#fanfic update schedule

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

Running away from Amity Park—from his entire dimension—Danny takes refuge in the streets of Gotham. It's hard, suddenly being a homeless teenager in such a crime-ridden city, but it's better than dying a second time.

Enter Alfred Pennyworth, a kind old man who works as a butler who, for some reason, has decided to befriend Danny.

His future is still up in the air, but he's hopeful that things will work out. After all, Alfred isn't getting any younger and someone needs to help him with his butler duties. Danny's just the right person for the job.

Or: Alfred Pennyworth sees a homeless teen who looks like he'd fit right into the Wayne family and decides to take matters into his own hands. It's not like he's just going to leave this very sad, possibly meta teenager alone when there's more than enough space in the Manor to house one more child in need.

read chapter one on ao3 or below the cut.

Technically, Danny doesn’t exist. 

He has no papers, no records, no family in this dimension. It’s a blank slate, a fresh start where he can be anything he wants. That doesn’t change what he is, however, and Danny is just another lonely child living on the streets. 

In Gotham, he’s not a hero or a threat; he’s just another nameless face passing by, another teenager with no support system and no future. Just a figure clinging to the alley walls, head bowed and hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. It’s not great, far from it, but it’s better than the alternative where he—

—parading around in the corpse of our son! How dare you! Wearing his face won’t save you from what we’ll do to you! Leave Danny’s body so we can bury him, leave him! I’ll tear you ap—

This is better, is the point. Out of the frying pan and into the crime ridden streets of Gotham. Not quite a fire but close enough.

No one is hunting him down in this dimension, at least. He’s ignored and left to his own devices, wandering the streets only when the sun’s gone down and slipping into grocery stores after hours, invisible, to get a few things to eat. It sucks that he’s resorted to stealing to survive, but at least he’s surviving. 

Survival is the entire reason he ran from his own dimension, after all.

He’s been here for two and a half weeks now, getting acquainted with the streets. Every day is spent hiding and trying to endure the crushing loneliness and grief of losing his entire life. He’s still half alive, yes, but the life he lived has gone up in flames, torn to pieces under his parents’ attacks. He can’t even blame them for it; under the circumstances, with the limited understanding they had, it’s only natural that they would try to kill him after discovering that Danny Fenton, their son, died two years ago.

Understanding doesn’t stop the sting of betrayal, doesn’t soothe the ache of being chased away from his family, but it’s something. 

It’s all he has, these days.

There’s no one to hide from, no one who knows him at all, so Danny wanders, more ghost-like than he’s ever been before. People give him a wide berth at night, never making eye contact and walking by faster. 

Save for one, of course. One person, at dawn, who always seems to find him no matter where Danny’s wandered that night. 

He introduced himself as Alfred Pennyworth. The British accent caught Danny off guard enough that he stopped and turned to face the man, who stood a few feet away, umbrella held over his head. 

“Are you quite all right, my boy?” he had asked. “I have a spare umbrella if you would like to keep from getting any more soaked.”

It took a few tries for Danny to find his voice after a week of not speaking a word. “No,” he rasped, barely audible over the rain, “I’m fine.”

He walked away without another word, thinking that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Alfred returned dawn after dawn, never staying longer than ten minutes, trying to make small talk with Danny. 

Danny, for his part, had no idea why this random British man had decided to make friends with a homeless teenager, but figured that he was just a lonely old man with no family left. That, Danny could understand. So he’d stay for a bit, listening to him talk and occasionally replying, then say his goodbyes when more people began to emerge onto the street. 

Two and a half weeks in, Alfred finally asks Danny for his name.

“Why?” Danny asks, shifting where he stands. He doesn’t exist here, but it doesn’t stop his instinctual need to run from anyone who goes looking into him. The GIW don’t exist here, no one is hunting him down. There’s no information about him in this dimension that can be used against him. It’s hard to remember that, not after he’s spent the last few years trying to keep ghost hunters from finding him. 

“I feel it’s rather rude of me to speak to someone I have never properly greeted,” Alfred says. He always speaks so calmly, as if there’s nothing in the world that can shake his composure.

I don’t exist here, Danny reminds himself, I’m safe. 

“Danny.”

“Danny,” Alfred repeats. “A fine name.”

“Thanks? It was my first birthday present.”

The stupid comment makes Alfred smile, just a little, so Danny calls it a win instead of beating himself up over having zero control over what his mouth says. 

There’s more movement along the streets now, Gotham beginning to wake up with storeowners getting ready for the day and morning shift employees heading out to let the night shift go. It’s just about time for them to part ways until the next morning, and Danny’s resigning himself to another day of loneliness. 

His short conversations with Alfred are really all he looks forward to. It’s nice to hear about the man’s time in England, his work as a butler, his opinions on American cuisine and the like. He never presses for a response and he doesn’t try to dig for more information about Danny. Just talks to him, then says his goodbyes. 

“I’ll let you go back to your day,” Danny says, pushing off of the wall he’s been leaning against. “See you around.”

Alfred nods once. “Very well. I do hope you get some rest today, Danny. You always look very tired when we talk. I hope I haven’t been keeping you from sleeping.”

“Oh, not at all. I just have insomnia. Better to have some company than just lay around wondering why I can’t sleep, you know?”

“Indeed. I shall be off then.”

“Yeah, alright,” Danny says. “I’ll see you tomorrow once you somehow track me down again. Are you sure you don’t have magic?”

Alfred shakes his head with a small smile. “I am quite positive I do not have magic. Perhaps we simply have similar ideas about where the best places to walk are.”

“Sure,” Danny says, drawing out the word. “Whatever you say.”

Truth be told, the first few days, he was scared that Alfred was somehow tracking him down. For what, Danny didn’t know. Maybe he wanted to harvest Danny’s organs? Sell him to an evil scientist to be experimented on? Induct him into a mob?

Alfred didn’t do any of that. He just showed up, talked for a few minutes, then went on his way. He never followed Danny, never asked strange questions, never did anything besides chat about his life and his work as a butler. 

It honestly was fun to listen to. It’s clear how much Alfred cares for his employers. Before meeting him, Danny had never really thought of butlers beyond being an outdated job for people too rich to do their own chores. Now it’s interesting, learning all the things a butler has to do and why Alfred chooses to do them. 

He still doesn’t have a favorable opinion on billionaires. Too many bad experiences for him to view them is any unbiased light (thanks for that, Vlad, but eat the rich either way); still, it’s nice to know that this family looks out for Alfred. They give him a place to live, a family to live with, a reason to stay. 

It would be nice if Danny could have those too, in any way that he could. He’s at the end of his rope, struggling to stay and not surrender himself into the Zone and be done with the living realm entirely.

Even his Obsession isn’t enough to sustain him. There’s no one to protect here; honest to god vigilantes patrol the streets of Gotham to keep it safe. Danny isn’t needed here. 

There’s no place for him at all.

Already, his mood is plummeting and all he’s done is take a few steps away from Alfred. It doesn’t bode well for his future, whether that’s what’s to come in the next few hours or the next year.

Sighing, Danny ducks his head back down and begins his search for someplace to bunker down for the day. There are quite a few empty buildings around, newly constructed but not yet in use. He doubts there’s any security installed yet, so he should be safe to settle in and catch some sleep before the sun goes down. 

Just as he turns the corner, he hears someone running. They’re behind him and he tenses, ready to disappear so they can’t get him. 

It’s not Danny they go to. It’s Alfred.

“Hand over your wallet if you want to get out of here alive, old man!”

Shit, Danny thinks, spinning on his heel to get back to Alfred. He rounds the corner to see a mugger jabbing a gun at Alfred’s temple. He looks angry, nearly shaking, and there’s a strange shine in his eyes.

Drugs? No, not important. What’s important is that Alfred is standing still, as calm as ever, with his hands lifted in the air. 

“Hey!” Danny yells, sprinting towards them, “Back the fuck up before I rip your tongue out!”

Fear and anger push him on, his Obsession whispering protect protect protect in his ear and he closes the distance between them.

The mugger barely has time to move the gun away from Alfred’s head, and no time at all to point it at Danny, before Danny tackles him, slamming him onto the ground. He rips the gun out of the mugger’s hand and tosses it carelessly to the side. 

“Don’t touch him,” he hisses. Faintly, he’s aware that his features are shifting, becoming a little less human. The snarl building in his chest has his teeth sharpening, bared in warning. 

The mugger trembles beneath him, thrashing weakly. “Alright, alright! Just lemme go! Let go!”

He doesn’t want to. Danny wants to hurt him for daring to go after Alfred, the one good light in the dark, the only person Danny cares about in this dimension. He wants to make this man regret his choices, make him terrified for the rest of his life, break every bone in his hand so he can’t ever pick up a gun again. 

A hand drops onto his shoulder. 

“That’s enough, Danny,” Alfred says. His voice is stern and Danny can’t help but listen, effortlessly pulled out of his adrenaline fueled rage. His humanity returns to him. “There we are. Come now, my boy, stand up.”

He stands. The mugger scrambles to his feet and runs away. 

With the danger gone, Danny can think clearly again. He takes a few deep breaths and locks his ghost-half away as tightly as possible, keeping the cold in his chest buried deep. It was good for scaring away a mugger, but he doesn’t want Alfred to think he’s a monster. 

He can handle a lot, but not that. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking over Alfred for any injuries. There’s no telling that was done to him before Danny got the mugger away from him. It may have only been a moment, but Danny knows very well how quickly a moment can change a life (or take it away).

“Quite. In fact, I am sure you are in worse shape than I am, at the moment.” Alfred gestures downwards and Danny follows his gaze to his knees, where his already worn jeans have new holes in them. His knees are skinned from how hard he slammed into the ground, a dull ache he hadn’t noticed until it was pointed out to him. 

“It’s fine,” he says, “I can barely feel it.” 

Alfred gives him a hard look, as though he thinks Danny is lying; he’s not, the pain is barely there. He’s had a lot worse in the past. He can handle skinned knees easily. 

“Well,” Alfred says, “Thank you for coming back to help me. If there’s anything I can do to pay you back—”

“No. I don’t… I didn’t do it for payment. I don’t need anything.”

“I would like to—”

“No,” Danny interrupts again. “No payment. I just did what was right. Don’t make this a big deal, please.”

Alfred sighs. “Very well,” he concedes, looking more tired and worn than Danny’s ever seen him. “I shall not keep you any longer. Until tomorrow, Danny.”

He looks as though he expects Danny to take the out, to leave immediately. Danny shifts, not meeting his eyes as he doesn’t move. 

“I’ll walk with you,” he mumbles. “So no one tries to hurt you again.”

Danny’s worried that Alfred will insist on going alone, that he’ll have to go invisible and follow along when he isn’t wanted, but Alfred is kinder than that. Alfred doesn’t refuse or insist he go on his own. No, he smiles and thanks Danny for his consideration before taking off, making sure that Danny walks besides him rather than behind him.

They don’t talk much. Alfred seems to know that Danny isn’t much for words at the moment, sticking to his side and constantly surveying their surroundings for any danger. He walks confidently through the streets as though he wasn’t just held at gunpoint, carrying on with his morning with the same stubborn spirit that keeps most Gothamites from giving up on their city. 

Alfred visits a small bakery first. They’re not yet open, but the owner props open the door when they arrive, waving them in.

“Alfred!” she greets cheerfully, “And I see you have someone new with you.”

She looks expectantly at Danny, who shifts uncomfortably under the attention. He can’t get his voice to work, can’t figure out how to get the right words out.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred says, smoothly drawing her attention off of Danny. “This is Danny. We often talk in the morning and he has decided to accompany me today.”

“I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you! I’m Yurica. Alfred and I enjoy some tea together in the mornings before starting with our days. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t… mean to intrude,” Danny manages to say before Yurica waves off his hesitant refusal.

“Nonsense! Any friend of Alfred is a friend of mine. Come, come, let’s get the two of you seated. You’ll get the first picks of the day, once I get the last batches out of the ovens.”

She leads them into the bakery, past the kitchen and upstairs into a small sitting room. Danny follows them, unable to leave without seeming rude. He joins Alfred on the couch, awkwardly perched on the edge as Yurica bustles around, disappearing down the hall. 

Distantly, he hears the sound of running water and a stove top being turned on. The clinking of cups follows, along with the opening and closing of cupboards. It almost sounds like home, when Jazz was setting herself up for a long study session to make sure she’s prepared for college. 

Without noticing, Danny relaxes back into the couch. He keeps his eyes closed, just listening to the movement around the building; it’s soothing white noise that chases away the constant ache of loneliness he’s been carrying these past few weeks. 

“Quite the relaxing home, isn’t it?” Alfred asks. 

“You come here every day?”

“Not every day, but a few times a week. We’re old friends and are often up before anyone else. It’s nice to catch up for just a few minutes, especially at our age.”

He wonders if this is what it feels like, spending time with grandparents. He never met his own, could never relate to the kids who were always excited to spend time with their grandparents over the holidays, eager to be part of a bigger family. It was fine, before, when it was just him, Jazz, and their parents. 

It was fine. 

It didn’t last.

Yurica returns a few minutes later, carrying a tray full of cups and a teapot made to look like a fat cat. The sight of it makes him smile, almost distracting him from noticing the way Yurica and Alfred share a Look. 

“Here we are,” she says, setting the tray down on the table. She lays out the cups before Danny can offer to help, pouring out fragrant tea with a steady hand. “Cream? Sugar?”

Alfred adds cream to his own cup while Danny shakes his head, quietly thanking her for the tea. 

He cradles his cup in his hands, savoring the gentle warmth while Alfred and Yurica chat. He tunes them out, letting their voices fade into background noise. 

This is the most relaxed he’s felt in months. It’s sad to think about, so he tries not to, but it lingers in the back of his mind. 

Time passes without him noticing. Danny sips his tea until his cup is empty, then sets it down on the tray. That seems to be a cue that Alfred was waiting for, long done with his own cup, and he stands, thanking Yurica for her hospitality. 

She waves it off with a smile before Danny can echo the sentiments, then ushers them downstairs, where trays of freshly baked pastries fill cover the counters of the bakery’s kitchen. 

“Here, take your pick!”

Danny’s about to refuse when she shoves a paper bag into his hands. “Go on,” she says, “Take what you like. I always offer to friends and I find refusal to be rude.”

Now that she’s said that, Danny can’t keep refusing or he’ll feel awful. Alfred is already picking out a few pastries himself, so Danny trails after him, taking three pastries that look good. It’ll be enough to tide him over for the next two days, so he won’t have to steal any food. 

“Thank you again, Yurica,” Alfred says, “It’s always a pleasure to chat with you.”

“Oh, you’re always such a sweet talker,” Yurica laughs. “I’ll see you again soon, Alfred. And you, Danny, are welcome here whenever. Even without Alfred. My doors are open to you.”

Yurica is kind. She sees him in all his scraggly, worn down glory, clearly homeless and with nothing to offer her, and she doesn’t turn him away. Instead she welcomes him in solely because he’s here with Alfred. 

It’s enough to have him blinking back tears, ducking his head so they don’t see how much this affects him. 

“Thank you,” he manages, then hurries to follow Alfred out the bakery. 

Yurica waves at them from the door as they make their way down the street, then goes back in to continue preparing for the day. 

Alfred walks around some more; he informs Danny that he has no errands to run at the moment and no one else to visit. Danny follows, keeping an eye out for anyone who might think Alfred is an easy target. He barely pays attention to where they go until they enter an underground parking garage. 

The weak lights and stillness of the garage, along with the fact that it’s almost entirely empty, makes a fissure of unease race down his spine. This would be the perfect place for Danny to be knocked out and taken away; no witnesses, no help. 

But Alfred wouldn’t do that. Danny wants to believe that Alfred wouldn’t do that. 

He stops when Alfred pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. A black car in the back corner of the parking garage unlocks with a quick flash of the headlights. That is… an expensive looking car. It’s not an obvious luxury brand or anything, but it’s high quality and clearly made for people with money. 

Guess being a butler pays well, Danny thinks. 

Alfred opens the door, but doesn’t get into the car. Instead, he looks to Danny.

“Will you be alright, Danny? If you’d like, I have a first aid kit in the car that we can use to tend to your knees.”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks, though,” Danny says, trying to keep from tensing up too obviously. 

“And you have a place to stay?”

“Sure do,” he lies. 

“If you ever need help, you are welcome at Wayne Manor.”

Danny nods, intending to never go to the manor. He’s not going to risk another rich person trying to either 1) kill him or 2) make him their son. No way. Not in this dimension. 

Alfred looks him over, then nods. He gets into the car, offering Danny a quick goodbye. Danny lifts a hand in return, then leaves the parking garage, holding his bag of pastries close to his chest. More people are starting to fill the streets, starting the day, and Danny still hasn’t found a place to hide until night. 

He’s kept Alfred safe during his dawn walk. He’s safely delivered Alfred to his car so he can drive to wherever he needs to go.

There’s no point in him sticking around any longer. 

Hood up, Danny hurries down the streets, ducking into alleys to avoid being seen by people. It takes half an hour to reach the empty buildings he was considering before, and then just a minute to go invisible and fly up to the roof. The door going inside is locked, but a little intangibility goes a long way. 

Danny makes himself comfortable in one of the many empty rooms, back to the wall, and pulls out one of the pastries. It’s not as warm as before, but it’s still soft and flakey. The glaze on it sweetens the bread and it’s the best thing Danny’s had since he first arrived in this dimension.

This can’t go on, he realizes. 

All this squatting and stealing. It’s just not sustainable. He’s been acting as if he’s died again, left to haunt the streets of a city he doesn’t belong in. He’s spent all his time either sleeping or wandering, wallowing in his own misery.

No more. This is a second chance. 

There’s no ghost hunters. No GIW. No need to be a hero when so many already exist, willingly taking on that burden. Here, Danny doesn’t exist, which means he can be anyone he wants to be. 

And in order to live this new life, he’ll need a job. He’ll worry about school once he’s able to save up some money and find a place to live. 

Step one to getting his shit together: find a job that will take on a homeless teenager who doesn’t legally exist.

He’s already got one in mind; Alfred does keep offering to help in any way he can, and he’s made working as a butler sound fulfilling. 

Serving isn’t quite protecting, but it’ll be close enough that he can satisfy his Obsession. 

The pieces are falling into place. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes this plan. 

He’ll ask Alfred about it when they next meet. Everything else can wait until then.

(“Are you sure you’re okay, Alfred?”

“Quite,” Alfred says, smoothly stepping away from Bruce’s fussing. “Danny scared the mugger away before he could do anything.”

“I’m glad he was there. Are you sure I can’t go meet him? Thank him in person?”

“You’ll only scare him away, I’m afraid.”

Bruce sighs, reaching for his cup of coffee. “What about as Batman?”

“That will only be worse, I’m sure. Not everything can be solved by putting on a mask, Master Bruce.”

Tim enters the kitchen, drops a tablet on the table in front of Bruce, then collapses into his seat with a groan. “I can’t find anything on him. Are we sure he’s real?”

“I assure you he is very real, Master Tim.”

Tim lifts his head to give Alfred a bleary, assessing stare. “I know we always rag on B about his adoption problem, but he got it from you. You’re not going to stop until you get this Danny guy into the Manor, right?”

“It’s either that or setting up a home for him in Gotham.”

“Bring him here,” Tim says with a yawn, putting his head back on the table, “Now I’m curious about him, too.”

“I shall do my best, Master Tim. I shall do my best.”)

[cock-connoisseurs-union]

what is my purpose? why was i born?

twenty minutes into a two hour break from ao3 due to site maintenance and I’m already nursing a cute little existential crisis.

[thestarsofpines]

And over in Amity Park...

[baejax-the-great]

End of Year Fanfic Rec List

I thought instead of five fic Friday, I'd go ahead and rec some of my favorite fics I've read this year.

Completed Fics:

A Young God's Heartbeat by @luddlestons. Thanatos x Zagreus (M). A modern AU in which Zagreus is a good Midwestern boy going on an impromptu road trip with the god of death while his father tries to murder him.

Reap the Whirlwind by @stripyjamjar. Thanatos x Zagreus (M). Zagreus was raised by his grandmother in a secluded garden, but that doesn't stop Thanatos from stumbling on him and striking up a friendship. Upon learning of his parents, Zagreus breaks into Hades to find them.

Cantata by @swaps55. M!Shepard x Kaidan (M). Almost 200k words of Mass Effect prequel and hopeless pining on the part of Kaidan Alenko. Action, adventure, found family, and space cadets in love.

regreso el amor by artifice. Achilles x Patroclus (M). A short fic of music, growing up together, and pining between friends.

Fics I hope to see next year (aka WIPs!):

Twin Flames by @johaerys-writes. Achilles x Patroclus (E). Patroclus is the squire to his best friend, the Prince of Phthia, who left him behind for years. Now he faces icy silence and icy conditions as he accompanies him to his wedding.

Fugue by @swaps55. M!Shepard x Kaidan (M). About a month into their relationship, the Normandy is attacked. Some of the best angst I've read, and the chapter on the Normandy going down is honestly a must-read.

Face to Face by @juliafied. Thanatos x Zagreus (M). After Zagreus disappeared while Thanatos was in college, he swipes him on a dating app. The result is so bitter and awkward and petty and delightful. Good luck, boys.

When Death Incarnate got banished to France by Marro. Thanatos x Zagreus (G). Thanatos is banished to live among mortals. It goes about as well as you'd expect. He gets a cat. It's adorable.

On the Ropes by @redsmear. Patroclus x Zagreus x Achilles (E). Zagreus picks up a boxing coach and a new Dom at the same time. No reason to believe they know each other or that the angst will have you staring listlessly out a window for hours.

[kithtaehyung]

SOLmates (teaser) (m) | OT7

title: SOLmates (teaser) pairing: ot7 x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; soulmates au (negative), arranged marriage au, futuristic dystopian  summary: “What awaits after Inferno? Ashes.” teaser warnings: lots of intro!, all intro!, jin is a bit of a menace, manhandling, cursing, fingering, scratching, yoongi is rude af, choking, jin wears a chain bc i can’t help myself, warnings to be added as series starts note: so.. this is a project i’ve been working on for awhile now. i don’t normally plan things, but something that started on a whim grew into this entire universe that i ended up having to plan like never before lol. i just wanted to show y’all a small piece of it, and i hope you enjoy! note 2: thank you to @wwilloww​​, @kookskingdom​​, and @sugaurora​​ for encouraging me to keep going on this! y’all gave me much more hype than i could ask for and i’m really excited for what’s to come. this is also a rough draft so it will be polished later :D teaser word count: 5.4k 5.5k release date: july 27th, 2022, 7pm est  updated: august 3rd, 2022

-

-

PROLOGUE

The first time, you feel a spark.

The second, a fire. 

But what happens after the third?

What awaits after Inferno?  

Ashes. 

-

-

// LOGDATE: 3021.01.32, 0700

// LOCATION: PLANET EARTH, HOME POD

// SUBJECT: HARDLOCK

No matter how hard or long you sleep, the soft clicks and whirrs of your bedroom’s bootup routine never fail to make you stir. 

Face scrunched, your gaze sweeps across the mostly empty space beyond your sheets. Pale blue light spreads over everything like a blanket, and you are quickly reminded of when you ported off-planet for the first time, watching the rush of a million blue streaks encompass your peripherals. 

Why that memory flits about your mind, you haven’t the faintest clue. That was ages ago.

“AE-AI, what’s today,” you grumble, knowing your Homepanion will register your drowsy, garbled speech. 

And, like always, her calm voice drifts over your head. 

[Today is Saturday, January 32nd, 3021.]

[Reminder: you have one meeting today.]

[Atmosphere Aura Temperature: Suboptimal.]

A meeting? You may be exhausted as all hell, but you know it’s definitely your day off. Reaching to swipe your phone off your nightstand, you check the screen to see if something slipped into your schedule last second, dropping it with a thud when nothing appears. 

The ghost of a kiss accompanies the soft touch of rough fingers between your shoulder blades. “Isn’t it Saturday,” a sleep-leadened voice asks, and you hum in response, settling into your bedfellow’s embrace when they tug you backwards. “We never have meetings on Saturdays.” 

“I know.” 

The lithe forearm around your torso starts to slide downward, and a small knot in your belly tightens when fingers wander across your bare pelvis. “Jin,” you whisper, hushed and breathy, “Let me figure this out first.” 

“Just cancel,” the man’s coarse suggestion matches the tone of his voice before he lazily bites your ear. “There, I solved it.” 

You don’t hide your groan, but you do close a hand over Jin’s wrist just as he slips a lone finger between your folds. “Thirty seconds,” you sigh in compromise. Because you absolutely want the same thing he does. 

The random notification is just throwing you off. 

If this meeting has nothing to do with work, it better be a good one; it’s stealing hours of your rare, precious rest time. Lately, none of your squad had been gifted with any, which is exactly why you and Jin made the most of last night. 

“Fine. Not like AE-AI’s gonna care,” he relents, albeit petulantly. 

[I do not.]

As Jin fires off an insult to your intelligent and apparently saucy assistant, you laugh and wrap his arm back around your stomach. “What’s the meeting for, AE-AI?”

[The meeting has no title or subject, but the location is as follows: Phode Industries, Floor 112, Room 34-B.]

“Damn him,” you mutter, the absence of anything important in a meeting drop being the mark of your Guardian. “AE-AI, call the meeting organizer, please.” 

[Calling: Kim Namjoon.]

You turn, observing shut, tired eyes under wavy black locks. “Looks like it’s gonna be more than thirty seconds.” 

Without moving a muscle, he teases, “I’m heartbroken.” 

“You’ll get over it.” 

“Say hi to Joon for me.” 

“I’m going to be saying a lot more than that.” 

As the rings echo throughout your spacious bedroom, frustration is the sole energy source that thrusts your legs out of heated blankets and your feet onto cold floors. To combat the chill, you swipe a large shirt from the foot of your bed.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

Jin’s scent hugs you like a second layer as you shrug. When you walk away, your arms stretch high above your head, knowing his stare will drift straight down to your ass.

And as planned, the next thing you hear is a groan.

“Damn. Fucking keep it.”

You’re almost to your bathroom when your annoyance finally answers the call.

“Oh, good. You’re up.” 

“Namjoon, what the hell is this?” Warm lights bloom when you enter the spacious area and, with one eye squinted, you scratch your head while reaching for your toothbrush. “You better have a brilliant reason for this meeting or else I’m not stepping foot out of this pod.” 

“It’s not that I have a brilliant reason. It’s that we have no choice.” 

You pause, the toothpaste glob missing the bristles of your brush. “And that means what, exactly?”

There is a bout of silence in the speakers. In your buildup of anger, you rest your hands on the counter, both tools still resting in your curled fingers. “Namjoon,” you repeat, drawing out his name. 

“What else do you think we wouldn’t have a choice in, kid?” 

Ugh. You should’ve just stayed in your bed with Jin. It’s too damn early for your Guardian’s mind games. “Is it Ngoya wanting to reup his implants again? I know we have to keep that relationship pretty solid but it’s one more day. Just don’t walk outside for twenty four more hours! It shouldn’t be that hard.”

“No, it’s not that—”

While you’re successfully coating your toothbrush with paste, you fire off another guess, “Oh, never mind, I know. It’s that damn Spark Suppressor asking for business again. Why did I have to be chatty and tell him my—”

“Not that, either. Listen to me? Please?” 

Nonchalant is too stiff of a word to describe the way you’re brushing your teeth, slightly slouched and observing your eyes in the expansive mirror. 

Eyes that hadn’t been out of a shield in days. 

A gruff exhale crackles the sound system in your ceiling before Namjoon speaks again, and you stand there speechless, toothbrush hanging limp in between your lips. 

“You’ve been summoned. It’s damn Hardlock, kid. I’m sorry.” 

Fuck. 

You’ve shaped your life how you wanted it to be, despite all of the adaptations that society has gone through and thrown at you. 

Every single one except Hardlock, apparently. 

The Arranged Marriage Pact that cannot be refused. 

-

-

// LOGDATE: 3021.01.32, 0800 

// LOCATION: GLISA STATION, EALIONA DISTRICT

// SUBJECT: WHEN YOU STARTED BELIEVING

Adjusting your eyeshield, you sigh as you step into a hovertrain with a group of other passengers. 

Suppressor gloves forgotten at home, you were quick to shove bare hands in jacket pockets, rushing to the back of the compartment to isolate yourself. On the way, you accidentally brush someone’s arm, apologizing but not stopping in your haste. 

Even if you’re fully clothed, you still have a moment of panic when you make contact with someone. It’s the norm to have that instilled in your nature. 

Will it happen? 

Or not? 

Well, you don’t know what it feels like, but according to your relatives’ experiences, it’s a situation you don’t want to encounter. Ever. 

An automated announcement blares right before the doors close, and you don’t hear a word spoken on the train as you sit, backpack taking up most of the seat. 

With your stop five long minutes away, you have some time to think.

How did it get to be this way? Who the hell is choosing you of all people? People in your line of work never get chosen for Hardlock because of the risk factor. 

Maybe they know how lucrative your job really is and they just want the money. You can’t blame them in that case.

Rolling other careers around in your mind, you can’t think of another one with higher pay than a Salvager. The only one that comes close is someone in Namjoon’s position: a Guardian that protects a Salvager’s livelihood. You don’t know what you would do without him. 

It’s a miracle that a Spark didn’t happen when you accidentally saw his eyes in that one wanderhouse, when you entered a room you didn’t know he was occupying. 

He was simply reading a book—one of the old ones that required hands to read—which he promptly dropped at your entrance. 

You remember both staring at each other for a good while, shocked to death and then relieved. Relieved to see another pair of true irises in organic colors and hues. 

If he ended up being a SOLmate, that would’ve been the end of a relationship. It was even company policy: you would’ve had to make arrangements to part before acquiring a new Guardian within hours.

You heard the stories. Broken friendships, crumbled company deals, crushed empires. 

Because nothing could overcome the initial Spark—much less an Inferno.

Which is why you are going to keep your hands hidden in your jacket at all times. You can’t risk touching another human and possibly igniting. 

Don’t connect your bare eyes. 

Don’t connect your bare skin. 

The two ways a Spark can be initiated.

You don’t know what the hell birthed the curse of SOLmates, but you’ve learned how society has adapted. The rise of quarantining and social avoidance became the norm, with entire civilizations working remotely and citizens avoiding the Outside altogether. 

At first, you didn’t believe in SOLmates. You thought it was just a ploy carried out by the Heado Council to keep commoners in their pods while they went about their shady ways. 

It wasn’t until your cousin suddenly appeared in your Tele-Port with a barren look in their eyes, hunched over and refusing to speak to you until three days later. You remember having to force food and water down their slimming throat, along with sleep medicine to fight their insomnia. 

When they finally spoke, voice gravelly and dusty, you understood. 

“If you ever ignite,” they started, unblinking and haunted, “Never meet them again.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“Promise me.” 

“Hey, snap out of it. What are you talking about?”

They finally lifted their eyes, and you fought the urge to lurch forward seeing the specks of sharp grey swirling around obsidian—volcanic ash in their depths. “You will want to. But fight it. Don’t let there be a third time. Lock yourself away if you have to.” With each pointed plea, their body thrummed, their words as jittery as their shoulders until you rushed over to hold them. 

“You have to relax,” you whispered, but your cousin fought against your arms, their voice suddenly shrill and desperate in your ear,

“Never see them again! You can’t! Anything is better than this!” 

“Hey, wait—” 

An elbow connected with your stomach, forcing your grip loose. Frantic, your visitor wrenched themselves from your form and tore their way through your living room, hair whizzing and flailing. 

You called out for them, but your plea fell on deaf ears. Right as they scampered onto the transportation disk, they slammed trembling fingers onto the console as if they didn’t care where the hell they were sent. 

“Wait!” 

The yell dispersed throughout your empty room, rebounding off the furniture and dark grey walls. Feeling the weight of the loud silence that followed, your arms slowly fell back to your sides, and you wondered if you would ever see your cousin again. 

You still haven’t seen them since. 

[Now arriving at: Phode District]

The hovertrain warbles to a stop. Cracking your neck, you make your way out of the compartment, almost going to adjust your backpack straps until you realize you can’t unpocket your fingers. 

Shit. You’re going to have to swallow your pride and admit to Namjoon that you don’t have gloves. 

He’s going to notice anyways; you won’t be able to take out the docu-discs you have stashed without showing your bare skin. With a thought, you blink three times to bring up the HUD on your eyeshield and ring him. 

His answer is instant. 

“Hey, where are you?” 

Peering up at the obnoxiously tall glass building, you watch heavy raindrops splash your helmet before you groan,

“I’m here.” 

-

-

// LOGDATE: 3021.01.32, 0810

// LOCATION: PHODE INDUSTRIES

// SUBJECT: THE MEETING

Thank whatever deities people come up with nowadays that Namjoon has a spare pair. 

After you rushed out an excuse on top of your mistake, your Guardian only sighed and told you to just get your ass to the room. He claimed that he brought extra gear because he had business two districts over, but you didn’t put it past him to be paranoid.

Gliding across the almost barren floor of the lobby, you hear faint announcements about keeping suppressor gear on at all times while on the premises. 

Shit. You have to make it to the elevators before you’re questioned by a roboguard.

But your worries are for naught, for the short trip to the glass tubes goes smoothly. It’s possible that you escape suspicion while in regular civilian garb instead of your Salvager suit. 

You understand completely; the suits are pretty damn noticeable with their reactive energy displays. 

After a low humming ascent, you’re now on the 112th floor, wandering around and sneaking glances into every room not shielded by Darkglass. Peering through the clear walls, you watch as helmeted business people go about their days. Some are negotiating trade deals by the looks of the tablets they are cradling, and some are simply staring out of the building windows and watching the rain. 

People do that a lot. Ever since it’s been next to taboo to show bare skin in the Outside. 

What you would give to feel rain again.

There aren’t many rooms that have the glass activated, but you do pass one that apparently has a commotion going on inside. 

You faintly remember learning about Darkglass. How it shrouds both sight and sound when flipped from clear to black. If something is pressed against the material, there’s a subtle vibration that can be seen.

Just like now, as you walk by a room in the middle of the hall. When you turn to regard the slight waves, you make out the faint outline of a handprint. 

Weird. Maybe someone resting against the wall out of sheer boredom.

It would make sense. You would absolutely hate being chained down to a place of business like this. 

Being a Salvager means you aren’t attached to a building, or a cubicle, or even a central hub. Your job resides wherever the missions take you—wherever some rich asshole ends up needing you to go—whether that be into a local penthouse or the next planet over. 

And you love it. The experiences you get to have, the places you get to see—all of it has been remarkable despite the gritty truth.

It’s not an honorable occupation. Not that honorable is a common word thrown around nowadays. But it’s one that many a wealthy person will shovel out liquid cash and ONIcoin for, so you’re able to live a lavish lifestyle. 

Your hands are practically drowning in your pockets. 

Are you going to have to give up that life because of Hardlock? 

Surely, the family that chose you knows what you are. Your file omits a staggering amount of detail, but your base information is clearly defined next to your known SOLmate count, age, and ancestry.

You finally see a floating LED rectangle that reads 34-B, and the room’s Darkglass is deactivated. Glancing inside, you see Namjoon’s tall, cloaked form standing a safe distance away from what you assume are the mother and father of your chosen partner. While the woman occupies the lone chair at the end of a conference table, her husband simply rests gloves on her sagging shoulders. 

They seem… Lost. 

There wasn’t much time for you to run through their files, but Jin skimmed through while you got ready earlier. 

“Yah, why are there so many redacted sections?” 

“Nothing new,” you threw over your shoulder while slipping on pants. “Happens with a lot of older generations. Elders and their privacy.” 

You could picture Jin’s eyes scanning his HUD back and forth within his sleek eyeshield, legs spread on your traditional sofa. “Jung Family… Blastia District… Shit.” 

“What?” 

“Heado Council puppets.” 

“Fuck.”  

After removing his shield, Jin ruffles his hair and smoothes it back down. “You sure you can’t pull out?” 

“It’s Hardlock, Jin. Non-negotiable.” 

“Isn’t that incredibly unethical?” 

“Severely, but what do they care?” 

“I have a bad feeling about this.” 

You shrugged, faking confidence and hiding the tremble in your bones. “Relax. I don’t have to like the person. Just gotta marry them on paper and tell them I won’t be around.”

Run. You can just run, right? Run away, portcast to the farthest, most decent planet you can think of and live off your dirty pension? It sounds so much better than walking into that room.

But Namjoon turns and notices you through the wall, and he’s only one long stride away from opening the door. 

“Come in!” You can hear the forced smile behind his shiniest blue helmet—one he saves for special occasions—but he whispers his next words, “We may have gotten a little lucky.”

“What? What do you mean?” As you stand in the thin doorway, you drink in his response. 

“The dude isn’t even here.”

“Fantastic,” you drawl, sparing a quick side eye at the parents under the cover of your shield. Maybe he portcasted to the farthest, most decent pla—

“It doesn’t mean the contract is void, but it does give us some time to adjust. Here,” Namjoon steps to the side to allow you entrance, and you clench your fists in humid pockets when you enter the room. 

You have no clue what your Guardian means by that, but you decide to dismiss it when you finally notice something about the reticent couple at the table. 

They’re wearing Navim Shields.

Even you choked seeing the price of those.

This family doesn’t need a drop of your money.

So why the fuck are you here?

-

-

// LOGDATE: 3021.01.32, 0900

// LOCATION: HOMEPOD

// SUBJECT: STRESS RELIEF

“Did I hear you right? The guy didn’t even show?” 

“Why are you still here, Jin?” 

The slide and click of your door shutting behind you means that you’re finally cut off from the Outside, temporarily severed from responsibilities and new expectations and anxieties. No matter how often you left your home for missions, entering the Outside always caused your shoulders to tense until you set foot back in your entryway. 

And even though you will never admit it, seeing Jin’s sweatpants-clad form greeting you is already enough to ease your mind this time.

You shuck your backpack off in an unceremonious dump, sighing as you proceed to remove your eyeshield. 

Fuck.

The moment after removing protection is always a bit disorienting. Your corneas have to adjust to true colors after being suppressed by the shield technology, and it doesn’t help that depth perception changes dramatically. Jin is a lot closer than you think as you lower your eyeshield, and you flinch when he backs you up into your door. 

With one large, capable hand next to your head, he flashes a tiny smirk at your rain-soaked form. “You act like you don’t like it,” he whispers before leaning forward to mesh his lips with yours. 

You melt into his lazy kiss before grunting, meekly pushing his bare chest away and feeling the metal of his chain. “Jin,” you sigh, feeling a twinge of want when he swoops in again and pushes you flush against the door. 

This effectively shuts you up, throwing your need into overdrive as you give in and start tearing your clothes from your limbs. 

The gravelly chuckle that slides between your mouths sends heat between your legs. “Looks like I get you to myself for a bit longer.” 

You scoff as your damp jacket hits the ground with a plop. “We aren’t exclusive,” you hiss before grabbing his hair and tugging him into another sloppy kiss, chilled skin welcoming the warmth of his. 

His wonderful, enticing, tender skin. 

You don’t know what or who decided that Jin isn’t one of your SOLmates, but you still feel like you owe them everything. 

Because if he was, you would have only crossed paths with him three times max in your life. 

And you don’t think you could have lived with that circumstance.

Your hands fly to your pants next, but your focus is cut off by the hot mouth latching onto your throat. “We aren’t,” he agrees after a suck, “But I don’t see anyone else here. Do you?” 

Jin uses one hand to unhook your bra while the other slots between your thighs, grinding into your clothed cunt before giving it a firm swat. 

Fuck, he knows what you need. After the absolute waste of a morning, you’re ready to do whatever the hell he wants. 

But your drenched pants are your worst enemy at the moment. “Help me,” you bite out as you shove him away, frustrated that something so small is the thing that sets you off. 

It wasn’t the fact that you were a Hardlock match, nor the fact that your partner ghosted the meeting and you had to awkwardly stand there with his parents only to slink back home through the rain. 

No. Just your pants keeping you away from your fuck buddy’s leaking dick.

Jin stumbles back with a laugh before coming back to your aid, his fingers looping into your nemesis and pulling them and your underwear down your legs with ease. “Sweetheart is extra bossy today, isn’t she?”

“Just hurry up,” you grunt, going for another shove and stilling when a hand flashes up to block your arm. 

His eyes are lust-blown and determined as he stares you down, grip on your skin and tone just as hard, “Push me again and see what happens, sweetheart.” 

“Call me that one more time and see what happens, bitch,” you counter, eyes squeezing shut and stomach fluttering when Jin attacks with his mouth. 

Your hands are all over each other as he practically throws you back into the front door. While his are roughly palming your breasts and gripping the back of your wet neck, yours are scratching stress lines into his hair and raking through his shoulders. Desire seeps from your cunt, the entrance hot between your cold thighs. 

Everything is almost a replica of last night. Except this time, Jin still has his pants on. 

“Take those off,” you breathe out, water droplets falling from your head, “Just fuck me.” 

“Let me prep you.”

You moan when he rolls his pelvis into yours, ready to be just as split apart as you were a mere twelve hours ago. Desperate, you shake your head. “Don’t need it,” you lie, “I can take it.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” 

“Shit. Okay.” 

After Jin loses his sweatpants, he doesn’t even stand back up fully before you’re clutching his cock, sliding your cold fingers along his shaft once before reaching to cup his balls. Hearing his breathy groans causes more slick to build in your center, and you lean forward to swirl a tongue over one of his nipples. 

“Fuck, baby.” You feel a hand grip the back of your head before it’s tugged back. “Come here.” 

Saliva rims your mouth from your sloppy work, but Jin doesn’t care as he smashes his lips back into yours, tongue on a mission to close your airway. A commanding hand grabs one of your legs to widen your stance, which is the reason for your shock when you’re suddenly spun around. 

Years of reflex and combat training save your face from butting the doorframe, but you still grunt, smirking when you feel hands roughly tug your hips. 

As Jin’s deep voice slides onto your bare back, your cunt flutters while your mouth widens. 

“You can take it, right? Prove it. Sweetheart.” 

For the rest of the night, he makes you forget. 

Your shit job. 

The shit Hardlock. 

And whatever other bullshit you have to be prepared for come morning.

-

-

-

-

CHAPTER I

-

-

Just because it happens once, doesn’t mean it can’t happen again. 

There have been countless records of people with more than one SOLmate, which spurned humanity to escape and flee into the stars. Voyagers are synonymous with cowards, hermits comparable to corpses in coffins—the inevitable has been proven and yet everyone still runs from the truth. 

However, there are people that run towards it. People that forego any armor or suppressor clothes or eyeshields. Those are the ones that suffer the quickest, all because they yearn for that feeling of ignition. The Great Flare. The Eruption. The Inferno.  

It’s a high. 

But everything ends just the same. 

Ashes. 

Ashes walk with no purpose, no soul, no life. What were once vibrant, intentional humans are now husks of a being, nothing but dust with wisps of memory. 

And when left alone too long? 

Their veins protrude and shine like lava; their eyes burn like dying stars. Light shoots from their mouths in a bright beam, angry and orange and devastating, as if a furious sun is fighting for escape. Skin hardens. Splinters. Breaks. 

And the only instinct that remains is to ravage everything around them until they are effectively stopped. 

-

-

// LOGDATE: 3021.02.01, 0600 

// LOCATION: HEADQUARTERS, BRIEFING ROOM 

// SUBJECT: NEW GUY 

“Took you long enough.” 

“Fuck off, Min.” You dump your boots on the nearest surface, which so happens to be a glowing console with multiple buttons and levers. 

The man situated behind it jolts his arms up at the bang, stuttering out as his helmet reflects the lights in front of him, “Hey, you might—” 

“It’s fine,” you snap, getting a snort out of the drowsy man at your back. 

“Damn. Did you two not fuck at all or something? Why’re you so pissy?”

Jin is the one that answers for you, voice taut and raspy from the little amount of sleep you both got last night. “Watch it.”

“Cute.”

Both of you groan a less-than-hearty “Shut up” before parting ways, taking your seats around the circular planning station occupying most of the room. 

Well, Jin takes residence next to a chuckling cohort and you settle on the other side of the table, holograms of mission details and discovered Ashes that need to be salvaged hovering over its dark surface.

One of them looks like your cousin, but you blink and the illusion is dashed. 

The person only looks like her. 

It pains you all the same.

Once you realize how many are filing through, you click your tongue. “Fuck, again? I thought this many Ashes was a rare thing…”

Yoongi—the one that unceremoniously greeted you and someone you cannot stand—pipes up immediately, “Apparently not. But at least they’re all around the same area this time.” 

“I can see that,” you drawl. “But didn’t this just happen? I’ve never seen this many after we just salvaged a big group.”

Something feels odd about the reports flying in. Normally, a day would consist of checking into Headquarters to pinpoint Ashes, and flying out on hovercrafts or portcasting to whatever planet you needed to for a quick salvage. Once you were done with the jobs, you would either rendezvous with another unit that needed backup or simply go home and hate your life because of how fucked up your job really is. 

But right now, observing how many Ashes are pinging off a small planet in the same solar system, you’re wondering if this is going to be another Longnight. 

You just came back from one. That’s exactly why you and Jin… 

Shifting your helmet to face him, you can already see that he’s looking your way. Fuck, how you want him to whisk you back to your Homepod and make you forget your name and occupation a fourth time. It looks like he wants to do the same. 

A voice rumbles across the table as the most quiet salvager decides to offer input, “It’s strange, isn’t it? How we haven’t gotten new recruits for months until now?” 

“I dunno, Taehyung.” You tilt your head back to the displays smoothly cycling in front of your shielded eyes. “Could be the reason why we’re getting more recruits. We’re gonna start needing backup if this keeps continuing.” 

A helmet lowers as the man folds clothed arms. Seemingly to himself, he mutters, “I feel like they started recruiting before all of this, though.” 

“There’s another thing you should know about,” Jimin—the one with the least amount of salvage experience—chimes in, voice strained as if you might not like what he’s about to say. 

“Don’t be shy,” you bite. “Out with it.” 

“Well… Speaking of recruits, we have a new—”

The obsidian doors of the circular space hum low as they slide open, and every helmet in the room snaps toward the newcomer’s easy strides. 

On instinct, you size them up under their salvager suit: masculine body type, strong shoulders but lean lower frame, slight tilt of their head indicating low level of interest or attitude, minor slump in posture. Seems a bit too laid-back for your tastes, but you keep the bulk of your opinions until you’ve seen someone in action anyways. 

“New guy,” Jimin finally finishes his statement, his tone changing from timidness to piqued curiosity. “Hello.” 

The stranger simply shifts their helmet Jimin’s way without a word.

Mm. You might end up liking them. 

Standing from your seat, you approach and stop some distance away. “First day?”

A nod. 

“Last name?”

“Jeon.” 

Stunned at how soft their voice is, you pause before asking, “How was training, Jeon?”

A shrug.

You huff through your nose in amusement, knowing that the training regimen is a bitch and a half. “Well, the real shit is nothing like it, so take a seat.” You start to stride back to your desk as a few laughs punctuate your statement. Because it’s true. “Especially since this mission might be a bit different.” 

You go over the briefing while circling through the holo displays, assigning everyone their pseudonyms and roles and targets. After a quick meeting, you check for understanding. “Group One first. Jin, Tae, Park: review.” 

Jin’s the first to speak as he slides fingers across the table, the motion transferring files into his eyeshield. “Callisto. Armory. A-142 and A-211.” 

A light voice cuts in right after as Jimin follows suit. “Elara. Retriever. C-002.” 

“Europa. Surveyor. B-299,” Taehyung sounds with disinterest, arms still crossed and back still slumped into his chair.  

“Good. Group Two.” Since you’re part of this one, you start. “Metis. Armory. A-327 and A-410.” 

The newcomer waits for Yoongi to review. When the guy is silent, they fill the gap. “Ganymede. Surveyor. C—”   

“Shouldn’t we check this dude’s stats before assigning him?” 

All of you shift focus to the lean frame at the back of the room. Miffed about everything that’s happening, you snip, “There’s no time for that, Min. We’re running low on our window as is, and training prepares recruits for all roles.” 

“New kid,” Yoongi asks, his words launching straight over your boiling head. “What are you good at?” 

Jeon doesn’t respond for a beat, instead swerving his helmet to you for some kind of approval. When you tilt your head as a sign to answer, he stutters out, “I, um. Armory.” 

“Huh. Took me two seconds.” 

Slamming the planning station, your frustration almost fogs the inside of your head gear, “I don’t have time for your insubordination, Min. Either get this out during planning or save it and shove it up your shitty asshole.” 

“Jin, seriously, tap that a little harder next time, yeah?” 

A ruckus starts on that side of the table before you get two steps out, with Yoongi’s dark material in Jin’s fiery grip. Jimin tries to separate them while reminding them about the mission, and Taehyung stays burning his gaze into the black glass in front of him. 

You already know that the new guy is a bit spooked from the commotion, judging by the stiffness of his shoulders that you caught before joining in the fray. He doesn’t know how common this really is—the snippy attitudes, the pre-mission tension, the pent-up anger. Eventually, he’ll get used to it if he stays.  

But fucking hell, it always has to be Yoongi getting you so riled up every time. If the two of you didn’t work so well together, you would have requested his transfer to the Venus or Pluto Units expeditiously. 

Frankly, you would send him straight to Mercury if you had that power. They always have problems happening there. 

But you’ll settle for a firm grip of his collar for now, shoving Jin aside as you take your place in front of your verbal sparring partner. “Don’t fuck with me today, Min.” 

“I’ll settle for fucking you never, thanks.” 

“What’s with you? Nervous? Is our little kitty boy scared of the rain?” 

You can’t see his face, but you know that statement received an eyeroll, which you’re happy about. Releasing him with a shove, you make your way to the doors, not looking at any of the hovercraft pilots at their consoles or the new kid still glued to his seat. “Jeon, take Armory. We’ll switch roles but keep our same targets. I’ll figure something out before we portcast and fly out.” 

“Okay.” 

“And Yoongi?” 

The figure across the planning station straightens, as do Jin and Jimin beside him. 

Childishly, you gloat, 

“Never is right. You couldn’t get this pussy even if you begged.” 

-

-

// LOGDATE: 3021.02.01, 0800 

// LOCATION: PLANET VALGA, HOVERCRAFT STATION 

// SUBJECT: ANOTHER LONGNIGHT  

-

-

-

end of teaser.

-

A/N: if you managed to make it here, hello! i know this is vastly different than what i usually write, but i am having so much fun with this universe already and it’s super refreshing. let me know what you think/what you liked, if anything!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

[calumthoodshands]

Announcement/Posting schedule for ‘Days in the sun’

The final chapters will be posted as follows:

Chapter 48 on December 3rd ✅

Chapter 49 on December 10th ✅

Chapter 50 on December 17th

[nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes]

so i received this comment on my fic this morning

i replied angrily because ive gotten SO MANY comments on this fic asking when it’s going to be updated

it’s not like it’s one of those fics that hasn’t been updated in like 7 years or whatever

it’s been exactly 4 months since i updated the fic, and ive made it clear on several other comments that i have fallen out of love with the fandom. i still love the music of Hamilton i just have another hyperfixation right now

it has occurred to me that since it’s a guest account it could be a fake

but im just so mad. im 14. i shouldn’t have to deal with this. im taking exams in a few days time. writing fanfic used to help relieve stress but getting comments like this just sucks all the fun out of it

[starrynightarchive]

as i'm sooo generous (read: impatient) you get the early update. you can read it here.

love you @just-a-dinosaur-i-guess

[thebunnednun]

New profile pic!! Oh and updates 4/14/2024 (Master list too)

Finally, something that looks like me!

Oh, btw the names Angellica or Angie for short. I don't mind being called BUNNEDNUN either babes.

Now let's get down to business,

An updated schedule will be as follows:

Mundane Monday: The beginning of the week is always dreadful so let's make it fun with some crack fics. Memes, Memes, MEMES galore!

Tearful Tuesdays: Angst posts will be the main thing on here. I'm thinking of some hurt and comfort fics. I'm already working on a Buggy fic for this. I'm not opposed to happy endings but in general, think of an onion cutting itself for these. They don't all have to be romantic and I'm creating something for Trafalgar Law here.

Wonderful Wednesdays: I will update two of the current fan series on this day maybe three if I have the time. So far the list includes:

*Enchanted meeting (Buggy The Clown x Straw-hat reader)

*Shadows of the Blade (Dracule Mihawk x Assassin reader)

*Capturing hearts (Iñaki Godoy x Photographer reader)

*Please Don't Hate Me! (Juan Ruiz x Imperfect reader

*Whispers of the heart (Dracule Mihawk x Maid (Pirate Queen) reader)

*Love Sick (Buggy the Clown x Straw-hat reader)

*Bound by Justice (Sabo x Marine! Reader)

*Carnival Confessions (Portgas D. Ace x Straw-Hat! Reader)

*If you only knew how much I love you (Sabo x Straw-hat! Reader x Ace)

*Make you mine!~ (Trafalgar D. Law x Cheeky~ Crewmate! Reader)

*Throw Me Overboard! (Buggy the Clown x Fm! Reader)

*Gone Fishing! (Sabo x Sea creature Straw-Hat! Reader)

*Good neighbors (Farmer! Bakugou Katsuki x Gardener! Reader)

*Dancing Under the Stars (Red-Haired Shanks X Bar/ DanceClub Owner! Reader)

*In the Arms of a Stranger (Charlotte Katakuri x Bride! Reader)

*Unexpected Dinner Guests! (Koby x Straw-Hat! Reader)

Sanji, Usopp, Nami, Ace, Law, Robin, Boa, Chopper, and Zoro will be loading soon. I have many, many, MANY, ideas but no time right now.

Thoughtful Thursdays: Just some random conversations and ideas thrown out there. I'll try to host polls so you guys can vote on what you want next. Basically a rest day for me though because there's just no way I could write everything in one shot. (/@ ~@)/~* I've tried and it ends with me updating around 3AM or sum.

Follower Fridays: Requests from followers are posted. If you have a story request or anything you want to ask go ahead and do so on this day. Just make sure you send them in early so I can get to it in time. If you send something the day of I might be able to make it happen.

Sexy Saturdays: Send me your best Saturday night requests: ie dancing, funny adventures, or crazy antis with the one-piece crew or another fandom. I'm very familiar with Naruto and MHA (and any other anime honestly I doubt there's anything you could request that I don't know.)

It's all about having fun and having those Saturday night vibes babe!~

Sweet Sundays: Romantic One-shot posts! Any character of age and as long as it's not a child. I would be open to doing a reader insert where they are a parent or parental figure though. I find them to be very endearing.

As always your requests are welcomed and comments are very much appreciated. Sorry again for being gone for so long. I want to pick up my serious especially and make the chapters juicy again.

If you need a post to hold you over I posted a Juan Ruiz x reader last night. The character is from the Netflix series 'The Imperfects' so give it a try! I'm writing a prequel and sequel for them

Thank you guys again for your patience and understanding.<<333

Don't forget to check out my a03 account of the same name!!

My new goals are to keep up with the schedule and get 50 followers by the end of the month! I wanna keep growing our family. :3

Most of all, remember that you are safe here and loved.

Until next time my loves!~

[wolfsbanesparks]

Hey y'all!

Chapter 11 of Pretty Little Thing is finally up! Sorry for the unexpected hiatus from this story. It turns out writing four muiltichapter stories at once was a bit too much for me to juggle 😅

This week Clark and J'onn question one Freddy Freeman who is reluctant to answer them.

[everythingpuddle]

Chapter 18

I finally put through the edits... have a link.

[blot-squisher]

A few quick announcements! Sunday's update will be a few hours late. I have to get up early for work so I can't stay up to post at midnight like I like to. Boo. There will not be a STG update this Wednesday (May 1st) due to, once again, work. Boooooo. And lastly, both STG:L2 and Whispers of Insanity will be going on a two week break (most likely) early to mid May. It looks like I'll finally be going back down to Texas to get all our crap out of storage, finishing this hellish move. More details on the break will be posted when I have actual dates locked down.

[nite-puff]

(Not so) new fic!

So the gist is that I started sharing a Mondo-centric fic last summer but stopped after 2 chapters because I didn’t like where it was going. I kinda just left it alone since then and didn’t revisit it until ranting about the lack of Mondo representation motivated me into finishing it.

But one thing led to another, and I just scrapped the whole thing and started from ground zero. Which is what you see here now.

I would say check it out if you liked “Stage 3: The Chrysalis” since it explores many of the same themes, just in a Mondo way (if that makes sense), but it’s also being split up into four, much more easily digestible chapters instead of it being an 18k plus word angst-fest.

Enjoy!

:)

[digitalmidnight]

Okay so long story short

1. I aced my finals ＼(^-^)／

2. I am not neruotypical and apparently it's really obvious and we're still figuring out dosages over here (*・ｘ・)ノ~~~♪

3. I am now technically a published author? How'd that happen?! ( ゜o゜)

[autumnalmess]

What's this?! A BRAND SPANKING NEW CHAPTER OF TWO PARALLEL LINES??!! No way! And, tension is building just for you! Along with a blend of fluff and angst and sweet interactions between our dear amis. Can you imagine? Oh, you're desperate to read it? I know, honey. Here, I'll drop a cute little link for you ↑

[katlakitty]

I'm definitely not sitting here right now, impatiently waiting until it's time to post the new chapters. My usual posting time is still far away... But I wanna know what you guys think!

Aaaaaaah - help! 😫