#like I told the client it might take me a while and then I sat down and just did it all in one go

[vitrificvitriol]

Cmm// Ratchet having fun with tentacles

[haikyu-mp4]

Meeting with the Kozumes

Fluffy workplace romance at Bouncing Ball Corp. with your husband Kenma for my workplace romance event <3

requested by @bobateagojo. word count; 674 – f!reader

Kenma Kozume didn’t often come into the office, but you always made time to join him when he did. He would sigh as he sat down in his chair, pulling you towards him while you argued that you had work to do. This company doesn’t run itself.

Being the one who manages Bouncing Ball Corp. was quite the way to start a love story with the owner himself, perhaps you could sell the idea to a K-drama producer. He had noticed the company’s results improving ever since hiring someone new in charge and went to meet with you, quickly infatuated by your charm and kindness.

You led the company exactly how he wanted it, and meetings turned into dates turned into a relationship turned into a proposal. And now there were two Kozumes in charge of Bouncing Ball Corp.

“So, Kozume. How’s my schedule for today?” he asked, leaning on your shoulder while you clicked away at the computer from your seat in his lap.

“My love, I am not your secretary,” you teased in return, turning a bit to kiss his temple. “However, I heard you had a meeting with that new event company today, and thought I might take it off your hands.” You were just mumbling under your breath at this point, already knowing Kenma hated hosting meetings.

“Oh no, anything but!”

You sat with him as you prepared for the meeting, the conversation going from serious decision-making to what your new neighbours might be up to. When the offer you wanted to make was finally completed in a neat file with a clear presentation, you kissed him goodbye and left the office with a satisfied smile, moving to the meeting room where the client was already waiting for you.

There was no doubt you were the more socially adept between you and your husband, and you had no problem standing your ground in negotiations, but some clients would thoroughly challenge you.

By the time you were halfway through your presentation, the client scoffed as you got into the numbers. “I don’t understand why I was told I had a meeting with Kozume and then I’m met with his secretary, this is so unprofessional!” he said, after already being less than respectful previously.

Just as you were about to answer, there was a soft knock on the door before it opened, revealing your husband in his old Nekoma hoodie with the hood up over his hair, which still had the Dutch braids you made last night. A lollipop sat between his lips and he smiled around it when he saw you, coming over to your side. “You left this in my office.”

He put a sheet of paper down before politely bowing and sitting down across from him, but with his chair turned to you. “Thank you.” You cleared your throat, about to keep doing the presentation when the client interrupts you.

“Sir, I was hoping I could talk to you about this offer.” The other man was fully turned towards Kenma now.

He looked at the client with furrowed brows. “I believe that’s what my wife is trying to present you. It’s a great offer really, I looked at it this morning.”

“Please excuse me, I did not know you were married, but this is a huge deal and I’d like to speak to the boss.”

Kenma looked over at you, and he was happy to see you were patiently waiting to have the client’s attention again.

“I suggest you adjust your tone, sir. You are in fact speaking to the boss. She is more than capable.” Your husband got up again and politely excused himself from the room, making the client finally turn back to you with a nervous gulp.

“I am so sorry, Mrs. Kozume. Please let me have another look at your suggestion.”

Kenma gave you two thumbs up from outside the window and you smirked, blowing a kiss at him as the client sweated over the more than advantageous deal you have presented him.

Power couple.

masterlist

a/n: am I the only one who thought Kenma was his last name? I had to research for this fic and realized Kozume is his last name haha!

for the requester: thank you so much for your great request and kind compliments<3 hope you have an awesome week as well!

[stxrshxpxd]

“i know a place”

pairing: jim halpert x reader

word count: 700

warnings: smutty vibes but not smut

prompt: jim and reader can’t keep their hands off each other for long and need to sneak out of a meeting

Jim’s fingers were on the edge of my thigh as he sat next to me in the conference room, his fingertips mindlessly tapping away and making it impossible for me to focus on whatever nonsensical thing Michael was going on about at the front of the room. I was too busy juggling the buzzing lust and the worrying thoughts that someone might spot Jim’s hand.

We weren’t doing anything wrong at all. We just hadn’t told anyone, as we knew exactly what this office was capable of with information as juicy as this. We had been dating for about a month now and I couldn’t explain it but there was something exciting about the whole thing being a secret. That was probably something I would have to take up with a therapist. Anyhow, Jim’s fingers had begun rubbing the side of my thigh now. I glanced at the stupidly charming smirk on his lips as he stared straight ahead. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Excuse yourself in a few minutes. I need to touch more of you,” he suddenly whispered in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. It made my whole body run hot under my sweater and my mind clouded quickly.

“Hey, is that something you wanna share with the rest of the class, James Halpert?” Michael interrupted my racing thoughts with a silly voice and Jim’s fingers snapped away from me in an instant as several gazes landed on us.

“Preferably not,” he responded and I swallowed a giggle. “Although! I would like to say that I have a really important call with a client scheduled soon, so I will have to step away for about ten minutes-“

I kicked his calf softly.

“Twenty minutes,” he corrected and I held in another giggle.

“Fine, fine,” Michael nodded and waved him away. “But have a think about what we were talking about here.”

“Absolutely,” Jim answered, halfway out of the room, in that tone that I knew meant he had not listened at all since being called in here.

"Attaboy!”

“Actually, I need to use the bathroom,” I interjected, eagerly hopping out to sit on the edge of my seat and raising an arm. It was perhaps a little alarming that it made me so deeply desperate to follow him when I saw Jim turn a corner and disappear. But we seemed to have a hard time keeping our hands off each other for long.

“Alright,” Michael nodded again and in an instant I slipped out of the conference room, very aware that I was heading in the opposite direction to the toilets.

As I turned the corner towards the exit, Jim’s hands engulfed my ribcage instantly and swung my body around, pressing my back against the window to Michael’s office and suffocating my gasp with a kiss.

“Couldn’t stay away from me for long, could you?” he muttered between wet kisses. I melted at the feeling of his large hands pressing into my waist and holding me firmly against the wall.

“You’re the one that keeps touching me and whispering dirty things,” I laughed into Jim’s ear as he had begun kissing my neck now. His scent was filling me up and his soft locks tickling my skin.

“You love it,” he mumbled, smirking, and I couldn’t argue.

Jim’s hands quickly found their way under my sweater and he squeezed my waist again while rushing to kneel down and attach his lips to the center of my stomach.

“Jim,” I laughed, pushing my hands through his fluffy hair and he looked up with his big, sweet eyes.

“What?” he whispered back playfully and planted another few wet kisses down my core.

“We can’t do this here,” I giggled, twirling my fingers around in his locks.

“You seemed up for it before,” he teased, running his bottom lip along the edge of my jeans.

“Not here.”

I pulled him up to stand and placed a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“But I know a place,” I whispered and secured my hand around Jim’s wrist, pulling him with me through the exit.

[luvyeni]

genre smut 𖹭 warning pairing — client!chenle x sexworker!fem reader | back to library .

request. could you write a chenle smut ? you’re so talented i really love your writing

He stepped out of his car; telling the driver to be back in 2 hours, before making his way into the club. “welcome.” he gave the hostesses a subtle nod, making his way into the club, everyone stepping to the side for the man— he just looked like he was made of money.

the owner of the bar waiting for him; glass of wine in her hand. “she's ready?” she smiled , pointing to the back. “like always, she's waiting.” He slid her a wad of a hundred dollar bills, making his way to the back— not even bothering to stop and look at the other dancers; chenle had no interest in them; he wouldn't even be in this club if it wasn't for you— his favorite girl.

opening the door to the red room, slow rnb music playing in the background. “hey princess.” you smiled, turning around. “you're back.” you stood up, your lacy black set that he's sure he purchased fit perfectly on your body; extenuating your curves, his cock already twitching in his pants. “I missed you.” you wrapped your arms around him. “yeah?” he said, the look in your eyes, anything but innocent. “i told you as long as you're here , I'll be here.” He brought his thumb to your lip— opening your mouth, he pressed down on your tongue. you moaned, closing around his digit. “good girl.”

“fuuuuck.” he cursed as you bobbed your head up and down on his length. “I love your mouth so much.” he took a sip of his while. “so fucking good.” his head was thrown back as you worked your magic on him. “feels good?” you pulled away, stroking his cock. “Is that why you keep coming back?” he nodded, the stress from his work day melting away. “yeah princess make me feel good.”

you pulled away from his cock; giving his tip one last kiss, before standing up. “strip for me baby.” he sat man spread, as you slowly pulled down the straps of your bra , he stroked his cock as you slowly revealed your perky tits. “fuck baby get over here.” you smiled straddling his slap. “Go ahead,” he said. “ride my cock baby.”

you sunk down on his length; moaning as his cock stretched out. “god this pussy is addicting.” he groaned, sitting the cup down, just to grab a hold of your ass. “Keep bouncing baby.” he guided you up and down, moaning. “fuck princess faster.”

You began to move up and down faster , his hand squeezing your ass , bringing his mouth to your tits to suck on your nipples. “fu-fuck chenle.” you moaned. “fuck i love your cock so much.”

“sh-shit baby quit this fucking job and come home with me.” he moaned. “you don't need this job, I'll take care of you.” you bounced faster on his cock, desperate to cum all over his cock. “le.” you whimpered , twisting and pinching your tits. “fuck I'm gonna cum.”

“cum for me.” he whispered, grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you into a heavy kiss, thrusting his hips up into you, cumming; his orgasm triggering yours, you moaned in his mouth. “so fucking good as always baby.” you smiled sitting in his lap, his cock softening inside you.

“I meant it , you don't need this job.” chenle said as you put your bra on. “I told you that I will take care of you.” you looked at him. “yeah and what will the business world think about the top CEOs girlfriend being a former sex worker?” you said. “is it any of their fucking business?” he said. “And when's the last time you had any clients?” he said you pouted. “That's because you keep buying out all my time.” he shrugged. “exactly you're already mine , might as well be mine and never have to work again.” he said. “Come on, let me spoil you even more, come home with me.”

“fine.” he smirked , standing up. “good , go get dressed, the car is waiting for us.” he tapped your ass. “I'll be in the front.”

“gonna go tell your manager you won't be back.”

©️LUVYENI

[mebemilena]

 I take it and I eat it with a cherry on top

pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x fem Reader

summary:  you're the new cook of Queen Daenerys

A/N: i'm just exercising my writing skills. Sometimes my drafts and wips become comic books if i can convice the clients. Tittle from the song "Take a Bite", by Beabadoobee

PROMPT: "If your food is not good, i'll feed you to my dragons."

---

You and your big mouth. Some nasty comment about the Queen's personal cooks had brought you to this situation. "If your food is not good, i'll feed you to my dragons.", Daenerys had said, playfully and mischievous, which brought you to this moment.

You entered the throne room with a few maids, each of them carrying a tray with covered plates. As the Queen's new cook, you had tried to impress everyone with a few recipes of your own though you were confident in your talents, having cooked for your family and friends since you were a teen.

The Queen sat on her throne as the maids brought her the trays with the fresh cooked meals she'd try.  "Are you saying this is not real meat?", Daenerys looked confused, the taste still vivid on her tongue.

"Yes, your majesty.", you confirmed with a smile, proud of your work and satisfied with the glint of amusement in your Queen's eyes. Daenerys frowned for a moment.

"I know it's not usual. But these are healthy and will bring you strength. They hold the daily proteins you'll need in a good diet.", you offered her one more bite.

Daenerys looked at you in awe, a small smile slowly growing. "I like meat.", she said simply, but took the piece in your hand. "But i'm open to new experiences.", she ate it, savoring your new recipe. 

She invited Missandei and Sor Jorad to taste the goods you had prepared, but the man refused and made no effort to do it gently.

"Sir Jorah doesn't trust me, your grace. And i have no desire to change his mind.", you shrugged. "He might think i'd try to poison him.", you chuckled, not carying that the man could hear you.

Daenerys tried to sound a little more serious as she sat on her throne, this was a sensitive topic after all. "And what about poisoning me? A few had tried before.", she asked, defiant.

"I have no desire to poison you, my Queen.", you started, waving your hand like it was the most stupid thing one could do. "If i did, it wouldn't be through the food i happen to try before serving you, and in front of you.", you explained, taking small bites of the food on the table. 

It took you a minute to realize your own words. You and your big mouth.

Your answer got the Queen's attention, she was almost amused. Missandei watched your dialogue in deep curiosity while Sor Jorah seemed uneasy. "And how would you do it?", Daenerys asked, not a drop of fear in her voice.

You walked to her, approaching her seat and the small table by her side. With practiced manners, you prepared another plate of food. A slice of bread, a few fruits and a small globe of soup.

"I'd do it slowly.", you told her, holding the bottle with wine and filling her glass. "Both killing and loving demands patience, your majesty. If you give it all at once, it makes a mess.", you chuckled.

"So if I wished to poison you, mylady, I'd give you a few droplets everyday.", you handed her the glass, and Sir Jorah put his hand on the shaft of his sword.

Daenerys looked at you as she drank the wine slowly, hooked by the way you spoke, enchanted.

"You'd drink it in your wine, in our water. Eventually, you'd fall sick and I'd offer to take care of you only to keep poisoning you. You'd die slowly. It'd look like something natural, like some sad trick of destiny.  And nobody would ever be suspicious of me, the person who took such good care of you on your final days.", you finished, not exactly proud of your wisdom on the subject. 

Daenerys laughed, drinking more from her glass. "You shall live one more day."

Missandei let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and Sor Jorah frowned even more to you, cursing under his breath.

Daenerys trusted you, but what kept you alive for so long was that she liked you. You and your big mouth.

[lilimaginebean]

five days - 五日

synopsis: In which Kaiser fell in love with his tattoo artist, or in which Kaiser has only five appointments to convince you to go on a date with him.

note: hi, hope you enjoy this part and thanks for the support :))

prev | next

🥀 Day 2

"Are you a Bastard München fan?" you asked Kaiser during a break in the session.

He frowned at your question. You thought it was a normal question because he was wearing a team shirt.

"Well, I guess I can say I'm a bit of a fan," he admitted with a shrug, "Have you seen any of their matches?"

"I'm not a fan, so no, never. The only time I watch something of that is during the World Cup," you admitted.

It had been 3 weeks since the last session. Although you'd never admit it, you'd been counting the days until you'd see Kaiser again. But you weren't the only one, Kaiser, being the fool and loser that he was, had also been eagerly awaiting this day. Too bad today's training was too long, so he was unable to take a proper shower and dress up for you. So he entered your studio in his uniform, sweaty and with a messed-up haircut.

"It looks good on you," you admitted, unaware that Kaiser was blushing and trying to cover it up with his hand.

Like last time, he sat there whistling to the song. How could he act as if nothing had happened? When you told him to "shoot" his question, you didn't expect it to hit you like a real bullet. Obviously, you refused his request. The reason? You barely knew him, and you excused yourself by saying you had a busy schedule.

"Isn't it strange?" you finally asked him, "I mean, I rejected you..."

"Oh Liebling you didn't reject me. You rejected my plan, know the difference. You didn't even reject my plan, you said you couldn't because you were busy last month. Lucky for me, it's a new month, right?"

You couldn't keep a straight face at his sly comments.

"But be honest... Why did you turn it down? You said it was because you were overworked, but every time I passed by the studio you were eating your lame veggie sandwich or talking to your clients," Kaiser commented with a grin.

You put your hand to your heart and pretend to be offended by such accusations.

"Okay, first of all, veggie sandwiches cannot be lame. Secondly, I was really busy, apparently you just caught me on my break. And last but not least, we only met a few hours ago before you asked me that. I don't know anything about you, maybe you're a criminal," you said, trying to defend your poor excuse and the veggie sandwiches you used to make so lovingly.

"Oh, that could be so easily solved, Liebling. I am a Bastard München fan, as you can see, and my work might be related to that. My hometown is Berlin. I love crusty bread, dogs and winter. And in my spare time I take long showers, read, think about myself, and when I'm motivated I think about who I'd like to kill," he said unperturbed.

You just stopped doing everything to process all the information he gave to you.

"Well, I wasn't so wrong to think you were a criminal," you said, and took your job back.

"You're too beautiful to be killed, don't worry Liebling, my thoughts of you are anything but killing you," he said confidently, you giggled.

“Oh, how lucky I must be”

“You have no idea” he assured “What about you?”

"Well, as you can see, I work here. I love autumn, promenading and those mouse shaped sweets from the sweet shop. In my spare time I like to stay in my small but cosy apartment. And... we have just finished this session," you said as you stood up and stretched a little.

"You are really talented," Kaiser said smirking at you while admiring the new part of the tattoo

"Tell me something I don’t know. Come on, I have an another appointment in 5 minutes"

You escorted Kaiser to the exit, where he put his black cap and face mask back on. Before he left, he stared at you for a few seconds.

"Now that we know more about each other, would you like to go out with me? Come on Liebling, you know the best way to get to know another person is to go out, you can't expect to know me in just an hour" Kaiser asked as he opened the door

How could he be so convincing? Maybe you weren't sure about the date the last time, but today you really were. Still, you could be a bit of a teaser, and maybe you wanted to see if Kaiser was really interested in you.

"The last time you asked me, you were dressed as the owner of five clubs, and today you ask me out dress like that. Come on, where is this spoilt brat? Michael Kaiser, you can do better," you admitted, giving him a bold look.

He chuckled under his mask.

"You really do have high standards, don't you? Don't worry Liebling, next time you won't have any excuse to refuse me. Trust me".

[ratt-king]

I was voted out of the island for too much littlebit angst so now im (not) writing Tim being yelled at!! (angst)

☆

Tim was terrified. He caught Slyvia whispering about him earlier in the day. He didn't think any of it would truly affect him. She always whispered anyway. It was one of the many rumors about him, and Tim couldn't let it distract him from his work.

He had to do his own research on the Curtises. He might as well make sure this wasn't a lost cause.

They didn't have many alliances, a solitary, mostly protection based business. They had clients all over the east side and were doing well. Tim even found a couple of records of them working for the Shepards while his grandfather was still the boss, which reminded him to check on their sources. Negotiating with Darry was making him sloppy and forgetful.

"Tim, Gramps wanted to speak with you." Curly yawned as he sat in a chair.

Tim hated Curly's attitude. He was supposed to be Tim's second, yet he did nothing more than the bare minimum. He wasn't even naturally talented, maybe at bullshitting his way through check-ins, but he was terrible at everything else. It would have to wait though, because knowing Curly, he told Tim about this late.

Before pushing open the door to his grandfather's study, he fixed his collar and took a deep breath. Tim has never seen him do anything in the room other than sitting. The last time he was in here, he'd only ever throw Tim around, preparing him to fight. He'd have tim read day and night, but Tim had never seen him actually read any books. Then again, Philippe probably read every book in the room already..

"Take a seat." He said as the door opened. "How are those... meetings with Kid Darrel?"

Tim calmed himself with a breath. He couldn't know anything. The old man barely spoke to Tim, and Tim was his favorite! He had nothing to worry about.

"Oh well, They are pretty promising, Darry- Uhm, Mr. Curtis is proving to be just as good as his father."

Tim couldn't lie to the man about work. It was the one thing that he accepted no bullshit about. If anyone knew about Tim hesitance to work with them, it's him.

"Grandpa... Im not sure about the rest of them, bu-"

"Then why are you letting them waste our time?" Philippe stopped Tim as he tried to speak again, "If you are doubting their competence, do not waste time playing with an offer."

Tim was silent as the words hit him. Philippe was right though. Tim had no plan on agreeing to work with them, so it was all just a waste of time, wasn't it? Wasting precious time and resources that could be used on serious meetings, giving them them all power and not just indulging Tim's greed.

Philippe didn't spare any of Tim's feelings, "I want an answer, or i might be inclined to believe what Slyvia is saying about you."

"What..?" Tim pleaded in his mind that it wasn't bad. "What is she saying?"

He clicked his tongue at Tim, "They say that you're looking less at the alliance and more at 'Darry'. Is this business a joke to you!?"

He immediately went to deny, "I-"

"No more nonsense, I've endured enough of it from you!" Tim was speechless, panic rised in him with Philippe's voice. "Isn't that right? I worked on you for years! Did you like wasting my time!? ANSWER ME GODDAMMIT!"

His fist slammed against the wood, reminding Tim of how many times, how many ways that fist connected to his face or gut. It helped him learn how to fight, where his weaknesses are, and how he was never able to beat Philippe. He felt the sting in his eye of a tear.

Tim stared into his own clenched fist in his lap, willing himself not to move, "No, Sir. I... I wasn't thinking purely about business, but I will change that immediately."

"I'll be damned if I keep a traitor in power. Curly will be the acting boss indefinitely, so you get your priorities straight and so I can prepare Angela."

Tim was silent, afraid that he'd run his mouth if he opened it. Philippe kept him in the room for a couple minutes longer before dismissing him. Watching as Tim scolded himself mentally, running through everything, he's been taught to find any excuse.

He wasted his grandfather's time and knowledge. He even let his little, useless brother get the position he fought so hard for. His screw up might even put Angela through everything he had to, everything he did, so she didn't have to. He might have to see her walk around tired and bruised up the same way he was for years as he learned.

"You're horrible. You are threatening your own family, and you're okay with that? Curly is not ready for this, and Angela doesn't deserve to be punished for my mistake."

Tim looked up to Philippe. "I'm not a traitor, and these people respect me. They respect me in a way they have never respected you."

"Tim..."

"They don't respect you! They're afraid of you because no matter whose in power-"

"Tim."

"-you always get the final say! Nobody is ever truly in power so long as you're here!"

"TIM! Go tell your brother about his new role, which is effective immediately." Philippe stood up, walking over to Tim and dragging him out of the study by his collar. "Don't you forget that I taught you everything you know. And if you don't like that, get lost."

The harsh pull on his collar choked Tim slightly. The old man, not noticing or caring. Philippe tossed Tim aside like garbage, then slammed the door to his study. There was a loud thud from when he hit the floor. Tim, a little short of breath, stood up as to not seem weaker than he already was.

He just lost everything. Tim just looked at the doors and wished he had never said anything. He felt nauseous and faint, and he couldn't blame anything but himself. Tim couldn't even spend time pitying himself because Curly was in power, and he'd probably have to stop him from getting them all killed.

It just made him hate Curly more and more. All he did was sit on his ass playing games and complaining about having to work. He didn't care about the good of their family or how hard they all worked to be able to stay. Curly took everything for granted, and Tim was about to be the villain for forcing him to see it.

...

Just looking at Curly pissed him off. How comfortable he was, safe and sound, never had needed to look over his shoulder and work sleepless nights to make sure they wouldn't wake up to screams and war. Tim worked those nights, woken up to screams and gunshots, all while being trained by his grandfather. He put Curly under such extreme protection so he wouldn't live through what he had to, and Curly still hated him.

"Ughhh, let me finish this game before you start yapping." Curly groaned as he noticed Tim's presence.

Tim snatched Curly's phone straight out of him hand, placing it on the table. "Philippe made you leader of The Shepards, Effective immediately."

Curly looked confused. Philippe hated Curly and liked Tim more than anyone. He didn't respect nor listen to anything the man said to him. But with how much disgust and anger Tim looked at him with, he knew Tim wasn't lying.

Tim placed Curly's phone on the table, giving him a bitter smile. "You have a lot of work to do, Curly."

☆

Guys, i was kind of struggling to write this, but i hope it's not too bad. I wanted to explore Tim's backstory and also why Tim and Curly don't get along well. Also, the cliffhanger is the classic dialogue because i started coughing to death and took it as a sign to leave it like that (laziness)

[madridfangirl]

a little blurb i wrote !!

The meeting had run late, but she still showed up at his place.

Hair in a bun, laptop tucked under her arm, that usual crease between her brows slowly softening as she kicked her heels off by the door and muttered something about back-to-back calls and a client who wouldn’t stop interrupting.

Jude didn’t say much. He just watched her eyes tired, posture slumped and felt that familiar pang in his chest.

She had a rare full weekend off. Two whole days where she wasn’t drowning in numbers, deliverables, or 2AM emails. He could count on one hand how many times that had happened since they’d been together

They were in his living room now, candles flickering, a throw blanket draped over her legs as she sat on the couch in one of his hoodies.

he left the room briefly, came back with a tiny velvet box in hand, nervous for reasons he couldn’t explain.

She looked up, frowning. “What’s that?”

“Just open it please.”

She did. And her lips parted.

A deep purple amethyst, set in warm gold. Delicate. Indian-inspired design, the kind she’d once described while curled against him post-midnight, wrapped in memories of home.

Her throat tightened. That had been months ago. She had only mentioned it once, offhandedly, during a night she was feeling homesick. Jude had been half-asleep, arm draped around her waist, chin resting in her hair.

“I wanted to find the exact kind,” he continued. “But turns out, India’s got centuries of history with gems. Like… serious cultural weight. Did you know amethyst used to be worn by sages during meditations? Because it’s tied to clarity and protection.”

She didn’t speak.

“So I did some digging,” he said, a little bashfully now. “Read up about Navaratna settings gemstones and their planetary alignments. I nearly got the wrong one at first.

But then I found this design from a boutique in Jaipur. They’ve been making traditional South Indian temple jewellery for four generations.”

Jude..

“I know you don’t like gifts like this,” he said quickly, reading her expression, “but this one’s different”

She looked up at him, waiting.

you told me once that you lost the one you had. Said it slipped off your hand at the beach, remember?”

“yeah, that was.. so long ago .”

“I always listen when you talk,” he said softly. “Even when you’re rambling about Real Madrid and you forget I play for them.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “I wasn’t rambling.”

“You were passionate. Eyes all lit up, talking about the Bernabéu and how you cried during that comeback against City. And I just kept thinking…” He paused, trying to find the words. “She has no idea. No clue what she’s doing to me.”

Her brows furrowed.

“You’ve stolen it, Ananya. My heart,” he admitted, voice quiet now. “Without even trying.”

She blinked.

“I’m not asking you to wear it for the sake of a gift,” he added. “I’m asking you to wear it as a promise. That no matter how far you go, no matter what corner of the world your career takes you to—you’ve got a piece of me. Always.”

She said nothing for a moment, staring down at the gem like it might shatter if she looked too hard.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay?”

She held her hand out, and he slipped it onto her finger gently. Like it was sacred. Like she was.

She leaned into him after that. Warm, quiet, safe. And in the stillness, he played with a strand of her hair, kissing the top of her head, heart full to the brim.

“You’re ridiculous,” she mumbled.

“I know.”

“But I love it.”

“I know.”

Here's an SCL thought partner (not just a reader) putting an end to scl blurb drought.

Thank you - it was beautiful :)

[prism-empurress]

Siffrin goes to Day Treatment

Hey! Here's some writing drabble where Siffrin...goes to a mental health group like I do! This takes place sorta in an AU? Modern day + colors. Enjoy and give me your thoughts on it, and I might continue!

Siffrin was not permitted to take his dagger with him. Or any wood carving tools. Or the safety pins on his cloak. So, he decided to wear something casual; a black turtleneck with a red and black plaid coat, ripped black jeans, simple socks, simple black gloves and checkered slip ons, as well as his eyepatch. Not wanting to be without a hat, he pulled a red beanie out from his closet and put it on.

They looked at themself in the mirror. They looked relatively like a normal human, they thought. Just a casual, run of the mill…person.

Deep breath in….deep breath out…

It was going to suck to be without his cloak. It wasn't a security blanket, but he found comfort in the weight it had on his form. Being without it…he felt strange. But the plaid coat would suffice. They enjoyed running their fingers across the woolen inside.

This was stupid. He was going somewhere to be social and learn people skills for a few hours. Didn't he do enough of that while on his big adventure?

But…Odile did mention a few concerns she and the others had for him. Like how meek he was when ordering food at a restaurant. He was perfectly fine killing monsters, but when it came to interacting with beings of the same species, he just…froze.

They acted in a few theatre plays, having enjoyed them for as long as they could remember, but that was different than interacting casually. With their fellow family members, they were just fine…

So why is he TERRIFIED when it comes to strangers?

"It's just a few hours, monday through friday." Mirabelle told him, once he got accepted into the day treatment program. "And when you come home, you'll have accomplished something HUGE."

"What." Siffrin retorted.

"You'll have stepped out of your comfort zone into entirely new territory! And when you come home, you'll get to relax!" Mirabelle beamed at them.

"Can't I just be a city protector by killing monsters?" Siffrin groaned.

"Well…there AREN'T any monsters. Not here anyway. Besides, isn't facing your fears the same?"

"With monsters, you protect people from them." Siffrin rolled his eye.

"Siffrin. Just give it a chance." Mirabelle begged.

Groaning loudly, Siffrin shook that past conversation out of his head, and sat outside, waiting for a bus to arrive. He didn't want to do this at all. But he knew it was good for him. His past few jobs ended in disaster, which he blamed himself for. So, it was Mirabelle's idea that he enrolled into a day treatment program for his mental health.

And they weren't going to be in one place all the time. This day treatment program had outings all the time! They went shopping, they went to scenic areas, they engaged in various other activities. And in the building, there was a craft room. Siffrin only got a small peek inside of it, but he saw all sorts of art supplies. Paper, pencils, markers, paints, he could draw to his hearts content in there.

But there was one problem, besides the socializing aspect.

Lunch.

Lunch would be prepared each day, for all the clients to eat.

For as long as Siffrin could remember…he struggled eating most foods. They were able to choke down a majority of it. But it required a lot of effort to get it down and keep it down. Siffrin strongly preferred Bonnie's meals, but as Bonnie was resuming education back in Bambouche, they were unable to cook meals for him that he'd be able to bring with him to group.

Isabeau came up with the idea to bring simple, easy to prepare meals with him. Stuff like 3 minute mac and cheese in a cup, ramen, oatmeal, a sandwich…stuff that didn't require a lot of fuss or preparation to make. But Siffrin said it wouldn't be a big deal, he can eat meals like everybody else, he doesn't want any special treatment.

If they could just get through lunch, then the rest of the day… they could either be outside and birdwatch, or head to the craft room and draw, or participate in the day's outing once everybody had finished their lunch and cleaned up. The outings seemed exciting, but those were rarely in the mornings.

A bus pulled up, the one Siffrin had been expecting. The door opened noisily, making him grimace, but he stepped up to it and got inside, sitting near the front. Nobody else was on the bus, just him and the driver.

The driver smiled warmly at Siffrin, as the door closed.

"Hello, Siffrin. I'm Josephine."

"Hey." Siffrin spat out clumsily, adjusting his hat.

"First day at group, right? I know you're probably nervous, but it'll be a good time, I promise."

Siffrin smiled sheepishly, as the bus began to move.

"There's five other clients you can talk to if you want. Most of them are older, but I think a couple of them are around your age."

"That's nice." Siffrin said quietly.

"In the mornings we talk about various subjects. Coping mechanisms, for example."

"Well uhm…I usually wear a cloak, but…" Siffrin held out part of his jacket, "This is the next best thing. It's soft."

Silence. Siffrin breathed a little easier… but there was a knot in his stomach for what was to come…

[imitationgame77]

When ART is quiet 1 [Artificial Condition]

ART has an enormous processing capacity. The first time Murderbot had a glimpse inside its wall, it says it had never directly interacted with anything this powerful before. So powerful that it had thought something like that only existed in fantasy. Murderbot has also said, “ART’s processing capacity made me look like I was moving in slow motion”.

Thus, when ART does not respond immediately it means something. The possible explanations include:

(a) ART is encountering an unusual and/or very difficult problem that requires extra careful deliberation

(b) ART is doing so deliberately

Here are some moments when Murderbot notes that ART is pondering for unaccountably long moments, or being quiet. ART’s silence might be more eloquent than words.

[Artificial Condition]

[1] After getting a vivid image of ART’s full power, Murderbot shuts down its feed, huddles down in a chair. But when ART tells it not to sulk, it gets provoked.

I was afraid, but that made me irritated enough to show it that what it was doing to me was not exactly new. I sent through the feed, SecUnits don’t sulk. That would trigger punishment from the governor module, and attached some brief recordings from my memory of what exactly that felt like.

Seconds added up to a minute, then another, then three more. It doesn’t sound like much to humans, but for a conversation between bots, or excuse me, between a bot/human construct and a bot, it was a long time.

Then it said, I’m sorry I frightened you

[2] They start watching World Hoppers together. ART has difficulties understanding the context and emotional tones in human media, but by watching them through Murderbot’s filters which includes Murderbot’s reactions as a part of data, it can process them for the first time.

When a major character died in the twentieth episode I had to pause seven minutes while it sat there in the feed doing the bot equivalent of staring at a wall, pretending that it had to run diagnostics.

[…]

After it was over, it just sat there, not even pretending to do diagnostics. It sat there for a full ten minutes, which is a lot of processing time for a bot that sophisticated. Then it said, Again, please.

[3] When ART realises that Murderbot does not watch media with SecUnits in it, ART wonders if it was because these are unrealistic. Murderbot explains:

“There’s unrealistic that takes you away from reality and unrealistic that reminds you that everybody’s afraid of you.” In the entertainment feed, SecUnits were what the clients expected: heartless killing machines that could go rogue at any second, for no reason, despite the governor modules.

The transport thought that over for 1.6 seconds. In a less sarcastic tone, it said, You dislike your function. I don’t understand how that is possible.

[4] ART starts asking (to Murderbot) personal questions. It wants to know why Murderbot wants to go to RaviHyral, and when Murderbot shuts itself down for four hours to evade answering that, ART just waits until it comes back online. It insists that they are now friends, and Murderbot should trust it.

“I’m not your crew. I’m not a human. I’m a construct. Constructs and bots can’t trust each other.”

It was quiet for ten precious seconds, though I could tell from the spike in its feed activity it was doing something. I realized it must be searching its databases, looking for a way to refute my statement. Then it said, Why not?

[5] At RaviHyral, Murderbot boards a public shuttle with its first-ever clients, and ART monitoring their safety. Then,

I told ART, If they fire at us en route, it’s not like we can do anything about it.

ART didn’t answer, but I knew it well enough by now to know that meant something. I said, You don’t have a weapons system. There hadn’t been one on the schematics. At least the schematics that ART made available in its unsecured feed. Do you?

ART admitted, I have a debris deflection system.

[6] Tlacey kidnaps Tapan, and uses her ComfortUnit to notify Murderbot where she was held.

ART said, Why is it showing you where your human is?

I said, Because Tlacey doesn’t want Tapan, she wants me.

ART was quiet as we went past the private shuttle slots toward the bigger, more expensive section at the end. Then it said, Retrieve your human and make Tlacey regret this.

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

In Artificial Condition, ART was doing a solo cargo-haul mission. Whatever else it was doing, it had LOTS of processing power to spare. A strange rogue SecUnit turned out to be more of an intrigue that ART had expected when it decided to give it ride.

By [4] , Murderbot is gaining more understanding of ART, so as it suspects, the answer it probably (a). And [5] is obviously (b).

It would be interesting to know what processing ART was doing in cases of (a).

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #32 determined

Chapters 1 to 8 here on AO3

If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!

The remaining chapters will be uploaded one every following day.

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part Twelve (determined)

Sherlock was completely stunned by John’s angry rant.

For once, witnessing the fierce side of John’s, the fearsome soldier, the way he was bristling with furious energy and righteous anger about Sherlock deriding and loathing himself was simply spectacular.

Also, because thinking about what John had actually said, Sherlock realized with growing surprise that firstly, he himself had never seen it this way and secondly, that John had made a brilliant deduction Sherlock had been so far uncapable of observing and thus, John was pretty damn smart, too.

Sherlock blinked rapidly, trying to compute the new point of view.

“I’ve never thought about it this way before.” Sherlock said in a small but not unhappy voice.

“Obviously.” John commented gruffly and sat down in the recliner chair again.

They were quiet for the next hour, the only sound to be heard was the whirring of the tattoo gun and Sherlock’s occasional instructions for John how to hold the arm.

It was a comfortable and contemplative silence as each of the two men pondered what had been said and what there was to be learned from it.

Sometime in the midst of the tattoo job, Sherlock began to speak.

“The tattooing helped a lot, with coping, I mean.”

Then the dam of keeping his past inside broke quickly and Sherlock told John everything. He had not been right out rejected by John after confessing his junkie past and the ongoing struggle of resististing to cure the itch. He hoped that John would still not reject him after confessing how stupid and gullible he had been.

“I’ve been studying chemistry at uni and apart from the equations and chemical reactions and experiments everything else bored me. I had no other hobbies and I especially had no friends. All of my peers thought I’m was weirdo and an asshole and shunned me for very good reasons because I was both.

I always wanted to be perfect, to fit in. Just be normal. But I am not a likeable person, I’m abrasive and obnoxious and I see things that people want to hide and I hurl these into their faces so that they’ll leave me alone.

One day I met Darren on campus, a drug dealer looking for new clients and he introduced me to cocaine.

It was heaven, John.

The cocaine softened all of this. I could concentrate better. I was happy, really truely happy with myself and my life for the first time since I was a teenager.

Shortly after, I fell in love with my now regular supplier and he became my first boyfriend. Darren might even have really loved me but that didn’t stop him from taking advantage of me.

He soon talked me into using my proficient chemistry skills for synthesising Ecstasy and I didn’t think a lot about it because he gave me free cocaine that I had quickly become addicted to.

I’ve been on a continuous high for over one year and have been able to hide it very well from everybody. In fact, my peers had become more friendly and open with me now that I apparently acted like what was generally perceived as “normal”. Which only confirmed my belief that without the drug I’d never be able to function adequately.

I had developed a severe drug addiction in the meantime. I was injecting cocaine several times a day and the veins in my left arm were utterly ruined.

The first time I tried to shoot up with my left hand using the good veins on my right arm I accidentally overdosed. It happened to be right here in the shop. Back then, the locality had still been a café. Mrs Hudson had run it, serving coffee and the best home-made bakeries. She found me unconscious on the toilet floor, barely breathing. She called the ambulance and I died on the way to the hospital due to cardiac arrest but they could reanimate me just in time.”

Sherlock was grateful that all the while he talked John merely listened without any judgemental comments. Being allowed to finally let go of at least some of the hurt was a huge relief.

“While I was in rehab, I made the acquaintance of another recovering addict who was a very skilful tattoo artist. When we were both clean, I asked her to put the white pony I had designed onto my back. Her art of painting with ink on skin intrigued me and she taught me all there was to know.”

“And now you are here.” John stated.

“And now I am here.” Sherlock confirmed. “And I’ll do everything to keep being here.”

“Including to keep everybody from eventually becoming part of your life?” John asked quietly. It sounded a bit defeated.

Sherlock sighed. “So far, yes.” He looked at John. “But that might change.”

“I’d be very happy if it would.” John gathered his courage. “If you would let me into your life.”

They watched each other silently for a minute, examining their feelings and what might be found in the depths of each others eyes. The seconds stretched out, trickling by agonizingly slow.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Sherlock said, fiddling with the tattoo gun. “We’ll finish your tattoo now. You will let it heal thoroughly for two weeks and I will think thoroughly about all that’s been said today. We both have to be sure.”

“That’s okay with me.”

“And then, we will go out on a date and have dinner, if you’re still interested in getting to know me by then.”

John had already opened his mouth to strongly object that he could ever lose interest in Sherlock but was shut off by Sherlock’s gesture to keep mum.

Sherlock smiled softly and pointed to his shop sign. “No arguing, John.”

“Okay, fine, good.” John nodded and swallowed. Somehow, a tiny tear of joy at the prospect to have a chance formed in his eye.

Sherlock smiled some more. “Also, no crying, John.”

++++++

Two weeks later, John arrived exactly on time at “Angelo’s Italian Restaurant” to have dinner with Sherlock.

This time, John did not hover in front of the door, he did not hesitate, or oscillate around on the pavement.

This time, John knew what he wanted and what he needed to do. Determined, he opened the door, entered and saw that Sherlock was waiting for him at a candle-decorated table for two.

+++++

(and they tattooed happily ever after)

Thank you all for reading, liking and commenting. It's been great to write this!

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @peageetibbs

[sawyerconfort]

Prompt 47 with Marie Laveau👁️???

Hey! I'm back!

Let's begin with the prompts, shall we?

I love Marie, so I hope you like it, anon!

STAN ANGELA BASSETT!

Requests are open and you can see the prompt list here!

Enjoy!

(Notice how all my plot problems have to do with Hank… so much so that he's not even in the requests options ;))

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

47. "you're so jealous." | marie laveau x reader

You were on the fence about Marie and Hank's relationship. Of course, he was a witch hunter and you knew his missions also involved hunting down voodoo practitioners like her. But that wasn't all that made you hate the man.

It could have been all in your head, but the way he looked at her... And how she seemed to respond, always trying to seduce him like a vampire seduces a victim...

Not that you meant to sound possessive, but it was unavoidable.

When you saw him appear, and Marie whispered in your ear to wait in the hall, so as not to make a bad impression, your brain was already on alert. They spent hours locked in that room and the intrusive thoughts filled your mind with paranoia.

But you didn't have the heart to confront your girlfriend about it. Until then.

"We're going to need your hair cut soon, honey," she told you on one of the days when the salon didn't seem crowded. Marie always made time to be with you as soon as she saw you, you were kind of the exception to all the problems she had, and when no clients showed up, then that was even better. "Make sure you don't book somewhere else, or I'll get upset, hm?"

You smiled and were about to kiss her teasingly when the hunter's figure appeared through the window and sent your brain into predator mode. Noticing your hesitation, Marie looked out the window in the same direction and a crooked smile appeared on her lips.

"Don't worry, (Y\N), I'll send him away soon," she promised, pulling away from you and opening the door for him. Hank was frowning and you seemed to scowl back when you saw the two of them whisper.

And then, they went to Marie's room, hidden between four walls.

You resisted the urge to huff and tried to distract yourself with some of her magazines while you waited, but their secrets wouldn't leave your mind. Nor the jealousy.

***

They took longer than the last time to get back, and when Marie left, she had the same smirk on her face, looking at Hank. He glanced at your face and simply slammed the door, looking disappointed, fire shooting from his mouth.

"Would you like to help me close up the salon, (Y\N)?", Marie asked, as she was already fixing the windows. You got up in silence and avoided looking at her in every possible way, afraid that you might end up giving the wrong idea. When you were finally closed off again, you left for her quarters first, not expecting her to follow you.

The rest of the afternoon and early evening was silent, you didn't say anything about Hank or the customers like you usually did, and Marie was dying of curiosity and wanting to tease you about what was causing your bad mood.

She left the dishes with you and went to tidy up some things scattered around the room, still hoping that you would join her. Taking a relaxing shower, you went to the suite and sat on the bed, with your girlfriend looking you up and down.

"You're so jealous, it's cute", she whispered, holding you from behind, by the shoulders, and whispering in your ear. "Don't worry, (Y\N), he's not my type. He is an idiot. He's not even good for a sex toy."

You looked at her and shook your head. "I'm not jealous."

"Oh no?" Marie raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you avoiding me? Why are you answering me with half words? Are you sure it's not really jealousy?"

"No, Marie."

"Well, I say it is," she interrupted, and practically threw herself on top of you, kissing your lips with an inexplicable desire. She kept you pinned to the bed until you lost your breath, and when she pulled away, her smile was still mischievous. "It's jealousy, yes, look at the way you kissed me… It almost looked like you wanted to guarantee possession."

You rolled your eyes.

"Oh, don't roll your eyes at me, sweetie, you know the rules…", she bit her lip. "Don't worry, (Y\N), you're the only one I love and I'll always be yours, nobody else's. I promise."

You looked at her. "Stop, it's not jealousy."

"Awn, you have an adorable pout on your lips…", she said, taking your face by the chin and giving you a peck. "Stop being silly, (Y\N), want me to prove to you that you don't need to have that kind of reaction, hm?"

Before you could say anything, Marie kept kissing you, gaining your attention and your full desire, just as she had wanted before. You two engaged in an intense and revealing night of love, just like all the others.

At the very least, you were sure that voracity and that irresistible body someone like Hank would never be able to call his own.

[lovelauradee]

So, I am an American who had a business trip in Britain so I flew into London for a meeting and met some friends for a few days in the city after. The next week, our client wanted us to meet down at his place in Bath, and perhaps take us to Stonehenge after we concluded our business so that following Sunday, I hopped on a train south.

I had a private room on the train and not long after we departed, we stopped again at a random stop I can’t recall. I went to the bathroom as other passengers boarded, helping a cute brunette up the stairs to board the train. We passed some words, and she gave me a brief devious smile and called me a gentleman before complaining that she is dreading sitting next to some stranger in the main car that is likely to hit on her and make inappropriate comments.

I told her I had a roomette and that she was welcome to join me. I won’t bore you with the details but we spoke about life, literature, kids, and pretty quickly, talking turned to some heavy flirting.

She then told me that not facing the direction the train was moving might make her a bit light headed so she moved to sit beside me. She instinctively placed her hand on my leg, spreading her leg slightly, subtly inviting me to place my hand on her inner thigh.

Just then, the train attendant came to check our tickets as the train departed, we scrambled for our receipts awkwardly as if being caught in some act even though it was completely innocent. Feeling the weight of the moment and relief when he left, we immediately started kissing, her hand gripping my cock over my pants and my fingers massaging her pussy over her panties that were quickly becoming soaked with her juices. Her hand started desperately pulling at my belt and zipper, and she slid off her seat and put herself on her knees before as she pulled out my hard cock. Without hesitation, she started sucking and licking my cock from base to tip like a woman possessed, desperate to take and taste my cum flooding her mouth.

Instead, I lifted her up, threw her into the opposite bench, lifted her legs up, ripped off her panties and began to slowly but methodically devour her gorgeous little pussy. Her legs were shaking and her juices were flooding my mouth. She kept moaning and telling me she wanted to feel me inside her as she came in my face.

After she had cum, she told me she wanted my cock inside her. Her tone got serious, she asked me again if I had kids and if I came to the UK often. I said “no” to both and she replied, “good…I want you to put a baby inside me, then leave and never speak to me again”.

I told her I would fuck her and fill her with seed if that’s what she wanted but, since she already had a man, that a baby wasn’t necessary. She said “no, I want a fucking another baby, and I want it to be yours.”

With that, I grabbed her by the throat and forced my thick cock into her tight little pussy, resulting in her legs quaking again as she let out a moan of ecstasy and relief. We fucked all over the roomette, at one point stopping at another stop, her hand planted against the window and her mouth gapping as I pounder her from behind. The faces of people on the platform was one of awe as they saw her getting railed.

Neither of us cared who saw us, so we kept fucking and she came multiple times on my cock, gasping at me to give her a baby each time.

Finally, I lifter her up, sat back on the bench and let her slide down my shaft and ride my cock. She rolled her hips, insatiably milking my cock while whispering to me, “yes, give it to me. Give me all of it.” My shaft began to throb and convulse, and I looked up at her sweaty brow and she looked back at me with that devious smile as she felt me fill her with seed.

Seconds later, we had just gotten some of our clothes back on when we heard a knock at the door again. We invited the attendant to open the door as we sat by one another again, this time looking sweaty and exhausted but fully clothed as if nothing had happened.

He said that he received a complaint about noise and stopped by to see if everything was okay. We smiled, told him all was well as we all seemed to look at her panties on the floor at the same time.

Not long after, she sucked me back to hard, and we fucked again, this time, I held my hand over her mouth as I pumped her full of seed. The ride seemed to fly by as we laughed, fondled one another, and fucked…each time unloading inside her.

Before we departed, we exchanged numbers. For better or worse, she was not ovulating so we never had a baby, but we exchanged info and decided to keep up in case I came back to the UK so we could try again. She eventually told me she had a tumblr, and here she is.

This sweet little brunette you all follow and lust over, lovelauradee, is exactly the charming, gorgeous, and cum needy little slut you think she is.

I’m sure she remembers…

This may have definitely happened ;)

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"YOU MIGHT BE RIGHT"

I just realized that I've never post a fic with Matt here (I've the most of them on my Wattpad lol) so I thought, why not posting them here too? so I wrote a short one ☺

I hope you like it!

(LOOK AT THE NEW DIVIDER I MADE FOR MY MATT FICS, I LOVE IT SM OML) ☝😩💟

Matt knew this case wasn't going to be easy to win.

His client was facing three counts of reckless homicide and petty theft, for which she faced several years in prison, without the possibility of parole.

The first day he went to the meeting he had with her at the NYPD headquarters, he didn't expect her to be a young woman.

In fact, judging by the tone of her voice, he thought she was a woman in her twenties, approaching thirty.

He sat down behind the glass wall that separated him from her, and after placing his briefcase on the table, he focused on her.

"Miss Evans, my name is Matthew Murdock," he introduced himself politely, "and I will be your attorney in this case."

"I've been told you're one of the best in the city," he said. He nodded slowly. "If that's what you've heard, then it must be true." He gave her a half-smile.

"I'll do everything in my power to keep you out of jail." He paused. "But given the situation, you have to consider the possibility that it won't be possible." He took several documents out of his briefcase and rested his fingers on the pages to read the Braille. "The charges against you are very serious," he observed. "I'd like you to explain to me what happened."

"Excuse me?" "She asked, not understanding what he meant." "You have two counts of manslaughter," she reminded him.

"I'd like you to explain to me how they ended up in your court file."

"I already explained to those cops that I didn't kill those guys," she began, leaning forward to look at him firmly. "I swear on my life," she murmured. "Someone's trying to make me take the fall." He frowned as he tilted his head toward her.

"Explain yourself, please." "I don't have any proof," she said, making Matt click his tongue ruefully. "But I swear it's true."

"Maybe it is, but we can't just stand in court and claim something like that just by saying it's true," she explained. "We can't prove it if we don't have proof."

"I know," she complained, shaking her head tiredly. "There must be something at the subway station that incriminates those guys."

"Did you see their faces?" Matt asked, she shook her head. "No, they were wearing black ski masks and dark clothing," she murmured. "Whatever they were trying to do, they'd been preparing it for a while." He paused before continuing. "This wouldn't happen if the vigilantes returned to the streets. You know?" she questioned, catching Matt's attention. "They were the ones truly protecting us, not the police." He complained. "I miss Daredevil," she confessed. "That guy..." she laughed. "He was incredible. He walked around in his devil suit stopping anyone who needed to be arrested." She said. "If he had been there the day these events happened, I wouldn't be here, and in his place would be those who actually committed the crimes I'm accused of."

The lawyer paused for a moment to think about her words.

He hadn't worn the suit for several months, and the first time he decided to put it on after that time was to save Karen's life and put Bullseye behind bars.

That cost his best friend, Foggy, his life. Matt wasn't willing to relive all that pain, and he knew that was exactly what would happen if he put the suit back on.

But in that moment, listening to his testimony, he realized that the people of New York, of his city, needed him.

And they needed him now, at that very moment. He shook his head slightly, returning to reality, before focusing on the sound of his voice.

"What were you thinking?" he asked curiously.

"You might be right," he gave a small smile. "It might be time for Daredevil to return."

[starchildren220]

Labour III

꧁ ꧂

Labour Masterlist

꧁ ꧂

Charles Xavier x OC

꧁ ꧂

1945

The war was over, and the people of Auschwitz were freed. Erik couldn't leave not yet he had to find Schmidt and his sister. Though he wouldn't see them for a while.

Schmidt took Atara with him, he couldn't give up his most powerful weapon. He made her into a pyrokinetic user by injecting the blood of one into her. Though the drawbacks of using the power that did not belong to her was tenfold than the actual use of the power.

Schmidt did not care about this as when he left with her, he sought out more mutants to update his experiment.

Erik almost found Schmidt, but only actually found a few soldiers that worked for him. Then he just left. The night Schmidt told her she sat in her room all night not getting a wink of sleep.

꧁ ꧂

1962

Erik walked through the streets of Switzerland with a tan briefcase in hand and a grey suit and hat.

He walked into the bank and into the office of the banker, setting down the briefcase and opening it, he grabbed what was inside, he sat down as he closed the briefcase and set the object down, a Nazi gold bar.

"Possession of that gold is illegal. I should inform the police." The banker told him.

"Let's not play this game."

"Where did you get it?"

"A friend. He recommended your bank most highly."

"I see. Do you know our terms, sir?" The banker's hands clasp in front of him as his elbows rest in the arm of the chair.

"Yes." Erik nods, "And you should know mine." Erik picked up a picture on the banker's desk.

He breathed out and set the photo back down like it was before. "This gold is what remains of my people. Melted from their possessions, torn from their teeth, this is blood money, and you're going to help me find the bastards responsible for it." Erik tisked and kept the banker's finger from pushing the alarm button. Using the metal of the watch on the banker's wrist Erik flung the bankers arm back, which hit his head.

"Don't touch that alarm." Erik stood up and started to walk around the desk.

"I want Schmidt. Klaus Schmidt." He leaned on the front of the desk. Smacking the side of the bankers face he questioned him. "Where is he?"

"Our clients don't provide addresses, we're not-" Erik pushed his chest pushing him back against the chair.

"Not that sort of bank?" Erik interrupted. Pulling his hand up and his finger taking a pulling shape.

A crunching sound came from the banker's mouth and his jaw spread wide.

"Metal fillings, eh? Not gold. Worried someone might steal them?" The crunching got louder, and the man groaned in pain.

"Argentina! Schmidt is in Argentina! Villa gesell! Please!" He begged.

Erik stared into the banker's eyes until the bankers metal filling came flying out of his mouth.

The banker gasped for air and held his jaw.

"Thank you." Walking back around to the other side of the desk he grabbed his stuff. "I would love to kill you." Pulling the briefcase off the desk he started walking away.

As he walked, he spoke. "So, mark my words. If you warn anyone I'm coming," he paused walking. "I will find you." And he opened the door and left.

꧁ ꧂

It was boring in the lounge while Frost was out fetching the colonel. The silk sofa was comfy but what she was forced to wear was not even close to comfortable, her 'uniform' was very similar to Frost's, except hers was black and lacy and Atara didn't have long leather boots, she had closed toed platform heels with a strap around her ankle and lace stockings that connected to her underwear under her black miniskirt that had a high slit on both sides.

"You look stunning my diadem." Shaw held Atara's chin with his two fingers making her face him. Kissing under her jaw he whispered into her ear.

"When we get some alone time, I might have to rip that right off you." A shiver went down her spine, after years she still wasn't used to what he said and did to her.

Luckily Frost showed up with colonel Hendry, the only times you were actually happy to see her was when she interrupted these types of moments. Shaw got up and Frost showed the colonel to his seat and sitting a few seats away.

Playing a record to ease up the tension in the room. He walked back over to the sofa with a glass of caramel colored liquid with the ice hitting the sides of the glass.

"You sure we can't get you a refill Bob?"

"No." Shaw sat next to Atara again and place one of his arms around her shoulder and the other held his glass. Crossing his leg, he started to talk again.

"So, I hear you blocked the proposal to position Jupiter missiles in Turkey." He paused. "I expect you'll reconsider." Resting his glass on the higher knee.

"We've had this conversation. You put our nukes in Turkey or anywhere that close to Russia and you're looking at war, nuclear war." The colonel told him off not changing his mind.

"I don't ask for favors, colonel, I express my expectations. So, let me say it again, I expect you'll reconsider." Shaw smiled lightly.

"The only thing I will reconsider is having another glass of that delicious champagne." Hendry stood up to reach for his glass.

Shaw turned his head to Riptide and made a circling motion with his and placed his hand back down on Atara's shoulder opposite of him.

Riptide lifted his hand a swirling wind came from his fingertips and twisted together on his palm releasing it he pointed his pointer and ring finger towards the colonel.

The wind passes by making her hair move around. It settled on the table until Riptide flicked his fingers up and it hit the colonel sending him flying back into the wall.

The four of them stood up and walked to where the colonel was lying in the floor. "You're thinking of running." Frost spoke into his head. Hendry hand went to his forehead not understanding what was happening "Hiding, we'd find you, Hendry. There's not a fortress in the world that could keep us out." Atara was slow with walking, and she stopped behind Shaw and Frost looked between them at Hendry, Riptide stopped walking and stood next to her on the other side of Shaw.

Frost transformed to her diamond body. "Magnificent. Isn't she, Bob? Genetic mutation. The evolution of the human genome." Shaw turned to Frost. "Where's Azazel?" Frost whistled for him, like a dog.

He popped up in front of Atara, she jolted a bit. Riptide rest a hand on her middle back.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly. She nodded.

"I never get used to him popping in out of nowhere." She smiled weakly at him.

"Ah, we don't want the colonel to be late." Azazel reached his hand down to help the colonel up. Hendry was concerned and eyes Azazel's hand.

"Comrade." At this the colonel lifted his hand into his. Popping out of the room and a mist of red both of them were gone.

Atara shivered not truly realizing how cold it was in the room, she brought her hands up to hold herself and conserved her warmth. A cloth was rested upon her shoulders, and she turned, Riptide had taken of his suit jacket and placed it on her shoulders as he saw her shiver and wanted to help.

"Thank you." It barely came out, but he heard it, she knew from the slight smile the was present on the edge of his lips.

꧁ ꧂

1305 words

[purpleprincessonfyre]

OUAT AU - I Gave My Blood, Sweat and Tears For This

Characters: Liane St James, Cassandra Sean, Belladonna St James

Mentioned: Bruce Banner, Melissa Wallace, Alexander, Rochelle Romanoff-Felton

Location: Fighter-Town, Cursed Modern Day

IB: Once Upon A Time, You're On Your Own Kid by Taylor Swift

"You did what?"

"Cass you've been saying for years that he doesn't treat me right. It's almost all we talk about!"

"Yeah but I didn't expect you to-"

"Wow so you tell me to stick it to the man and then when I actually do, you freak?"

Liane sighed, sipping her tea. Cassie stirred her tea busily, trying to get her head around it, her gaze landing on Liane's bandaged nose every so often.

"He really hit you?"

"I hit him back. Pushed him over his desk."

"Lia..."

"Okay I lost it but can you blame me?"

Liane questioned. Cass just lowered her head and sipped her tea. Everyone knew Liane could lose her temper, she just hadn't really done it in a while. She could be pretty volatile when she lost it. She had a history of breaking things, screaming and generally just going a little mad. But Cassie had never seen Liane get violent. It was not her style. Cassie very delicately tried to change the subject as she drank her herbal tea.

"So are you still gonna be a lawyer?"

"Of course just...on my terms. I'll be my own boss. I'll be fine."

"Well I'm here if you need me, you know that."

"Oh I know. But I'll be alright. Bella will keep babysitting, I'll find clients..."

"You don't have to do this alone."

"Don't worry Cassie. I'll get by."

Liane relaxed into her chair and reached into the fruit bowl for a snack pulling out a shiny red apple. She was a little confused since she hadn't remembered buying apples at the grocery store but maybe Cass had brought them. She plucked it from the bowl and raised it to her mouth when Cassie stopped her suddenly.

"Don't eat that!"

"What? Did you want it?"

"No I just....I uh thats wax. Its a wax apple I thought your fruit bowl was for decoration."

"Oh shoot! Damn." She put the apple down on the table, instantly seeing Cassie's shoulders relax as she did so.

"You okay?"

"Yeah sorry its just I didn't want you to break your teeth or something."

"You're good hun." Liane smiled, finishing her tea as she saw the time on her watch, realising it wasn't long until school ended for Belladonna.

"Oh shoot, school let's out soon! I told Bella I'd pick her up. I should go, this has been lovely Cass but I gotta shoot off."

"Oh not at all, go right ahead I gotta do the books at the shop anyway."

"I'll talk to you later."

Cassie got up and slipped the apple into her pocket as she left the house, taking it towards the trash can and throwing it in. That had been close. She looked over her shoulder and checked no one had seen her before she headed down the road back to her florists shop. It was clear that Liane would need watching a lot closer for now.

Liane waved off Cass and shut the door to get ready to pick up Bella from school, getting in her car as she saw a bottle of apple juice sat on the front seat.  She didn't recognise the brand in anyway but it looked pretty fresh. She assumed it was probably Bella's and decided to leave it until she saw her. It was a little odd though as she thought about it. Maybe she'd left it this morning. That made sense.

As she finally pulled up at the school she turned on her tunes with the windows up, just waiting patiently for Bella to walk out. She was just nodding her head at first but as she got into it she was singing at the top of her lungs when Bella opened the passenger seat car door.

"Cause you got that James Dean, daydream, look in your eye and I got that-"

"Mom."

"Thing that you like and when we go-"

"Mom!"

"We never go- Oh sweetheart! I'm so sorry!" She instantly turned down the music as Bella climbed in the car, aware she might be embarrassed by her.

"Sorry sweetie I got caught up. Oh here's your juice."

"Thank you and I- what? What juice?"

"Oh yknow, this one. I figured you forgot it in the car this morning."

"That's...not mine."

"Oh well. Waste not want not." Liane uncapped the bottle and lifted it to her lips as Bella's eyes widened and she slapped the bottle out her hands and it flew out of the window onto the road.

"Bella!"

"Where did you get that?"

"It was on your seat, kiddo."

"Don't drink things you find! Especially apple flavoured things..."

"Bella stop it-"

"What did you say to the Mayor?"

"I...I told him I quit. Hence my nose. But I got my own back I shoved him over his desk. He deserved it."

"Mom now he's got it out for you, he's going to poison you!"

"Enough! Enough with this fantasy stuff, I'm glad you worry about me and I know he's an asshole but he's not some evil king in a high castle! He's just a guy that has too much power that sucks. Okay?"

"Just- be careful."

Liane smiled, stroking Bella's hair kindly, kissing her forehead gently. As she drove out of the school parking lot, a thought did cross her mind as she headed back towards home.

"Honey?"

"Yes?"

"Why would you be worried about me eating something apple flavoured?"

"Well...the Mayor has an apple tree."

"Okay...and why is that bad?"

"The apples...aren't normal."

"I know there are tiny apples that you can't eat because they're for the birds. And cooking apples you shouldn't eat raw.

"Wait, so you think he juiced one of those bad apples, bottled it, wrapped it in a fake brand label, somehow broke into my car and planted it on your seat for me to find?"

Bella rolled her eyes, tossing her braid over her shoulder. Liane chuckled and continued to drive as they reached the front of their house and saw a basket on the porch. A wicker basket with steam escaping from it. Liane immediately panicked, worrying something was on fire and rushing to open the basket. But when she looked closer she realised there was a steaming strudel inside, a gorgeous golden crusting coated in toasted brown sugar.

"False alarm! It's a strudel, Cassie probably baked today."

"A strudel? Does she normally drop food on our door?"

"Well, no but I guess she feels bad because of the- yknow quitting." Liane scooped up the basket and carried it inside as Bella followed quickly.

"Did she leave a note?"

"Uh...no. But it probably is from her-"

"Mom! Don't eat it!"

"Sweetie-"

"Mom please don't eat the strudel!"

"I'm not gonna waste good food young lady."

Bella rubbed her eyes in an affected manner, really wanting to get her point across.

"I know you think everyone in this town is good and kind and nice but do you really know everybody? Like realistically how well do we actually know these people?"

"Pretty well I'd say since they trust us to watch each others kids and the parents trust you to babysit their kids."

"Just...let me have the strudel. I'll....feed it to the twins tonight. Just if you're gonna eat a pastry, get it from the diner. We can trust them."

Liane considered, staring at the golden pastry then seeing the look in her daughters eyes. There was real concern there. She relented at last, leaving the strudel be.

"Fine. I won't eat it. But don't throw it out either. When does Rochelle want you?"

"5pm. She's gotta talk to Cole about something and needs me to watch the kids until she's back."

"Alright. Maybe I'll eat at the diner then since you suggested it."

"Yes. And please no moping. I know what you get like." Bella responded, packing up her bag for spending the night at Rochelle's House. Babysitting often meant sleepovers which also meant telling the twins more stories about their fantasy lives. Bella went to fetch some pyjamas, leaving her Storybook on the table by Liane's phone.

Whilst Bella was gone, Liane peeked inside the pages and saw an illustration of a blonde woman with large black horns, sweeping dark purple wings, a long trailing wispy dress and purple eyes. Her face looked incredibly familiar but she couldn't quite place it and something in her mind felt different as she looked at the image longer. As she heard Bella's footsteps though she closed it quickly, going back to her phone.

"You need a ride?"

"I'll take my bike. I'll see you on Saturday."

"Alright sweetie, love you!"

"Love you too, be careful!" Bella called, clipping on her helmet and heading out the door. Liane sighed and waved her off at the window before grabbing her car keys and heading off to Bruce's Diner for a nice meal. She deserved this. And it did feel nice to get out of the house. She parked up and headed for the door, the warm lights feeling inviting as she stepped inside.

The little bell on the door chimed and Bruce himself raised his head from by the coffee maker and smiled at Liane as she walked in. She sat herself at the bar and waited for someone to take her order, just taking space to relax.

"Hey Ms St James, good to see ya. What can I getcha?"

"Hey Melissa, uh what's the pie of the day?"

"Oh uh it's a fruit pie tonight. Is that okay?"

"That's absolutely fine. Uh in that case I'll have the pie."

"A slice? Or..."

"Melissa. Honey. A whole one thanks."

Melissa nodded and headed into the kitchen and went to go and put in her order as the door's bell went, alerting the staff to a new customer arriving. Liane turned her head and beckoned them over, smiling.

Thanks for reading! Watch this space for Part 2 to see who just walked in and see if Belladonna is right about Alexander.

Tagging: @jackiequick @gcthvile @rooster-84 @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @askstevella @ask-missparker @ask-starrk @therealdaydreamstark @thechoooooosenone @wizzzardofoz @finlayholmes @missstrawbs2001 @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh