around your heart. 

“ What’s the rush, it’s not like you didn’t already see me like that. Or the spectacle of Moss head outside is more memorable. “ Sanji bitterly said, holding his shirt in his fist, mouth half open in a sarcastic smirk.  

“ What are you talking about ? “ You asked, confused. 

“ I’m talking about you and Zoro. Look I get it, I left you behind to accomplish my dream to find the All Blue and you have all the right to resent me for it. But, that man didn’t deserve even half of the perfection that you are.” He said, frustration blooming in his chest. “ I see you for days now trying to flirt with him, look at him with your beautiful eyes like if he was your favorite pastry. I know him for two years mon coeur, and I swear it he isn't made for you “ 

“ And you are ? “ You asked, old anger slowly rising to the surface.

You knew, after two years, that the situation of your break up was meant to happen. But the pain of being abandoned by who you thought was the love of your life, was still an open wound you had hoped would close with time. 

“ You know that I am, but you still drool with Nami on that imbecile !” He exclaimed, throwing his shirt on the counter.

“ Drooling ?!…I was talking to Nami about our last relationship ! We were looking at you ! “ You shout. “ You have left me alone for the last two years in a restaurant haunted by our memories ! “ 

“ And I regret it everyday ! I was haunted too !  I saw you everywhere, smelled the ghost of your perfume on my skin, and heard you call my name every time I was trying to move on and talk to another girl. You were there without being there ! I missed you so much“ He replied, tears filling his eyes as your heart arches in front of his now vulnerable state. 

You had tried to keep your heart safe from him. But at the minute your feet step by themselves to meet him, you knew it was a lost cause. You were tired to fight your feelings, tired to pretend you could forget him.  

Taking his face in your hands, brushing off the few tears running down his cheeks. You lifted yourself on your toe, kissing him gently, the soft sensation of his lips against yours tried to bring you back in your memories. But, as you felt his arms close around you, holding you like if he would never let you go again, you decided that new choices have to be made, and this time, you both choose each other.

Bonus : 

Few weeks later

“ Sanji, I will go pick some tangerine outside,don’t be jealous, Zoro his training shirtless so I will try to not slip when I will drool “ You tease your boyfriend, laughing when he abandons his new recipe to try to catch you before you leave.

Easily pinning you against the door, kissing you breathless, his laugh caressing gently your lips, you smile against his mouth, letting your body take his place against him.

“ I love you “ He whispered, stealing another kiss. 

“ I love you too” You replied, more happy than ever. 

-----

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[cloudspaintedblue]

Come Rest Your Bones Next To Me, And Toss All Your Thoughts To The Sea

Christine x GN!Reader

Raoul x GN!Reader

The Phantom (Erik) x GN!Reader

(Separately)

What the trio would get you for your anniversary!

Warnings/Notes: I admit I’m a Raoul hater so his part is going to be ass, fair warning

Christine

• Most likely is sneaking away from the Opera House to have an outing with you so don’t expect a super long date if rehearsals are supposed to be going on.

• Something sweet and simple, she knows what it’s like to be.. love bombed.. shall we say so she likes to enjoy the smaller things with you. A picnic as the sun rises or sets, doing each others hair and dressing in extravagant clothing which may or may not be costumes, enjoying sweets and tea somewhere hidden in the opera house so you can be alone (+Erik).

• Singing for you; showing all of her hard work on the newest song she needs to learn, if you are a singer yourself she definitely has a few duets up her sleeve.

• I feel like she’s more of a ‘few meaningful gifts’ kind of person as opposed to spending all of her money on things she doesn’t even know you’ll use.

• If you’ve at any point mentioned something special from your childhood she wants to include that in her gift, maybe she has found a copy of an old favorite book or turned something only you will understand into a necklace; no matter what she will do what she can to bring something you love to life.

• Your favorite flowers, if they aren’t in season she’s had them prepared months before this anniversary. Anything to show you just how much you mean to her.

Raoul

• He’s a fancy rich man, of course he has something planned that makes you feel like royalty.

• Over the top bouquets, expensive meals, a carriage drawn by pure white horses. He goes all out for his lover, everything needs to feel perfect.

• Of course, money can’t get you everything in life. It can however get you that item you’ve seen in shops and adored but don’t have the money for, Raoul is happy to get you this as long as it brings you joy.

• Unlike Christine I feel like he would shower you in gifts, among the pile you would end up with, yes; there would be meaningful and precious gifts but the rest are spoils from his wealth.

• He would try his best to empty his schedule and make all the time in the world for you, if your schedule is the problem he might try a little bribery of your employer to get your being out of work for the day.

• In the end it’s your relationship which is being celebrated, if this means minimal gifts and smaller amounts of time it matters not to him. Well, it matters a little bit. But as long as you remain happy and he feels like he can keep you safe then he will be content.

The Phantom, Erik

• So so freaked out let’s be honest, even making it to a year of being in a relationship has cause for some kind of celebration for him.

• Like Christine he wants to sing with you, even if you don’t sing (unlikely, considering who he is) he wants to show you something that he treasures. He wishes for your praise but is most likely not expecting it.

• The quantity of gifts depends on your preferences, he’s learned that he does tend to come on strong so he doesn’t want to scare you off. If you do like more material displays of affection then he is more than set, he can clearly sew beautifully so if you need new clothes or repairs on old ones he is more than capable. Not to mention the money he gets from the opera house, asking Madame Giry to retrieve the gifts for him so he can stay hidden.

• Writing, of course. Poetry, songs, simply melodies; he has it all, all for you. Music is where he can express himself and really ‘get in the zone’ without fear of judgement. That is until he’s done with the small performance, that’s when he will flush and the anxiety will set in. Praise him too hard too suddenly and he might just burst into tears.

• All in all nothing too extravagant will be happening, all he needs is your love to be happy. His proclamations of love will be given and all he can do is hope that you return them with a smile and kiss on his cheek.

[peachymilkandcream]

Ready Or Not|Part 5|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: I am loving hardened military Levi, he's so out there and off his rocker I love it!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, graphic depictions of violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

===============================================

Levi followed his troops to the home of one of the city's wealthy families. An older woman who often chatted and gossiped around the town, people like these he couldn't stand normally, but a gossip like this would know more than he would about Evelyn's whereabouts.

He dismounted and marched straight towards her, time was money and he continually found himself in short supply as of late.

"Speak, and if I find that you've wasted my time woman you'll be sorely paid back for it."

Her smug smile never left her face, happy to have something to make Humanity's Strongest indebted to her. As a man who declined invitations to parties and visitations something like this would surely get her and her worthless husband in his favour.

"Captain Ackerman, just the man I wanted to see. You might remember me, I was at Commander Pixis' little get together to commemorate all his years of service. It's such an honor to meet the man who keeps us safe."

His expression is unchanging, the lighting casting dark shadows onto his face, giving him a more menacing appearance.

She clears her throat, uncomfortable, but continues. "I hope this information puts us in a good light for you, always eager to help out those in our class. It's a shame with your wife, why if I were you-"

"Cut to the chase woman, I don't have time for your empty flattery and nonsense."

A little offended she presses on. "Right, well, I saw Mrs. Ackerman running this way with dear little Furlan on her hip. The poor thing was frightened half to death at being taken from his home. She seemed frantic and headed towards the docks."

"What time was this?"

"I'd say about, two in the afternoon? Clearly trying to sneak away before you came home."

"Good." He turns to a soldier. "I want you to look up ship records, who was in port at that time or the hour after for good measure. That'll narrow it down."

"I'm glad to be of help." Her smile still smug.

"And you," He motions to another. "Make sure this woman and her husband understand the meaning of keeping her lips shut."

"Yes sir."

"Wait what are you doing? Not even a thank you?"

Levi continues to return to his horse, ignoring the pleading from the lady as his soldiers show her what will happen if this turns into gossip as well.

He's renewed with a sense of vigor, another lead. Her location was being narrowed down with each passing day, soon he would find her.

"Now to show someone else what happens if they don't talk."

==============================================

"Fired? What do you mean fired?"

"I mean you're done, look your kid broke a lamp the other day and I know you sure as hell can't afford to pay me back."

"I will eventually, please, just give me another chance."

"If I gave every sob story a chance I'd be broke. Go talk to the man who knocked you up for support."

Evelyn's expression darkened. "Come on Furlan."

"Yeah get lost, find someone else to steal from."

Evelyn had survived with much less, but rent was going up and she was running out of employers. All of them found some reason to fire her.

When they returned home she set Furlan down for a nap while dealing with the dead body in her house. Her former employer, Mrs. Price, the poor soul had been badmouthing Evelyn to everyone looking for work in this city. All because she believed that Evelyn was being punished for the sin of being a single mother and that helping her would only give her a means to have more pre-marital sex.

She had it coming to her.

Evelyn Glass Ackerman, a murderer. It was in times like these she referred to herself by her married name, since it was fitting to accompany the two. Levi had made her this way, he had forced her to do things she never would have done. All because of his selfishness.

Thankfully for her he always taught her how to clean up the mess afterwards. In all his years alive Levi had never been caught and charged with a single crime although he committed more than she wanted to think about. He was a vile human being, but he taught her how to survive. For that and only that would she be forever grateful.

She had to find another income soon, with a child on the way soon she would have another mouth to feed. And without Levi's money she wasn't sure how she could do it. Everyone here believed that she was the product of her own making and that one could damage their reputation by associating with a whore.

Some people never changed.

She'd find a way, somehow, to survive. She couldn't go back, not now, she was too far into this. Who knows what Levi would do if she came crawling back now? He could actually kill her, lose control and everything she still loved of this world would be gone. No, she had to keep running.

He controlled her once, he'd never do it again.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Camboy Masterlist

all i want (ao3) - lourrygum michael/luke E, 15k

Summary: Luke is a camboy and Michael has to have normal conversations with him like he didn't watch him come untouched just last night

Or, Lush isn't Luke's only place of employment, Calum is falling in love with the curly haired dork that comes in to his coffee shop on a daily basis and Michael's going to stop watching Luke's videos soon, he swears.

Baby Boy, I Can Misbehave (ao3) - senioritastyles luke/calum E, 3k

Summary: In the back of his mind Luke knows he probably shouldn't be doing this, let alone for the fifth time this month. But more towards the front of his mind he just really doesn't care at all, even though he can hear his best friend's voice in his ear telling him that it's "unbecoming for the prince of Australia to play with himself on a high-quality webcam". Luke had sort of just smirked and shrugged at the time because if anything, being told he "shouldn't" is the exact reason that he should in his twisted brain.

Or: Luke is the sluttiest prince in all the land.

Camboy (ao3) - adhdjoongs (orphan_account) luke/ashton E, 6k (WIP)

Summary: Luke Hemmings is notoriously known online for being a camboy: an online "entertainer" who engages in pornographic activities to get money. In other words, he likes to show off his ass to get money for his college tuition while living in his one bedroom apartment in LA. Sure people can think his way of getting money is interesting, but to each their own. Everything is going according to plan, that is until he meets a stranger on one of his live streams who steals his heart in the most non-romantic way possible.

Camboy (ao3) - orphan_account M, 1k (WIP)

Summary: While Luke is searching for porn, he ends up finding Michael. The shy boy in his trigonometry class.

Camera Guy - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) calum/ashton, luke/calum/ashton E, 12k

Summary: Calum briefly glances up at him through his lashes, mouth still on Ashton’s skin. He wonders in a somewhat mocking tone, “What, and you’re gonna film it for us too, huh?”

“I mean if you guys want me to," Luke replies.

FutureSex/LoveSounds (ao3) - Migs luke/calum, michael/luke, calum/ashton E, 47k

Summary: Luke is Med student/camboy with a crush on the Footie captain with a secret.

OR: Cake have a lot of hot sex for money whilst trying to pursue romantic relationships with other boys.

I Thought Heaven Can't Help Me Now (He's So Bad But He Does It So Well) (ao3) - Migs michael/luke E, 6k

Summary: "It's Lux." Michael whispers directly into Calum's ear, making sure that no one can overhear them.

"What? No." Calum replies shocked, measuring Luke up and down like he is having a "camboy" badge pinned somewhere on his attire.

"Yes." Michael says back before he is opening his tumblr app and pulling up Naughty Lux's page. "Look!" He says as he scrolls down the page and showing Calum a picture of what is clearly Luke sitting on a bed with wide spread legs and a baby blue collar around his neck.

"Oh god, it really is him." Calum breathes out as he scrolls lower just to see Luke in various positions and from various angles. "He is gorgeous." Calum whines as they watch a short clip of Luke riding a dildo.

Or: Luke is Michael's favourite camboy that often comes to Calum's coffee shop.

Only Time You On The Net Is When You Google My Ass (ao3) - senioritastyles michael/luke E, 2k

Summary: Michael checks and rechecks his angle, making sure that Luke is perfectly framed the way he likes to be: from just about his mouth down. They're always careful not to show their full faces on camera, not ashamed in the least but wanting to keep their identities hidden especially when they know what some people around the school campus watch their sessions. Michael checks the screen again, looking at Luke's naked body kneeling on the rough carpet of their dorm room floor and smiling.

Or: Michael and Luke are college camboys.

Play With Me More (ao3) - converse_luke luke/calum E, 2k

Summary: “Luke, can you look at me?” His eyes open slowly, the love in Calum’s eyes makes him want to cry. “You are so beautiful yea? And remember last time, they love you baby.” Luke doesn’t give a verbal reaction but Calum can tell he wants to dig his face back into the crook of his neck. Calum lets him for a moment, picking up the mask before lifting Luke up. “I’m gonna change our game plan for tonight baby, you okay with that?” Luke nods against his neck as Calum softly sets him down on the bed. “Good, just relax okay?”

Speed It Up Baby Make Me Sweat (ao3) - converse_luke luke/calum E, 2k

Summary: Luke finally joins Calum for a camming session.

That's Money, Honey (ao3) - senioritastyles luke/calum, ashton/ofc E, 22k

Summary: "Excuse me?" Calum calls, gesturing for the bartender and waiting for him to come over before continuing. "Who is that, over there? The boy on stage."

Michael doesn't even have to look, already smiling and nodding as he tops off Calum's already half-gone whiskey. "That's Luke." Michael explains and Calum nods, sipping at his whiskey again as he watches Luke dance, body swaying fluidly in front of several men dressed pretty similarly to how Calum is. "He tends to attract the uh, black card crowd." Michael says, handing Calum back his own black card.

Or: Calum makes Luke his sugar baby.

touch me like you never (im begging you to take me) (ao3) - orphan_account ot4 E, 4k

Summary: :+: Mikey rainchecks on his friends to do his job of being a camboy, and when they come home, they find him fucking himself and decide to help. :+:

Webcams (ao3) - gardener luke/ashton, michael/calum M, 3k

Summary: Luke Hemmings is an eighteen years old Photography major at the City College of San Francisco, who works as a camboy on the side. His now calm life changes when he walks into Ashton Irwin, who just happens to watch his cam sessions nearly always he goes online. While the elder one had no idea this guy went to the same university as he did, Luke doesn't even realize Ashton is his favorite subscriber.

You Deserve It Baby, You Deserve It All (ao3) - senioritastyles michael/luke/calum E, 7k

Summary: "What were you dreaming about, Princess?" Michael wonders, his voice whispery but loud enough that he knows Calum will hear, figuring he might as well give the other boy somewhat of a show if Luke's gonna be this needy.

The color in Luke's face deepens and when he speaks he tries his best to keep himself quiet but the desperation and horniness he's feeling make his voice higher pitched and louder than he'd intended. "Was dreaming about Calum." He admits, instantly going even redder since he knows said boy is in the next bed over and could wake up at any second.

Or: Calum joins Michael and Luke in their camboy adventures.

You On Top Got Me Feeling On Your Booty (Give Me That Sugar With The Sweet Talk) (ao3) - Migs luke/calum E, 3k

Summary: Luke is a camboy and Calum is his bodyguard.

Your Sheets Are Home (ao3) - veinmichael (AvannahSay) michael/luke, calum/ashton, luke/calum, michael/calum, luke/ashton N/R, 5k (WIP)

Summary: Luke needed money. It started as something awkward, then Michael from English found out. Then Calum found out. Then Ashton. And now it's like a big awkward orgy, but with feelings. Always with fucking feelings.

Aka Luke is a camboy, and everyone wants in.

[somebodiesspecificstories]

Hiring a Bodyguard

"Well, your qualifications are impressive and skills are obvious. I think you'd make an excellent part of my team. As long as you are willing to indulge the... least usual part of Ms Holmes hiring process." Pearson said as they walked into an unusual room. A chair with a large amount of odd machinery and suspended screens above it that could clearly lower.

"Ah, we're at this part now?" Krista said slightly surprised it was real and not some sort of joke "So, if I want to work as a bodyguard for Ms Holmes I have to spend half an hour in this... mind control device?" Krista tried to hide her incredulity from Pearson.

"She actually calls it..." the man paused "a 'loyalty inducer', actually. She believes that the chair and those sounds will ensure total loyalty to her." while he had done his best to hide it, Krista could tell he was dismissive of it too.

"So..." Krista decided to ask outright "it doesn't work, right?"

"My team is certainly loyal to Wendy Holmes." Pearson said coldly, then his face softened as he said "She's very rich and has some of the best wages in the industry."

"Right." Krista said, smiling back, the unspoken intent of the statement being clear. An eccentric, but one who pays well enough to play along "So, I just sit in this chair?" Krista asked.

"Not yet, I'm sorry. First you must get out of those clothes, down to your underwear." Pearson saw the look on Krista's face "She checks on the 'process' halfway in, there's no skipping steps, I'm sorry." he said, sympathetic.

"Alright." Krista sighed as she took off her jacket. Pearson made a point of not looking at her as she stripped down. "Done." Krista said, now in nothing but her cheap, practical white undergarments.

"Now sit in the chair, I have to strap your legs and arms down." Pearson just gave her a slight shrug when she looked at him for that line. Krista almost wanted to leave and find a less peculiar employer, but Pearson was right, the pay was far better than her last job. Getting by while not having money for nights out or to treat herself would be a thing of the past if she got this job.

Krista sat in the chair and Pearson strapped her in. As the screens came down, Krista thought she noticed a grin on Pearson's previously stoic face, a glint in his eyes. It was too late to escape now, though.

Half an hour later Pearson, now in his 'proper uniform' of a tight bodysuit undid Krista's bonds as the screen raised Krista spoke "Mr Pearson, you tricked me." she said in delight.

"Yes, but I said no lies about the process." Pearson smiled at her "The silly girl inferred." Krista found herself giggling at that.

"So, did The Mistress like what she saw? I hope I looked good while I was being brainwashed."

"Yes, The Mistress liked what she saw. The inducing of absolute loyalty both to the job and to her sexual pleasure in her dolls is her second favourite thing. Seeing the dolls loyalty demonstrated is her first." Krista was smiling incredibly wide thinking of pleasing The Mistress in both roles "On sexual pleasure those rags have got to go." Krista looked down at her boring underwear and gasped.

"I forgot I was so inappropriately dressed!" Krista hurriedly stripped off "There. This doll is ready for display however The Mistress desires." Krista stood proudly naked before Pearson. The amusing memory of how close she had came to trying to leave instead of stripping before this other doll.

"We'll get you some latex soon enough. For now, let's go show The Mistress her newest bodyguard and doll's loyalty." Krista happily followed Pearson out of the Loyalty Inducer, excited to do just that.

"Oh, and by the way." Pearson said back to her "The wages are real, but you'll be spending them mostly on pleasing The Mistress."

"What else would I spend money on? There's no recreation or treat more rewarding than pleasing The Mistress."

"Exactly."

[keeksybee]

Jeeves and Wooster Headcannon:

It’s one of those very rare days when there’s no great adventure to get his boss out of or mess he needs to clean up, it’s almost too quiet, before he started working for Wooster this would have been a pleasant afternoon, a respite from being condescended to by some uppity arsehole who had more money than he could have possibly dreamed of and squandered it in drink, or gambling, or girls. Hell, he reflected, the voice he used with Wooster wasn’t even his real accent, it was one he had put on when he’d been applying at first to be a gentleman’s helper, he had to pretend, the company wouldn’t take “His sort” as the first man he’d ever spoken to in the job centre had said almost twenty years ago now, that was before the war, his service medals for bravery got his foot in the door after he got back. Looking back on it now he was one of the lucky ones, many didn’t get to come back at all. He hears something drop to the floor beneath him which brings him out of the stupor he realised he’d found himself in.

Bertie’s sitting in a lounge chair staring at him with the most disconcerting look on his face, biting his lip and clearly trying to structure the question in the most casual way possible before he blurts out

“Did you grow up terribly poor Jeeves?”

His eyes go wide with shame and his cheeks pink up as he slaps a hand over his mouth in shock.

“Oh my god Jeeves, I’m so sorry, fuck” he shoves his face into his hands making sounds of humiliation and distress.

He had never imagined he’d ever hear Bertie Wooster of all people say ‘fuck’ or that he knew the word at all, it didn’t seem in his character to be crass, although he probably shouldn’t have assumed a man in his twenties was that naive.

“I take no offence to it sir”

“I shouldn’t have asked, it’s just so awful of me, can you forgive me”

He resists the urge to laugh “Honestly lovey, my skin’s a bit thicker than that, I’ve been asked far more insensitive things over my time working, there’s nothing to forgive” He didn’t even realise he’d let something so colloquial slip until it had left his mouth “and yes, I did grow up very poor”.

Bertie toys with his hands still tensed up like a jackrabbit before almost whispering

“What was it like?”

It’s a question that catches him off guard, he’d never thought about it if he was being honest, it was just how he grew up, it was how everyone from Bethnal Green grew up, poor, filthy, half starved and desperate.

“It was what it was” he says evenly “We didn’t have any choice in the matter”.

“Where are you from?”

“Bethnal Green”

“The slum?”

“You know of it?”

“There was a friend of mine in school that used to sneak out the dorms to see uhhh…ladies of the night”

“Prostitutes”

“It sounds ugly when you put it like that” Bertie hugs a cushion on the lounge to his chest.

“It can be an ugly profession, girls and boys taken in by wolves with false promises, only to be used and spit out when they get too old or too disturbed to be useful, and you’re plenty old enough to know what I mean by ‘useful’ “

“Boys?”

“Surely your friend let you in on the scandalous male on male activities of the slums”

“He neglected to mention that part”

The phrase “probably because he was seeing one instead of a bird darlin” was out his mouth before he could stop it, real voice and all, he’d never dared address a former employer like this, above all else it was horrendously unprofessional.

“Is that how you really sound?”

This had gone way too far, but now he was forced to commit.

“Fraid’ so”

“Why do you hide it from me?”

Oh Mary, Joseph, Jesus and all his carpenter friends, how was he meant to answer that?

“It’s not personal, innit, it’s just your sort looks down on my sort and that’s that”

“I don’t”

“You’re one of few”

“Oh…I’m sorry” Bertie shifted his gaze down to the floor again, crushing the cushion with his delicate, bird like hands with this wretched expression of guilt on his face.

He sighs, gently tilting Wooster’s chin to face him.

“Poppet, I’m not blaming you for being born with money, and I don’t resent you for having opportunities I didn’t, one flip of a coin and it could have been the other way round, you couldn’t control it anymore than me being born in the slums, I worked my way out, I make a comfortable living now, I survived”.

“But people treated you badly because of where you came from, regardless of how good you were at doing your job, how is that fair?” 

“The world ain’t fair but you learn how to deal with it, plus, if all the employers who treated me like a human accessory were trials for getting to work for you at the current moment, I think I’m content with that”

A rosy hue of mortification rose on Bertie’s face.

“Really?”

“Yes, you treat me like a human being instead of just ‘the help’, you’re more than generous with not only your pay but your companionship and fundamentally Wooster, you are a good person, and I am dead proud to call you my gaffer”

“You’re what?”

“Boss”

“Ahh”

“Good, now, Earl Grey or Darjeeling?”

“Darjeeling”

“I’ll get on it”

“And Jeeves”

“Yes”

“Thank you for answering me honestly”

“No prob, love”

“What?”

“No problem, I’ve got to teach you some slang”

“Looking forward to it” he giggled and if that wasn’t the cutest sound he’d heard all day.

[hibiscxs]

Lbh Henry Cavill will be fine career-wise. He’s a big name and very popular across a lot of demographics

As someone who just spent the last month bingeing almost everything he’s ever been in, I’ll say this: most of his projects haven’t been great. I personally think he can be a great actor when the writing is there and its something he can really enjoy (ie. geralt and sherlock).

Idk who he is as a person. He seems really nice and down-to-earth in interviews and the like. His costars seem to have nothing but good to say about him. But I remember the MeToo stuff from way before i ever started following him, which i also remember his apologizing about in a way that seemed genuine to me when i read up about it also before i was a fan. And you never know about celebrities. They could just have really good PR.

Re: the witcher and some stuff from a podcast (???) thats going around. I dont buy it. Not because im convinced hes some angel, but you would think we would have heard about this by now. You’d think we’d see some tension between him and the other actors, but we don’t. All we see is tension between him and his boss, which is understandable considering he quit. Also re:quitting. It seems pretty obvious he quit bc he didnt like the direction the show was heading in. And that’s fair. But it’s also fair to assume that being “back” as Superman made him more comfortable with leaving the witcher in terms of consistent employment. Seeing now that there was no formal agreement in place, I can’t help but see it as unwise on his part, which I’ve realized kind of lines up when you look at his projects as a whole. He seems to put too much faith in others having the same mindset as him, which I don’t say as a compliment.

But man, what the hell was WB thinking. The DCEU hasnt exactly been doing well lately. Most of the attraction wasnt the movies themselves, but the stars like Cavill, Gadot, Momoa, Robbie, even Affleck. Trying for another “hard reboot” just seems like such a bad choice when what the DCEU has been lacking is any type of consistency that fans can rely on.

And no matter who the actor, or how good of a person they are or how popular or how employed, it’s unbelievably shitty to encourage one of them to reprise a role thats been in limbo for years and to have him announce it to his fans to promote their franchise and then drop him not even 2 months later.

The hardest hit, of course, is not really to henry cavill (who, again, will be fine and very employable), but to fans. As an actor, he is so refreshing because he was clearly so passionate about his roles as geralt and superman. He knew his stuff, he wanted to do those roles justice, and that’s why it was so easy for fans to love geralt or clark. To know that someone involved will put the effort into making sure “yes, this is the story i know and love, being brought to life in a new medium��, but to see the show drop in quality in season 2 and then that actor leaves, but then hes back in another big role that you know he is equally invested in, only for this? God, the disrespect to these people who invest time and energy and money in hopes that they get a good piece of media for them to enjoy.

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: The Ghost of Christmas Past (A Christmas Carol)

Tagged by anonymous

Favorite thing about them: The gentle wisdom with which it guides Scrooge through his past, subtly coaxing him toward important realizations about his current life.

Also, the fact that it's so deliciously strange, eerie, and ethereal – seeming young and old at the same time, with muscular arms yet "most delicate" legs, its costume featuring both winter holly and summer flowers, and constantly changing shape as its light flickers, so that it's sometimes a disembodied head, sometimes a headless body, sometimes has no legs, sometimes has twenty, etc. It's a very effective symbol of memory, and how it encompasses so many things and constantly shifts and flickers in the mind. And since it's virtually impossible to adapt, this means we get an interesting wide array of different portrayals of the Ghost in different screen and stage adaptations – some male, some female, some young, some old, some human, some not-so-human – which adds freshness to each new retelling.

Least favorite thing about them: The fact that Dickens's surreal, otherwordly description of this Ghost is so impossible to capture in screen adaptations. Only one version – Richard Williams's 1971 animated short – has even come close to depicting it accurately. While I do enjoy seeing all the different creative approaches to the character, none are as fascinating as the original.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I believe it's important to remember the past to create a good present and future.

*I tend to be gentle, or at least I try to be.

*I love revisiting happy memories of past holidays.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm not a weird, insubstantial ghost.

*I can't time-travel.

*I very rarely wear white (it stains too easily).

Favorite line:

When Scrooge is afraid of falling as they're about to exit his room through the window:

"Bear but a touch of my hand there [on his heart], and you shall be upheld in more than this."

When it notices Scrooge crying at the sight of the countryside where he grew up:

"Your lip is trembling. And what is that upon your cheek?"

When the arrive at Scrooge's old school:

"The school is not quite deserted. A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still."

About Scrooge's sister Fan:

"Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered. But she had a large heart!"

About Fezziwig, using reverse psychology to provoke Scrooge into admitting the value of his old employer's kindness:

"A small matter to make these silly folk so full of gratitude... Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money; three or four perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves such praise?"

brOTP: Its fellow Ghosts of Christmas, if they were to interact.

OTP: None.

nOTP: Probably any human.

Random headcanon: It was the first of the three ghosts to agree to Jacob Marley's request that they visit Scrooge. The other two were reluctant at first, because the Ghost of Christmas Present only knew the current nasty Scrooge, while the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come only knew his destiny (as it was before he changed it) to die alone and unmourned. But the Ghost of Christmas Past knew the goodhearted, lonely child and idealistic young man he once was and felt sympathy for him, so it agreed to pay the visit right away and helped to persuade the others too.

Unpopular opinion: I think Dickens meant this ghost to be masculine-presenting, not androgynous or genderless. Yes, he calls it "it," but he uses the same pronoun for all the ghosts, including the clearly masculine Marley and Ghost of Christmas Present. He describes it as like a cross between a child and an old man, and Scrooge addresses it as "sir" when they first meet. That said, its status as the strangest and most ethereal of the ghosts does make it come across as the least gendered, and its touch is described as being "as gentle as a woman's hand," so I don't mind when adaptations cast a woman or a young girl in the role.

Song I associate with them: "The Lights of Long Ago" from A Christmas Carol: The Musical.

Favorite pictures of them:

This illustration by Sol Eytinge Jr.

Ann Rutherford in the 1938 film.

Michael Dolan in the 1951 film.

From Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol, 1962.

Edith Evans in the 1970 musical Scrooge.

From Richard Williams's 1971 animated version.

Angela Pleasance in the 1984 TV film.

From The Muppet Christmas Carol, 1992.

Joel Grey in the 1999 TV film.

Motion-captured Jim Carrey in Disney's 2009 CGI film.

[thornycoconut]

Here's the thing. Military honger was a child. A CHILD. generally children die in war. They don't get wealth and recognition. Even good fighters. Even children of wealthy families die in war. It's not exactly a moral positive to let a kid fight a war. What xl was even thinking having seen this young kid throwing himself in front of him (a god!) while in combat and not sending him home or even to a safer posting is beyond me. (I get it xl was young and inexperienced himself and a lot going on, so mistake but not malicious).

Mu qing saw the kid several times where the kid was (supported by the text):

1. Throwing himself in front of xl in combat (wtf!)

2. Following xl even when xl said to go back because it is too dangerous

3. Clearly harboring a crush for xl

So a subordinate military person is not following orders, doing dangerous things, and having inappropriate feelings for a superior. As an adult all that's going to get you kicked out.

Add in that this is a child with injuries already, and yeah, send the kid home. He is going to die and you'll be lucky if he doesn't get others killed with him.

As for the earlier incident, mu qing gave his observations about honger. He said it probably wasn't a good situation but based on x and y things he had someone looking after him. He didnt lie. Ultimately xl got to make the decision with what they did, not mu qing. They all knew what honger looked like being beat up like that.

Now the xianle trio were teens at that time, so really why that was a decision for any of them is beyond me. But xl was a prince who was used to being a bit sassy and pushing for what he wanted to do. It's not like mu qing was some great decision maker over xl.

The first time xl came in contact with honger, xl got bored of him almost immediately and moved on with his life. It's not like anyone was keeping him from the boy or finding out more etc.

Now I'm not too sure about this one because I don't want to look it up, but I'm pretty sure it was feng xin who was worried about a prince interacting with a poor child and how it would look etc. And once the preceptor read his fortune, then I think everyone was like okay back away from the child slowly.

Also, there is no supporting text that mu qing sent honger away out of jealousy. There is only hc saying what he assumed on the matter. Mu qing gave his side that he didn't think it was good for a kid to fight a war. There hasn't been actual evidence of mu qing being jealous of honger.

#

The other thing mu qing often is saddled with are leaving xl and the spiritual land fight.

Leaving him made sense. Mu qing had a sick mom to care for. She had no one else and xl had others. They also had different strategies for dealing with the issues they faced. Would you expect xl to abandon his parents to care for mu qing's mom? No? Okay. Weird.

Let's not forget that mu qing was working a job to bring in money for them all. AND he was doing labor for them such as chores and finances. He was working 3 jobs essentially. 2 of them were unpaid, and 1 of them had most of the money kicked back to the royal family since they seemed to be pooling the money.

They did that for at least many months.

Think of your current employer. Would you do that for them? No? Okay. Weird.

As for the spiritual land debacle, there are people who have explained that much better than I and it's worth looking up.

In short though, yes mu qing was wrong and he apologized more than once, and tried to immediately help monetarily at risk to himself. He wasn't allowed to give them anything but he did.

The reason it was complicated was because mu qing took the pragmatic approach. If he went against the other officials he could end up losing his position again and then would be able to help no one. Not his mom. Not himself. Not the royals. So as difficult as it was it was more in line with his strategy to try to avoid escalating that situation so he can keep his position.

Xl wasn't going to win the land in the end. So mu qing using his strategy really had a better outcome in terms of finances for everyone including the royals. He still apologized (because it was morally wrong). More than once.

It's a real weird take to be mad at a character for sending a child soldier home.

I think it's so funny that hua cheng held an intense, long, 800-year-old grudge against mu qing for not letting him die in the army for his celebrity crush while mu qing had no fucking idea who he was until like book 4

[omskivarwrites]

Author’s note: This is another old prompt that I’d like to turn into an actual short story. I ran out of steam trying to figure out what to do next, and left a note for myself to watch more heist movies (which I never did), so this one cuts off rather abruptly. Still wanted to share, though. I like this one. 

Also, if you find any [text like this], that’s figure-it-out-later filler that I missed. 

Prompt: Letting go, 20s gangster, thief

“On my way to pick up Johnny.”

Harry slipped the phone back into the pocket of her uniform and shook her head. Normally she would leave it at home or in her car, but her client for this job was a micromanaging piece of work who wanted to know her every move. She’d tried to tell him that texting during a job was an unnecessary distraction that had gotten her caught more than once and left an incriminating paper trail, but he’d insisted that was one of the terms of the agreement. She kept him updated at all times, or he’d find someone who would agree to his terms. With the amount of money he was offering, and the not-so-subtle threat that the police would be informed who really stole the Dresden Green, Harry couldn’t say no.

No one said no to Tony Semenza.

Harry hadn’t taken more than three steps toward the door to the broom closet she was currently occupying before her phone buzzed. Again.

“Have a safe trip :)”

Rolling her eyes, Harry jammed the phone as deep into her pockets as it would go. At least she’d convinced Semenza of the importance of using a code. The idiot had honestly thought “the package” was vague enough to not be suspicious. How had the grandson of Marlon “The Knife” Semenza grown up not knowing the basics of avoiding jail time? The family must have had a seriously good and/or expensive lawyer on retainer.

Okay. One more time. Taking a deep breath (and pausing just before she turned the door handle to allow for another ill-timed text from her employer) Harry straightened her shoulders and stepped out into the hall.

The twenty-ninth floor of the Obelisk Hotel was empty, though Harry doubted any of the residents would have given her a second glance. No one ever really noticed housekeeping. Humming the opening bars of Edelweiss, Harriet pulled her cart out of the closet and headed to room 2810.

The door at the end of the hallway was flanked by two beefy men in ill-fitting suits and knock-off designer shades. One moved to block Harry as she approached.

“Turn around, ma’am,” he said.

“But I need to clean that room,” Harry said, putting on her most puzzled expression.

“You’re not authorized to enter. Turn. Around.”

Not authorized to enter? Pfft. Who did Maxwell Steiner think he was? His dad hadn’t been involved in politics for a couple of decades now. “Sir, the resident specifically requested that housekeeping clean this room right away. I think he said something about broken glass?”

She couldn’t see his eyes, but Harry was pretty sure the guard was narrowing them at her from behind his sunglasses. “Stay there.” He pressed a hand to his ear-piece and turned away as he spoke. All she could make out was a hushed murmur.

Harry glanced at the other, shorter guard. He watched her impassively, but beneath the cheap fabric of his suit he was clearly tensed for action. Good to see that Steiner’s budget bodyguards took their jobs seriously. If it came down to a physical altercation (not that she was planning on one) she was in trouble, but dedication to duty was a good trait to have. Even if that dedication was easily bought and just as easily sold.

The murmuring grew slightly louder, and Harry’s ears perked up just in time to catch, “Yes sir. Of course, sir.” The first guard turned back to her, his face the same blank slate it had been when she’d approached.

“Sorry for the trouble, miss,” he said. He pulled a keycard out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and held it open for her. “You’re cleared to enter.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Harry muttered a “thank you” and pushed the cart inside the hotel suite. As soon as she was past the door it shut behind her with a muted click.

Harry had staked out the hotel several times in preparation for this heist. On average it took housekeeping half an hour to turn a room. Depending on the nature of the request, a call to housekeeping for something more specific could take anywhere from two to fifteen minutes. However, this particular mess she’d been called to clean up was all over the bedroom. Exploding wine bottles tended to stain everything and send glass shards flying into all sorts of places. This one was going to need special attention.

Humming again, Harry slipped on a pair of latex gloves. She had thirty minutes. If everything went according to plan, she would only need five.

Anyone with even a passing interest into the lives of spoiled politicians’ children knew that Maxwell Steiner always traveled with a portable safe. Never one to trust hotel security measures (a quirk that Harry fully agreed with — those safes were way too easy to break into, and apparently they let just about anyone hire on as a hotel maid) Steiner had a custom, top-of-the-line safe made just for him that went everywhere he did. Just what was in that safe was a mystery for the ages, or at least the age of smart phones and sex tapes.

Harry knew what was in the safe. At least, one item in it. And boy was it a doozy. She’d been hired to procure a lot of objects in her relatively short career — man, the stories she could tell that involved live animals and ill-advised uses of historical artifacts — but this one was big, even for her. Never in her lifetime did she think she would ever lay eyes on plundered Nazi loot.

She had to find that safe and get it open before that could happen, though. The logical first place to look was the hall closet, where most hotel safes were kept. And, logically, Steiner’s safe wasn’t there. Harry closed the closet door and was about to check the kitchenette when her phone buzzed.

“How’s traffic? :)”

God, those smiley faces were starting to get on her nerves. Guy couldn’t wait more than three minutes to check in on her, could he?

“Traffic is light, I should get there on time. But remember I told you I don’t like to text while driving.”

Sent. Seen. A response seconds later.

“That’s what red lights are for.”

“:)”

Harry was starting to see red. Motherfucker was doing this on purpose. “Fine,” she muttered, moving on to the bedroom. If Semenza wanted to leave enough rope to hang himself, that was on him. This was a burner phone anyway.

The safe wasn’t in the bedroom. Nor was it in the kitchenette, or the living area, or the bathroom. Harry checked her watch. She was ten minutes in and her objective was nowhere to be found. Where the hell was that safe?

A curtain fluttered, pushed by the breeze from the open balcony doors. Harry frowned. Surely he wouldn’t be fool enough to keep his safe out there… would he?

At first glance it seemed he wasn’t that kind of fool. The only things on the balcony were a white wooden lounge chair, a side table, and a palm fern in each corner next to the building. But that side table didn’t match any of the decor inside or outside; it looked like a solid block of polished mahogany, completely out of place among the sleek modern metal and glass that dominated the presidential suite. Kneeling down, Harry could just make out a rectangular outline on the side. She slid her fingers around the outline, gently pressing against the wood in search of a button or other release mechanism.

There! The wood gave slightly under her fingertips, and a moment later a panel silently slid forward and to the left, revealing a black metal door with a combination lock set into it.

“Bingo,” Harry whispered. A slow smile crept across her face. With a quick glance back into the suite to make sure no one had come in, she set to work on the lock.

For all the fuss people made about Steiner and his safe, it was disappointingly easy to crack. As the final tumbler clicked into place, Harry finally allowed herself to breathe. She was almost done. After this job, she could quit stealing (for a while, at least). She turned the handle, relishing that satisfying clunk it made, and opened the safe.

A spray of dark fluid splattered her in the face and chest. Harry threw herself backward, sputtering and wiping at her eyes. A bitter taste crept onto the edges of her tongue; some of it had gotten into her mouth.

She sat up and looked down at herself. Blue ink covered her hands, arms, and uniform. She could only guess how much of it was on her face. Steiner was clearly more of a tricky bastard than she’d given him credit for. She certainly hadn’t expected ink packs in the safe.

The door to the safe was wide open, revealing… nothing. It was empty, save for a single slip of paper, folded and standing upright.

A paper addressed to Harriet Cohen.

With trembling hands, Harry took the paper and unfolded it. All it said was “Gotcha.”

Fuck. She’d been set up. And worse, she’d fallen for it. How could she have been so stupid? Was Semenza working with Steiner? And if he was, why—? Raised voices from inside grabbed Harry’s attention. Her eyes widened at the bulky figures coming toward her. She couldn’t talk her way out of this one. There was only one way to go.

Harry scrambled to the railing and dove over the side.

For a split second the feeling of free-falling drove all thought out of her brain, save for the single repeating refrain of oh fuck oh fuck we’re gonna die!!! Then she snatched the bottom rungs of the railing, and stopped herself with a jolt that made her stomach lurch and threatened to pop her elbows right out of their sockets. Her feet dangled helplessly in mid-air.

She tried not to think about how far below the street was, or how fast it would take her to hit the pavement if she fell. There wasn’t time to panic about being thirty stories up. All she had to do was follow the plan. If she followed the plan, she’d get out of this alive. Hopefully.

The voices grew louder as Harry shifted her weight

“Looks like she took the bait,” said Meatbag #1 from above. They were on the balcony now.

“I knew she would,” said a new voice. “A rat can’t resist nibbling when it sees a piece of cheese.”

Harry had never had the displeasure of meeting the man in person, but she’d seen enough celebrity “news” to recognize Steiner’s voice. Of course the dirtbag was here to gloat. She’d expect nothing less. Which meant she needed to get away as quickly as possible, before someone took two steps to the right and saw her hands clutching the railing.

Harry looked down. The suite below Steiner’s also had a balcony. She just had to drop down there. The only consequence of missing would be falling to her death. No big deal. She took a deep breath and swung her legs back and forth, building up momentum.

“Now where,” Steiner said, each word punctuated by the click of his heels as he strolled across the balcony, “did the little rat go?”

Swaying out over the street below made Harry’s head spin. She swallowed down the little whine of fear that threatened to leak out. Almost there. She just had to swing out a little further…

The footsteps were coming closer. No more time left. Harry gave one final kick and let go. She tucked her arms and legs in close to her chest, intending to roll as she landed, but she hit the floor flat on her back with a loud thud.

“What was that?”

The impact had knocked the wind out of her, but Harry at least had enough presence of mind to roll beneath the lounge chair. Struggling to breathe without gasping like a fish on land, she clenched her teeth and forced herself to breathe through her nose.

The click click click of footsteps. A pause that seemed to drag on indefinitely, every second marked by the pulse of blood in her ears. Harry tucked her limbs in as close as she could. Was the end of her ponytail peeking out from beneath the chair? Had she left a smear of ink on the tile? Steiner had to suspect she was down here. The only other way out of the suite was through the front door, and the guards would have caught her if she’d gone out that way.

Finally Steiner let out a sigh. “Nothing,” he said, unable to keep a note of disappointment from his voice. “She’s not out here.”

“Dunno where else she could be,” one of the meatbags said. “Only other way out is through the door, and we were out there the whole time.”

“Clever little creatures, rats are.” Steiner’s voice faded as he headed inside, but his voice was raised enough for Harry to catch it. “They’ll find any number of ways to escape a sinking ship.”

The balcony door clicked shut above her, and Harry let out the breath she’d been holding, exhaling like the air was exploding from her lungs. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax. The tile wasn’t exactly comfortable to lay on, but the cool stone soothed her sore muscles. She was just going to lay here for a little bit. Just long enough to catch her breath and let her heartbeat slow down to a gentle gallop. Then it was time to get back to work.

The job wasn’t over. It was just getting interesting.

* * * 

Suite 2710 had been rented out to one Jurgen Niemand for the last two days. (By some miracle Semenza had at least been smart enough to use an alias this time.) Sadly, in the interest of not drawing attention to herself, staying in the room wasn’t an option for Harry. (A pity, that. She’d have put room service through their paces and rung the bill up as far as she dared, since it was all on Semenza’s dime. Another time, maybe.) She had made sure she was responsible for the basic housecleaning for the suite, however, which gave her ample opportunity to stash any supplies she might need. Supplies like a change of clothes, for example. Or professional-grade theater makeup. Or wigs.

A quick, scalding scrub in the shower took care of most of the ink, though there were a few faint splotches mingled in with the freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks. A careful application of concealer took care of that problem. Her ruined uniform was dumped unceremoniously into a trash bag, replaced with black leggings and long-sleeved t-shirt. Free of that damned wig for the first time in two weeks, Harry’s head felt lighter than air and no longer itched like she’d rubbed poison ivy all over her scalp. She ran a hand through her short, tight black curls and sighed in relief.

Reluctantly, she pulled up the text conversation between her and Semenza. He wasn’t going to like this turn of events, but it was the kind of thing he’d insisted he be informed of immediately. And his reaction might help her figure out if he was in on the trap.

“Johnny wasn’t at his apartment,” she typed. “His big brother chased me off. Going to see if he’s at a friend’s house instead.” She hit send and hoped that the code wasn’t too obscure for Semenza to figure out.

A minute passed. No reply. That was weird. Normally Semenza was all over his phone. Frowning, Harry slipped the phone into her pocket. Then she shrugged and pulled her climbing harness out from under the bed. Whether or not her employer saw the message, she still had a job to do.

Steiner had been right about the rat metaphor, as insulting as it was. The house Harry had grown up in was plagued with rodent infestations, and one of the first things she’d learned was that for every mouse hole you found, there were guaranteed to be at least two more you didn’t know about.

What Steiner had neglected to mention, however, was that even if you cut off all their escape routes, rats would just gnaw their own.

The air ducts in this hotel, as one might expect, were all connected. Theoretically, all Harry had to do was get in at any point, and given enough time and effort she could find her way to the ducts above Steiner’s suite. That, however, would require more time than she had, and the noise of her crawling around inside a sheet-metal tunnel would alert Steiner and his guards for sure. So, instead, Harry was going to come in from below.

The vents in each suite weren’t big enough for a toddler to crawl through, let alone a fully-grown adult woman, but that was okay. Two days had been plenty of time for Harry to make her own entrance. As long as she was careful about not making too much noise, it was really no big deal to move the bed and cut a hole in the wall behind the headboard, right into the air duct. The duct that, if her calculations and memory of the hotel blueprints were correct, also vented into Steiner’s bedroom. She didn’t need to fit through the vent if she pumped the suite full of sleeping gas and entered through the front door.

Of course, having the logistics of her next step figured out was only half the equation. Steiner and his men would be looking for her, and whatever else Steiner was, he was not a stupid man. He would have realized by now that she was still in the hotel, and sooner or later (and Harry was banking on sooner) he’d either jump to the most likely conclusion, that she had dropped to the balcony below, or just start searching room by room in an effort to apprehend her. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a police officer or hotel staff: he was Maxwell Steiner. If he wanted in somewhere, he’d get in.

And where the hell was the painting? If it wasn’t in the safe (was it ever in there?), where was it?

[ozmarig]

A glimpse of the royal life

Spare by Prince Harry My rating: 5 of 5 stars I read this and listened to the audiobook at the same time, which made for a more engaging experience. Prince Harry's voice came out very clearly, even through the written words. Kudos to his ghost writer, who captured the essence of his personality. I do not know much about Harry as I do not follow the escapades of the royal family, but I have heard snippets of his naughty scrapes in his youth. Prior to reading this book, to me, he was a privileged boy who does humanitarian work. How much and how involved, I had no idea. I must have had expectations, because the book disarmed me. The first part was about his childhood, especially right after his mother died, and how he coped with the pain and trauma of it. It brought me to tears as Harry's suffering reminded me of my own son's behaviour (who lost his father at 5years old). The second part was about his adulthood, and Harry was very honest and raw about his weaknesses, his mistakes, the coping mechanism he employed, and the salvation he found in the army. He was also very consistent with his loathing against the British media, his frustration at not being able to fight back, or at least the way the institution (his family and their minders) prevented him. Here, Harry was a frustrated, traumatised young man trying to find a way (any way, even temporary ones) to alleviate the pain, and to survive the restricted life he was forced into as a royal, including being the target of vitriol based on lies. He debunked more than a few of the stories written about him in the British tabloids. And confirmed a few basic truths. It was a really clever move as the media can no longer use those to make up stories about him. The third part was about his meeting Meghan and their life together. And what they went through. This was heart-wrenching. And my thought was, Meghan was his lifeline, the final rope that pulled him out of the golden quicksand he was neck-deep in, and into the freedom he now enjoys. At the expense of herself—her mental health, public image, and her own freedom. You can feel, almost taste, how much Harry adored his wife and kids. Maybe it was my love for romance novels, but one could not help but root for them. Their story is one of the most beautiful, torturous, and sweetest that I have every read. The book was also a study of human behaviour. About how the Royal Family operates, why they behave as they do. King Charles couldn't help what he is because he was trained to be like that, to the detriment of his sons. Especially his heir, William. Harry was the luckier one. And while there is glamour at being a royal, it is also very sad to be one. Harry and the other members of the family that were not heirs were like gold-plated, diamond-encrusted servants to the crown. It makes one think why would one even want to be born into it. A person born into a non-royal but rich family is so much better off. Harry lacked love, freedom, and money. Yes, money. Despite the net worth of the estate of the royal family, Harry was very dependent on his father's hand-outs (as most of the royals are including Charles brothers and sisters). And not because he was lazy, but because he wasn't permitted to have a career outside being a royal. His being a soldier was the only exception allowed, because it adds to the prestige of the Royal Family. King Charles was both Harry's father and employer, and the man wasn't very good in either role. Harry was a pauper underneath the princely trimmings. And Meghan was the warrior princess in a shining armour made of everything Harry didn't have but needed. She was educated, confident and free, both financially, emotionally and intellectually. And they bonded because they were made of the same empathetic heart. She came at the right time for him, when he was already restless, and finding a reason to break away. Spare was beautifully written, and Harry as the narrator for the audible file was perfect. I highly recommend it. View all my reviews

[barbiewritesstuff]

Wife, girlfriend or Whatever: Chapter 1

-- I promised @ravensmadreads I would upload this during the weekend and it's Tuesday.... pls forgive me

Big thank you to @lgg5989 for editing this for me <3

As always, the picture has nothing to do with the fic...

Tw. I guess age gap? Reader is 25 and Beau is like 50? Also Beau is cute and I love him? This is wholesome

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2 @feedthemadness-sweetie @ravensmadreads @lgg5989 --

"Aren't you grumpy this morning?" you said, walking into Cyclone’s office like he hadn’t just made a Lieutenant cry. You walked to his windows and opened the blinds, taking care to move them so the sun shone directly in his eyes, punishing him for treating an employee that way. 

He looked at you for a moment before bowing his head down with a sigh, "There's an uppity function in NYC on Monday," he said, sounding dejected.

"I know, I put it in your diary a month ago. Did you just remember?" you replied, turning around with your hands on your hips, about to launch into yet another lecture about checking his diary for important meetings.

"No," he said, too quickly, "Yes. Fleet Admiral Jameson reminded me this morning. Strongly implied it would look better if I brought a wife, girlfriend, whatever,..." he added, leaning back into his chair with a heavy sigh

"What's the problem with that?" you asked.

"I don't have a wife, girlfriend, or whatever,” he replied, looking at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was. Even if you didn’t know him like the back of your hand -- and better, sometimes -- the fact that the corner of his mouth sported a smudge of dried toothpaste, that his tie was crooked and no one had brushed the cat hair off of the back of his uniform, or that he rarely ate anything other than microwave meals shamefully packed in brown paper bags gave him away as a single man.

 “I have a cat but I don't think they'll accept that…" he joked.

"Ah… No female friend?" You asked, he shook his head, "Acquaintance?" He shook his head again. You released a heavy exhale, "Cousin? Sister?" 

He scoffed, "I'm not bringing my sister," he said, outraged, "If being single isn't encouraged, chaperoned by his older sister is just going to be worse."

"Not chaperoned, accompanied," you corrected. He threw you a very pointed look, "Fine," you sighed.

"Do you think 'secretary' belongs in the 'whatever' category?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Absolutely not," you replied, catching onto what he meant before the words even left his mouth.

"Oh come on! You're leaving in a month, right? Why not enjoy yourself in NYC?" He said, trying to convince you with a smile but the edge of desperation gave him away.

"Sir, you described it as 'uppity', I don't think enjoyment will come into it much,"

"Please?" He begged

"This is the last favour I ever do for you," you replied

"Absolutely," he promised

"With all due respect, sir," you said, "you're a pain."

Admiral Simpson laughed, "Scale of 1 to 10?"

"17," you immediately replied with a straight face

He laughed a little harder, "Oh God, how can I help?"

"You're on lunch duty. I'll have whatever salad has mozzarella,"

He threw a look telling you not to push it. Deciding he couldn't fire you even if you did, you shrugged at him.

"What?" You asked, your tone flat and expressionless "I'm in agony."

He looked away to hide the curl of his lip in an amused smile.

"Fine," he eventually sighed, "drop of the money and I'll go at twelve."

"I thought bills for workplace injuries were covered by my employer?" you asked, clearly making it known he would be paying.

"You're lucky you're good at what you do. And that you're leaving. I would have fired anyone else for talking to me like that,"

You gasped in fake outrage, "What?! You wouldn't! But I'm your oldest 'whatever'!"

"Get out!" He laughed, pointing at the door of his office

"I'll have caramel macchiato as well!" You said as you walked back to your desk

"Don't push it!" He shouted after you

You said nothing but mimicked slamming your hand against a button before returning to your desk. You sank down on the uncomfortable chair and swiped the mouse against the pad a few times to wake up the computer. It sprang to life and after filling in your password you went through the emails to find the information for the navy function.

If the email itself was anything to go by, the event would be more than ‘uppity’. Black tie formal attire required and dinner at a three Michelin star restaurant where the menu counted more French words than you had ever learned, you would not have qualified it as ‘uppity”. Uppity was a word dedicated to boy moms who thought they owned the field at your godson’s football practice. Or the kind of people who looked at you like you were nothing more than shit on their shoe because you decided not to eat organic. Those were uppity. This was downright fancy. 

And fancy meant shopping. You changed tabs on your browser and opened the website to one of the only stores in town that sold ballgowns and looked through their selection. When none of them struck your fancy, you decided to gamble and looked through your favourite online retailer. 

“Find anything?” Cyclone asked, making you jump. Seeing your reaction, he smirked.

“Nothing for the function,” you replied, trying to hide the seven other tabs you had opened showcasing a cardigan, three new skirts, two work shirts and a lipstick. Ever so observant, he swatted your hand away from the mouse and clicked through the tabs. He tutted until he reached the lipstick.

“Red?” he asked, clearly surprised

“It’s a nice colour,” you said, not keen on discussing your lipstick colour choices with your boss, “Don’t you think?”

“No, no, it’s nice, you’re right. I’m just surprised,” he replied, trying to backtrack so hard it was actually kind of funny, “it’s just -- isn’t pink kind of your thing?” 

“I like pink,” you replied, “But there are other colours.”

“I know. You don’t usually wear other colours, though,” he said. You rolled your eyes and looked down, ready to disprove his point with a single glance at your ensemble, only to find that your pencil dress and shoes were both the same shade of baby pink. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought you lunch?” he said, putting the plastic salad container down on your desk, followed by the venti cup of coffee. You glanced down at the clock on the screen and were horrified to find you had wasted most of the morning online shopping, “They were out of caramel macchiato, but I know you like pumpkin spice, so I got that.”

“I don’t like that you know so much about me,” you told him, grabbing the coffee and taking a long sip, savouring the beverage and noting that not only had he picked the correct backup flavour, he had also asked for non dairy milk and sugar free syrup. 

“You know more than that about me,” he frowned

“I’m paid for it, sir. Being a hobby secretary is just creepy,” you replied

“I am paid,” he retorted

“Uh huh,” you said, twirling your drink around in its cup.

“With the pleasure of your company,” he said, slowly backing away towards his office

“Leave. Now.” you told him, trying hard to look stern and annoyed

“Your cheery disposition,” he added, grinning widely. He winked at you.

“I despise you,” you said

“And your friendliness,” he laughed

“Leave! You’re so cheesy you’re stinking up the place,” you shouted and he vanished back in his office, laughing loudly. You rolled your eyes and resumed your shopping, finally deciding on a dress. You added everything to your basket and paid for it, wondering if, because this was technically a work function, you couldn’t get reimbursed for the price of the dress.

Deciding to test your luck, you drafted an email explaining the situation and attached a picture of your bill and sent it, hoping Jenna from accounting would be the one opening it. You liked Jenna, she always approved anything you sent and only ever replied to your emails via emoji. Your computer chimed with a notification and you smiled.

jenna.jones@us-navy.mil : ;)

You leaned back in your chair and grabbed the salad box, shaking it hard so the dressing mixed in with the veggies before popping the lid open and digging in, occasionally stopping to sip at the coffee. Too early for your tastes, you went back to work, calling to book flights and hotel rooms and confirm your attendance with the function’s organisational committee.  

Luckily the day came to an end eventually and you shut down the computer. The Admiral, always staying behind to finish whatever paperwork he hadn’t managed to work through the day, was still working hard, too concentrated to notice you pop your head through the door and say goodbye. 

You looked at him, hunched over his desk, a deep frown visible between his brows. His eyes were straining in the dim light of his office lamp, night having already fallen over San Diego. You left your bag by his door and walked to the recreation room where you made him a coffee. Taking the cup back to his desk, you stopped by yours to find his spare pair of reading glasses -- which you kept in the locked compartment of your file drawer so he couldn’t lose those too -- and a few biscoff biscuits, and brought everything over to him. 

“Thanks, just put it down wherever,”

“Put the glasses on,” 

“I will, just have to finish this,”

“Beau,” you said, startling him out of his concentration with the use of his first name, “Put the glasses on. You’ll get a headache,” 

“Okay,” he said softly, taking them from your hands and perching them on the bridge of his nose.

“Pain meds are in the top drawer of your desk,” you said in the same gentle tone of voice, “Don’t be long.”

You turned around and left, picking your bag up on your way out. You made it about halfway down the maid corridor when the Admiral’s upper body popped through the doorway.

“Y/n!” he called after you, “Err… Goodnight. Drive safe,” 

Involuntarily, your eyebrows shot up in surprise. He’d never said goodnight before. Though surprising, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome, as evidenced by the warm feeling quickly spreading through your chest and the rosy tint your cheeks had taken on.

“Right, yes. Thank you,” you replied, “I will.”

You turned around before he could see the smile spreading on your face and walked out of the building.

[quordleona03]

On the surface. which is, I think, how most people engage with BJ (I mean both in-series and also Doyleistically, watching the series) - very, very nice. He's kind, supportive, helpful, and polite. He's married, in love with his wife, and consciously and deliberately faithful to her. (Yes, he lapses - once physically, once emotionally - but clearly doesn't regard either as a light lapse.)

BJ was drafted at a crucial time in his kid's life - whether we go with she was a month old or a year old when he was drafted, whether he's supposed to have spent a year or two years in Korea, he missed a time in his first child's life where she would have been changing rapidly - every week, every day, he should have been there to see the first time she stood up, the first time she used a spoon to feed herself, the first time she walked, the first time she said a coherent sentence - BJ missed all of that, and he'll never, ever get it back - he may see another child of his grow up, but he'll never get to see that with Erin. The most relatable parts of BJ's anger and distress are his missing Erin.

There is als othe less-sympathetic but also relatable fact that he and Peg clearly had a deal - BJ would get through medical school and residency, Peg would work. (This isn't explicit, but I doubt if her job in the cafe or training as a realtor were first-employments.) Then BJ would pass his residency, set up in private practice, make a ton of money, and Peg could quit work and have babies, and they could settle down to living the good life as described by Betty Friedan in The Feminine Mystique.

But: BJ got drafted. Two years is my decision about how long he spent in Korea - the show is muddled enough about time that it's hard to be clear. But, two years, one year - Peg had to be independent. She had to be a single mother, with allotment checks from a salary lower than BJ would have got in civilian life. She had to support herself, look after her daughter, write BJ regularly, and keep going on her own. And she did. And BJ respects her for doing that, but really, really wishes she didn't have to.

All of the above actually makes BJ still a nice guy, genuinely - in the 1950s a man supporting his SAHW was just how it was.

But:

BJ likes practical jokes. These are (sometimes) quite incredibly cruel, and at best, they're the sort of "joke" where everyone is laughing but the person who's pranked. This isn't something he can blame on how he was in Korea - BJ was a practical joker in college. His best frien til he met Hawkeye is a practical joker. BJ has no mercy and no exceptions on who he plays practical "jokes" on - his best friend, his CO, his subordinates at work. BJ is cruel, and enjoys being cruel. And that lies underneath everything else about how BJ is. He's a cruel guy who tries very hard to be decent and kind and - it leaks out in practical joking.

BJ is also, I think, hellishly competitive. He doesn't quite realise this. But I think all of his life he's easily been the best - golden child, popular in high school, top student at college, popular in his fraternity - and now he's at thr 4077th, and - Hawkeye is the best surgeon, the most experienced surgeon, a natural leader, the Chief Surgeon very casual about his authority but really expecting to be obeyed when he's giving orders in OR or triage, way funnier than BJ - making people laugh without resorting to practical jokes - I think BJ adores and resents and is competitive with Hawkeye, and Hawkeye - without even noticing that BJ thinks there's a contest - keeps casually winning "who's the most popular guy" "the best surgeon" "the funniest joker" - without even trying.

there is something very sad about Peg just wanting to tell BJ about her day to day life, the mundane things in the house that need to be fixed and the funny things that happen to her, all things he would've enjoyed hearing about or would've handled with her if he'd been there, and having absolutely no idea what effect these letters actually have on him

[queenshelby]

THE ARRANGEMENT – SEALING THE DEAL

Featuring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 3522

Warning: Sugar Daddy, Submission, Smut, BDSM

Notes: I will use this headline to write more smutty encounters between Tommy and the Reader. But they will get a bit heavier in the BDSM department. So if this is not your thing, don’t keep reading.

Requested: Yes

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03  @deefigs @theflamecrystal  @chrisevanshoeee  @desperate-and-broken  @weepingstudentfishhorse  @captivatedbycillianmurphy  @fookingshelby  @livinginfantaxy  @rosey1981  @atomicsoulcollecto  @peakyboyslover  @nerdy4itall  @elenavampire21  @hanster1998  @mariapaiva13  @fairypitou  @harry-is-my-sunflower  

………

The Proposal

Today marks the day you’ve been working for at the Garrison exactly one year. A job you found by sheer accident when you moved to Birmingham.

You had no money when you fled Northern Ireland and were in need of employment. Your parents were involved with the IRA and with a well-known surname like yours, it was difficult for you to find employment.

You always tried hard to disassociate yourself from your parents with whom you did not agree on political matters. They were terrorists and you stood elsewhere on the Irish question.

When you arrived in Birmingham, you were offered a job at the local whorehouse. You declined. The last thing you wanted was to lose your virginity to some filthy married patron who paid you as little as 2 shillings for your services.

When you saw a job advertised in the paper at the local pub, you applied. This is when you met Grace Shelby who hired you.

Grace was there by sheer accident herself, arranging the new fit-out for the pub. She was Thomas Shelby’s wife and no longer worked herself.

She was a kind hearted woman and had been in your shoes many years ago. No one other than Grace believed that you would last in a job like this. But here you were, still working behind the bar and serving alcohol to drunk men.

To your disappointment, Grace had passed away six months ago and your husband Tommy has never been the same since.

For the first four months following her death, he got himself and his family into lot of trouble. The majority of his family members were serving prison time for a robbery. But not Tommy. He was working on their release while continuing to build his family’s wealth.

Ever since their arrest, he attended the Garrison frequently, most often late at night after he had visited one of the up market brothels owned by him.

Of course, he didn’t tell you that, but it was obvious to you. It was his way of coping with life and to stay focused.

You talked a lot. He would often be the last patron at the Garrison and ask you to drink with him. You didn’t drink much, but would allow yourself a glass of whiskey on occasion.

Tonight, was one of these nights where Tommy and you were alone, just talking and drinking.

He walked into the Garrison at 11 o’clock, greeted you and ordered a whiskey.

‘You are early tonight Mr Shelby’ you said.

‘Well, Y/N, things have not been going my way today’ he responded.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ you asked.

‘I rather not’ he responded.

‘Alright, no talking then’ you said with a smile.

‘Do you have a man in your life Y/N?’ he then asked all of a sudden. His question took you by surprise.

‘I do not. Never had. Why are you asking?’ you wondered.

‘No reason. Just curious why a woman like you works in a place like this’ he said bluntly.

‘It pays well, I get good tips. I had a job offer from one of the mistresses at one of your brothels. I declined. I rather serve 50 drunk men a night than fuck ten of them’ you laughed.

‘This seems like a reasonable choice’ Tommy chuckled.

‘So, you ever get bored of them? Knowing that sex is no more than a transaction to them and you are no more than a client must be frustrating’ you asked.

‘How much whiskey did you have to drink tonight Y/N, eh?’ Tommy asked sheepishly, being surprised by the directness of your question.

‘More than a little. It’s my birthday’ you laughed.

‘That’s what I thought. Happy Birthday Y/N’ Tommy said.

‘Thank you, Mr Shelby, but you didn’t answer my question’ you smirked.

‘The good thing about prostitutes is that they do exactly what you pay them to do. They fuck. They don’t expect feelings from you, just money. You are right, it is a simple transaction’ Tommy said.

‘Sounds boring and repetitive. Wouldn’t you rather have someone consistent? The same skilled woman every time, someone who gets to learn exactly how to please you, always around right at your disposal and with no strings attached?’ you asked.

‘I’ve read that, in France, rich businessmen and politicians keep themselves mistresses rather than going to brothels. It’s discrete and it’s safe. The men provide their mistresses with accommodation and visit them for sex whenever they please’ you added.

‘A mistress, eh?’ Where do you think I would find such a woman Y/N? Tommy joked.

‘Well Mr Shelby, I know of someone who would be very interested to come to some sort of arrangement’ you smirked.

‘You realise that I am about twice your age?’ Tommy asked sheepishly, knowing exactly that you were talking about yourself becoming his mistress.

‘I do and this makes it even more interesting’ you suggested.

‘You are quite young Y/N. How many men have you been with?’ Tommy asked

‘None’ you said, causing Tommy to choke on his whiskey.

‘No’ he said firmly. ‘I don’t do virgins Y/N. It’s not my thing’ Tommy added.

‘Think about it, I am like a clean canvas. You can teach me exactly how you want to be pleased’ you smirked.

‘You are clearly drunk Y/N. I shall drive you home’ Tommy said.

And so he did. After you closed up the pub, he drove you to your apartment which was located in one of the worst areas of Birmingham.

As he drove you home, you brought up your proposal again and Tommy appeared more open to consider it at this point. But not tonight, not with you having been influenced by alcohol.

You were an attractive woman, clean and easy to talk to. You worked in the Garrison for a year and he knew you would be discrete and he could trust you.

‘Come to my office tomorrow at noon if you decide that this is what you want and then we talk, eh’ Tommy said as he pulled up in front of your apartment.

You nodded before saying goodnight to him.

The Arrangement

The next day, you attended Tommy’s office as instructed.

‘Y/N, I am surprised to see you’ Tommy smirked as you walked inside his office.

‘You thought I wasn’t serious, didn’t you?’ you smirked as you sat down in front of his desk.

‘Let’s just say, you surprised me’ he said with a grin.

Tommy then went on to ask you what you expect from your arrangement if he was going ahead and agree with it.

You didn’t have many demands other than being looked after financially.

Tommy then advised you that you might change your mind if you know what his desires were.

Thomas Shelby was no ordinary man and he didn’t enjoy ordinary sex, which is one of the reasons he was getting bored with the prostitutes.

He was looking for what some might call a submissive. He enjoyed authority, even in the bedroom.

He wanted to be in charge, always.

With that in mind, you agreed. You were ready to be his and sealed the deal with a passionate kiss.

‘Alright, it’s a deal Y/N. But, to ensure that you understand, you belong to me. You are my property and you are not to fuck anyone else, understood?’ Tommy said as he pulled his lips away from yours, his hand holding onto your hair tightly.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you said, biting your lip.

‘You will be available when I need you to be available and you will submit. Is that understood?’ Tommy then said.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you answered before his lips met yours again in a hasty kiss.

‘Good. Now, since you are a virgin, the first time, I will take it easy on you’ Tommy said as he kissed your neck, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume.

‘Here are the keys to your apartment. 15 Watery Lane. I will visit you tonight at 8 o’clock and this is what I expect you to wear. Nothing else’ Tommy said as he handed you a small bag.

‘Before I come over, I want you to think of a safe word which you can use at any time’ he added, causing you to nod. He had explained the premise of a safe word to you earlier when you discussed what he would expect from you.

Sealing the Deal

Later that evening, after you settled into your new apartment, you were waiting for Tommy in nothing but the black lace panties he gave you.

He was right on time, letting himself into your apartment at 8 o’clock.

‘Do you like what you see Mr Shelby?’ you asked as he walked through the door.

‘I do, very much so’ Tommy said before he kissed you and ran his hands over your breasts and down to your stomach, making you moan.

He continued the gentle gestures for approximately five minutes, kissing you gently and exploring every inch of your body.

‘What have you decided on for a safe word Y/N?’ Tommy asked after he broke the last kiss.

‘Red’ you said.

‘Red. Very well.’ Tommy said before taking off his jacket, waistcoat and gun holster and placing them all onto one of the armchairs.

He then walked back over to you and gave you one more quick kiss.

‘Now be a good girl and get on your knees. And Y/N... eye contact. I want you looking at me’ Tommy said as he pulled your hair downward to bring you to kneel in front of him.

He kept his hand wrapped in your hair behind your head but clutched onto your skull tightly. You were about to be Tommy’s, in complete submission.

With his other hand he unzipped his pants and slowly pulled out his impressive length. You gasped. This is the first time you saw a man’s most intimate parts right in front of you.

‘Open your mouth’ Tommy instructed as you looked up into his blue eyes.

You obliged and Tommy pulled your head forward and forced your lips around the head of his erect cock.

Your hands shot up to his thighs to try to hold him back but he charged forward, making you take the first few inches of his length into your mouth.

You closed your eyes, trying instantly to focus and control your gag reflexes. There you thought that he was going to take it easy on you. If this was him taking it easy, what would he otherwise be like you wondered.

‘Look at me’ he instructed as he began to notice your eyes fall close.

Your lips were completely stretched around the girth of his shaft as he pushed his cock deeper into your mouth.

Your ravishing eyes opened and looked up at him, his face full of want and desire for you.

As you looked at him you started growing more comfortable as the minutes passed.

You relaxed your grip on his legs and began opening your throat a little for his intrusion.

You kept eye contact whenever you weren’t suppressing a gag reflex. Your mouth soon began to move with his rhythm while your tongue was stimulating him.  

After about five minutes Tommy released his hold on your hair and reached down to your breasts, playing with your already hard nipples. You moaned around his cook as he stimulated your breasts and the wetness began to grow in between your legs.

You bopped your head up and down his length, trying to take as much of it into your mouth as you could.

Your hands soon joined your mouth, and stimulated the end of his shaft which didn’t make into your mouth.

‘Is this what you wanted, Mr Shelby?’ you asked.

Tommy nodded politely in between moans, running his fingers through your hair again.

He pushed you down on his cock a few more times, making you take him deeper than before, while he looked down, admiring the view.

‘Good girl, that’s it, take it all in’ he groaned as he guided your head.

You struggled, finding it difficult to breath, but you obliged.

The sight of you taking him like this drove him crazy and, after several more strokes, he pulled your head back up and, without warning, re-entered your mouth with vigor and dominance.

You squirmed below him and your hands moved back to his upper thighs, attempting to press him back.

But Tommy had other ideas and swatted your hands away from his legs.

‘Cross your wrists behind your back Y/N’ Tommy ordered.

‘Tommy’ you pleaded.

‘I make the rules Y/N. You don't get to resist. If you want me to stop, use your safe word’ he said.

With reluctance, you placed your wrists behind your back. Some twisted part within yourself enjoyed this, him taking you like this. In your mind, you were nowhere near at your limits.

Just like this, Tommy took hold of your hair again and thrusted forward into your open mouth, deeper and deeper until he bottomed out in your throat.

You could no longer retain eye contact and he didn’t seem to care as he continued to thrust into your mouth a few more times until he decided to relent.

He soon released the grip on your hair and made you look up at him.

‘Come up, you’ve done well’ he said as he pulled you up towards him and pulled you in for a kiss.

His hands moved in between your legs.

‘So fucking wet eh’ he said as he ran his hand over your soaked panties.

‘Take them off’ he instructed and you didn’t resist and pulled them off in a haste.

‘Now Love, I think it’s time for us to sort out this little issue for yours, eh?’ Tommy said with a smirk.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you said nervously, knowing that he was about to take your virginity.

While you always thought about this moment to be romantic, you were at the point where you just wanted it to be over with. You were soaking for him and you wanted him to fuck you just the way he wanted. You wanted to be taken by him, right then and there, regardless of the pain.

‘Shall we go to the bedroom?’ you asked.

‘No Love, right here will do just fine’ Tommy said as he turned your ass on to the edge of the kitchen room table, and gently pushed your back down on to it.

His eyes gazed over your perfect body, taking in the view of your breasts and your soaking wet mound.

‘Open your legs’ he instructed just as he lowered himself in between them.

You weren’t sure what he was doing and watched him nervously as, all of a sudden, he dipped his tongue into your wet slit.

You squealed in surprise, but it was already too late to plead for him not to, his tongue was already murdering your senses.

He sucked and licked over your clit just as you could feel two fingers enter you.

You expected pain, but it was nothing but please when he began to slowly thrust them in and of you.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as Tommy worked his magic on you.

You weren’t sure why he was doing this. Wasn’t it all about his pleasure and his pleasure alone? But, when you looked at him, he seemed to be enjoying this. You squirmed helplessly beneath him.

As he circled his tongue over your clit over and over again and carefully pushed two of his fingers in and out of you, you could feel an unfamiliar sensation build up in your stomach.

Soon you we trembling to your own unbidden orgasm. You were already aroused beyond your own redemption.

The intensity or your climax was so all encompassing, that your muscles from your stomach to your knees, spasmed and contracted. Your legs slammed together trapping Tommy’s head in a wrestlers type grip, and his eyes bulged until you relaxed a little.

As your orgasm washed over you, you could feel Tommy grin against your mound.

‘I think you are ready to take my cock now Love’ he said after you came down from your high and he positioned himself in between your spread legs.

Within seconds, Tommy hooked his hands under your calves and lifted them to rest on his shoulders. Now he was ready, you were flat out on your new kitchen room table, and in no position to refuse him.

He held your knees apart. and maneuvered his cock to your bright wet slit. He rubbed it up and down a couple of times before commencing his intrusion.

‘Don’t worry Love, I will be gentle since it’s your first time’ Tommy said as he pressed forward slightly and pushed his cock into your small, warm, and unbelievably tight pussy.

Despite his best efforts, you moaned and screamed at the same time at the intrusion but there was nothing you could do, not now.

‘You can take it Love. I know you can. If you want me stop, use your safe word’ Tommy said as he pushed into you further.

You moaned loudly has his length invaded you and pushed past your barrier, causing you to let out another moan and scream until, finally, he was completely inside of you. Tommy had just about split you in two and you had never felt like this before, you were full and he could feel your body trying to get out of the way

Tommy let you adjust to his size and then began pulling on your hips, before thrusting into you gently.

‘God you are so fucking tight Y/N’ he moaned as, slowly, you began to relax completely.

After several gentle thrusts to, Tommy pressed your knees back together and then he pulled out and rammed it back in again.

You cried out once more, but this time not in pain but, instead, in pure pleasure. You felt him running up and down your love channel and it felt better than anything else you had experienced before. There had been no event in your life that could have prepared you for this.

‘Oh my god Tommy, please make me cum again’ you begged him.

Tommy grinned and didn’t care to correct you on your language.

He began to fuck you mercilessly and rode you past your pain into a world of pleasure.

The unassailable flush of desire and the insane delight of him being inside of you overcame everything you were, or ever had been. As he thrusted in and you over and over again, harder with each stroke, you got lost in the grip of irrepressible lust, a powerful inarticulate lust.

It wasn’t long until he fucked you just the way he wanted, hard and fast. You were ready for it and you took it, every single bit of it.

And, just like that, you could feel another even more intense orgasm wash over you.

‘Good girl, cum around my cock’ he moaned as he picked up his speed and pounded into you.

With one loud moan, your walls contracted and your quivered beneath him. You were a shaking mess and screamed his name as you rode out your orgasm.

Just as you came down from your high, he pulled out of you. He was not done with you yet.

Without letting you recover, he pushed you back onto your knees in front of him.

‘You know what to do’ he said just as he pushed his cock back into your mouth firmly while grabbing onto your hair.

This time, he held your head in place while he began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth.

Your eyes shut again instantly and unintentionally in order to deal with the gag reflex.

‘Look at me’ he instructed and you obliged, opening your eyes and looking towards his face.

‘I'm going to cum in your mouth’ he said, causing you to nod.

‘I hope this was understood, but I expect you to swallow’ he added and, just like this, with several more thrusts, his warm cum spurted into the back of your throat.

You gagged again, trying hard to allow his warm seed to run down your throat as he thrusted into you until, finally, he came to a hold.

You licked the last of his cum from his hard cock, making sure to swallow every single drop.

‘You did well Y/N’ Tommy said with still laboured breathing.

‘Thank you, Mr Shelby’ you said as you stood up and had a drink from his glass of whiskey.

‘I will see you on Friday, same time’ Tommy said as he zipped up his pants and buckled up his belt.

‘Friday it is’ you grinned with excitement before he gave you a passionate kiss.

‘We will try something new then and I won’t be as gentle with you then’ he said.

‘I am looking forward to it’ you winked as you said goodbye to him.