#if anyone remember cash from my OC list

[snickerdoodlles]

📖 for kinnporsche the series? your ideas are just so good!

thank u nonny!! 😭❣

this one took me a while to type because it is my weird whacky fic child who i love very dearly but struggle to explain. so, uh.

✨ Necromancy AU ✨

Big dies in the warehouse. Porsche gets Arm to get his body out, gets Kinn to delay the cremation, and gets Chay to reanimate Big.

(because reanimating the dead is just something Chay can do, because he figured it'd be a good skill to learn and he's my most specialest boy.)

Kinn (who's at the morgue for Porsche) is flabbergasted, Khun (who's at the morgue by a miracle) is stunned silent, and Kim (who's here because Khun texted him but didn't say Chay would be here) is more shocked by Big than Chay's abilities.

(Kim is the only person other than Porsche to just accept necromancy as A Reasonable Thing For Chay To Know. this is why they're Chay's favorites.)

anyways so Big is now awake and surrounded by this family. this is hell. not just for him, his sudden undead status is causing a lot of problems:

Porsche just had Chay bring Big back, he didn't like...tell anyone what was happening or make a plan for what to do with him.

Kinn just figured out his new guard roster, and now he has to redo it to accommodate one very grumpy and very loyal Big who now doesn't need trivial things like sleep or food.

there's the looming specter of Khun's upcoming dry cleaning bill because he won't. stop. poking. Big.

Big is trying very, very, very hard to ignore that not only do people know he knew about Porsche and Kinn, but that he loves Kinn so much he died protecting Porsche.

speaking of, Porsche just thanked him for saving Chay and (in a quieter voice) for saving him.

Big is in hell.

despite all that, Big's plans for his new life are to just go back to being Kinn's perfect guard. he is ignoring the awkwardness, none of this is fine, none of this will be fine, but it will be NORMAL.

this is hampered by the fact that whoops, turns out the undead need to hang around their "masters" for at least a few hours every couple of days to "recharge" so to speak, as discovered by Pol when he screamed so loud he set a fire alarm off because he stumbled over Big's body face down in front of Kinn's door at 2am.

this is even further hampered by Korn, who will absolutely not stand for his preferred heir being guarded by someone who might be more loyal to someone other than him. Korn uses the "recharge" issue to force Big out by way of making him Chay's permanent guard.

so now Big, the perfect bodyguard who only got better at his job in death, is now stuck hanging around a high schooler who doesn't get into trouble and just wants to make music with his bitchy boyfriend.

(because oh yeah, mr. the untamed nerd Kim is obviously ridiculously into Chay being able to resurrect the dead and leaks feelings before he can run away and sabotages all future attempts to ghost Chay (insert necromancer joke here). Kim's fears of love and hurting those he loves will cause different problems.)

anyways, Big is suffering. not only is he stuck guarding Porsche's baby brother (who! he's realizing he likes as a person! will the horrors never cease!), Chay keeps being nice and thoughtful and looking out for him as a person and asking after his happiness and shit (the horrors!! are not ceasing!!!!). when Big finally has enough of all this Being Treated Like A Human Being business and asks Chay why he even cares, Chay blurts out "Big, do you even want to be alive?"

because this has been eating at Chay ever since he brought Big back at the morgue. because he never knew Big and never asked if he'd want to be alive again, Chay just did it for Porsche, who wasn't doing it for Big but for his own guilt. and then Big's old life was like an ill-fitting glove, because he and Porsche can't be bitches with Big's sacrifice hanging over them but don't know how to act when they aren't being bitches, Korn won't accept him back because he only sees his own paranoia and none of Big's loyalty, and Kinn might appreciate Big's loyalty but he won't fight for it either, not when he's trying to juggle the rest of Korn's messes coming to fruition. Big's been completely forced out of his old life and any ties he might've kept to the other guards (as few as they were) are ruined by the others' guilt and discomfort, because Big might not have died in the first place if literally anyone had listened to him during the Tawan debacle, which they could ignore when he was dead but can't when he's alive and there in front of them.

and the whole confession draws Big up short because no one's ever asked him what he wants before. Big was just the son of a mafia enforcer who got scooped up young by the main family as a personal guard for Kinn. Big's never even considered that what he wants could be an option. even when he first came back, his main considerations were on the ways he was a better guard for Kinn. Big's chosen more things for himself in his weeks with Chay than he has in his life, and he never stopped to think how he feels about that.

he does now. kinda. this is Big after all. but after both forty-three excruciating minutes and three days, Big finally answers Chay, "i never lived for me before. it's...nice." Chay, who's gotten quite good at reading between the lines after all the exposure from Kim and Big, beams and makes him help him pick his electives for his first semester of university, because Chay's determined to help Big find a hobby and he's overcome far tougher things than emotional constipation.

[[ ask me about fics im not writing ]]

Bonus

small scene snippet from shortly after Big's first brought back to life, right after Kim's walked into screaming, stolen Pol's gun, and shoved Chay behind him for protection, because i love themm

Kim opens and closes his mouth silently before sputtering, “But you— I heard— What…?!”

Chay worms his arms around Kim’s waist to get his attention and his head pops over Kim’s shoulder. “It’s okay, phi,” he says soothingly, “I brought him back.”

Big gets an eye full of Kim’s face flashing through four emotions he recognizes and thirty he doesn’t, which is thirty-four more emotions than Big can deal with. Kim twists around in Chay’s hold, just enough to squint at him from the corner of his eye without letting Big out of his gun’s sight line. 

“You know how to resurrect the dead?”

Chay drops his chin onto Kim’s shoulder with a huff. “Why do people keep asking me that? It seemed like a useful skill to know!”

“Obviously,” Kim scoffs, which is the first original response Big’s heard to that all day. “I meant you can do it? What, we’re you bored and just googled ‘how to make a zombie’ one day after school?!”

Chay rolls his eyes and pokes the undersides of Kim’s ribs. Shockingly, Kim pushes further into his hold, rather than away. “Don’t be silly. You have to be trained by a shaman to make a zombie.”

Kim actually turns to look at him dead on. His gun is still trained on Big. 

Chay cocks his head to the side. “What? I just googled ‘how to bring back the dead’ and went from there. It’s basically CPR!”

“That worked?”

Chay looks genuinely baffled. “Why wouldn’t it?”

Kim stares at him incredulously before suddenly going boneless in Chay’s hold, squishing him back against the wall. Chay does not protest being squished between Kim and a hard place. He actually looks delighted by it. Big would like to go throw up now. He doesn’t know if corpses can do that, but he’s willing to make an effort. 

“Of course it works, you’re you,” Kim grumbles. He knocks his head against Chay’s and rubs in a move so cute Big will throw up, death be damned. “If life worked for me like that...”

Chay beams and pats his stomach. “I’ll teach you!”

Turns out corpses can't throw up, but they can gag so hard they choke.

[b4adb4tcher]

Reddie Fic Recs

Okay so these are the ones I go back to and reread constantly!! All listed have multiple chapters, impeccable grammar/structure, and RIDICULOUSLY good characterization/dialogue. Theyre also all located on AO3. My obsession is too late for peak fandom interactions so these are what keep my hyper fixation alive.

1. In The Heat Of The Summer (You’re So Different From The Rest) by Kaboomslang

There’s a heatwave in L.A., the first time Richie sees Eddie naked.

Or

One very hot year in the life of two idiots in love, working shit out.

It is so so so so fucking good I can’t stand it. It’s an Eddie Lives AU that is 15 Chapters and 109,525 words of pining and comfort and beauty. Eddie comes to stay with Richie in LA after the events of It Chapter 2. Literally my only complaint is that Stan stays dead however the characterization of everyone and the way the writer handles their grief more than made up for it.

2. A Strange Sense of Familiarity by Katranga

“So Eddie, what brings you to the bar tonight?" Richie asked. "Gonna rebound from the divorce? Pick up a hot young twenty-something to feel young again?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie said, jutting his chin forward. “What a terrible way to ruin the mood.”

“I’m sorry, all my moods are poorly cultivated. What mood were you looking for?”

A nervous lump grew in Eddie's throat. He threw back his drink to get rid of it.

Hand wrapped around the glass he’d just slammed back onto the bar, he said, “The mood that gets me leaving with a schlubby forty-something.”

--

Pre-chapter two, Eddie and Richie meet and don't remember each other, but have an instant connection anyway...

This may be my favorite fic of all time. This is a Canon Divergence AU where Richie and Eddie meet at a bar prior to the events of It Chapter 2 and start sleeping together. Eddie is divorced so there’s no infidelity storyline (which I appreciate) HOWEVER Richie is still famous and in the closet so there’s still the secret love affair storyline (that I love). The characterization is literally perfect, it has amazing dialogue, and my boy Stan is alive and involved. The OCs are so so good too and I’m beyond obsessed with all the thought the author obviously put into it.

3. Sweeter By The Hour by Katranga

rich. 25. i can be your angle 😇... or yuor devil 😈

Edward. 38. Please don’t call me daddy.

--

Richie’s a struggling standup comedian slash bartender with a side hustle of sexting rich guys for cash. Eddie is recently divorced, recently out, and reluctant to dive into either the dating or hookup scene. He decides to give Sugr, a 'dating app with no commitment', a shot.

Katranga NEVER MISSES. Even though the losers club is in a completely different universe, the characterization and dialogue is so them that it scratches every itch in my brain. This is such a funny and adorable AU I would recommend to anyone that needs a break from the high stress and extremely high stakes of the traditional It Universe.

4. Here In Your Arms by kaspbrak_kid

Richie had no idea what to expect when Stan and Patty asked him to be their daughter's godfather, but it definitely wasn't becoming the part-time dad to a newborn.

This fic makes me cry like a bitch in the best way possible. This is a several years later fic in a Eddie and Stan Lives AU where Richie becomes godfather to Stan and Patty’s firstborn. This is so so special to me because it perfectly preserves The Loser’s Club dynamics in a safe environment and gives me all the found family warm fuzzies I so desperately need. As usual the characterization is phenomenal and Richie and Eddie’s relationship throughout this fic is so so special to me.

5. Richie Tozier’s Five-Step Mission in Getting Over His Childhood Sweetheart by MissDinahDarling

Alternatively: five times Richie tries to get over Eddie and the one time he gets under him instead.

This fic is so so fucking funny I love everything about it. Its also a Stan and Eddie Live AU and thehe dialogue and losers club dynamics are so so funny. I love seeing little snippets of how the losers lives are moving on and especially appreciate that Bev and Ben didn’t move as quickly as some fics do. Richies denial and stupidity are so relatable and its an extremely comforting read.

6. River by Unicornpoe

The thing—the thing is that Eddie hasn’t seen Richie in nearly five years.

They’ve gotten good at avoiding each other. They alternate holidays and get-togethers, only showing up when they’re sure the other won’t be present. They’re still in the same fucking city but Eddie makes sure to shop on the other side of town from their old place where Richie still lives, makes sure not to go to any of Richie’s favorite restaurants or bars or cafes or goddamn park benches. Eddie doesn’t join in on the Losers’s group FaceTime sessions when he knows Richie’ll be joining, and Richie does the same for him.

They couldn’t make their relationship work, but they’re fucking experts at being exes.

*

Eddie goes to spend the holidays at Bill and Mike's cabin in Vermont, and is surprised when Richie is already there. Things get worse when they're snowed in alone. Things get even more worse when Eddie remembers that he's still in love with him.

This fic gives me the most acute sense of profound longing I’ve ever had in my life. The EXTREMELY angsty hurt/comfort au I’ve ever read in my life. Not extremely inclusive of the rest of The Losers Club, but it hits hard.

7. This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) by camerasparring

Just as the last car is passing them, Prince Charming makes a snuffling noise and Eddie freezes, still pressed on top of him. He’s suddenly aware of every single place they’re touching, and Eddie thanks the brutal Chicago cold - there’s no way he could pop a boner when it’s this freezing. God, he hates himself.

The man opens his eyes for a moment and looks directly into Eddie’s eyes. Eddie’s mouth hangs open. He tries to smile, but he doesn’t think he achieves it. Instead, he swallows and says:

“Merry Christmas.”

The guy passes back out without a word.

__

or, the While You Were Sleeping AU no one asked for. Set Christmas 1995 and the gang is late 20's/early 30's

I read this before ever even hearing of the movie While You Were Sleeping. While the movie is now one of my favorites, it is absolutely nothing compared to the hilarious romcom of this fic. Found family! Secrets! Drama! Stan the mother fucking man! It is so so good and gives me all the good feelings the holidays provide whenever I read it.

8. Scratch On The Moon by Vulcanodon

Eddie Kraspbak has put aside his old life for good. He drives a stagecoach now and keeps to himself- his days of running with the Denbrough gang are long gone. But when two old friends show up and tell him they have unfinished business back in Derry, Eddie can’t resist the chance to put a final nail in the coffin of the past…and maybe find out why Richie broke his promise all those years ago.

“I’ll take left if you take right,” Eddie calls out but when he looks over Richie isn’t even firing his gun; he’s looking at Eddie with a strange, unreadable expression on his face.

“What is it?” Eddie asks, panicking. “Are you hit?”

“No,” Richie says, “I just. I just wanted you know. That I…that I feel the same way.”

“What?” Eddie asks, totally lost. A bullet whistles past his ear.

“I mean I...” Richie says, as if he’s struggling to get it out. “I feel the same way about you. I mean. That I always did.”

“Could we maybe postpone this conversation?” Eddie says, having to yell over the gunfire. “To a time when we aren’t getting shot at?”

Are you gay? Is longing and the tragedy of wasted time your guilty pleasure? Did you read River by Unicornpoe and want more? Do you like westerns? READ THIS FIC AND COME TALK TO ME IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!

9. You Ain’t Nothing But A Hound Dog (And They Call It Puppy Love) by Fluffifullness

Okay, Richie, so you’ve just been Shaggy Dog’d, you’re either kicking it in the weirdest of all possible afterlives or you never died and the sewer clown is punking you. What next?

(or: Eddie makes it out of Derry, gets a divorce, and adopts a dog.)

Richie gets “Shaggy Dog’d” after he sacrifices himself for Eddie during the events of It Chapter 2. Grief, pining, and Richie’s internal monologue being fucking hilarious. And STAN LIVES!!!!!!

10. Thanks For Pudding Up With Me by Mooeydooey

Eddie Kaspbrak was once one of the most influential professional chefs in New York. After an unfortunate incident in his kitchen, he loses his job and most of his earnings. Down on his luck, with no where else to go, he accepts a job offer with the ragtag 'Prospect Test Kitchen' in Boston.

What starts as a small passion project, making cooking tutorials online, becomes a lot more complicated and bigger than they could ever imagine when Bill brings in a new addition to their team. A comedian with a shocking background and surprise talent for culinary arts: Richie Tozier.

Eddie's the only one who doesn't like the new recruit, but Bill bribes Eddie into giving Richie a chance. At the end of six months, Richie's contract will expire. Eddie will get to decide whether they offer him a contract renewal, or refuse to re-hire him.

Things are heating up in the Prospect street Test Kitchen! Will Eddie stick to his guns, and keep his dignity? Or will he get lost in the sauce?

SO FUCKING FUNNY!!! An absolutely genius buzzfeed-esque au that is exactly what I need when I want a laugh. My favorite parts are when they go into like a third person screenplay mode for describing the events in the videos. I cannot get enough of this enemies(?) to friends to lovers au and I’m so so glad it exists.

11. A Fistful of Coal Dust by Jay Auris (nighthawkms)

Eddie Kaspbrak usually works alone. For a bounty hunting mage, this is unheard of; dangerous, foolhardy. But for Eddie - stricken with a dangerous abnormality to his magic - it's the safest way to survive.

When a new bounty takes him to the backwater town of Derry, he's not expecting anything more than a hard job done right for good money. But Eddie's past is about to catch up with him, and Derry could face the consequences. He'll have to team up with a rag-tag bunch of misfits - a sheriff with too much on his shoulders, a tavern owner haunted by loss, and four other hunters with their own secrets and motivations - if he wants to survive.

And maybe, if he's lucky, he'll get an answer to the one question that's been bugging him since he got to Derry: Who is Richie Tozier, and what does he want from Eddie?

A super fun Steampunk-Western-Magic-Bounty Hunter AU that has the perfect ratio of action, drama, and intrigue. I have no idea how the author came up with such an amazing idea and how they were able to do so much incredible world building but I absolutely LOVE IT.

If anyone reads any of these fics I would love to talk about them and hear what you think! They’re all so so so special to me and stay on my fic rotation, so if y’all have any suggestions for me too I’m happy to check them out!

[webkinztournament]

just found this blog and HI HELLO???? I STARTED A QUEST ON MAKING EVERY WEBKINZ INTO AN OC LIKE LAST YEAR AND I DON'T OWN THEM ALL ON TOP OF MANY BEING GIVEN AWAY BECAUSE I WAS A CHILD WHO DIDN'T KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THOSE STUFFIES WERE!!!! wanted to get some Tumblr Pros who I'm sure owed some webkinz before to see if they could help out with how they played with their own webkinz,

I was HORRIBLY consistent (my whimsical dragon webkinz dated/married most if not ALL the guy dragons my older sibling owned who were also webkinz; she's settled down now with a Very Pretty Splash Dragon who was her bestie since Getting) so I was wondering if they might be able to share their webkinz childhood- or just silly gameplay from their childhood- for this oddness?/nfaa

(I have a LIST so far on everything and dynamics but I know my older sibling and I did NOT have enough to cover everything until 2015 when we stopped seeing them in Cracker Barrel, but I can recognize that I do NOT have 1000% brain power to cover making everyone as fully fledged as I would have as a child locked up in my bedroom playing with the stuffies without anyone else to assist the cotton candy bunny trying to convince jelly bean puppy and cherry soda puppy that they needed to maim the pink horse.)

I meant to respond to this and then I forgor. I'm trying to give my Webkinz more personality now as an adult, and it is a struggle even though I still have them all. I probably give my Webkinz 1000x more love and appreciation as an adult then I did as a kid, online game included. As a child, I played with my Webkinz plushes here and there, but I never developed strong personalities or storylines for them, or any of my plushes for that matter. I had many unnamed stuffed animals. All of my brain power for that got dedicated to my Littlest Pet Shop toys in a similar way to your Webkinz, albeit in a less violent way.

I had over 80 LPS animals and I used to remember all of their names, and most of them had personalities, some had jobs, adopted kids, had their own wallets and handmade cash, storage spaces rented under their names, and some had entire families and marriages. They would go through things like lawsuits, divorce, opening a family business, putting on plays, and so on. I think the absolute peak of their lore was when the king of the kingdom, King Fluffy the Hamster, divorced Queen Booker the Scottish terrier (owned by my sister) when my sister moved out of my bedroom into her own. He then remarried a supermodel cat named Princess. This made my younger sister unreasonably angry.

[marinerainbow]

I got some new OC's, and it's that time of year again, so here is part 2 to

How my OC's celebrate Christmas

Here's part one in case you guys want it.

✨Shiny Weasel (WFRR/Tooniverse)✨️

Shiny actually prefers Christmas off. Other holidays she's willing to work on, but Christmas is the one she most prefers to have a day off from the club. Not for any particular reason. She doesn't go to church or plan on even being out at a bar. She just wants to have a good day to detox before the New Year. And Christmas seems to be the best time to do that (though everyone wants Christmas off, so Shiny has had to find ways to put her request in first, or convince one of her coworkers to take her shift).

And since the moonshine is her side hustle, she just lets her clients know she won't be available on that day. If they don't like it, well, sucks for them.

If toons are drawn, Shiny has no memory of spending Christmas with anyone. Aside from the fabricated memories her character is supposed to have. But if toons are born, she does get a little sentimental; she remembers what it was like spending the holidays with her mother before she passed. Might put up some decorations around the house just in honor of her.

How Shiny celebrates? Since she's trying to have one more relaxing day before the next biggest holiday, she plans on just staying home, eating good takeout and fancy chocolates she bought herself, and watching movies or listening to the radio. And trying out alcoholic eggnog concoctions she experiments with. If she's feeling lonely, she'll try inviting Terry or the co-workers she gets along with, or even the TP if she feels like she can put up with their insanity. After befriending Poppy, Pops gets set on the top of Shiny's 'people I'd invite' list.

She does give gifts to her favorite people. Though usually the day after, as that is when she's back to work and has the opportunity to play Ms. Clause with her coworkers. The presents have been bought a while ago, though, so if she does invite others over, she'll just take the opportunity to give them their gift at her place.

Sometimes Poppy invites her over, and she decides to indulge her girlfriend and just take her little party over to her apartment. They both get to have a fun, chill Christmas party of their own.

All in all, Shiny prefers to take it easy on Christmas. One of the few days out of the year where she actually slows down and chooses the comfort of her home than the comfort of night ^^

🦊Henry Foxworth (WFRR/Tooniverse)🦊

Ngl, Henry doesn't have too many friends... Who am I kidding? He has none. He's too much of a cheating backstabber to keep his relationships for long. And he hasn't talked to his family in a long time. So Henry is on his own during the holidays.

Fortunately for him, the Christmas season makes people more generous, so he gets a better haul on average. Sometimes, if he's really lucky, he gets enough cash to spend a night or two in a really fancy hotel and spoil himself.

Henry also treats himself by breaking into one of Toontowns farms and hanging out with the chickens. He's pretty calm and careful around them, so the chickens actually don't freak out. Sometimes, he can even hold one. It's a rare, genuinely soft Henry moment.

He's... Honestly not that good at gift giving 😅 truly. Even when he's being serious, one can receive some of the most random gifts from him. Poppy still remembers how he got her a book about medicine... She's not interested in going to medic school, but it was a nice read!

🐺Moony Wolf (WFRR/Tooniverse)🐺

As a construction worker, it can be difficult to get a good day off. Though around Christmas time in Toontown, the weather does get pretty hazardous even for toons. So he can also get lucky.

Moony has his dad he can visit, along with Cake he brings everywhere. It's always nice to see his father. Or if he was just drawn, Moony still has his pet bunny ^^ and he makes sure to give Poppy a call, too.

He has a more traditional way of celebrating. Putting on holiday films, having a nice dinner, recalling old stories if he's with people, etc. It's nice to be able to do all that.

All in all, a more traditional/simple kind of guy when it comes to Christmas, but it makes him happy, so what does it matter? ^^

Yes, he gets his baby Cake gifts, too. She can have a few extra carrots on Christmas as well. My guy spoils that rabbit XD

💔Ben Cottontail (WFRR/Tooniverse)💔

If toons are born, then Ben has a normal family situation. A mother and father, maybe a few siblings, and they all carry themsekves as traditionally as him. They don't like how he ended up in Downtown or his drinking, but they still welcome him to the family Christmas party.

They also have a more traditional Christmas celebration. Gift giving, stories by the fire, etc. Along with Ben's mother asking him why he hasn't found a wife yet (to which he constantly claims that he just hasn't found 'the one'. We all know why he hasn't found anyone 🙄)

If toons are drawn, then they are just fake memories. Which only aid in making Ben more bitter around this joyous time of year. He's got no one to share it with.

On his own, Ben would either buy some wine and stay home, have a civilized holiday unlike some of the 'riff-raff' of Toontown, or just go to an extra decorated bar. He can tell himself that with the extra decor, he's sticking with the jolly spirit.

🐭Terry Ratt T. (WFRR/Tooniverse)🐭

Terry doesn't live with anyone, and so far no family (I haven't figured out his family. Though they could have easily just died of old age, I imagine Terry to be around 50's or so). But he does have some friends. Coworkers at the factory, and Shiny.

Sometimes, he likes to hang out with them on the holidays, but they have their own families and traditions, so Terry chooses not to impose on that unless he's specifically invited. More often than not, he and Shiny spend time together on Christmas, though he knows that this is more like a self-care day for her. So even then, it's not a yearly tradition for them.

It's kind of similar to Shiny,,how he celebrates. Though he actually goes out to do it; on his own usually, to a bar or a park or anywhere else, admire the pretty decorations. Just- more subtly getting into the Christmas spirit.

When it comes to gift giving, Terry is like that one relative you always got socks from as a kid, and only as an adult you really realize how valuable that was. He'll gift you essentials you may not even realize you were running low on. Living on his own, he's become pretty aware of what he needs, but knows that others struggle with it regardless of their living situation. So even if they may not appreciate it so much in the moment, it's relieving to him at least knowing they have that thing they need.

I hope you guys like these! And Merry early Christmas ^^

[misterewrites]

Mystery at the Salt-Irons

Hey everyone! E here with a new chapter! kept you waiting huh? Haha sorry it's been a busy few weeks. Nothing serious but I had to keep starting and stopping this chapter so it threw me off but it's here, it's ready and I hope you enjoy it!

I have some special guests in this story, some ocs made by my friends because you know what I can so I will and honestly, they were really great oc ideas guys. so keep an eye out for @hains-mae and Biz_fantasist  OC(I don’t know if she has a tumblr but it’s late so I’ll edit it later) 

That's it for me! I hope you are all stay safe, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, push to give everyone the vaccine cuz this is getting ridiculous. I hope you have a great week, thank you for reading. I deeply appreciate and feel free to share it with your friends, give me feedback. Reblog and comments all that fun stuff! Thanks and I'll see you soon!

Here’s the chapter over at Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/85394095

Here’s the story from the beginning if you’re curious what this is about

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

and here’s a list of all my work both original and the various fandoms I write for

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary:  Finnrick is called to solve a mysterious case as per his job as the city's only Private Investigator wizard but as he sinks deeper into the case, the more it seems that something is happening behind the scenes. Of course with an old friend in town and dark magic surrounding the case, Finnrick is as busy as ever. Ain't no rest for the wicked.

-----

The Salt-Iron Flats weren’t anything special on the surface: An unassuming apartment complex on the north side of Newton Haven, the only thing most people remembered about the place was how the price tag hurt their souls.

Of course, unlike the general housing market, the Salt-Irons (affectionately referred to by the locals) actually had a very reasonable reason for fetching such a high rate: The salt and cold iron baked into every single brick that formed the building.

If you weren’t in the magical know, you’d think it utterly insane that you’d be forced to pay such a large amount of cash because some weirdo decided to make a new age artistic statement with bricks. Of course, if you are aware of the greater community at large, you’d knew you were paying the insanely large sum because someone decided to make the Salt-Irons the single most protective location in the city.

Most mortals have forgotten their history, their lore and collective knowledge passed down throughout the generations: Why their ancestors used to place lines of salt in front of the door and windows, why the elders always suggested to the braver, recklessly youthful family members to carry iron whenever they ventured through the wild.

Outer beings were repelled by salt and iron. No one really had an idea why fae, angels and demons weren’t fond of salt or iron and there's been plenty of arguing about the subject but all in all the fact remained they did not do well when faced with either.

That was the main reason Finnrick didn’t find himself in the north side of town often.

Well that and the zealous Gate Keepers. Those guys were freaks but between them and the Salt-Irons being the only supernatural community up here, Finn never got a case from the area.

Until today.

The Salt-Irons were great at protecting you from any outside threats that wished you ill will: It didn’t protect you from anything you decided to bring in with you.

It was five in the morning when Finnrick got the call. The M.R.R.D representative didn’t have much to offer beyond the address and floor but he thanked her all the same.

Finnrick yawned tiredly, stretching the tension out of his neck while he sipped his coffee. He let out a sigh of relief as the sun slowly rose into the sky.

The Salt-Irons was a twelve story tall building painted a ghastly pale green that made Finnrick sick just looking at it.

“People are paying how much to live in that shade? I’d ask for discount if I were them.” Finnrick laughing to himself, making his way into the apartment complex.

Luckily the interior was much nicer than the outside: Everything was well kept and cleaned. Not a single speck of dust in sight and the wooden stairs didn’t creak when Finnrick placed his foot on them.

Which was good given Finnrick needed to go up seven flights of stairs.

Finnrick wheezed a little, wiping the sweat from his brow when he reached the seventh floor. He glanced down the hall one way then the other as he began to search for room 707 which basic deductive reasoning suggested should be around the corner.

Finnrick crushed the empty foam cup and tucked it into his coat pocket as he made his way to 707. It was a simple wooden door and immaculately spotless just like the rest of the place. He rose his hand and gently rapped on the door.

No response.

He frowned, checking if he was still alone in the empty hallway and rose his hand towards the door frame.

His eyes glowed with a blue energy as he whispered softly “Revelis”

The door gleamed with a bluish hue for a moment before fading away without a trace.

No protective spells laced over the frame so the only thing Finn had to worry about now if it was locked.

He tried the knob, unsurprised when it swung open silently.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s expecting you” Finnrick justified to himself as he pushed the door in.

He nearly staggered backwards: The air tasted thick and foul like something had been left rotting inside. His skin prickled with anxiety, a chill running down his spine with each step he took further in.

Finnrick took deep, calming breathes while doing his best to ignore the bitter taste that seem to cling the air within.

He noticed the trail of footsteps, perfectly preserved in what appeared to be black dust leading deeper into the living room.

“Hey da! You here?” Finnrick called out, carefully stepping closer “You and ma still married?”

There was a deep grunt of acknowledgment before a voice responded “Sorry son, we’re divorced now. She got custody of you.”

“Well fuck. I guess I’m going to be eating kale and poorly cooked spinach for the rest of my life.”

Garrus Valka was not in fact Finnrick’s father, adoptive or otherwise. He was actually one of the highest ranked officers of the Magical Rapid Response Department: An elf clocking in at 200 years old with richly tanned skin. His bluish gray hair was slicked back in his preferred style. Garrus’s had his back turned to the detective but Finn knew his sliverish gray eyes were deep in concentration as he took down notes about the surroundings. His beautifully inhuman features were marred with a scar on the right side of his face: burnt skin on his cheek, healed by time and various surgeries. An old war wound though Finn never got the full story.

He was dressed in typical M.R.R.D fashion: Dark blue windbreaker, jeans and a blue shirt with the words “Powered by coffee and spite” splashed across the front. His Winchester rifle was slung across his back, ready for any action that may befall the elf.

“Drift.” Garrus greeted teasingly while offering a hand.

Finnrick gave it a playful shake “Da. So is mom here or she trying to smite pigeons again?”

“THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY HOTDOG!” Garrus’s partner Eden screamed from another room “I SHALL BRING MY GOD’S WRATH UPON THEM!”

“You know when they mean justice.” Finnrick called out “I don’t think they mean against winged rats.”

Eden chuckled darkly “You know not their sins.”

“Okay.” Finnrick nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see him “If you say so. What happened Da? Aside powerful necromancy.”

“Powerful necromancy” Garrus replied cheekily “and missing persons.”

Finnrick rose an eyebrow “Persons? More than one?”

“Two: A father and son. Richard Charles and his son Richard Jr. Recluses it seems. Neighbors hardly saw them. Mostly kept to themselves.”

Finnrick pursed his lips thoughtfully “Any magical abilities?”

“They’re not on records if that’s what you mean.” Garrus answered “Never signed up in the academy, not registered with The Council. If they were practitioners they didn’t tell anyone.”

“So what was the spell? I just smell the remnants of spookiness.”

“Hadn’t noticed the rest of the room huh?”

Finnrick frowned before finally getting a good look at the rest of the room: Every inch of the apartment was blanketed with the same black dust that he found in the entrance way. Inches and inches of the substance and that wasn’t the strangest part.

Everything was bent at different and odd angles: chair with crooked legs, the wall clock warped and twisted, the fridge leaning like someone folded it in half. Floorboard reached for the sky and walls split inward.

There was a common misconception about magic. Most people thought spell casters, especially wizards, could command reality to their wills. That magic was capable of impossible feats and it was as simple as snapping your fingers.

The truth was all magic, ranging from divinity to free range nature, was performed on a micro scale. Practitioners did not alter reality but rather shortcut it. Throwing fireballs was as simple as rapidly heating the air until it combusted. Turning invisible was less about vanishing completely as it was bending the light around you to not be seen. Magic was rooted in reality and imagination. If you had the magical strength to perform the magic, the magic often followed your lead.

Of course there were spells that required much more than magical hand and willpower. Powerful magic, like summoning outer beings or raising an army of zombies, required both time and materials. Magic was like any other energy: you needed enough of it to perform what you wanted. The human body could only generate so much magic without dying and resting was necessary to replace any expended in the use of spells. Materials were guidelines for the spell. Feathers for anything with flight, ash for fireballs etc etc.

The other thing needed was to gather energy and store it for the spell’s use. There were different ways to achieve this: Wands, talismans, potions were basically magic soups. The most efficient way to gather energy was the wizards preferred way: Circles.

Finnrick eyed the room closely this time, murmuring under his breath about angles and trajectory. Garrus paid him no mind, well familiar with the private investigators methods.

“If this went like that” he gestured to the wall clock “and that went here.”

Finnrick glanced about, carefully walking about as if worried he was going to step on a landmine.

“Here.” Finnrick found himself staring at a spot in the middle of the room “Ventus.”

He gestured with a hand and light breeze filled the room. It brushed away some of the dust covering floor, revealing the outline of a half melted metal ring.

“What is it?” Garrus turned curiously

“Spell circle. The source of the explosion. I’m willing to bet it’s custom made. Copper, steel. Maybe some bits of tin couldn’t stand the surge.”

“No iron or sliver?”

Finnrick shook his head “That’s for containing or repelling monsters. Necromancy is more about drawing in the evil entities. Or sucking out life.”

Garrus sighed tiredly “Don’t touch?”

“Only if you want to live to see retirement. Might have some pent up magic ready to blow outwards.”

“Understood. I’ll call in our guys. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Finn nodded gratefully while pulling out a vial and motioning to the elf “Mind if I do?”

“Be my guest, you might find something we’d miss.”

Finnrick smiled gratefully before scooping up some of the dust and sealing it within the vial.

“Take care Garrus, stop fighting birds Ma!”

“Flying rats!”

-----

The cafe was lively despite being early but that was no surprise given it was Mother’s. Mother’s was the single best food establishment in all Newton Haven and if anyone disagreed, they were allowed to have their opinions.

They were also allowed to be wrong.

Finnrick paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of well cooked eggs and sweet lemonade. The pop and sizzle of heated grease brought a sense of comfort to the hard working private investigator.

“Finny Drift!” Maddie Copperstone called from behind the counter “How’s my favorite customer holding up?”

Maddie was 40 years young with tastefully curled dark brown hair. Human, little on the short side but fierce. She wore a simple red blouse and jeans, both stained with flour that the apron around her waist did not prevent.

Finnrick bounced over cheerfully, reaching over the counter to give the matron the biggest hug he could muster “I’m good Maddie. Working a case.”

Maddie’s brown eyes searched his face carefully “You always working Finny. You resting as much?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Maddie let out a disbelieving chuckle “You weren’t ever a Scout.”

“Honorary scout after I stopped that bear from eating them.”

“Thought it was a giant raccoon.”

“Yes but people don’t take giant raccoon seriously. He here?”

Maddie clicked her tongue disappointingly but motioned to the booth at the far end of the establishment “Rest.”

Finnrick rose his hand in surrender “After.”

“Never you mean!” Maddie shouted after him.

Amos Frye hadn’t changed much since last he was roaming around Finnrick’s neck of the woods: Handsome with soft gray eyes that reminded Finn of gathering storm clouds. His long black hair was tied in a messy bun held up by a golden pin, a braided strand hung loosely near his face. His beard was much shorter than what Finnrick remembered though he noted the unkempt split ends indicated that Amos hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His iconic dark red sleeveless jerkin and black jean combination would look ridiculous on a lesser man but had allowed the monster hunter to show off his muscular frame. His brown skin was a bit more pale than usual so no doubt Amos had been operating at night lately.

“Finnrick, you cheeky bastard! I am so glad you came!” Amos beamed happily, his various bangles and bracelets clinking together in equally joyous celebration as the two shook hands.

“Amos! Happy to see you.” Finn beamed brightly as he slid into the booth across his old friend “Why though? Family trouble?”

Amos’s joyfully gleam turned dark for a moment.

“No. Have you…?”

Finnrick shook his head quickly “Not a word. Sorry, I hadn’t meant to…”

Amos waved the apology away “No worries cuz. I understand why you’d think that. Coming across the pond isn’t a spur of the moment thing and Os has always been the black sheep of the family. I suppose no news is good news.”

“Right.” Finnrick cleared his throat awkwardly “So what’s the trouble? I doubt you’d call me up for a nip and chat.”

“Rightly so.” Amos confirmed, reaching into the bag at his side and pulling out a folder “Hunting business as usual cuz.”

That made sense: Amos was the latest of a long family whose specialized business was monster hunting. The Fryes had been striking at things that went bump in the night for centuries ever since the first Frye defended the folk of some underground society.

Amos was an average wizard if Finnrick was being generous. That was not a slight against his old friend, it was a matter of fact: Amos spent most of his time honing the physical aspects of his profession which was obvious given the size of his arms. Any spells he knew were purely for defensive or preventive measures so he often communicated with Finnrick for higher quality and complex spellwork.

Finnrick took the folder from Amos and began pouring over its contents.

Most were quickly scrawled notes Amos had noticed about his quarry: Long sliver hairs, canine in nature. Large paw prints found in the areas it had been sighted, far too big to any natural wolf. Wulfvur and werewolf were hastily written and as quickly crossed out. A pattern of hanging out in wild areas, often forests and swamps.

There were pictures too: flashes of sliver, blurs of fangs and muzzles darting in and out of camera frame. It was always a distance away, sprinting deeper into the wildness. It was hard to tell from the photos but Finn guessed it might’ve been 10 feet tall at the very least.

“Why we hunting wolves now?” Finnrick asked curiously.

Amos flagged down the waitress “Contract given to my pa. It was hanging around the marsh lands of the jolly old isles. Someone wanted it gone.”

Something wasn’t clicking with Finn “and you followed it here? From England?”

“Nah cuz” Amos gave a cheeky grin “I tackled it through a portal and found I illegally crossed into America.”

“Ah.” Finnrick nodded in understanding “Fae.”

“Fae?” Amos frowned thoughtfully “I thought that too but I never heard of any snarling wolfie breaking into homes and snatching out wee younglings in them old folktales.”

“Fae are weird.” Finnrick shrugged “Their whole shtick is not making any sense. I had to expel a cat the size of a bus once. Double decker tall.”

Amos whistled in appreciation as he scratched his bread “So fae. Slippy fellow as you can tell. Whatcha recommend?”

“What’s the contract?”

“Banishment. It’s looking like wolfie ended up in the wrong part of town.”

“I think you mean next town over. Fixed a pattern yet?”

“Not yet but I wasn’t looking for one.” Amos admitted “Thought I was tracking some mutant. Fae changes a lot. Magical circles?”

“Easiest way to catch it.” Finnrick agreed “Sliver for sure. Iron would hurt it and based on your files, it hasn’t done anything than thin the local wildlife population. No need to anger mister big bad wolf.”

“Good call. I got some talent to handle a few circles but tracking is not really my speed.”

“I’m on a case but if you swing by the M.R.R.D, maybe they’ll loan you a wizard.”

Amos let out a disappointed sigh “I need to take care this sometime this year Finny. Bloody bureaucracy probably set me back a month at least.”

“There’s always Jaime but she’s pretty busy at work.”

“Jaime huh?” Amos smiled mischievously “I haven’t talked to your sister in a long time.”

“I will curse you.” Finnrick playfully threatened “And not no simple hex either. I’ll make you bald.”

Amos gasped dramatically, clutching at his hair protectively “You wouldn’t dare mate.”

“Shinier than the sun.”

“Okay, okay” Amos conceded “I’m kidding. She’s with Casey anyway. Good couple. Cute couple. He still hopelessly selfless and she still trying to fast track her way to power?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna fix that?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s their lives. Their choices.”

“Idiots.” Amos chuckled “the lot of them.”

“All you need is love?”

“Spoken true the gospel of my land.”

-----

A few hours later with a brainstorm session completed and a promise to help out the next day, Finnrick left Amos to his work and continued with his own.

It was noon now and as the sun rose high in the sky, Finnrick found himself at the Grimyard.

The Grimyard was the premiere spot for all things magical in Newton Haven: Rows and rows of shops specifically catering to the magic community. The streets were paved with century old cobblestone and the buildings here were various hues of faded brick and mortar. It was easy to get lost in the Grimyard if it was your first time as the Grimyard did not spread out, it stacked downward. Layers upon layers of the Grimyard were actually underground to allow those with issues against the sun to sell their goods and services at all times of the day. Don’t let the dark fool you, anyone with worthy talent or product was here in the Grimyard.

Normally Finnrick would wander around a bit, checking out the various businesses and protective wards around the mile long patch of land but he was on the clock and the sooner he began to figure out what was going on, the sooner he could stop it.

Luckily for him, his destination was right here on the top floor of the marketplace. Specifically furthest back corner.

Knightly Ore was ran by the Knight family. Originally they only sold rare metals and ores which were necessary components for some of the more complicated magicks. At some point the owners expanded into selling more alchemical materials and eventually brewing potions, salves and such for a fee.

Despite decent business, it was the most rundown building in this part of the Grimyard: Broken window shudders with the paint faded down to the original shade when the business first opened decades ago. The humble black door was crooked and creaked whenever it moved

Finnrick knew the owners fairly well but here wasn’t here for them. He was here to see their son.

He pushed past the building, ducking into the alley that led to the lot directly behind the shop.

“Halt!” A voice called out “Who seeks the Brewmaster of the Grimyard?”

“It is I, Finnrick the detective. I got money and I need work done”

The Brewmaster was Theodore Knight, an incredibly talented alchemist who didn’t have the same opportunities Finnrick did: He was pretty tall for his age (14 or 15, Finnrick lost track once or twice) but clearly a teenager given his short lavender hair had a few strands dyed red. His eyes were an unnatural pale blue, paler than the blue of the sky. He wore the usual attire Finn often found him in: A sleeveless dark blue hoodie with a fist sized red gem clasped in front just under his neck and a lighter shade blue t-shirt. He wore black finger-less gloves gripping his brown messenger bag slung around his shoulder. A matching brown pouch hung around the waist of his gray cargo shorts and his brown boots were kept clean despite his place of business was in an alley behind his parents shop.

Theo jumped out from a hidden shadowy corner of the lot “Finn, whatcha got for me now?”

Finnrick reached into his pocket, showing the eager teen the vial that held blacken dust within.

“That’s it?” Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes “I was expecting something…...cooler.”

He took the vial and raised it to the sun. Theo gave it a rough shake and watched it carefully for any properties the strange substance would display.

Theo frowned, clearly unsatisfied by what he saw “You brought me ash? Plain ash? It’s your money but even I think it’s a waste.”

“It’s ash?”

Theo shot the detective a look that screamed how obvious it should’ve been “Yes, ash. Thicker than what I’ve seen but ash all the same.”

Finnrick bit his cheek thoughtfully.

“Look Finn, you know my rates. I dunno what you want me to do but standard fees apply.”

“I’ll paying double.”

The Brewmaster’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Double for ash? What’s so special about it?”

“Oh nothing." Finnrick pretended to look disinterested “Aside it was taken directly from a crime scene: Necromancy and cast via a half melted spell circle.”

It took Theo a minute to allow the implications of what Finnrick said to sink in. His eyes shifted from suspicion to wild excitement.

“Really?!” Theo clutched the vial like it was his first born child “Necromancy really doesn’t like many alchemy processes. It’s not going to be easy for me.”

“I know right?” Finnrick grinned impishly “It’s almost like I’m going to have to pay double for it.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to….” Theo pouted unhappily “Ha freaking ha. Okay smart guy, pay up.”

Finnrick handed over 50 gold. Theo took it eagerly, his eyes lightening up with glee.

Theo paused for a moment, his face turning oddly serious for a teenager.

“It might take me awhile depending on what you want.”

“I want to know what’s in it. Necromancy requires specific ingredients. After that it’ll be easier to track the seller.”

“And the buyer!” Theo blurted out excitedly “Smart.”

Finnrick ruffled his hair playfully “I wish I thought of it. You keep this up and you’re going to run me out of business.”

“I’ll text you when I have something.”

“Pleasure as always Theo.”

“It’s Brewmaster.”

-----

It was 2 in the afternoon when Finnrick made his way back to the Salt-Iron. He stood outside the complex, tossing the remains of his pizza into his waiting maw and crumpling the can of soda he was drinking before tucking into his coat pocket.

“What’s this?” Finnrick asked, utterly confused by the crushed foam cup he pulled from within “Oh right my coffee. I’ve been really at today.”

Finnrick wiped his hands clean and made his way inside the Salt-Iron once more, mulling over the details of the case as he ascended up the stairway.

Blacken ash cast by a spell circle. Both father and son missing with no indication where they went too. Recluses and rarely seen. Necromancy within a threshold.

It was hard to tell how deeply the father and son were involved in spell. Someone who had access to the apartment was behind it no doubt. Spell circles were the most consistent way to cast magic but they took time to build, set and channel energy. You didn’t build a spell circle without knowing exactly what you plan to do with it.

The nature of the magic was also a mystery: Dark magic had various applications and not a single one was good. Finnrick hadn’t much experience with that branch of magic but there was nothing logical about the aftereffects: Ash spread throughout the apartment, clinging to everything like a second skin. There was no signs of an outward blast given that nothing bent in the same direction. Everything in that room decided to twist in whatever wayit felt like. If the spell was supposed to draw in something then chair legs and wall tiles would’ve been pulled directly towards the circle.

“Curiouser and curiouser Alice” Finnrick spoke to no one in particular.

He was on the fifth floor when he noticed something odd.

Finnrick raised an eyebrow as the skies outside the window darken, black and stormy.

A thunderstorm it seems.

Finnrick peered out the window, glancing upwards to see what was going on.

Dark clouds swirled directly overhead. Rain began to lightly drizzle as the skies boomed. Thunder and a moment later lightning trailing across the gathering storm.

A thunderstorm that formed directly above this building.

Without warning.

“Well that’s not ominous.”

Finnrick made the mistake of leaning closer to the window, peering around to see if he could see where exactly the storm was coming from when it happened.

“Watch out below!”

Finnrick noticed three things in that moment: First, was of course, someone shouting to watch out below. Second was the distant sound of claws scratching something wooden, the walls perhaps. Lastly was the thudding of something falling down quickly and towards him.

Finnrick rose his hand, pivoting on his heels in time to see something crash into him.

It wasn’t much of a contest: Both Finnrick and whatever slammed into him broke through the fifth story window and went sprawling into a freefall.

[insertmesoftly]

Defining Our Bonds (Human! Gyutaro x Transman Oc) Found Family Beginnings

The au goes with the sorta same backstory except with my oc, (now called) Asahi there so shit alters. Gyutaro and his sis are born in a red-light district to a neglectful mom that's a prostitute, living in the slums, baby boy has been convinced through verbal abuse and cruelty from others that his physical deformities and uglyness make him inherently irredeemable and he could never be a good person so he starts taking scummy jobs with other kids to collect debts and harass other poor people. He's like 14 at this time (I know the wiki says he turned into a demon at 13, but like, this is already an au anyways), his sis is like 10-12. He's kept her safe, if isolated because she's pretty and he fears people taking advantage of her. Now insert my oc. A kid sold to a brothel to be a servant to the ladies. Been told by his folks to become a man if he wants to survive and took it to heart, dressing and accepting life as one. He's a good, polite, and hardworking kid so the staff and working ladies like him a lot. He doesn't have it bad at all, he gets a roof on his head, meals, and he's never mistreated. However, working in a brothel is still fucked up as a kid; he got used quickly to some adult things and hearing absurdities as dinner conversation. It's here where he soaks up like a sponge stuff that others would've viewed as wrong, like gender preferences and sex preferences. Such 'perverse' things were the norm in this business. But anyways

Everything goes swell, just another day of doing the errands when he runs into Gyutaro's group doing a shake down on an old man. He hides, knowing to stay out of trouble, but can't help peek from his corner at Gyutaro. He's never seen anyone like him and can't help stare. He's the same age, and yet he's a brute. Violent and relentless, he steals the old man's properties and cash and leaves him alone in the ground with his lackeys behind. So busy staring, Asahi forgot he was coming his way until they were face to face. Then he got a sickle to the throat and a threat to mind his own damn business, if he didn't want to end up on his boss's hit list. They leave and Asahi is only somewhat perturbed, mostly still just being fascinated that someone like him exists. ...... he can't get him out of his head even when he finally gets back and does other work. He can't place why.

Shyly, he's been trying to find him again, volunteering for more errand jobs (very unlike him) and going the long way for every one of em. He sometimes finds him, and contentedly watches until he feels he should move on with work. It’s during these spying sessions that he learns what everyone calls him Gyutaro. Just his job title. While odd, it’s not uncommon among the poor. Names are lost. Asahi wondered if Gyutaro remembered his real name…

In his excursions, he sees him sometimes doing more jobs. Other times, he's left alone. During one of those times, Asahi found his usual lackeys alone. His 'friends', he realized, aren't really good people to him. They talk badly about him when he's gone and have even started plotting something with his sister for that night. To take her away. Fearing it, Asahi diverts from his work to try to look for Gyutaro and finds him buying food from a stand. He's nervous approaching him but steels his nerves and tries talking.

'There's something important you need to know!'

Gyutaro barely stops for a bit. He takes one look at him.

'Yeah?'

Asahi nods. Gyutaro walks away.

'I don't care.'

Asahi has to chase after him, trying so hard to get him to listen. 'I-I'm serious! It's serious!'

'I doubt it.'

'How can you-'

'I don't know you. You either want me to take on a job, or are trying something funny with me. Not interested, pipsqueak.'

'IT'S ABOUT YOUR SISTER!'

Now that makes him stop. His voice drops a level.

'What about 'er?'

Asahi fumbles through his words. 'Y-Your f-friends. I heard them... talking about selling your sister.'

'WHAT?'

'It's happening tonight!'

Gyutaro's streetfood has been crushed under his grip. He's shaking with rage. 'Why are you telling me?' He looks deadly. 'What do you want?' Asahi blinks. He never wanted anything... 'Nothing.... I just...'

'Wow. A good Samaritan.' He looms over him. 'I thought those were just a myth. Well, you lost your chance to get something from me. Leave. I have shit to do. Consider not getting your nose broken as my thanks. Never fucking talk to me again little piece of shit.' Asahi backs away... but only for a bit. What was the kid gonna do? He can try to help some more! 'You know, I could maybe-' A sickle narrowly missed him and made him jump. 'Fuck. Off.'

Asahi takes in a shaky breath and leaves. He's scolded for not getting the items needed in time. The rest of the day goes by and once he's supposed to be sleeping.... he gets up instead. He shouldn't be going outside at this hour. Who knows if someone would call on him for one thing or another.... but.... He leaves anyways. Without a clue where to go, he starts with the slums, where he could only guess the boy was from.

Wandering around the miserable place, after a long while of fruitlessness, plot convenience hits him in the form of a little girl who's tears blocked her vision. They both topple over. Surprised, she claws at him and screams, thinking it was a captor, but Asahi tries to shush her and explain. 'Are you ok?'

'W-Who are you?!'

'I'm... I was walking and you stumbled into me. Are you ok?'

She sniffles. She doesn't know if she can trust him, but voices behind her make her jump. She should run! The boy she stumbled into asks her again. 'Do you need help? I swear to you I won't touch you or do anything bad.' She's still crying. She's so scared. Without her brother, she's defenseless. She can't help but nod.

'Follow me.'

They run out of the slums. She trips a few times in the dark and he has to pick her up, saying sorries for breaking his promise. He finds a hiding spot he knew he could trust, and they stay there. The old shed where the brothel keeps its fermenting ingredients, alcohol and dried meats. It's cozy enough. She's still scared for her brother, but Asahi promises to help her find him when the sun comes back up. And it finally does. She eventually dozed off, but he kept watch all night. He knows it'll be a hard day. He wakes her, and blearily, they go stumbling through the alleys and back to the slums.

The streets are livelier with everyone going to their jobs. They hold hands as they try to shift through the crowd to look for her brother. They don't see him until a punch lands on Asahi's face. He falls to the floor. People keep moving but give them a wide berth. Gyutaro is on top of him immediately, throwing another punch. 'You fucking bastard. You were working with them weren’t you?! You thought you could sneak away while I handled the rest???'

'Gyu, no!!! LET HIM GO!!' His sister tries pulling him away, but he's too wrapped up in his head. Asahi tries to get him off, eventually landing a kick to his stomach. It wasn't hard, but just enough to help him scramble, and he tries to explain.

'I'm sorry! I found her and-'

'AND YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD TAKE HER FOR YOURSELF?'

'What?! NO! I HELPED!!!!'

'Helped who??? Yourself? You sick fuck, I'm going to-'

'HE HELPED ME!'

The tiny girl stands between them, finally being seen by her brother. He heaves in shaky breaths as he takes her in. She's ok. Not a scratch on her or her robes. She's giving him the same pout she always has when he doesn't want to hear her whines. 'He really did! And you're being mean to him when he was NICE! Guys were chasing me, telling me I was too pretty to stay at home! And he- he saved me!' She's back to sniffling. 'Where were you?? You're the WORST! You didn't come to my rescue! You promised you always would!'

The declarations make Gyutaro's shoulders drop. 'I was- I was trying to find them before.... fuck.' It didn't matter. He wouldn't have gotten to her in time. Despite the warning he had had beforehand.... and it was all thanks to this loser. The wimp with the battered face, slumped in the ground like a bag of meat. Gyutaro scoffed. '..... Fine. I'm sorry I wasn't there.'

'...... you should say sorry to him too.' She points at Asahi, who became alert through his sleepy haze. 'Oh- no! I uh- It's ok actually, I just-' he knew he shouldn’t expect such a thing from... such a character, and would much rather leave, but to his surprise, he got it. A very quiet,

'..... sorry.'

Asahi would like to believe that it was the shock that did him in. My man gave a weak smile then passed the fuck out.

Gyutaro has to carry em back to their home where he gives the house the believable excuse that he helped his sister and got beat up for it. His boss believes it... but can't say there won’t be repercussions for taking such an action. She scolds him when he gets up and gives him extra work. Gravely, she tells him that he should not be getting into the messes of other people. He could lose his life that way. Asahi bows his head and says he understands. But he doesn't promise he won't do it again. The old gang don't show their faces around Gyutaro anymore. Gyu does his work alone now. Without the intimidation of being outnumbered, he’s become more of a menace to people from the get go. He’s a demon of brutality. Sometimes, against Gyutaro's wishes, his sister braves a walk into the center to visit Asahi’s work. She was always a welcome secret, Asahi learning to save sweets given to him for her, taking their shared time together to teach her how he does his jobs (like cleaning the floors, removing stains) or telling her stories he knows from his ladies’ plethora of tales. They were caught by other staff at one point, but no one minded. Daki was a pretty little girl and didn’t bother the people. She was welcomed… but her visits became rarer with her brother growing weary. He didn’t like her visiting a brothel. He still didn’t trust Asahi. Why was he paying her such attention? He could only guess, and it made him furious. Disgusted. He tried more threats, catching him on an errand and pinning him in an alley. He should stop talking to his sister, helping them once was already enough. They’re not a damn charity case. Asahi frowned at this.

‘What’s wrong with getting involved? She’s a nice kid. She deserves some kindness in her life. And so do you.’

Gyutaro’s hand shakes. ‘Why does everything you say have to be such fucking bullshit?’

Asahi tries to laugh it off. ‘It just comes naturally to me I guess.’ Gyu lets him go, and Daki doesn’t return for a while.

The next time he sees her, unfortunately, is when the temperature has become colder. The sheds of the slums are miserably inept at keeping out the cold. Still, it’s preferable to braving the snow and wind. This is something their mother tells them as she prepares to have a customer in the shed. It’s not something new, but after the last scare with his own colleagues, Gyutaro is especially guarded. He can’t leave to visit his boss with his sister… But he sure as hell doesn’t want to leave her here either. Asahi nearly jumps when he hears a knock from the same spot Daki would come in. Hesitantly, he peeks out the door, only to have it swing open. Gyutaro, sister in tow, isn’t here to ask for help. He’s here to demand for payment for not bothering the wimp for so long. ‘Just let her in. I can deal.’

‘I… don’t think that’s going to work. We have a lot of patrons today…’

‘UGH, is there really no fucking closet you can stuff her in? As long as it’s warm-’

‘And as long as I get sweets!’

‘….. she’ll be fine.’

Asahi looks behind his shoulder, assessing the time he could get away with being missing. He smiled. ‘I have an idea.’

He brought them to the hidden shed he holed up Daki in before. It was closed off, and though they couldn’t light a fire inside, Asahi brought with him his blanket. Daki could stay here… and so could Gyu. ‘It’s better than that flimsy shed isn’t it? And no one will bother you! Just… please don’t…… take any of the stock.’ Gyutaro took a look around. This stuff could be valuable to sell. To eat. His greed made him start making calculations. What could he start shaving off? His sister’s ruffling beside him made him look. Asahi had given her a sweet food that was still a bit warm. She happily ate it as Asahi beamed. Gyutaro’s grin faltered. What was he doing? He was depending on this guy’s kindness again. He was failing as a brother. Gyutaro stepped away. ‘Alright. I have to go…. I’ll come by when it gets dark.’

‘That’s alright! I’ll keep checking up on Daki when I have time. I’ll try to sneak some stuff for you too when you come back!’

Gyutaro looked back at the boy. His cheeriness and goodwill knew no limits. It grated on his nerves. ‘I don’t need it. Just give it to Daki.’ With that, he left.

Asahi does as he promised anyways, much to Gyutaro’s disdain as he comes back to a nice small meal. Daki (and Gyu) stay in the shed, and Asahi constantly goes to check on them, sometimes even giving Daki something to do so she doesn’t get bored. She counts all the stock in the shed, practices how to fix rips on old clothes, and makes her own new dolls. Sometimes he brings her to the main house to help as well, when the customers are low and the Boss is none the wiser. He always returns her at the end, full of food and happy. Gyutaro is conflicted at the relief he feels not having to care for her as much. One night, as Daki slept peacefully in a makeshift bedroll, the snow poured heavily but Gyutaro stayed outside. He didn’t want to sleep yet, too lost in his thoughts. He was scratching himself again, a habit he began and didn’t notice usually until he bled. He sighed, feeling the sting of the cold get to his new wounds and got up. He was going to go inside when he noticed a speck moving towards him. The wimp.

‘Oh good, you’re here!’ Gyutaro narrowed his eyes. What now? Asahi handed the boy something wrapped in a cloth meant for kitchens. It was warm. He opened it and could smell the buns inside. It made him suddenly feel ravenous. ‘I gave Daki some today, and they just made more for some bigshot that came in. I wanted you to get some hot too!’ That dumb smile. Gyutaro wanted to throw the food just to see it disappear… but he knew better. He knew.

‘Alright. You gave em, now leave.’ He didn’t want to see him anymore. He’d eat then sleep. But, as always, Asahi’s eyes widened and he did the opposite. ‘More scratches? This time in your cheek… how do these happen?’ Without thinking, he reached out to touch them. It made Gyutaro snap. He slapped Asahi’s hand away, so fast and without forethought that it made him drop the food. ‘Don’t. Fucking touch me.’

‘Oh…. I’m sorry….’Asahi didn’t back away. All intimidation was lost on him by now. He knelt down to pick up the buns, luckily still in the cloth. ‘Here, I’ll try to bring some salve tomorrow too-‘

‘Stop it.’ Gyutaro growled. ‘Stop treating me like a baby! I don’t need your help! Save that for Daki. I’m ok. I can get by.’ Asahi blinked. Twice. He put his gloved hand over his mouth, in thought.

‘I… never said you couldn’t?’

Gyutaro’s brain was running on empty. What is that supposed to mean?

‘Of course you can take care of yourself. You’re super strong! And smart! I… don’t know why you think I don’t know?’ Gyutaro’s rigid stance softened from the sudden praise. Asahi laughed and rubbed his hand to his head. ‘I’m sorry… I guess my trying to be of use to you was just being a bother. I just… really wanted to do something for you too. You’re a good brother. I… admire you.’

Gyutaro took a few steps back. What was happening? What was this talk? He was in too much of a daze to ask any further questions. Asahi thrust the cloth-wrapped food back at him and he took it without a fight. ‘A-Anyways I… I also think. Even if it’s a pain. That you should just… keep using me. I mean. Daki needs her strong brother right?’

Asahi’s face was a mess. Where was he going with this? He lost all his reasoning. This was too much. ‘I-I’m sorry. I’m going to be selfish and keep trying! I’ll… I’ll bring the salve tomorrow!’ With that, he rushed away. He’d been enough of a fool for the day. Gyutaro kept looking at his retreating back until he couldn’t anymore. Only then did he go back inside to recover from the chill and the awkward surge of emotions. What a fucking pain. He chomped on the food. That fucking twerp was going to stay a nuisance?

……..

Well. If he really wanted to waste his time. Gyutaro guessed he’d warned him enough already…

[footballfanfictions]

The thrill of the chase - Chapter Two

Pairings: Mason Mount/OC, Ben Chilwell/OC

Authors Note: Sorry that this has taken a little longer than anticipated and thank you so much for all the love for the first part.

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One of the main drawbacks of working with social media, is that you are always on social media and you’re constantly bombarded with information and images that make you feel downright crap about yourself.

I’d been asked to take over the instagram page of one of the high profile players at the club and his entire feed was just one supermodel and influencer after the other with the odd footballer thrown in to balance it out. They were all so stunning that it truly made me feel awful about myself, how could it not? My salary was pretty good for a new graduate but not quite good enough for weekly manicures, lip fillers and hair extensions and my time management wouldn’t stretch for that either, I barely made my eyebrow wax appointments.

I was trying to avoid looking at the player’s DMs while I posted a few pictures from the pre-season training sessions to his feed, but the notifications pinging every few minutes was getting quite annoying.

Has it been Brianna with access to his account and not me, she would have gone straight to his messages to read them. I preferred to live in blissful ignorance to the sleazy ways of the men around me. I already felt like finding a good guy was absolutely hopeless.

I had been renting a flat and I was saving for a deposit to buy a house, hoping that by the time I had saved up enough to buy that I would have found the right person to live with. If I were to attempt this alone, with London house prices I would be around  60 by the time I had saved enough alone.

The message notifications continued to come in and whoever Sam was, she was really keen.

I logged out after posting the final image and prayed I wouldn’t have to go into it again. The less I knew about their private lives, the better. It would be pretty awkward to be sat in the staff and players’ family box at a game knowing that the wife of someone I knew was cheating was close by. Best to steer clear of those complications.

Brianna hadn’t visited my office at all and by 12 I was both worried and hungry and decided to go looking for her.

I tried the kit room first but it was empty and surprisingly tidy. Dave kept a tight ship and liked everything to be in its place but it wasn’t often possible with the sheer volume of kits that needed to be looked after.

As I backed out of the kit room and closed the door, I felt something hit me in the back.

“Sorry” mumbled the voice from behind me. “I was looking for Dave, I need a new top.”

I knew who it was but I didn’t really want to turn around and look at him.

“They’re not in there, I was just looking for him and Brianna too.” I responded in an emotionless tone, shrugging.

“Why are you being so weird?” he asked.

I turned to face him then and gave him a look of contempt before I answered him. “Maybe I just don’t enjoy spending time around footballers?”

“No offence love, but I think you might be in the wrong job if that is the case.” he put his hand on the door, next to my head where I was practically pinned against the door by how close he was to me. Only then did I realise that the training top that he was wearing was ripped, front he shoulder to his navel, the material hanging and exposing his toned chest and abs. I tried to look away but he had caught me looking and was now smirking.

“Maybe it’s just you that puts me off.” I shrugged as I ducked under his arm, escaping from my position between him and the door.

“You really don’t like me?” He huffed. “I don’t remember doing anything to offend you personally.”

“Maybe I’m offended that privileged young lads get money, fame and praise just for kicking a ball around a muddy field. Try something more impressive, like curing cancer or performing life saving surgery, ending world hunger, ending wars.” I groaned in frustration. Maybe that was the truth of it. Why should he get all the praise and admiration that he got, just for playing a sport? There were so many incredible people in the world doing, or working towards the things in that list that never got half the praise that Mason Mount did for kicking a ball.

He looked a bit dumb struck.

I went in again, “Maybe I don’t like you assuming that I should be into you, just because you’re Mason Mount, England and Chelsea midfielder. Maybe that’s what the girls in the club that throw themselves at your feet are into, but it’s not for me.”

I made to leave and he grabbed my hand and mumbled, “Sorry, I’ll leave you alone from now on.”

I didn’t respond. Just pulled my hand from his and stormed off towards the boot room, leaving him outside of the kit room in his ripped shirt.

“Fuck it smells like feet in here.” I complained, walking into the boot room with my nose pinched between my fingers in disgust.

“When I said that I liked shoes to dad, this is not what I meant.” Brianna laughed.

“What are you doing in here, I didn’t think boots were part of your job?” I asked, perching on one of the benches while Bri sat on the floor, sorting through a massive pile of boots to try and match up the pairs. They were in all sorts of bright colours and differing sizes. If I had to guess, I’d guess that she had been at her task for hours.

“Dad and the boot guy had some sort of emergency” she shrugged.

I laughed at that, wondering what kind of emergency you could have that involved kits and boots. Maybe they hadn’t ordered the right brand or something and one of the stars wasn’t going to get his cash from his boot deal if they didn’t find him the right pair.

There was a little tap on the sliding glass door that lead out onto the pitches and stood there was the guy from the other day that had held the door to the cafeteria open for us. He looked a little sheepish.

“Are you going to let him in?” I asked Bri, trying to unbury her from the pile of boots by throwing some of them into a pile, all of the orange ones in one corner, the yellow in another pile and pink in another and so on.

“Oh yeah.” she said, standing and brushing herself off, and adjusting her skirt that rode up her thighs slightly. The guy had noticed and I watched as he tried to look away and then down at his feet. At first I hadn’t thought that his shyness was that genuine. Footballers were all confident cocky little shits in my book, I’d never met one that was shy and unsure of himself.

Bri unlocked the door and let him in.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but only one of these fits” he said, holding up a pair of lime green boots and giving Bri an apologetic smile.

“Oh shit” she said, taking the pair from him and inspecting them. “I’ve given you one 10 and one 9.5.” she looked through the pile of lime green boots until she said “aha!” triumphantly brandishing another size 10 boot. “Here you go my love.”

That as just Bri’s way, she called everyone little pet names all the time, but he didn’t know that and he was blushing profusely and I was almost certain that his hands were shaking as he laced the boots up.

“Thank you so much.” he mumbled, looking like he was about to die of embarrassment. He turned to walk back out of the sliding door, but hadn’t realised that Bri had shut it behind him, so he ended up walking straight into the glass, hitting it with enough force to emmit a cracking noise from his nose which was suddenly streaming with blood.

I jumped up from my seat and crossed the room to him, avoiding the piles of boots the best that I could, not wanting to add myself to the casualty list.

I had an unused tissue in my pocket, that I took out and pressed to his nose. It was instantly bright red and the blood poured straight through it.

“Bri can you go and warn the medical room that we need to bring him down?” I asked.

She nodded in agreement and rushed out of the room.

I put my arm around his waist and guided him back over to the benches. He sat down and I slipped my cardigan off. It was a very thin material and already a deep shade of red. I didn’t let him protest as I replaced the tissue with my cardigan. It was the best that we had, and he looked like he was in a lot of pain.

“I’ve never seen anyone get that flustered before.” i laughed, sitting down beside him. He managed to give me a pained grin.

‘It’s Bri isn’t it? Is she why you were waiting by the canteen door the other day?” I asked gently, patting him reassuringly on the back. “I wanted to send her out of the room so that I could ask you, and also to reassure you that you shouldn’t be embarrassed about this. I’ve seen Bri do a lot more embarrassing things. She’s always falling over and hurting herself. You would make quite the pair.” I laughed.

He shook his head and mumbled “I can’t ask her out”.

“Why the hell not?” i scoffed.

“She has a boyfriend doesn’t she?” he shrugged, looking really sombre.

“Ah no, not anymore. Things are definitely over between her and that prick, and between you and me, if she ever gets back together with him, I’ll give her a matching broken nose.” I bumped shoulders with his, trying to cheer him up, just as Bri came back into the room and told us that the medical room were waiting for him.

“Can you come with me?” he asked, not talking to Bri, but to me instead.

“Sure, I would do anything to get out of work this afternoon. Our twitter page today is just full of fans that are disappointed that we didn’t use the Hazard money to sign Messi.” I laughed, getting up and guiding him towards the door.

“Can we catch up later?” I asked Bri before leaving the room, she nodded and told me she would be free all evening.

As we walked down the corridor I said to him “See, no plans to see a boyfriend” and he blushed again.

One of the medical assistants rushed out to meet us and guided him into the room exclaiming “Billy, what the hell? How have you done that?”

He shrugged, clearly feeling embarrassed about how he had injured himself. So when they looked over at me for clarification, I shrugged too.

Billy wasn’t the only player needing the use of the treatment room. As he sat down on one of the chairs, I noticed that Ben was in there too.

The medic went about dabbing Billy’s nose and he cried out in pain.

“Sorry about your cardigan.” he said, looking down at the red material on his lap. He didn’t need it now that he was getting patched up.

“Honestly don’t worry about it Billy.” I grinned.

The medic then mumbled something about needing something and left the room.

That gave Billy a bit more confidence to talk about what had happened.

“And thank you for the advice about your friend.” Billy seemed a bit happier as he said that, and I could see Ben out of the corner of my eye looking over at us as Billy spoke.

“Please tell me you’re going to ask her out!” Ben laughed.

I turned to look at him and smiled. “You know?”

Ben nodded and looked at Billy with a horrified expression “Oh god, you asked her out and she punched you.”

I shook my head. “Not exactly.” I said.

“The boyfriend was here for some reason, and he punched you?’ Ben went on, standing up and coming over to Billy. He walked with a slight limp.

He stood in between us.

“Why are you in here if you don’t mind me asking?” I looked down at his leg while asking the question.

“It’s my hamstring, nothing too serious.” He smiled.

“Don’t laugh at me when I tell you how I did this.” Billy warned, pointing at his nose. “I walked into a sliding glass door that I thought was open, all because she gave me a pair of boots and called me love.” he groaned, covering his face in embarrassment.

Ben laughed and clapped Billy on the back with his hand. “Oh mate, no wonder you’re embarrassed.” he then addressed me, asking “Just how cringy was it?”

I shook my head before answering him, “I honestly don’t think it was that bad. Bri is pretty oblivious sometimes and I don’t actually think she realised the real reason for you hurting yourself. So if you were to pluck up the courage to speak to her, I wouldn’t even bring it up.”

_________________________________________________________

The next day, I was looking out at the training pitches while I waited for the coffee machine to finish making my drink when there was a gentle tap on my door.

I crossed the room and opened it, expecting it to Bri or maybe even the club photographer giving me some new pictures of the squad to use, but it was Ben.

“Hi, are you free?” he asked, giving me one of his sweet smiles.

“Yeah come in.” I said, stepping back into my office and letting him pass me so that I could hold the door open.

“That coffee smells nice”. He remarked.

“Do you want one? Or did I put you off the other day?” I smiled.

“Ah no thanks, and no you didn’t put me off. I’ve never really liked the stuff. I like the smell of coffee, it just doesn’t taste as good as it smells.” as he spoke I realised that he was holding something in a plastic bag.

He realised that I was looking at it. “It’s your cardigan. I washed it for you at home. Think I got all the blood out but it’s red so I can’t really tell.”

I was for once, speechless. It was a small gesture but it was really kind all the same. I thought about making a witty remark about it actually being his mother or an employed cleaner that washed it for him but I just couldn’t bring myself to.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that. It’s only an old primark cardigan.” I said, taking the bag from him.

I suddenly felt a bit flustered in his company. He had that charming smile and didn’t really look like a cocky footballer to me. He didn’t act like one much either, he was just kind of like the guy next door, or the guy you would see on Tinder with a picture of him with his mates at the only photo on the profile so you couldn’t tell which one you were swiping for.

In all honesty, he kind of reminded me of my ex boyfriend Rory. He had the same sort of look, and they had similar accents. Maybe it was nostalgia that made me find being around Ben comforting.

‘I think your coffee is done.” he said, gesturing to the machine.

I nodded and walked over to the machine, taking the cup and adding some creamer and sugar. As I stirred the cup, he leant against my desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Something is bothering me if I’m honest.” he said.

“What is it?” I asked curiously.

“Mason said that you told him that you hate all footballers because we’re privileged and get too much clout for what we do.” He looked slightly disappointed in me. “Thing is, I don’t entirely disagree with you. Maybe we do get paid too much for what we do, and maybe doctors and nurses deserve way more praise than we do. I also don’t think that you hate all footballers. You were really kind to Blly yesterday and he won’t forget that in a hurry. You really helped him.” he continued.

“I don’t hate Billy, and I don’t think I hate you either.” I said quietly, taking a sip of my coffee.

“That is interesting.” he grinned, as he took one of my hands and guided me over to him, to stand in between his legs where he now sat on the edge of my desk.

Instinctively I put my coffee cup down and he put his arms around my waist.

“It’s interesting?-” he cut me off before I could say anything else, by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss is soft and gentle and lasts only a few seconds. He testing me and my brain is going in so many different directions. Am I actually going back on all of my principles and kissing a fucking footballer right now? And am I only doing it because he reminds me of my ex?

He moves to pull away, breaking the contact between our lips and I let out the tiniest whimper before putting my hand on the back of his head and pulling him back in for more. This time his tongue slips past my parted lips. My hand at the back of his head grips a generous handful of his hair and one of his hands makes its way to my bum.

My body feels like it is on fire. It has been a bloody long time since anyone kissed or touched me, and I hadn’t quite realised just how starved of affection I had been until I got a taste of it, a taste of him.

The telephone on my desk started to ring,and although I tried to ignore it, I just couldn’t. My job meant a lot to me and if it were Marina or someone of equal importance I would be chastised for missing the call.

We broke the kiss at the same time and I apologised to him. He grinned and fired back that I didn’t need to apologise and that he needed to get back to training, and by the time I picked up the phone, he was gone.

[olivemac]

heartbeat | chapter two | b.b.

Summary | When Steve Rogers asks Kate Stark to find the Winter Soldier, she gets too involved.

Notes | Captain America: Civil War re-write, essentially. Starts just after the events of CA: Winter Soldier.

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc, Bucky Barnes x Stark!oc

Genre | romance

Rating | explicit

Story Warnings | angst, fluff, romance tropes, so many romance tropes, coarse language, alcohol use, canon-typical violence , smut (m/f), oral sex (f&m receiving), 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings | coarse language

master list | AO3 link

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prev chapter

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Kate is on the next commercial flight to Bucharest. She's worried Bucky will move on before she can get to him, but she knows Tony would never approve of the use of one of his jets to chase down an ex-assassin in hiding. The less he knows, the better. Which is why she told him she was escaping to Europe for a long respite after feeling oh so overwhelmed with her work at Stark Industries.

Tony barely bats an eye when she told him. There were some advantages to being Tony Starks' baby sister. The first being he feels guilty about his ineptness at raising her after their parents' death and would literally let her get away with murder. The second is an almost unlimited bank account left to her by her father and supplemented by Tony's previously mentioned guilt.

Kate Stark was her mother’s mid-life crisis. Maria, three decades younger than her husband, had – at forty-two years old – decided she wanted another baby. Tony, who was eighteen at the time, had balked at the idea. But Howard relented and called in the best team of fertility doctors money could buy, and Kate was born.

She doesn't remember her parents, not really. She was only three when they died, and she doesn't remember that event either. Though she was there, in the car, when it crashed on Long Island.

Tony's only ever spoken to her about it once, after she accused him of hating her for surviving when their parents died. Really, he hated that he survived.

When rescue workers arrived at the scene of the wreck, they found her parents dead in the front seat and her tucked safely into her car seat in the back, bundled up against the December cold. She was an orphan, and Tony, at twenty-one, was suddenly responsible for a toddler.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He hired a series of nannies to raise her, then sent her off to boarding school as soon as she was old enough, all the while playing genius, billionaire playboy.

He wasn’t surprised when it turned out she was just as smart as him or their father. And it surprised him less when she followed in his footsteps and attended MIT. What did surprise him was when she started hacking government databases for fun. She only agreed to work for him at Stark Industries in exchange for him not sticking Rhodey on her after she released documents regarding the US Air Force‘s involvement in some less that savory overseas dealings.

On the plane, she starts an email to Steve telling him where she was headed and what she had found. Then she deletes it and starts over. Then deletes that. She chews her thumbnail and thinks. If she tells Steve where Bucky is, he'll come blazing in, shield at the ready, and Bucky will.... She doesn’t know what Bucky will do, but she has a feeling the encounter would end with a fight and Bucky running. Which will kill Steve. Again. So, she decides she doesn't need to tell Steve – not right away. She'll see if she can figure out what Bucky remembers – if anything – before telling Steve where he is.

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A little over forty-eight hours after her software found Bucky, Kate is assembling IKEA furniture in her new studio apartment in Romania. Getting the landlord to lease her the empty flat next to Bucky's was easy enough when Kate offered him double what he was asking in rent. He was discreet enough to not ask any questions. Most of the people in the building were hiding from something so a young American woman who paid cash upfront wasn't the most unusual thing he'd dealt with.

She makes her bed, unpacks her suitcase, and re-reads the Winter Soldier file. That night she dreams of her parents and the wreck that killed them. In the dream there's always a man outside of the car, but she can never see his face. Her father begs for help: "Help my wife, my daughter. Please. Help."

She wakes up sweating, a scream caught in her throat.

_____

The apartment next to his is no longer empty. Bucky can hear music and soft footsteps through the paper-thin walls. If he focuses his hearing, he can hear a heartbeat other than his own, but he's working to turn off the super soldier reflexes, so he tries to ignore it. He's enjoyed the silence that the empty apartment afforded him, and he hopes the new tenant isn’t as nosy as his neighbor in Kiev who had asked so many questions. He hadn't stayed long after that meeting.

Around two in the morning, he wakes to the sound of a strangled cry from his new neighbor. Bucky sits up straight, suddenly on alert. He listens closely, focusing for the sounds of a struggle, but he only hears the unfamiliar heartbeat. His neighbor was having a nightmare, he imagines. He had plenty of those himself.

Sometimes he was staring down the barrel of a gun, his only intent to kill. Other nightmares took him back to the HYDRA base and their machine that scrambled his thoughts over and over again. And others found him falling from a train, the blonde man from the Triskelion reaching out toward him. He always wakes up just before he hits the icy river he knows awaits him.

Bucky knows now that the blonde man is Steve Rogers. Without HYDRA's influence, he's started to remember more: flashes of Steve and a group called the Howling Commandos during the war, but also flashes of Steve before the war, smaller, shorter. And flashes of a family – his family – a father, a mother, a sister. Rebecca. The name comes to him one afternoon while he's browsing the used bookstore near his flat.

He's started eating plums and jogging to improve his memory. He isn't sure if it's helping, but the memories are becoming longer and more frequent. He sees himself with Steve at Coney Island, riding the Cyclone until Steve lost his lunch and Bucky laughed so hard tears were streaming down his face, and he sees himself flirting with an auburn-haired combat nurse in Italy, following her back to her tent and undressing her slowly.

He wakes the next morning feeling restless. He had slept in fits and starts, listening for any more disturbances from next door. None came.

He dresses and goes for a run, and when he returns, he catches his first glimpse of his new neighbor. She's coming out of her apartment, her face turned downward toward her phone. When he reaches the top of the stairs, she lifts her head and smiles. Bucky is struck by how pretty she is, a thought he hasn't let himself have since leaving HYDRA. He turns away quickly and slams the door to his own apartment. He doesn't need pink lips and dark curls reminding him of what he can never have again. He's too broken for her, or anyone else for that matter.

_____

Bucky has seen his new neighbor more times in five days than he's seen anyone else in the building over the past two months. They always seem to be coming or going at the same time.

The first time he actually speaks to her, she's dropping groceries up the stairs from a rip in her canvas bag.

"Fuck," she mutters as an apple rolls beneath the railing and falls to the landing below.

Bucky has a brief vision of her uttering that same word while his head is buried between her legs, but he shakes if off quickly.

"Let me," he says in English, scooping up some rogue potatoes and taking the bag from her.

"Thanks," she says before unlocking her door and holding it open for him.

Her apartment is the same layout as his – one room, with a tiny bathroom at the front and a small kitchen along the back wall. He sets the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and steps back.

"I should—"

"Thank you—"

They both speak at the same time. Bucky bows his head and motions for her to continue.

"Thank you for your help." She pauses. "And it's nice to speak English for a change. My Romanian is atrocious," she laughs. "How’d you guess?"

"All the music you listen to is in English," he replies brusquely.

She cringes. "Sorry. I'll turn it down."

"No," he says, "It's fine. Really."

There's an awkward pause as they both stare at each other.

Bucky breaks the silence first. "I should go."

"Right." She leads him to the door. "Thanks."

Bucky nods.

When his own apartment door closes behind him, he sighs and scrubs his right hand over his face. He needs to avoid her. He doesn't need anything to distract him from regaining his memories, and he certainly doesn't need to get close to someone he'll inevitably hurt. He doesn’t even begin let himself entertain the thought that she could be a HYDRA agent waiting to turn him in.

_____

Later that evening, he's startled by a knock at his door. When he peers into the hallway, there's a plate of food on the floor, covered with a cloth and a note. He picks it up.

Thanks for saving my groceries.

- Kate

Bucky considers the possibilities that she is a HYDRA agent and the food is poisoned, but he decides it's unlikely HYDRA would take that approach. If anything, they would want their soldier back, and if they didn't, they wouldn't kill him quickly. Also, he can't remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal – definitely before the war – and he’s starving. Protein bars aren’t really cutting it anymore.

He studies the note as he eats. He runs his fingers over the name written in curling handwriting: Kate, and debates what his next move should be. He needs to ignore her – for her own safety – but his mother raised a gentleman so he should at least thank her for dinner, right?

_____

Kate nearly steps on the plate when she leaves her flat the next morning for a run. It’s sitting right at her doorway, clean, the dish towel she had with it folded with a note peeking out.

Kate,

You’re welcome. Thank you for dinner.

- Bucky

If she knew how long Bucky had agonized over whether to write back, she probably would have cried. Kate definitely would have cried if she knew he had debated whether or not to sign the note “Bucky” or “James.” He’s been using James at any off-the-books odd jobs he can get, but with his memories returning, he’s been feeling more like the Bucky Steve referred to in DC.

_____

Kate makes a potato soup that night and leaves it outside his door sans note. She brings him dinner for a week straight before she asks him to dine with her.

"Come over,” she says the next time they pass in the hall.

"What?" Bucky freezes.

"Come over tonight,” Kate repeats, “for dinner.”

"Why?" He sounds rude. He should really work on that, but she’s caught him in one of his broodier moods after another sleepless night.

"Why not?” she shrugs. “I have wine."

He’s staring at her. He realizes he needs to stop staring at her and answer.

“Okay.”

“Seven thirty?” she suggests.

"Okay," he replies.

"Okay," she laughs.

For a second, Bucky wonders if she's laughing at him, but there's a softness in her eyes that makes him think not. Talking to women used to be easy, he thinks. It took him hours to come up with the simplest response to her note the other night, and now he can't even form a sentence in front of her. He spends the rest of the day worrying he's made a huge mistake in accepting her invitation.

He's not the only one. Kate has half a mind to call it all off, phone Steve, and get on the next plane back to New York. What if he doesn't remember anything? What if he's still the Winter Soldier? She has a brief vision of Bucky snapping and wrapping that metal hand he's been hiding around her throat – and not in a fun way. But when he knocks on her door at seven thirty, she thinks she might actually die from how sweet he looks.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, running his tongue over his lips nervously.

They're caught in another awkward moment of just staring at each other when she finally invites him.

The old Bucky would have bought flowers and then made some quip about how the flowers aren't nearly as beautiful as she is, but this Bucky – post-HYDRA Bucky – feels like he's forgotten how to interact with women at all and his tongue has suddenly turned to lead.

Kate's debated how much to reveal about herself. Finally, she decides she'll tell him everything. Well, mostly everything. He doesn't need to know that she's a Stark or friends with Steve Rogers or here on some crazy rescue mission to save the Winter Soldier because maybe, just maybe, she read his file one too many times and got caught up in the look in Steve's eyes when he talked about Bucky. No, he doesn't need to know that.

Kate's also considered how much to ask him about himself. She wants to know what – if anything – he remembers, but she also doesn't want to give herself away by revealing she knows who he really is. And she doubts he’ll tell her outright. The fact that he signed the note Bucky seems like a good indication that his memories are returning, though.

"How long have you been in Bucharest, Bucky?" she asks, plating their dinner.

"Almost two months," he says.

"Here for work?" she asks casually.

"Uh...it's complicated," he says, scratching at the back of his neck. "You?"

She looks up at him. "It's complicated."

They're staring at each other again, and Bucky has to force himself to look away.

"Family?" she asks.

"Also complicated," he says. God, he thinks, he sounds like a jackass. But it's not like he can tell her he's a ninety-eight-year-old ex-assassin in hiding so his family is probably long dead.

She motions for him to sit at her small kitchen table and sets a plate in front of him.

"You're not hiding a wedding ring under those gloves, are you?" she asks, a smirk on her lips. She knows about his arm; she just wants to see what he’ll give away.

He blushes and looks at his hands. Then he realizes he's taking too long to answer, and she probably thinks he's an idiot. "No... uh...no. No," he finally says without elaborating.

Kate can sense he's nervous so she does what Tony would do in a situation like this and just keeps talking. She tells him about Tony – minus the Stark detail. She talks about MIT and New York and the last book she read. He listens closely, laughing softly when she makes jokes and asking questions where appropriate. He likes the way her lips look when they form his name and the way her eyes light up at her own humor.

When they finish eating, Bucky helps her wash dishes. She considers asking him to stay, watch a movie or something, but then she thinks maybe she should take this slowly, not overwhelm him, so she bids him goodnight and closes the door behind him.

Bucky thinks Kate might be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Then he thinks that might be because she’s the first woman he’s interacted with in so long. Either way, he tries not to think of her that night when his body remembers what it's like to be a man.

He decides that staying away from her would be too hard.

On the other side of the wall, she’s thinking of him, too. She hadn't expected his eyes to be so impossibly blue. She had stared at the black and white military photo for hours, but seeing him in person, she was caught in the Arctic waters that made up his eyes.

_____

next chapter

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

Just Me and You - Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Pairing: Rio Alvarez x Black!Plus size!Oc

Summary: Simone Dunn is a singer just trying to live her best life and make it through the obstacles that have been put in front of her. Living life in the city isn’t always easy. Life might be kicking her in the ass presently, but she kept a smile on her face regardless. Rio Alvarez is all about his business. He’s expanding up and out of just the money laundering business. He wanted it all. He was hooked from the second he heard her voice, but will her past and his enemies let them be together?

Warning(s): None really. It’s a meet-cute. They meet, it’s cute. 

Word count: 2,026

Author’s Note: I’m not gonna lie, this story means a lot to me. I was never sure if I’d start posting it or not. Simone has been an OC of mine for a long time now and when the idea to pair her with Rio popped into my mind I knew it could be something very special. I hope you all enjoy the journey. As always questions, comments, and concerns are welcome! Might even start a tag list but we’ll see. Thanks for reading. xo

Rio stared out of the window, looking out at his investment. It had the perfect eye line for all the exits and it had the best view of the stage. Since he began flipping his game and moving up in the world he became acquainted with folks that had different tastes than him. The opportunity to invest in this club kind of fell in his lap. His new co-owner was a sloppy prick, but Rio couldn’t deny the club was bringing in a nice grip of money for him. He liked the anonymity of being a silent partner. Every two weeks he’d roll through, check up on the club, and collect some cash to put into his other businesses.

As he looked down at all the club goers, he was pleased to see the place was pretty packed. He was not happy to see the owner, Shaun, with two women on his arm. This wasn’t a social hour. He was here for business. Mick, his right hand man, was guarding the door and hadn’t moved an inch to let Shaun in. 

“Hey man. Place is poppin tonight right?” Shaun greeted Rio as he tried to maneuver past Mick who only moved at Rio’s nod. “Enjoying your night? These are a couple lady friends of mine. Say ‘hi’ ladies.”

“Hi.” The two girls parroted at Rio, waving at him.

Rio didn’t bother greeting the women. “Get rid of the bitches man.”

“What?” Shaun asked, his tone confused.

“I ain’t gonna tell you twice.” Rio’s face hadn’t changed. He just stared Shaun down.

Shaun cleared his throat and whispered something to the ladies before they shuffled back out of the room. It was quiet except for the sound of the music pumping through the speakers.

“My bad man. They were sexy as hell though right? Can you really blame me?” Shaun tried to excuse, a smile on his face as he walked over to where Rio was standing.

As soon as he was within arms reach, Rio gripped the back of his neck tightly and pulled him close. He stared directly in his eyes. “Don’t ever bring nobody to one of our meetings again. I choose to keep you on, but that can easily be changed. Get my money and stop fucking playing with me.”

Shaun merely nodded and Rio let go of him. Shaun tried adjusting his suit and cleared his throat. He walked over to the wall that was furthest from the window and opened a panel in the door. He put the code into the panel and opened it up. There was a silver case inside that he pulled out before closing the door back. “Business has been better than ever. I was able to add a permanent residency here that has us packed every week. We may even be able to up prices a bit.”

Rio’s eyebrow quirked in interest at the man’s words. “Permanent residency?”

Shaun had set the case on the table and Mick opened it, starting to count the money that was inside. Rio walked closer to take a look inside and noticed that there seemed to be a couple more stacks than usual.

“Yeah. I’m still having different live performers come in, but people also like consistency. They like knowing they’re coming to hear quality music. And the pipes on this one? Massive. Doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous too.”

Rio would never admit it but he was definitely intrigued. “Who is she?”

Shaun walked back over to the window and smirked as he looked down. “Simone Dunn. Lucky for you, you came at the perfect time.”

Rio noticed the club music had shut off and people were clapping. As he walked to stand next to Shaun, a slow instrumental was playing. A soft spotlight appeared on the stage and the crowd’s clapping intensified. A giggle was heard over the mic.

“Aww, y’all are too good to me.” The woman’s voice was clear as day, but had an alluring quality. She had big black hair falling over her shoulders in waves. Her dress was pink and it gave a tantalizing view of her breasts as well as her full figure. Her skin was creamy brown and the outline of her ass was particularly appealing to Rio.

“We’re starting off grown and sexy tonight y'all. So if you’re vibing with someone, gon’ head and pull ‘em a little closer. I’m just tryna help y’all possibly end the night on a good note, if you know what I mean.” She winked at the crowd and people laughed as others hollered and whistled.

A familiar beat reached Rio’s ears, taking him back to house parties in his old neighborhood. He remembered talking slick to a fine girl as she danced on him, knowing she was gon let him fuck by the end of the night.

I'll always think of you Inside of my private thoughts I can imagine you Touching my private parts And just the thought of you I can't help but touch myself That's why I want you so bad Just one night of

The sultry sound of her voice traveled from Rio’s ears straight to his dick. He watched as her hips moved side to side as she gripped the mic stand. She was a temptress, an enchantress. Hell, she was a siren and her song was the one calling him home. Home being the absolute treasure he was sure is hiding between her thighs. 

Can't get my mind off you I think I might be obsessed The very thought of you Makes me want to get undressed I want to be with you In spite of what my heart says I guess I want you too bad All I want is

Her eyes were locking onto different people in the crowd. She was working her magic on everyone. People were partnered up and there was lots of grinding happening on the dance floor. As she looked around, her eyes happened to dart up and land on his. She looked taken aback, but curious. She never once stopped singing and now it seemed like she was singing the words directly to him.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Shaun asked, but Rio ignored him. His eyes were still locked with Simone’s as she sang. A smile pulled at her lips and her cheeks felt hot so she pulled her eyes away from him to look back toward the crowd. She missed the quick smile that appeared on Rio’s face before he turned his back to the window.

“Have you had any trouble here? Fights? Anyone tryna shake you down?” Rio asked Shaun, who looked perplexed by the sudden topic shift.

“No. I would have called you right away. Like I said, things have been great. Should I be worried or on the lookout?” Shaun asked, his tone taking on a nervous quality.

“Nah, man. Just looking out for my investment. Enjoy your night with your lady friends.” Rio dismissed the other man and Shaun took the exit without hesitation.

“You think they know you got dealings in this place?” Mick asked, once Shaun was gone.

“No, but you can never be too careful.” Rio replied, eyes drifting back toward the stage. She had begun singing a new song. Something a bit more fast paced. “I wanna keep this place as legit as possible. We need something clean in case we run into some trouble. But I aint scared of them. I’ll deal with ‘em when the time’s right.”

Mick merely nodded his head as he finished up the count.

“Everything square?” At Mick’s confirmation, Rio walked over to him. “Go ahead and take everything back to the warehouse. Imma stay and check things out for a bit. Have a drink. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Rio headed down to the bar and got himself a shot of brandy. He nursed his drink as he finished listening to the performance going on. He was in the middle of texting some associates to set up meetings for the next week when applause broke out all around him. He looked up to see Simone walking towards the bar, blowing kisses as she went.

“Ji, baby! Please get me one last malibu pineapple and I’ll love you forever.” She exclaimed, taking a seat one away from Rio. He was watching her interaction with the bartender.

“You better already love me.” The bartender, Ji-hoon, retorted even as he went about making her drink.

“You know I do boo.” She winked, a wide grin on her face. “In fact, I love you so much that I’m leaving you a big tip tonight.”

“Are you trying to buy me? Cause I’m absolutely up for sale.” He smiled, sliding her drink over to her as he leaned on the bar. He glanced over at Rio and nodded his head towards him. “Hey, you need to be topped off?”

“Yeah, man.” Rio answered and Simone finally noticed him sitting there. Ji poured Rio another drink before getting distracted on the other side of the bar by other paying customers. 

Simone made eye contact with him before looking down at her drink and swishing the glass around.

“You have a beautiful voice, mama.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” She looked up at him with a smile on her face.

“Interesting choice of song too. I know a couple people here gotta be happy about the assist you gave them.” 

She laughed and shook her head. “Anything for my fans.”

“Anything?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Within reason.” She quickly added.

“So you’ll let me buy your drink, then.” 

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow and she turned around in her stool to face him, legs crossed and her silver heels shining. “So you’re a fan?”

“I am now.”

“I’ve had an open tab all night and I just promised Jian a big tip.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, and her eyes narrowed.

“And what do you want in return for so graciously picking up my tab?” 

A smirk appeared on Rio’s face and he slid one bar stool over to be closer to her. Their eyes never left one another. “I’d love to have a conversation with one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Her lights lit up in surprise and delight at his words. That soft smile of hers, returning to her face. “I guess I could swing that. So what’s your name?”

“It’s Rio, sweetheart. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Rio….I like it. I see you’re familiar with Shaun. Y’all friends or something?”

“Or something.” He answered, taking a sip of his drink.

“Or something. That’s not mysterious at all.” She joked.

“I aint no mystery baby. What you see is what you get.”

She snorted. “That’s what they all say.”

“Who?”

“Boys.” She retorted, finishing her drink.

“I’m all man and I’d love to demonstrate just how much of a man I am.” 

She looked back over to him and there was a delicious smirk on his face. No one man should be able to look like that. It’s too much power. “Tempting, but I have plans.”

“At 2 in the morning?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Is that judgment I hear in your tone Mr. ‘I-Can’t-Say-How-I-Know-Shaun?’”

Rio had to chuckle. “You got me there.”

She checked her phone and sighed at the time. “I gotta go, but it was nice meeting you Rio. Hope to see you again.” She then asked Ji-hoon to hand her the bag that was hidden behind the bar.

“You will.” He asserted, wondering why she didn’t use the employee lockers he remembered being installed. The thought was erased from his mind by her leaning into his personal space. His hand immediately went to her waist and his fingers grazed the top of her ass.

“I’m counting on it.” She whispered in his ear, before walking away and waving at a couple people as she went. He watched her the whole time and it wasn’t until she reached the exit that she turned her head to look back at him. He knew he had her.

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Katelynw93

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Katelyn, but most people call me Kate, Katie or sometimes even Kat.

Age: 27

Location: Originally from Kansas, but have been located in Upstate NY for the last six years.

URL: @katelynw93​

Why did you choose your URL: It’s usually the username that I use for everything and if I’m being honest, I’m not very creative when it comes to titles or names. Lol. I’ve been meaning to change it; I just need to decide on what.  

What inspired you to become a writer: Well, when I was in middle school (maybe seventh or eighth grade), my best friend and I decided to write a story together and post it on a fanfiction site (Can’t remember the site name, though.) And I just loved it. We never did finish that story. Lol. But eventually I started branching out and found some roleplay writing sites.  

How long have you been writing: Started writing in middle school (2006/2007), but really got into it in 2009 with RP. However, September of this year (2020) was the first year I started really writing fics by myself and opening posting them. 

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? I work a lot, usually an average of 40+ hours a week; I am a manager at a popular food chain restaurant and on the weekends, a cashier at a gas station to provide a little extra cash for my family. When I’m not working, my time is spent with my two kids; Alekzander (Zander) who just turned five this past November and Lincoln (Link) who will be two in February. Outside of work and my family, I’m usually writing. Sometimes if I’m feeling extra creative or inspired, I’ll create a few crackships for couples I really enjoy. Lol. 

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? I actually found Supernatural around the same time I started writing, so back in ninth grade, so 2008/2009. It was honestly an accident too, because I was searching for Smallville episodes (I have an unhealthy addiction to Superman and DC/Marvel.) and stumbled upon an ad for Supernatural. Was instantly intrigued and fell in love. Seasons 1 - 5 (the Kripke era) are my favorite. 

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? Oh yea, I love TV shows and movies, and as I’ve already stated above, I love DC and Marvel. I’ve also written for Grey’s Anatomy and am willing to write for more, but SPN, DC and Grey’s are currently the only ones I’ve written for. I love The Vampire Diaries, One Tree Hill, Private Practice, Station 19, 9-1-1, Game of Thrones, The Witcher, Merlin, Dexter, Psych, and so, so many more. There are too many to list. Lol.  

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it? Other than RPing, not really. I mean, I did try to do an original story with my friend when I was younger, but it never went anywhere. But I am willing to try someday. 

Favorite published author: Other than the really big authors like; J.K. Rowling, George R.R. Martin, Jim Butcher, Nicholas Sparks, Suszanne Collins, I really like (and maybe it’s cliche) Stephenie Meyer. The Twilight Saga made me fall in love with reading and eventually, that love led me to writing. Those books hold a special place in my heart.  

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: Well, I guess I sort of answered that one already. But there truly are so many amazing books out there and still so many more to discover. 

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc): Oh man, I’m not gonna lie, a majority of what I read is probably smut. But I am particularly fond of angst. I want you to make me cry. Really dig and stab into my emotions. Lol. And then come back in with some fluff. Haha. 

Favorite piece of your own writing: Well, that would have to be Sweet Cherry Pie because it was really the first piece I’ve ever finished and published online. It was inspired by an RP that I am currently involved in and they are my favorite couple in said RP. It got so much positive feedback after I shared it that it inspired me to keep writing. I was so nervous about posting it, but I am glad I did. 

Most underrated fic you have written: Oh I’m not sure. Maybe Love Bites. I am a sucker for Supernatural and The Vampire Diaries crossovers. I really loved writing this fic and am eager to write more. 

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Oh damn, um, it’d be cool to see any of them like that. But maybe Sweet Cherry Pie or Out of the Fire (my firefighter!Dean series).  

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): There are so many, but I usually find myself reading work from; @impala-dreamer​, @katehuntington​  @deanwanddamons​, @muchamusedaboutnothing​.  

Favorite Fic from another writer: This one is tough because there are so many amazing fics out there, especially ones that I adddddore; but if forced to choose, one story that will always stick with me would have to be Treacherous by @idkhaylijah​ OR The Sullivan Series by Kate Huntington 

Favorite character to write: Dean Winchester. I adore Dean and he’s probably the easiest for me to write. I have written the most fics with him and I portray him often in the RPs that I do. 

Favorite Pairing to write: Dean with anyone, but my favorite would be Dean x Caroline. 

Least favorite character to write (and why): That’s a tough one, cause there’s not really any that I’m uncomfortable with or dislike writing. Maybe characters with accents, because I don’t really know how to capture that in writing yet? I’m pretty open with my writing and am willing to try mostly anything. 

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor? Oh definitely. When I first started RPing, there was another girl (Jocelyn) that I used to write with and she influenced a lot of my writing. She was older than me and had more experience and gave me a lot of tips on how to get better. She is an amazing writer and had the potential of going far with it, but life happens and unfortunately, she doesn’t write anymore. But she is booming on Youtube, so that’s pretty impressive. It’s pretty cool to see how far she’s come. 

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? I used to want to be a journalist when I was younger, but other than that, not really. I just want to have fun with it and write something meaningful for someone, and always improve and get better.  

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: I have a few ideas jotted down, maybe ten, but I haven’t actually started any of them. I have so many bingo cards I need to finish, but with my work schedule, it’s been pretty crazy. 

What are you currently working on? My main project is Out of the Fire.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? Definitely the RPing that I’ve done and am currently doing. My friend Alesha has been the longest RP partner that I’ve had and her writing is phenomenal - and it helps a lot too when your mind's work in similar ways; her and I always seem to be on the same wavelength when it comes to writing. I love it. But like me, she has a very busy schedule and writing is limited. 

Best writing advice you've been given: Have fun with it, write what you want to write and always be open to helpful criticism. And don’t stress about it, either. Write in your own time. It’s meant to be fun, not stressful. 

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Just finding the time to write and getting over being so self conscious about my writing. I don’t let anyone in my real life read what I write.  

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? Just capturing the personalities of the canon characters sometimes; if it’s a character I’m not used to writing, I worry about portraying them the right way. And I have trouble individualizing the characters (separating them from myself/my own personality), like when I create an OC for an RP, sometimes when I have too many, their personalities all become the same in ways (if that makes sense?). And accents. I have trouble with accents. Oh, and fight/action scenes. They take me a bit.  

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): I am always going to be afraid, no matter what it is that I’m writing, because I worry about it succeeding. I want to write for other fandoms though, I guess, but like I said, I worry about capturing the characters right and having a decent storyline that is unique. 

What inspires/motivates you to write: Honestly, positive feedback. I love hearing what people think about my writing and it motivates me to continue. 

How do you deal with self-doubt: That’s a tough one. I guess I just look towards my writing friends or beta’s for reassurance or I go back and read the positive comments and likes on the fics I’ve already shared. It encourages me to continue. 

How do you deal with writer's block: I usually listen to music and I’ll look up gifs of my favorite characters, create stories in my head with those gifs or I’ll create gif sets of specific scenes. If that doesn’t work, I’ll take a break and watch one of my favorite TV shows for inspiration. 

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: For my RPs, I have a group chat with those I’m writing with and we usually shoot ideas back and forth, but mostly we wing it. For my fics, I normally just wing it, but with Out of the Fire, I have a rough idea of what I want from each part. With that said, my ideas or plans often change as I’m writing. These characters have a mind of their own sometimes. Lol.  

Do you have any weird writing habits: I don’t know about any weird habits, but I always have music on and I guess I have to do it in spurts. I’ll write a few paragraphs or sentences, pause and scroll tumblr or facebook or gifs, and then go back, reread what I wrote and then write a few more. Rise and repeat. 

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? So far, no I haven’t, and I hope I don’t ever have to deal with that. But I know it’s bound to happen. I guess if I were to ever encounter that, I’d like to say that I’ll take it as a learning experience but I honestly don’t know I’d feel about that.  

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic? Oh man, I guess my favorite would have to be ellewritesfix05 reaction to the secret santa fic I wrote for her; Dean Fucking Winchester. And all the positive feedback I’ve gotten for Out of the Fire.

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be? Have fun with it. Write what you want and what you’re comfortable with. Don’t be afraid of constructive criticism and most importantly, don’t stress. Writing is fun.

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 4- Seeking and Chasing

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing💫💛? I finally completed the 4th chapter, phew. I am really sorry for the delay, It has been some time ( a month to be precise). But I hope that you enjoy reading this💛. Thank you for all the love that you have given the earlier chapters and I love you all very much 💛

Thank you so very much @ohramsey​ for everything. I love you x infinite and I will miss you so much😭🤍❤

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: 2.3K 

Triggers: Mentions of blood, murder

For Ethan and Pooja, a mutual day off was once in a blue moon thing. So whenever they had one, they would put the world out of their mind and remain engrossed in each other.

And now, after getting a cherished day off for the first time in at least one and a half months, they were sitting here scrutinizing the clues they had assembled from the crime scene.

They sat down on the couch, opened their laptops and kept auxiliary notebooks with them to note any admissible details they could find. Ethan took the three pieces of paper and stationed them down on the coffee table.

The first one was the third bloody note that Pooja had received.

It said: "Ahh, here you are. I knew, I knew you would come. You bastards are as obstinate as I am. But don't worry, I like it. So, did you like my pretty little portrayal that I had made for you? All this is just a sprinkle of my intuitive plan. The real game hasn't even begun yet. Just wait and be on your guard for my twisties and turnsies."

"Hasn't this person done enough? What the freaking hell does he want?" Pooja said, on the brink of tears. She was literally done with this pathetic game of blood.

Ethan hugged her tightly. "Calm down, Love. It hurts me to see you like this. We will find out everything. We will find this person, and we will make them compensate for their sins. I promise." 

"Ethan, I love you so much. Please be with me ad infinitum." Pooja planted a featherlight kiss on Ethan's cheek. 

"I will, Baby, I will, I love you too," Ethan assured her, while tenderly wiping off her tears. 

"And... you don't have to use fancy terms to tell me to love you forever."

At this, Pooja let out a tee-hee.

After she had calmed down, they looked at the second piece of paper. It was a drug store receipt.

"Propofol?"

"If this is a receipt left-back by the murderer, then why Propofol, did they feel remorseful for Davis? " Pooja scoffed. 

"Remorseful? I sure as hell that's not the case." 

Pooja's question lingered in Ethan's mind. Why would, he thought, the murder make the patient unconscious? So that he doesn't shout?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Poke Poke. Pooja poked at his side, bringing him back to reality.

 "A penny for your thoughts?"

" Just thinking about propofol."

" And what does the mind of the world-class diagnostician say about that?"

" As for now, it says nothing essential."

"But?"

"there is a what if."

"And that is?"

" What if the criminal is right in our plain sight?"

" So, as I understand, you are suggesting that the murder is someone-"

"From the hospital. It would be the easiest for a staff member to do everything, isn't it?"

" Hmmm. Although it is a stab in the dark, it is a pretty commendable reasoning. Good job Mr Mitter."

"Mr what?"

"You don't know Mr. Mitter??!! You need to catch up on your detective knowledge, Ramsey. We need to go on a mystery novel-reading spree, ASAP!"

"Don't you think that's just irrelevant to what we are discussing?"

"Excuse You! How the hell are mysteries irrelevant in a discussion of mysteries?" 

Pooja made a phoney, angry face that made Ethan laugh.

" Okay, so number one you are looking ridiculous with that face and number two maybe, I agree with you, just a little."

"WAIT"

"Did you just... give in and agree with me? The Ethan freaking Ramsey accepted his defeat?"

"How is this def-"

"I will write about this day in golden letters in my autobiography."

"Autobiography?" Ethan was chuckling like an idiot.

"Hey, what do you think? I can't write an autobiography or what?"

"No, no, of course, you can! But I really wanna know if you are going to write about your escapades with Jenner or the sleep-talks you do all night. Or maybe about the variety of chocolate you like."

"ETHAN!"

"Okay Okay, I will stop. Let's look at the third bit of paper." 

The third paper was a visiting card. Or something that looked like visiting card held together with a lot of tape. The name on it was too faded for them to interpret. However, they could make out the address and the designation which, surprisingly, was Dr.

All the lingers of laughter and joy from the previous exchange dispersed and seriousness took its place.

"So, this person is a doctor. Very Peculiar!" Pooja remarked.

"What about all this is not uncommon, Poo? Even if they are a doctor, why target you and Alex? How does this person even know you both?" Ethan said, a tinge of anger lingering in his tone.

Pooja absently fiddled with the card while suddenly something caught her eye. In tiny handwriting, the letters D.I.B.S.15. She presented it to Ethan.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

"It looks like some cryptic message to me. Maybe the murderer wrote it absently on this card. We need to infer its meaning. It can be crucial."

"Hmm. Seems, like we have a lot of investigation to do. But at first, let's note down the enigmas we need to find the answers of."

They grabbed a notebook and wrote down all the lingering inquiries and matters about which they were going to seek.

Who is Mr Davis? Why was he targeted?

Why did no one from his acquaintances never come to question about him?

Why did the murderer target Pooja and Alex? How does he know them?

How was the murder perpetrated?

The addresses

MedMinder Drug Store

D.I.B.S.15

"Ethan?"

"Hmm?"

"Should we call the medical store? They might have vital information about the person who bought their stuff."

"Sure they will, reckoning that the person who bought the stuff is the same as the one who murdered Mr Davis."

"Or, you know, we can go there. Like check out both the addresses personally? So many facts are not present on the 'net. We may find something worthwhile for the case or maybe, even find the mastermind?"

"I was contemplating the same thing. But I wanted to take Mark and Alex with us. After all, four brains are more dependable than two." Pooja snickered a little. 

"Sure. I will shoot them both a text to meet us up after their shifts get over." 

But there was no need to do that. When Pooja unplugged her phone from the charger, she saw their texts. Both of them had taken an off early and were en route to Ethan's penthouse.

After fifteen minutes, Mark and Alex arrived. Ethan and Pooja filled them up with everything they had come across.

Then they told them about their plan of visiting the two addresses. 

"That would be incredible. But before that, you both should know the autopsy results." Mark said. 

"The Autopsy result came?" Pooja asked. 

"Yup, this morning. And guess what?"

"The cause of death is not the throat slit. It is Acute Cyanide Poisoning. The throat was slit afterwards." Alex informed them.

"What the hell?" Pooja remarked, wide-eyed.

"All this is so seriously messed up, isn't it?"

"The person has a medical history. They would know the dosage. Also, looking at the kind of criminal he is, it would not have been too difficult for him to arrange the cyanide." Ethan stated. 

"But Why Mr. Davis? I don't understand" Alex queried curiously. 

"Let's get going. I am sure we will get at least some of our answers from these two addresses." 

The four grabbed their coats, took the three clues, packed their tab and set off. The first address on Lyon Avenue was not far from Ethan and Pooja's place. 

They arrived there in ten minutes and spent another five minutes in searching the store.

The drug store was not very busy, dimly illuminated and smelt fusty. 

The man at the counter didn't even notice them coming until, 

"Ahm" 

Ethan cleared his throat. 

The man almost jumped out of his seat. Regaining his composure, he said, "How, ahem, How may I help you?" 

"We need some information. Can you remember who was the person who bought these from you?" Pooja said, handing him the receipt. 

"I am sorry, but information of our customers is confidential. We can not reveal it to anyone except security personals or family member."

Uh Oh. Now what? Nothing a sprinkle of drama can't resolve. 

"Um, Actually the person who bought these from you was most probably my brother. And he is missing for the last three days. So we are searching for information which can lead up to him." Mark said.

Either The shopkeeper was disinterested in their explanation or whatever he said about confidentiality was a lie because he didn't question Mark. He just eyed him sceptically and revealed,

"It was four days ago. I don't remember quite well, but I can give you some information. It was a man of medium height, wearing a high collared black jacket. He wore sleek black sunglasses and a mask. He did not speak anything but handed me the list of items he needed.

He made his payment in cash. When I asked if he was a medical professional, he showed me his visiting card. The card seemed pretty old and unkempt, but the designation Dr. was visible. So I didn't think much and gave him his things. That's all I can recollect."

"Was the visiting card that he showed similar to this?" Ethan asked, presenting the visiting card they had.

"Let me see."

"Yup, the font does seem similar." 

"Seems like this might be our man. Thank you very much for the information." Mark said before they started to exit the shop.

"Wait a sec." The man at the counter beckoned them.

They turned back.

"What is it?"

"I just remembered something. The man, he gave me an extra 20 bucks. When I informed him that he had given me extra cash, he gestured me to keep it. Also, when he was handing over the money, he folded up the left sleeve of his shirt, and there were numerous cut marks on it." The man at the counter told them.

The instant they heard about the cuts, they got the confirmation of their lingering suspicions.

This man was the murderer, and he was the one who was sending them the bloody notes.

The four thanked the man, and as a gesture of gratitude handed him some bucks. Then they left the shop and set off for their next destination.

Once seated back in the car, Pooja said, "So now we know that we are following the right person. Maybe the second address will tell us more."

"Mark, How did you deduce the murderer to be a man?" Alex asked.

"Just took a wild speculation. And because I have,"

Mark stopped.

"had a brother, that came out spontaneously." Mark's voice held traces of pain and brought out the confrontation among his thoughts.

But he quickly regained composure and said, "But thank god the guess was right. If not, we would be in a hell of a mess."

Mark laughed a bit, but his laughter sounded somewhat void.

For the rest of the journey, there was no conversation. A deafening muteness fell in the car, but no one tried to rip through it.

The journey to the second address took 20 minutes.

But they were a bit taken aback from the situation of the place.

It was a cryptic, morose part of the city, and it was awkward for a doctor to set up their practice here. In the entire street, darkness lurked. Flickers of light were visible in some of the houses.

Ethan, Pooja and Alex started to walk down the street slowly to locate the private clinic, but Mark stayed behind.

It was as if distasteful remembrances came to him, inundating him, due to the sight in front of him.

There was a glimmer of identification of the area in his eyes.

After walking a few steps, Alex realized that Mark was not with them.

At first, she began to panic, but when she turned around and saw Mark standing by the car, sighed in relaxation.

"MARK, MARK" Alex beckoned him.

Alex's voice caused Ethan and Pooja to turned around. They, too, detected Mark and the three started to pace towards the car.

"Mark, what happened?" Alex asked after arriving at the car, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Then she spotted the tears rolling down Mark's face.

Before she could say anything, Mark hugged her and broke into stringent sobs. His entire body was shuddering with every cry.

Ethan and Pooja quickly went beside him, trying to calm him down while Alex held him in her embrace.

"Mark, Honey, what happened? Is something wrong? Are you feeling unwell or something?" Alex asked, panic apparent in her voice.

Sensing her dread, Mark tried to regain his composure. And he succeeded a bit.

Breaking himself from Alex's embrace but holding her hand for strength, he levelled up. The other three looked at him, concern and curiosity both unambiguous on their faces.

"T-T-This place, I k-know this place." Mark began, voice trembling a bit.

"You do?" Pooja asked.

"Y-yup. This place, it endures as the beholder of the pain my family went through. All our sufferings, all our cries started here and ended h-here." Mark said, on the verge of tears.

"Mark, if you don't want to talk about it, it is okay, you don't have to," Ethan said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"N-No, I have to say this. I have to tell you."

Mark took a pause.

"T-T-This place is where m-my c-childhood home is."

The grief that we hide from the world, that we bury deep in our soul, when it comes out, it twists knives in a way that rips through all our soul leaving us as shredded as we were when we encountered it.

PS: This case had pulled strings which no one had expected. But will these strings tug the answers with them? This chapter feels like the beginning of the end. What do you think, is Mark's dilemma? What about Pooja's childhood? And what new challenge will the murderer place in front of them?

Every question will be answered and every Mystery will be solved. They might be Detectives by chance but their skills know no bound.

If you enjoyed the story, please like, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going 💕. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day ahead.💕💕

[revalise]

After the Sun [M] | 01

Pairing: Chrollo Lucilfer x Fem. OC

Genre: Romance and eventual smut

Rating: M

Words: 2500+

Notes: Huge thanks to Sky @pixiewombat for beta reading this chapter! 

All characters are humans unless otherwise stated in their description. Hence, Zazan is human in the story.

Masterlist | Prologue | 02

Chrollo Lucilfer gets everything he wants, when he wants-even if it means undergoing extreme measures. Nothing bothered him, until an aphrodite, Astra Gerber, appeared one night and stole from the infamous thief. In return that Chrollo doesn’t report her, he strikes a deal. But it could be more than what Astra bargained for. 

BOLD

“What do you mean your necklace was stolen?” Pakunoda eyed Chrollo carefully as he sat behind his desk at his penthouse, looking over the magnificent, illuminating lights of Yorknew City, while she stood in front of him.

“It just was stolen,” he deadpanned.

Pakunoda clicked her tongue. There was no way someone could steal from Chrollo—a bandit himself, and a good one at that.

She thought to herself for a moment. ‘Is he planning to steal the poor girl’s hatsu?’

Once, he had charmed the pants off of a girl who could write fortunes and stole her ability. Despite his obvious antics, he wasn’t found out, thanks to the girl’s inexperience. But when he managed to get a hold of how it should be done, he started doing it again and again. 

Pakunoda didn’t complain. Chrollo’s Bandit’s Secret was a trump card, not only for him, but for the rest of the group. When Chrollo noticed the drastic advantage the ‘strategy’ gave him, he started using it more often. To him, it felt like a shortcut.

And who would expect someone so sophisticated and pretty-boy looking?

She sighed and put the folder down on his desk.

Chrollo had asked Pakunoda to find the girl who had stolen his necklace. He remained vague about it, but knowing Chrollo, it might be something extremely important. 

He looked over the files, silently reading their contents, taking them in just as he consumed  knowledge from his ancient books. His fingers traced the letters of the name written in bold on one of the pages.

ASTRA BEATRIZ GERBER

Pakunoda gazed at him with suspicion. Meddling with this girl could endanger the nature of the group. She was nowhere near a simple girl, alright. The girl spelled trouble.

She was the illegitimate child of an acknowledged former lawyer, Martin Gerber, before he took over the Gerber family dynasty.  

This information wasn’t exactly kept a secret. It was silent gossip within the small circle of socialites and elites. Illegitimate children weren’t news to the circle. Three out of five families in the circle had a case of their own. But it so happened that the Gerber family was known to be conservative—faithful to their betrothed, or as painted by the media.

Nevertheless, it only took that mistake to have the head of the family, Rod Gerber,  wavering in his trust in Martin. To his dismay, this almost cost him the whole dynasty. Fortunately, Rod was a good man, unlike his son. To secure his position in becoming the next successor as the eldest, Martin had to keep the child and take her as his own.

It shamed Martin to do so, keeping an illegitimate of his own accord. Though his wife was noticeably against it, she had to agree if she wanted to be the wife of the very powerful man. Cleverly, she argued that it would bring discomfort to her family if the child were to live in the same house as them. Rod then agreed that Martin would just have to sustain the needs of the child in the mother’s care.

Chrollo took all of the information  in, almost feeling bad for the girl, if  it weren’t for his own experiences.  

The same thought as Pakunoda had crossed his mind. Her father had connections in law. If Chrollo, say for example, met the girl’s father and he decided to look deeper into Chrollo and his background, it wouldn’t really be a problem. The group knew how to cut their ties. They eliminated those who had seen them. But if worse came to worst, this could have blown the group’s cover. 

The Phantom Troupe weren’t regular thieves. They were thieves with intellect that calculated their every movement. Before they acted on anything, Chrollo, who had a personal philosophy of theological dualism - the balance between good and evil - that influenced his decisions, would first weigh his options. His actions were always calculated.

It was not that they feared the law or the man himself, but the Phantom Troupe managed to blend in with the crowd, no one knew of who they were. And the group loved being free despite the criminality they commit.

From the moment he first laid his eyes on her, he knew she was trouble.

But none of the information stopped him.

***

Zazan promised Astra dinner. But it was way past dinner, and the staff of the three-star Michelin restaurant she had booked kept going back and forth, assisting and asking for her order, which she refused to give until her aunt arrived.

Her aunt, Zazan, was her father, Martin’s, little sister. For all her life, she was her mother figure. Zazan always had her back whenever her father didn’t. Her aunt loved designer and luxury items, and was a designer herself. Hence, her love for luxury and designer.

To state it simply, Astra was given to her aunt after she lived with her dad for two years when her mother died. She was only six then.

She remembers how much scorn she received from Martin’s legitimate family, and how she was treated as less than a freeloader, being an illegitimate child. Not once did her father defend her from them.

After all, she was a nobody, aside from the Gerber blood running through her veins.

Astra, at four, never spoke with anyone, not even the maids that served the family in their mansion. She remained quiet, hiding inside her room, but doing everything she was told—even standing for hours, with no food and water, beside the silver knight decorations in the hallway of their house because her older half-sister told her to. She ignored the numbing sensation in her knees until a helper saw her.

That was, until Zazan returned to the city and took interest in the meek, little girl she once was. And for the first time in two years, she spoke and her voice sounded hoarse. Her words were: “Can I come with you?”

From then on, Zazan took her as her own. Martin had no objections, nor did his family. In fact, the situation was in their favor. In his father’s eyes, as long as Astra wasn’t disobedient or brought problems—more than she already had, being an illegitimate—upon the family, it’d be fine.  

However, it seemed Astra grew up to be a spitting image of Zazan’s personality. Astra grew bolder, braver, and stronger, all because she had Zazan to look up to. But Astra wasn’t nice on a daily basis. She was nowhere near a saint.

“May I take your order, miss?” a smiling boy, who looked a few years younger than Astra, came to assist her. But a girl, wearing the same uniform as him, came to them, gripping his arm.

“Sorry, miss.” The staff leaned in closer to the boy’s ear to whisper, “I’ve been trying to take her order. She’s waiting for someone, but I think she got stood up.”

“Oh...” the boy muttered “Too bad, she actually looks pretty.”

He turned his attention to Astra, about to apologize, when she interrupted him.

Astra laced her fingers together, her elbows on the table, and rested her head on her hands. With a sarcastic tone, she said, “If you’re going to talk shit about me, consider doing it somewhere else where I can’t hear you.”

“S-sorry, miss…” the staff muttered, afraid. All of their customers had power, because only the rich could afford the place. They feared they could lose their jobs. Most of all, they knew who Astra was. They knew of her influence.

“But thanks for complimenting my looks.” Astra flashed a grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “Get me some champagne.”

They scurried to give her what she wanted, too obvious in wanting to leave her sight.

Astra leaned on her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. She clicked her tongue in impatience. For once, she regretted asking for champagne. She felt the urge to leave. To elites like her, hunger didn’t come, anyway; she’d still have a lot of food at home. She could leave before they gave her champagne, and leave cash three times the bill, but her pride made her stay.

And she hated to admit it, but she really needed to see her aunt. She needed someone.

She needed someone to hold her at times she felt like slipping away.

As Astra waited impatiently, a man sat at the opposite end of the table. It happened so quickly, she didn’t have the time to process it. The man looked studly in his crisp suit. He wore a white shirt underneath, topped with a dark blazer and slacks.

“I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?” He asked in his most polite tone while he pulled at the opening of his blazer.

Her eyebrows shot up and she clicked her tongue, but she tried to maintain her composure. After all, it was a restaurant for the high-class. Manners above all.

“Sorry, you must have the wrong table.”

The man chuckled. “Oh, have you forgotten about me, miss? Allow me to reintroduce myself,” he grinned, “I’m the man you stole from a few nights ago.”

For a moment, perplexity was etched on her face, ‘Bitch, which one?’ 

Yes, the man looked a little familiar, but with the amount of people she was acquainted with, it was hard to keep track of the long list. 

“Oh, I see,” she said plainly. “I must’ve stolen from you when I was drunk.” 

Astra leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. She whispered, “You see, I have a habit of doing those when I’m drunk.” She flashed her sultry smile. 

Her hands reached for her fuchsia devotion bag made of python skin. It featured an exclusive bejeweled personalized heart closure, inspired by the techniques of fine jewelry, which etched her initials in it.

ABG

Astra clicked her tongue when her eyes met her initials on her bag. She laughed inwardly at how she sent it back to Italy when her initials weren’t in bold.

“How much was it? I could pay for it right now.”

The way the man grinned at her assured her that it’s done for. Game over. She wins. Whatever she did, she got away with it. Not because of her pull and connections, but because of her charm. And she knew it. She grinned at this. 

“Actually,” the man began, “I have other things in mind.”

“Oh,” Astra had a knowing smirk. She knew of what the man could possibly ask. It was no different. He was no different from all the other men she’d met before. ‘A night, perhaps?’

“Let’s hear it,” she said sultrily. 

It was the man’s turn to lean closer and rest his elbows on the table. He laced his hands together and flashed a smile. “I was thinking of jail time.”

Her hypocritical smile dropped. She was rendered shaken. Just as quick as the change in her mood, the sourness and bitterness of being embarrassed in front of the mysterious man in front of her, she showed her true colors. 

‘Where the fuck is my champagne?’ she thought.

Her back rested on her chair and she crossed her arms. “Name?” her tone was as rude as it could get. 

“Now we’re talking,” the man chuckled, and he rested his back on his chair as well. “Chrollo Lucilfer. I believe I already told you that. I’m hurt you forgot about me so easily.”

Astra didn’t reciprocate the demeanor Chrollo was showing. While Chrollo looked composed and polite, Astra, on the other hand, was irking in anger. 

“What do you want?” she spat, so rudely you wouldn’t think that it was the same woman who had been flashing sultry and inviting smiles.

“Nothing much, actually,” he grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll discuss the matter, and I promise you it’d be done with.”

If it were only a few minutes ago, she would have gone with him at that very moment. She would’ve taken him to some backroom and let them do their business. But it was different now. 

To her, it seemed like the man didn’t want any physical relationships. He was danger, nothing else. 

“And if I refuse?” 

“Your scandalous actions will not only be known by your father, Martin Gerber, but your little circle as well,” he replied.

“I’m impressed. You’ve done your research about me,” she scoffed. 

One of the staff who assisted her earlier appeared with champagne in her hands. She kept her head down, but kept a shy smile and gave continuous glances toward Chrollo as she poured the liquid into their respective glass.

“Thanks, miss,” Chrollo flashed the girl a sweet smile. 

Astra could have sworn she saw the girl almost curtsy at that. She rolled her eyes. 

When the girl left, Astra arched her brow. Chrollo on the other hand, ignored her demeanor. “Shall I order you some real food?” 

He was about to call the staff again, but Astra stopped him. “I’m not hungry.”

For a moment, Astra almost regretted her actions because Chrollo might be hungry. But if it’d be the same staff who keep annoying her with how they tried to get the man’s attention, forget it. 

‘What is with this restaurant anyway? Why are they always the same people?’

Once the foam settled on her champagne, she drank it quickly, picked up her bag, and stood up. When she looked over at Chrollo, who still sat on his seat gazing at her, she scoffed. “I’m coming with you. Wait for me outside in a moment.”

“You’ve said that before,” he replied, reminiscing to when she said the exact thing when they met the other night, and then she was gone with his St. Peter’s cross necklace.

“You seriously have something on me. Do you think I’ll run away from you?” Astra argued. “Besides, you’ve done your research on me. So I expect you to appear wherever I am.”

“I don’t believe you,” Chrollo stood up. “Wherever you’re going, I’ll come with you.”

Astra rolled her eyes. If she didn’t have something, it would obviously be his trust. And she had to get it no matter what, if she wanted to get out of the situation quickly.

She turned on her heel and Chrollo followed closely behind her. Suddenly, something rang from Chrollo’s pocket when they stepped out of the restaurant and into the lobby of the luxury hotel. Astra turned her attention to it and then to his eyes looking back at hers. 

“Go,” she nodded at him in a dismissive manner. “I promise I won’t leave.”

Chrollo eyed her carefully, weighing the sincerity of her words, to which she responded with widening her eyes at him. There was a faint smile in Chrollo’s face before he finally took his phone out and turned his back on her. 

Astra lightly shook her head. She didn’t notice, but there was a small smile on her face as well. And just as if the timing couldn’t be more perfect, someone she knew all too well appeared in front of her, looking down at her, mocking her.

“Dad…” she whispered.  

[captain-s-rogers]

Have A Little Faith In Me

(gif credit to the creator)

Part One

Master List Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC // Clint Barton x OFC Word Count: 1,900 Warnings: none? A/N: Debuting for OC Day 2020! Here’s the first part of the rewrite of my first ever Marvel series! If you want to be added to my tag list please let me know! Feedback is cool :)

Rockefeller PR firm. Though not connected to the famed family by any means, legend had it the J.D. Rockefeller himself had hired the founding members to handle his public relations in the very early success of the family. As a show of gratitude, in addition to a substantial cash and client flow, Mr. Rockefeller had allowed the firm to use the family’s prosperous name.

Anyone who was anyone in New York City knew of and often employed Rockefeller PR. The firm put on benefit events like they were going out of style, constantly hosting galas and banquets for one charity or another. Of course, with the guest lists for the events most often restricted to Manhattan’s elite, the donations poured in left and right. The firm had reached their renowned status as the most profitable and most charitable over the years. 

In more recent years, Sophia Hawkins and Lucy Cleveland had made names for themselves as the firm’s most successful representatives. That success had given the clout they needed to swing an event entirely different from anything the firm had done in a long time -- possibly ever. 

For starters, this event wasn’t being held to raise funds for an art gallery or secure investors for a corporation. This event was being held to raise funds to donate to several different organizations that supported the US troops and veterans. Not to mention, the event was made open to the public -- another component which had never been a part of a Rockefeller PR event. The thing was 1940s USO; everyone who showed up to attend the event was required to dress accordingly and make a donation at the door, in addition to their purchased ticket, of course

Both Sophia’s and Lucy’s grandfathers had fought in World War II, which had been Sophia’s inspiration for the idea. The firm’s executives hadn’t been keen on the idea when the two women first presented it, but between the excellent publicity that would come from supporting the troops and veterans, and the girls’ track record of successful events, convincing them to endorse the event hadn’t taken but a few minutes.  

The night of the benefit arrived, with a line forming out the door a couple of hours before the designated start time. Sophia and Lucy were dressed to the nines, double checking that everything -- from the menu to the music -- was in order. The servers were dressing in period-appropriate waiter and waitress uniforms, and the trio of women singing were emulating a 1940s singing group to a T. While the musical act ran through their era-specific setlist, Sophia and Lucy shined up the finishing touches on the decor. 

“Soph!” Lucy called out across the banquet hall, “do we need to alter the table settings? Caitlyn still has place cards for high-profile clients set out.” 

“We can just toss the cards, since there’s no guest list and we’re closing the doors as max capacity,” Sophia replied, already plucking name cards from a nearby table. 

“Do we have enough food?” Lucy continued. 

“We’ve got the chefs cooking for one-hundred-fifty and there’s one-hundred seats. I think we’re okay,” Sophia smiled. “Calm down, Luce. Everything is going according to plan. Nobody can plan like we can.”

Finally, Lucy was able to calm down. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” 

The women smiled at each other; everything was going to be perfect. Despite Lucy’s worries, they were well aware that this had been one of the smoothest events they had ever planned. Not having to please a bunch of snobby clients made the process a breeze. 

With only a few minutes to go, Sophia and Lucy decided they were happy with the state of things. After a short breather, they told the doorman to begin letting guests in the hall. 

Manhattan’s elite mingled with some lesser known citizens, filling the room and milling about the dance floor with freshly served drinks. The two event planners flitted about, adjusting table placements as necessary, making sure the food and drinks stayed well-stocked. The turnout was set to be huge, and within ten minutes of the doors opening, the hall was filled to capacity. 

Once everyone had found their seat, Sophia made a brief yet spectacular speech welcoming everyone and thanking them for their donations -- with the total amount to be named later in the evening -- the musical act took to the stage. Drinks continued to flow, the appetizers were served, and the nostalgia of the songs pulled a few couples to the dance floor. Sophia and Lucy stood at the back of the room, admiring their handiwork. 

“Ya know, Soph, I think we did a good job with this one,” Lucy mused, accepting a martini from the bartender.

“I think you’re right,” Sophia agreed. She sipped wine from the glass in her hand and took another cursory glance over the room, ever vigilant for any little thing that might go wrong. 

“Everyone seems to be having a good time,” Lucy added. “And, speaking of a good time, I do believe that gentleman in the corner is eyeing you. He has been all night.”

Sophia choked her drink. “You’re kidding, right? Lucy, tonight is not the night for your games, friend.”

“I’m not playing games,” Lucy laughed. “See, over by the band? Tall, blond. Might have to call the doctor, since he’s been nursing that beer for over an hour. But, yes, friend, he keeps glancing over at you.”

“I think you’re full of shit,” Sophia mumbled, though she looked somewhat hopeful as she threw a casual glance in the direction Lucy had indicated. She locked eyes with the man Lucy had nodded toward. 

“Still think I’m full of shit?”  

Sophia scoffed, shaking her head before she downed the rest of her wine and set the glass on the bar. Yes, she had been hopeful seconds ago, but this man was beyond handsome -- and she was on the clock, to boot. 

“Go, talk to him!” Lucy urged.

“Not a chance, Luce. We’re working, remember?” 

Before Lucy could come up with a suitable response to change her friend’s mind, the man in question started towards the two women. When he was close enough for them to see he was, for certain, headed in their direction, Lucy whispered a quick ‘good luck’ in Sophia’s ear, then made herself busy checking on the status of supper.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man began, “but are you Sophia Hawkins?”

Sophia nodded. “I am. Can I help you with something?

“I’m Steve Rogers,” he introduced, extending a hand. When Sophia slipped her hand into his for a confident but cautious handshake, he continued.  “I wanted to thank you for coordinating this event. It’s a great cause, and I’m very impressed with the level of authenticity.”

Sophia faltered for a moment, running through her mental files so could explain the familiarity of his name. She recovered quickly, pasting a polite, professional smile on her face. 

“We did our best to make it as authentic as possible. My grandfather and great uncle were in World War II, and my co-planner, Lucy’s grandfather was in the war, as well. We were able to find a lot of photographic evidence to go off of.”

Steve hesitated, casting an uneasy glance at the ground before meeting her eyes again. “Yeah, my grandfather was in the war, too. I think he would appreciate how well you pulled it all off.”

“Why, thank you,” she smiled. They stood in silence for a moment, and Sophia noticed the authentic detail of the Army uniform Steve was wearing -- even with the best costume designers, nothing they had provided for the waitstaff or singers was this authentic. The longer she looked, the more familiar the uniform seemed. 

Steve met her eyes. “Everything all right?”

Sophia nodded and quickly dismissed the strange familiarity as something she had seen in her own family’s photos. “Is the uniform your grandfather’s?”

Again, Steve hesitated, almost as though he was looking for the right words to answer an otherwise easy question. “It was. Found it in my mother’s attic before the event. Since time-period attire was required, seemed like the uniform was the way to go.”

“It suits you,” Sophia smiled. She turned away for a moment to ask the bartender for another glass of wine. 

Steve quickly took a sip of his beer while he waited for her to return to their conversation. He looked around the room, catching sight of the dance floor; a warm blush creeped over his cheeks and down his neck. The tempo had changed from upbeat and quick to slow and steady. A surge of confidence swelled in his chest, pushing him to act on impulse. Steve finished off his beer and set the bottle on the counter, then extended his hand to Sophia again. 

“Forgive me if I’m out of line, but would you like to dance, Ms. Hawkins?” Steve asked.

Sophia’s blush matched his as she turned to set the wine glass on the bar. She accepted Steve’s hand. “Call me Sophia, and I’d love to dance.”

The couple eased into a simple waltz as the music began to build from the first verse into the bridge of the song. They danced in silence through the chorus, concentrating on the steps before changing focus to each other. 

“You told me about your family, but what made you decide to do an event open to the public? I’ve been told your firm generally caters Manhattan’s high-status citizens.”

“We do, you’re right,” Sophia confirmed. “Lucy and I have done so many of those, we wanted to do something different. We were looking through old family photos together one night, just for fun, and the idea to do a benefit for the military came to us. The USO theme followed.”

“I don’t want to sound like a broken record,” Steve smiled, “but you did a really fantastic job.”

Sophia showed her appreciation for his compliment with a modest smile. When the song ended, though she was reluctant to do so, she thanked Steve for the dance and turned to return to the bar.

“Sophia?” he called, gently grabbing her wrist to keep her from getting too far..

She turned to face him, brows raised in question. “Mm?”

“Would you want to get dinner some time? Maybe get to know each other better. Sometime when you’re not working.” 

Sophia didn’t bother to stop the ear-to-ear grin that spread over her face. “I would love that.” 

A pen was handy in the pocket of her dress, since she was, in fact, working. She took Steve’s hand again and jotted her number across his palm. She clicked the pen before putting it back in her pocket. 

“I’ll call you in a few days,” Steve promised. “We’ll work out the details.”

“Sounds good.” Sophia nodded and winked at him. She turned to walk away, this time looking over her shoulder to add, “Thanks for the dance, Captain.”

He froze for a moment, fearing that Sophia was aware of his full identity. Her eyes glanced to the patches on his jacket before she turned away from him; that had been what tipped her off to the rank. When she was back at the bar and conversing with her friend, Steve looked down at the phone number written across his palm. With a suppressed but victorious smile, he worked his way back into the crowd.

@arrowsandmixtapes​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @growningupgeek​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @kitkatd7​ @patzammit​ @sagechanoafterdark​ @what-is-your-plan-today​

[yanderu-deredere]

pomegranate

warning: yandere, in-depth mention of greek mythology a/n: the reader is gender neutral and there are no mentions of any female or male pronouns being used for them but the reader is referred to using more feminine compliments. the reader is also kind of small and shy and meek but that’s mostly because that’s liam’s type, male or female word count: 1801

pairing: Liam Anthony Arieh x GN!Reader summary: Liam had never really understood most people’s hunger for others until he met you.

oc profile ★ oc tag ★ picrew link

Liam had been lounging around, relaxed and lazy as he laid in his client chair. He didn’t have any clients to worry about and, most likely, if anyone came in for a walk-in tattoo, the others would deal with it.

Then, everything was going pretty smoothly with his other business: no drug busts, no incompetent runners, nothing to worry about. The cash was flowing in without any stutters, and the business was as lucrative as it’s ever been.

Times like this were few and far between, so Liam knew to cherish it while he still could. It was like the stars aligned for him to finally have the break he so thought he deserved.

As Liam continued to scroll through his phone almost absentmindedly, he heard the bell of the shop ring, signalling that there was a client. He mentally went over the list of consultations or tattoos that needed to be done today. He remembered the list being empty.

He sighed and hoped that the stars kept aligning for him today. This client better not be any trouble. 

Later on, he’d realise, this client, you, had been another blessing.

Right now, you felt more like a nuisance.

“Hey, what’s up? You must be a walk-in.” Gavin was at the front desk, so Liam didn’t have to get up and greet you. Still, Liam couldn’t help but keep a keen eye on you, trying to suss out whether or not he should be worried.

You were a pretty little thing, all nervous and fidgety. Liam couldn’t imagine any trouble coming from someone like that. Then again, he knew first hand that first impressions weren’t always so important and that some people had a God-given talent in deception.

“I wanted to get a tattoo but… it’s kind of a last-minute decision, and I wanna do it before I back out, so I didn’t get the opportunity to call about it?” Your answer ended in a question 

“That’s fine.” He nodded, waving his hand as if to dismiss your nervousness “My name’s Gavin. There’re two other tattooists in here too, if you don’t like my style. Have you seen our Instagram?”

You nodded, slowly, eyes searching the rather desolate store. Your eyes fluttered over Liam for a second, and he found himself holding his breath. When your eyes quickly left, he furrowed his eyebrows and mentally insulted himself.

Now that he’s gotten a good look at your face, though, he couldn’t help but think that his previous words were an understatement. You were just his type, and he found himself subconsciously licking his lips as his eyes trailed down your form.

“Well, since you’re a walk-in and you seem to want this tattoo done today, we can’t really do a consultation.” Gavin tried to pull your attention back to him as he leaned on the front desk “You can take a look around. Just pick one off the walls, and we’ll slap it right on you.”

“Oh.” You bit your lip, looking like you were going to run at the revelation. 

Liam found the action cute and, from the look of Gavin, he did too. Still, Liam continued to try and look casual while Gavin dealt with you. “Don’t worry your little head off. I just meant that we can’t do anything from scrap but, if you pick a tattoo off the walls, we’ll personalise it any way you want.”

“O-Oh, okay.” You nodded again, meekly, just like you had nodded before. Still, you didn’t move from your spot at the front desk.

Gavin continued, “I’m sure there must be a tattoo here that speaks to you in some way…”

Finally, you moved, hesitantly, slowly.

You looked around and tried to find something that called to you, just like Gavin said. It had to be something you knew you’d want to live with, something beautiful. 

Most of the artwork on their walls seemed boring and simple. They looked just like any old tattoo that you’d find in any other tattoo shop. They didn’t even look hand-drawn since they were all printed and framed.

There were a few corkboards put up on the wall too. They had flimsy papers pinned to them with messy pencil sketches or inked final drawings.

Gavin must’ve noticed you eyeing the boards because he clarified, “Those are the artist boards. Sometimes we’ll think up a cool concept or whatever for a tattoo and we’ll put it up there if we’re okay with a client taking them.”

Slowly, you nodded and looked through each one. Every step you took, Liam followed with his eyes. He tried to seem as inconspicuous as possible, but there was something about you that drew him in, that made him salivate and want to pounce.

He mentally shook his head. What was he? Some type of animal? Nobody has ever had that kind of effect on him. He’s never seen someone so cute and meek and wanted to take a bite of them. He’s never seen someone who made his mind scream.

Yet, there you were and, yet, there he was. 

He blamed it on his weird fascination for how people reacted. He’d always loved that the most about people. It was what made him such a sadistic bastard, he supposed. He liked hypothesising and testing, liked seeing what people would do, liked unravelling them at the seams till they fell apart.

Something about the way you moved made him want to open you up, pull you apart and then build you back together. 

You cleared your throat, and it pulled Liam from his thoughts. 

“This tattoo… it’s supposed to be a tattoo about Persephone, right? The Goddess of the underworld?” You asked, voice meek and soft but fingers ghosting over the paper pinned to the corkboard.

Gavin raised an eyebrow and gave Liam a look–it was his tattoo design after all–but Liam couldn’t respond. In fact, all he could really do was stare at you. Curiouser and curiouser…

With Liam unable to answer, Gavin chuckled to mask how nervous he felt. It was like you were treading on a fine line with Liam and Gavin couldn’t tell why. So, he tried to keep things light “Really? You think so? How come?”

“It’s a… pomegranate…” You hesitantly answered, eyes lowering to the ground but finger still toying with the edges of Liam’s sketched tattoo. 

You seemed like the shy type that didn’t speak up unless prodded, so Gavin endeavoured to prod more. There must’ve been a story about you recognising the pomegranate as whatever the hell you had said it was. 

Liam, on the other hand, thought the same but didn’t want to push you any further. A first for him, he was sure. Mostly, Liam just didn’t want his interest in you to be so glaringly obvious. He never stuck his nose into clients that weren’t there to get his tattoo specifically. He wouldn’t show Gavin otherwise now. 

“Just from the pomegranate?” Gavin chuckled again but, this time, not to mask anything but, rather, out of amusement.

Despite his earlier thoughts, Liam was practically at the edge of his client chair.

“This…” You pointed at the flowers that seemed to sprout from behind the pomegranate, their petals lush and their leaves full. Your finger landed deftly on the biggest of each type as you named them without hesitation “Rose, crocus, violet, iris, lily and larkspur… The flowers Persephone was collecting when Hades took her…”

Liam’s heart fluttered, and he almost wanted to call himself an idiot. So what if you knew what flowers were in Persephone’s bouquet. So what if that meant you must have an in-depth knowledge of Greek mythology? So fucking what?

“There’s six of each flower and six of these seeds down here.” You pointed at the floating pomegranate seeds lining the bottom of the pomegranate. “Six seeds for six months with Hades; six types of flowers and six of each flower for the six months with Demeter, her mother.”

You had gotten the message behind the drawing so perfectly that Liam could imagine himself saying the same exact words in his head as he recalled drawing it. How could you understand his tattoo so perfectly when every other tattoo artist in the shop had jokingly laughed at it?

“I want this one.” It’s the very first time your voice had firmed up since you’d walked into the door. There was a tone of fear in there, but also of determination. It was like you were sure this was what you wanted and that you’d go to the ends of the Earth to get it.

“Well, not my tattoo.” Gavin shrugged, that nervousness still in his system as he sensed some sort of change in the atmosphere “It’s his.”

Gavin gestured to another tattoo artist and your eyes followed the action. Then, your eyes finally met Liam’s. Before, when you had spotted him, you had quickly turned away. Now, your eyes were wide and nervous as they stared into his. You looked like a poor helpless deer in front of a raging ongoing car.

It excited him.

You excited him.

“You were spot on with the explanation.” Liam stood and pocketed his phone before walking over to the board and taking it off “Where’d you want this, gorgeous?

You didn’t hesitate as you pointed to your sternum.

He frowned. He could imagine his tattoo as something on your back, maybe across your shoulder blades, but there? "I don’t really think this would go great there–”

“I want it… u-upside down…” You had interrupted him with a sharp tone in your voice only to waver when he raised an eyebrow at you. 

The stutter was cute, but he couldn’t help but frown. “That ruins the symbolism–”

“Of the seeds being below because of the underworld and the flowers being above because of the fields above?” You beat him to it and, before he could be shocked, you continued “I don’t believe Persephone thought of it that way.”

“Huh?” It’s the first time Liam’s ever found himself at a loss for words, and the hunger in the pit of his stomach grew for you.

Your eyes lowered again, and you stared at your fiddling fingers “I think putting the seeds under the flowers makes it seem like Persephone preferred the… fields… but that's wrong... Persephone… she liked the underworld better…”

“The seeds should go on top because she found freedom in the underworld and the flowers on the bottom because she… was trapped by the fields." 

Then, you looked back up at him, staring at him through such pretty little eyelashes. He grinned, all teeth and fangs and predator. The hunger for you in his stomach almost growled like a beast, the way it grew bottomless. He bit his lip before he nodded.

"Alright, sounds great. Let’s get this show on the road, then, gorgeous.”

[cozytruecrimeaddict]

I Think I Need Help (Hotch x OC) Part 5

Holy hell do I have a warning list here. So, I know what I’m hinting at here and I know its only a sprinkle of what's actually to come, but I promise, this slow burn is about to be worth the wait. (I hope) 

Anyways, lets talk 

WARNINGS: regular CM violence, suicidal ideation, suicidal actions, depictions of self harm, and mentions of depression and PTSD symptoms 

I promise, at some point I won’t be trying to hurt little Sam 

I woke just before the plane landed. 

“Sorry about that.” I whispered to Spencer. Seriously, why didn’t he push me off of him. Even if that was one of the first times I felt safe sleeping in what feels like forever. 

“Don’t be.” He smiles a little bit. 

After we land, Aaron pulls me to the side. 

“What was that?”

“So now you’re talking to me?”

“Sam.”

“I really can’t believe you.” I turned away from him and walked back towards Spencer. 

“Want a ride home?” I asked him. 

“Sure.” 

We sat in the car in silence. I didn’t know what to say, and I’m sure he didn’t either. We got to his place, and he just sat there.

“The dangers with what you’re doing to yourself. You could cut too deep. You could get a massive infection. You could permanently damage the nerves in your arm. You could accidentally cut too deep. You could…”

I cut him off, by grabbing his hand. 

“Can we go inside and talk about this before you spiral into a huge knowledge drop in my car.” 

“I guess that’d be okay.” 

Spencer led me inside, and I was surprised at how tidy everything was. Like it was so organized, I felt like I was walking into a library or a museum. Spencer walked down a hallway, setting his bag in what I would assume was his bedroom. While waiting for him to come back, I sat on his couch admiring his collection of novels on display. 

“I don’t want to have to tell Hotch.” He spoke softly as he sat back down, handing me a glass of water.

“Then don’t.” I shrugged, taking a sip. If he didn’t want to, it was that simple. Just don’t.

“Sam, if anything were to happen to you because of this. I could prevent anything from actually happening to you by telling him now.” 

“Spence, nothings happened to me in the two months I’ve been…”

“Two months. This was more than just the other week when I saw a glimpse of the cuts.” 

“I thought you saw back when Nathan…” 

“I was a little focused elsewhere that night. So, it was that case that what, gave you the idea?”

I took a deep breath, I could easily tell him everything here and now. But then he would worry more about me than he already is. Plus, what’s stopping him from turning around and telling Hotch everything I say. I can’t really trust him. He’s going to make me stop. He’s going to take away what’s making everything better. The memories would come back. The pain would never go away again. The little voice in my head telling me to give up would never shut the hell up. So, instead of answering him, I turned my head to look at his shelves again and took a sip of the water he was kind enough to bring me. 

“Sam, I want to help you. But, I can’t do that if you won’t talk to me. If you stop talking, I won’t have any choice but to tell Hotch. Is that what you want?” 

“I never figured you’d have so many classics on your shelf. I figured you’d have a lot of memoirs and in depth studies. Not so much fiction.” 

“Sam.” He sighed. He sounded exhausted. 

“What do you want to know?” I didn’t look back at him, I kept my focus on his shelves. 

“A lot, honestly. But maybe start with why?” 

“I’m not sure why, anymore. I started again when that kid Nathan ran into you on the subway. I was upset, and just felt out of control. Everything from Colorado was still heavily on my mind. I wasn’t sleeping, I could barely eat. Every little thing I did reminded me of how I didn’t belong at the BAU. When we found the first body and I saw how the word carved into her looked. I became so fixated on the fact that I knew how to do something like that to myself. That it was something I was capable of and it was an easy solution to my pain.” I paused to take a breath, but before I could continue on, Spencer interrupted.

“You said you started again?” I risked looking at him, and I saw he was fidgeting a little bit. He was trying to stay calm, but he was clearly nervous. Like he didn’t know what he should say. 

“I…” I felt my eyes water up. I am so weak. I couldn’t even do this right. I couldn’t do it right when I was 13, and I can’t do it right at 23. I tried to steady myself, focusing on my breathing. It helped a little. At least enough to let me speak. 

“I.. I tried to end my life 10 years ago. Before that, I was cutting for about 4 years. So, when I started high school. I remember picking at some light cuts I made in the bathroom with a broken pencil. A girl in my gym class saw them when we were changing and laughed. She told me how she used scissors and that if I was going to do it, I should at least do it right.” I laughed a little, more to myself than anything. I finally realized how messed up that actually was. 

“Anyways, by the end of high school I’d had enough. My parents didn’t want me. I was too weird and smart for my own good. But, I wasn’t smart in the right ways. I liked art and games too much. But I didn’t like them enough. I just wasn’t ever good enough for them. When they abandoned me, in another state, at a hotel that they paid cash for for 4 days and then left an anonymous call to the cities police, I was too old to be adopted. No one really wanted a 8 year old girl. So, I bounced around from foster home to foster home. Every once in awhile receiving a letter or a call from my parents. In a couple they blamed me for how they lost their jobs or did jail time because I gave the police their names. In some they told me how much they missed me. So, by the time I was getting ready to graduate high school, I just never wanted to see anyone again. I didn’t want to even exist. So, it was my only option. And I think the worst part is how right I was that no one cared. Foster parents called an ambulance and they gave a nurse at the hospital a trash bag full of my stuff. No one from school cared enough to say anything other than to do it right next time.” I paused to take a breath, realizing I was full on crying by this point. I’ve never been this open with anyone before. I was taking such a big chance, and this was going to hurt me in the end. It always does. I am so stupid stupid STUPID. 

“Sam, you don’t have to…” He started, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, and reached out to grab one of my hands. “I am so sorry.” 

“I’m sorry I just dumped all that on you.”

“I asked.”

“You didn’t need to hear all that about me.” I pulled my hand back. “I’ll let you relax, it’s been a long day.” 

“No, you can’t drive like this. Besides, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady leave while she’s upset.” He smiled at me. 

“Spencer, I’ve taken care of myself through worse.” 

“You don’t have to though. Isn’t this what friends are for?” He awkwardly put his arm around my shoulder. “You need to rest, we can talk more about everything after you sleep. I promise.” 

I felt the same feeling I did on the jet. I felt safe, and warm, and dare I say, loved. And even if the feeling wouldn’t last, I needed to hold on to this while I still had it. I ended up laying in his lap again, as Spencer picked up a book off of one of the tables, starting to feel the comfort of sleep washing over me. But, before I could fall asleep, my phone buzzed with a text. One from Hotch that explained so much, yet nothing at all. 

Haley left me. 

Before I could respond, Spencers hand had moved to play with my hair again and my body instantly relaxed. Even if I did have strong feelings for Hotch. Even if I did think I could love that man. I have never felt as safe as I did on the jet with Spencer and here right now with him. 

Could I have feelings for Spencer and love Hotch? Or could either one be just another hard life lesson and the other be the one I love? 

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

The Queen’s Garden - Part 2

Series Masterlist - Tom Hiddleston Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OC Sophie Green

Warnings: Strong language, fluff, pining, maybe smut

Summary: After a tough year, Sophie decides she should work in the family business for a while to take it easy after seeing how well Emma, her niece, is doing. And then she meets Tom Hiddleston. She falls head over heels while he seems to keep cool.

Word count: 2079

Sophie continues cleaning outside and finds something between the couch cushions. Something she had seen before. A watch that looks quite expensive at first glance. She grabs his and runs after the group of men, hoping to catch them before leaving, but they’re gone. She sighs and puts the thing in the cash register so no one can get to it easily. They’ll probably pick it up soon enough.

Sophie would like to say that she was a good girl and went to bed when the bar closed, but she didn’t. She ended up in one of the booths with her dad, drinking and talking about better times when men were gentle and the world was wide enough. By the end of the night, her father was more than tired and Sophie convinced him to stay home the next day. She would clean the bar.  God how she regrets promising that now. Standing in her sweatpants and a cropped tank top she stares at the mess that was left from yesterday and she decides two things. One, she needs to make a list. And two, she needs coffee.

With the coffee in hand, she goes over the list one last time to see if she’s got everything. When she’s certain, it’s time to get to work. She starts with the dirty glasses littered around the bar and the garden. Then it’s time to take down the flowers in case they make a bigger mess. After that it’s rolling up the carpets and- There’s knocking at the door. Curious, Sophie decides to go see who it is. She calls out that she’s coming while grabbing the key and curses the lock for getting stuck again. She manages to pry the door open and is faced with the man she had danced with last night. Tom Hiddleston, dressed in a full three piece suit even though the sun is scorching hot and yesterday hadn’t been easy on anyone. ‘Oh, hi,‘ she says with a cheery smile, remembering how they danced together. She remembers how giddy she felt and how wonderful Tom had been. It was a dream come true, but now it’s morning and the difference between the two of them is painfully visible. ‘Hi, I think I lost my watch here last night,‘ he says with a friendly smile. The kind of smile you show to your neighbor when you pass them on the street. It takes Sophie a second, but then she remembers. ‘Oh, yes, the watch,‘ she smiles and walks into the bar, ‘please come in, I’ll go grab it.‘ Tom steps inside and see the remainders of the party from last night. The flowers, the string lights, the confetti someone brought in. His mind goes back to Sophie in his arms, swaying with the music, perfectly in sync and he wonders how she can still be this cheery after a night like that. She, of course, looks different from yesterday but she still has this charm in her movements. In sweatpants she still looks like a lady. ‘Here it is,‘ Sophie says and hands the watch to Tom, who inspects it before sliding it on his wrist. Sophie admires the gentle movements of his fingers as he closes the buckle on the leather straps. ‘It’s a nice watch,‘ she comments. He looks up at her, then down to the watch. ‘I guess so,’ he answers, ‘thank you so much for keeping it safe.‘ ‘Not a problem,‘ she smiles, ‘can I help you with anything else?‘ Tom is running through his mind, looking for a reason to stay. He wants to stay and talk to her, but he’s already outstaying his welcome. She obviously wants to get through her workload and he has a lunch appointment in a minute. He shouldn’t keep anyone waiting. ‘No, thank you,‘ he smiles back at her, ‘I’ll see you later.‘ He walks towards the door, but Sophie still has something to say. She debates it in her head, but the words slip out before she can stop them. ‘Thank you for the dance yesterday,‘ she falters, ‘I really enjoyed myself.‘ A gently smile thugs on Tom’s lips, but he doesn’t want to turn around. If he turns around the butterflies in his stomach will go wild and he will not be able to come here again. Not when he likes a girl this much younger than him. ‘I’m certain we’ll do it again sometime,‘ he tells her, beating himself up for giving himself hope. ‘Me too.‘ Oh no.

Life goes on and weeks pass by. As Sophie starts to get into the swing of things more and more, she also realizes how long it’s been since Tom Hiddleston came around. She knows it’s desperate to think that he might think of her like she thinks of him but she thought the dance meant something. It could be because she was so lonely so suddenly, it could be because of his charming nature, in the end it doesn’t really matter. Her heart chose him. However, there had been others who tried to make moves. There always were. To them, she was an easy nobody. A beautiful girl to look at for a minute and throw away the next morning.Though she plays along, she never lets them get away with saying anything vulgar. She knows better than that. ‘Say darling, how come you don’t wear a ring,‘ one asks, looking awfully interested in Sophie. ‘Oh, I recently parted from my fiance,‘ she says with a straight face ‘but I see you haven’t parted with yours.‘ This makes the man a bit uncomfortable to say the least. He doesn’t bother her again. Sophie goes on her way and continues her quiet Wednesday shift. There’s never much going on on Wednesdays. Most times it’s just actors who do a script reading in the peace and quiet of the garden, singers that are working on lyrics, TV personalities chatting about. Days like these, Sophie takes her time with people and tries to have a conversation if they want to. She knows what everyone is working on. Occasionally, when it’s really quiet, she’ll sit down with someone who asked her to read through something or asked her opinion. To most, she’s seen as an outsider who can see things from a different perspective and they enjoy that in her, mostly because they know she won’t spill about secret projects. ‘Sophie, how have you been,‘ a cheery voice calls over to Sophie. She turns around and is faced with Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hiddleston. ‘Oh hi you two, I haven’t seen you in a while,‘ she smiles, ‘where do you want to sit? I still have a bit of space outside and I have one booth left inside.‘ ‘Outside please,‘ Benedict answers with a smile. Tom seems to avoid her look and pretends he doesn’t exist. It confuses Sophie, but she doesn’t spend too long thinking about it. ‘So how have you two been,‘ she asks while she leads them outside. ‘I’ve been good. We’ve both been in between jobs,‘ Benedict tells her, ‘but it’s nice to get some time off in the summer.‘ ‘I’m sure it is,‘ she grins and lets them pick a place. Benedict orders for the both of them and Sophie is thoroughly confused that Tom doesn’t want to speak to her. She goes inside, but Tom caught a glance of her face dropping. That’s not what he wanted at all. Benedict noticed it too. ‘Is that what you wanted,‘ he asks Tom, who shakes his head. ‘I don’t know what I want,‘ Tom admits, ‘she’s so young and I feel wrong just liking her.‘ ‘We all interact with her and if there’s one thing that we all know it’s that Sophie’s an old spirit,‘ Benedict argues, ‘the girl seems to know something on every topic, and most of all, she likes you.‘ ‘She doesn’t.‘ ‘She told you she wants to dance with you again,‘ Benedict sighs. ‘That means nothing.‘ ‘It does to me.‘ Both of them look to their side where Sophie standing. She looks a bit saddened, thinking that it meant nothing to Tom while it had meant the world to her. ‘I hadn’t danced in years and I wanted to keep it that way. You took me by surprise.‘ She puts the drinks in front of the men and holds the tray under in her hands against her body.  ‘Maybe we should talk about this another time,‘ Tom suggests. ‘I agree,‘ Sophie says, ‘I’m done at ten thirty. You can pick me up or we can stay here. Your pick.‘ With those words, she walks away. ‘You gotta admit, she’s a feisty one,‘ Benedict teases, poking Tom in his side but Tom feels nothing but nervousness racing through his body.

Tom stands on te square that The Queen’s Garden is located on. It’s 10:23pm. He didn’t want to be late, but he didn’t want to be early either. Late would mean he didn’t want to talk, early would mean she’d rush to get her job done. So he stands outside, counting down the minutes. Until the door swings open. ‘Are you going to keep standing outside like a creep or are you coming in?‘ He looks at the amused pull on Sophie’s lip at her own comment. It lightens the situation a lot. ‘I’ll come inside,‘ he stutters. ‘Can’t believe you managed to become an actor with a stutter like that,‘ she teases, walking ahead of him back into the establishment. She continues where she left off, which was counting the cash register. He starts walking over to where she’s sitting, but she ushers him away with a wave of her hand. ‘I can’t focus if I got a face like yours sitting across from me,‘ she frowns, trying to remember what she counted, ‘dammit, there I go. You can grab something to drink if you want. Fridges behind the bar have sodas and other things.‘ ‘Should I grab you something?‘ She grabs the bottle standing next to her, showing him the label. ‘I got some left. Thank you.‘ He leaves her be and sits down at a different table, scrolling through his phone. ‘It’s like the roles are reversed,‘ she chuckles, jumping from the barstool she was sitting on, ‘you were asking me what I wanted to drink instead of the other way around.‘ He laughs with her. ‘I guess so.‘ He watches her put the cash register away and take some money to the back, presumably to put in a safe. She returns only minutes later and checks her watch. ‘Ten thirty,‘ she says proudly, ‘talking time.‘ A sudden rush of fear flushes over Tom. He doesn’t want to seem nervous, but he is. He really is. Sophie looks worried when she sees his face. ‘Tom, you’re looking really pale. You should’ve told me if you weren’t feeling well. We can do this another day.‘ ‘No, I’m fine,‘ he smiles, ‘just a bit nervous.‘ ‘Oh, I get it. I’m terrifying,‘ she jokes to lighten the mood. It helps. Tom lets out a small chuckle. ‘Do you want to sit outside?‘ ‘Yeah, sure.‘ Together, they step outside. Sophie picks one of the couches and makes herself comfortable on the cushions. Tom notices she took out all the other cushions, but left these. She was planning on sitting outside even if he said no. ‘Let’s get one thing straight,‘ Sophie starts, wrapping both her hands around the cold soda bottle she took outside with her and pulling her knees up to her chest, ‘I feel something for you and I’m willing to let it grow if you feel the same way. Otherwise I ask you to give me a month without visits and we’ll pretend like I never said that.‘ Tom’s mouth falls open in surprise. ‘You- I- wha-‘ ‘Take you time,‘ she laughs, pretending like she isn’t shaking to the bone with nervousness. ‘I like you too, but I felt it wasn’t appropriate to make any advances with our age difference and your relationship history,‘ he explains. ‘You have a point there,‘ she admits, ‘which is why I am making advances on you. You don’t have to give me hope. I just want you to be honest.‘ He feels truly surprised by the maturity of her words and the honesty behind them. Least he can do is be honest as well. ‘I’m terrified of what others may think of us and I’m scared I’ll hurt you,‘ he tells her, ‘but I do really like you. I can promise you that much.‘ Sophie lets out a deep sigh and a huge grin appears on her face. She wiggles her shoulders happily and hums a little song that Tom doesn’t know. ‘That’s enough for me.‘