#secret service au 👀

[sanjuwrites]

you would turn into my best life

a series of soulmate AUs, in which your soulmate’s first words are inked onto your forearm.

graphic by the incredible @chaotictarlos

checkmate, i never lose - president’s son/secret service

The story of TK Strand, the president’s son who’s fresh off a brutal breakup with who he once thought was the love of his life and Carlos Reyes, his new Secret Service agent that TK just can’t quite seem to understand. coming 7/28 posted!

tagging some friends that might be interested: @chaotictarlos, @alrightbuckaroo, @detective-giggles, @taralaurel, @otter-love-asl, @mikibwrites, @theghostofashton and @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

[mirahuyooo]

Yoongi 006 + 014 please with a happy ending too?

006. “Are you two... a thing?” + min yoongi

— No, you and Min Yoongi are not a thing. 👀

word count: 999  contents: PURE FLUFF, romance, established relationship kept secret rawr, MIN yOONGI bOYFRIEND THINGS, your big bro is worldwide handsome Jin (Yoongi’s only hyung 🥺💕). featuring Jimin and Jungkook being little shits, no au specified! pairing: min yoongi x reader

[masterlist] | check out more of [Four Years with Mira]!

A/N: Hey anon! 💕💞💗 i’m so glad you joined!! Unfortunately, #14 was already taken, but I hope you like how this one turned out! I made it v v much a happy scenario for you!~ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧💖

The moment of peace and quiet is shattered as, unannounced, Jimin and Jungkook burst through your brother's apartment door and strut into the living room where you lay idly on the sofa and watch a movie. They had more free time than expected, they claimed, and thought to spend it with their favorite noona. 

What more is that they come to witness Yoongi coming back from the kitchen with coffee and finger food and visibly frowning when he sees that you've sat up and the two younger men have taken all the seats on the couch—especially his. 

Wordlessly setting the plate of peeled tangerines and mini sandwiches onto the coffee table, Yoongi settles his defeat onto the floor, him and his long black curls just an arm's reach or so away. There's a pout on his lips that makes you bite back a giggle. 

Alas, Jimin, ever the keen-eyed observer, doesn't miss the subtle reactions between you both. "Noona, hyung, are you two…" he began, giggling like old women do to gossip, "a thing?" 

Even Jungkook, who had been so engrossed in the film, turns his wide doe eyes to the conversation in intrigue. 

Glancing Yoongi's way, you watch as he half-heartedly rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "No," he says, "we're not. I'm just here waiting for Jin-hyung."

Hiding your smile under the guise of munching on a tangerine slice, you, too, scoff for additional support. "The only time we held hands was when we were 12 and I had to stop him from pushing me into a pool." you retort, taking it one step further as you cast a fleeting smirk to the begrudged man lounging on the floor and sipping his mug. 

That was a complete and utter lie, of course. You know very well how Min Yoongi loved to hold hands—especially yours. 

See, a few months ago you and Yoongi have become a thing, ultimately deciding to keep your relationship a secret to savor some privacy and mess with the rest of the boys while the two of you were at it. There was also, of course, the musician's woes over your older brother—and his only hyung—finding out about you two and not approving. 

Min Yoongi is very much the soft bastard the boys tease him to be, and far from the cold, enigmatic man everyone else thinks he is. 

Min Yoongi, who loves cuddles, especially for taking naps. It gives him much needed energy for the woes of life, he said.

Min Yoongi, who thanks to his quiet nature, knows very well how to love you in secret—immortalizing you in his works, giving each other knowing looks, and always doing wordless acts of service. 

Min Yoongi, who gladly plopped back to his seat on the couch when the two boys finally decided to go home and leave you two alone yet again in Jin's apartment. 

Nuzzling to his side, you rest your head onto his shoulder with glee as he intertwines his fingers with yours. The gummy smile on his lips is always an endearing sight. "Do you think we should tell them soon?" you then wonder, looking up at him with a slight grimace. "Jimin's very much onto us at this point."

Yoongi hums thoughtfully, brushing your hair back from your forehead. "Do you want them to know?" he asks in a manner that makes your heart giddy like a schoolgirl. 

For a moment or two, you think to yourself. "Hm, I don't think I mind anymore," you smile, giving his tummy a little poke as you wiggle your brows at him. "It'd be nice to hold someone's hand more often."

His chuckle paired with a nose scrunch is an infectious bout of joy. "Maybe that someone would like that a lot, too, actu—"

"Noona, I left my—" 

The silence in the air is immediate—you and Yoongi frozen on the couch while Jungkook gawks at you two by the door. 

A second or two later, the scene finally clicks on the youngest's head and he grins. "You two are a thing!" he cackles, forcing you to rush and pull him into the apartment before he can run outside and tell Jimin what he sees. 

"Jungkook!" you shriek, shushing him with your hand over his mouth. "Shut up, and don't tell a soul about this. We haven't made plans for it yet."

Tattooed hands pry your hands off, still grinning with mischief. "What's in it for me?"

You glance back, seeing Yoongi now up from the couch with his arms crossed. "I'll buy you lamb skewers for a month?" you offer to the younger man.  

"I'll let you live," Yoongi drawls instead. 

"What did Jungkook do again this time?"

One after the other, surprises catch you off guard as you older brother, Seokjin, enters through the door, shedding his coat off as he looks at the three of you, bewildered. Damn, you didn't really want things to be found out this way. 

"Nothing," Jungkook coughs, most likely nudged on by your boyfriend. 

Still, your brother isn't one to be easily swayed by this, eyes squinting in suspicion. "Is it about the two of you?" He questions with one hand on his hips and the other pointing between you and Yoongi. 

"What do you mean?" you feign a smile of innocence, one your brother only laughs at. 

Seokjin comes between you and Yoongi, giving you both pats on the back—for trying, you suppose. "Everyone could tell, (Y/N)," he grins, giving Jungkook a knowing look. "You two aren't as slick as you think."

"Oh," you could only say, a part of you irked yet relieved all the same. You choose the brighter side, pulling away from your brother's hold and circling your arms around Yoongi's waist, who shyly holds you back. Finally, no more holding back.

A kiss to your boyfriend's cheek alone is enough to send your brother gasping, utterly offended. "Ya! Just because I'm allowing this doesn't mean you can be scandalous like this!"

[chimaerakitten]

Temeraire body horror magic AU you say? 👀👀👀

oooh that one's fun 😆 it sort of grew out of the whole thing where the corps keeps a lot of secrets, some of them more guarded than others. I was wanting to do some magic stuff anyway and was like, what if there was something else thats both extra secret and another reason that aviators don't mix with polite society.

this is also one of the ideas on the list that I actually managed to write a tiny bit for:

"Pray," Laurence said, faltering. He mastered himself and finished in a sharper tone than was appropriate, "explain your meaning." Harcourt and Berkley both blinked at him in silence a moment before Harcourt exclaimed, "Oh, I knew we'd forgotten something!" Having posed the question once, Laurence couldn't very well demand answers again, but luckily Berkley had mercy. Sounding a little strange, he said, "See, having a beast...it rather changes a fellow. More than ah, having a boat in the navy might." Seeing the look on Laurence's face at his calling ships of the line boats and misreading its cause, Berkley rushed on to say. "Not that promotion in other services don't bring changes, mind, only—" Harcourt came to his rescue. "Only, it's rather more literal, with a dragon." And so saying, she loosened her neckcloth, and entirely insensible to Laurence's startled protest tugged her collar open to show him a neat line of bright orange scales running along her collarbone.

the fridge body horror part is that it's a somewhat unpredictable and progressive condition. Aviators tend to die young so for most captains it's not really a problem to have a patch of scales here and there or a sharp tooth or two. Kind of a badge of honor actually. But ah, aviators who live long enough to retire tend to gain reputations as recluses for...reasons.

there's not a lot going on thats overtly magical outside of that but I've got another idea for an AU thats like, "magic is a Known Thing thats illegal for most people but the corps has a dispensation since dragons won't hatch without a sufficient quantity of magic around and the options are either let a bunch of other dragons take the eggs to magical locations (not so great for being able to harness the hatchling) or let the potential captains dabble in magic." That AU may fizzle out or combine with this one or split off into its own thing, I haven't decided yet.

[formula-fun]

Pacific rim au snippet?? for us to live a little happier in coming days ksjadjshs? 👀

i am pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead

The day Sebastian Vettel descends on the Faenza Academy, four things happen.

First, a series of rumors fly across the entirety of base. Charles is ninety percent sure they’re George’s doing, but the way they telephone between the cadets is truly a modern marvel. In the morning the word is that Vettel is visiting to scope out the cadets to select his new copilot, never mind that none of them have ever even drifted in their lives. By noon the story has been transformed into a harrowing tale involving Vettel, a recent Kaiju attack in Cabo, and a torrid affair with Director Binotto’s wife.

“Did you hear about Binotto’s wife?” George asks during lunch, eyes wide.

“That was your rumor, idiot,” Alex tells him. “Obviously it’s not true. Binotto doesn’t even have a wife.”

By that afternoon, it’s rumored that Binotto lost his wife in a Kaiju attack in Cabo, where she bravely fought in a top-secret test jaeger as Vettel’s copilot.

The second thing that happens is training is suspended for a full day. Truthfully, Charles thinks this should be the real source of rumors, but they’re all so burned out none of the cadets want to question having a day off. It doesn’t mean they actually take the day off—they’re too bored for that, and they’ve forgotten how to do anything else than train relentlessly and occasionally study the odd K-Science journal.

Still, the Director, his assistants, half the training staff and Vettel all spend the morning locked in a conference room doing god knows what.

“They ordered pizza about an hour ago,” Alex tells him. He’s been pretending to read Jaeger Daily for two hours, sprawled out on a towel stolen from the bathroom while he pretends not to watch the Operations building from behind his sunglasses. “I heard you can predict a war based on how often the militaries order pizza. It means they’re planning something.”

“This is Italy,” Pierre says, unbothered, stripped shirtless and sprawled out in the sun a few paces away. “They order pizza literally every day.”

Alex hums. “And they got affogatos.”

“Affogatos?! Mon Dieu. Call the press.”

It probably means nothing, but it’s certainly strange—the conference, not the pizza. Vettel is a well-known face not just in the Jaeger program, but in the world. He was confirmed into the program just a handful of months earlier after having matched with some kid in Australia, and once their Jaeger goes into service he’ll be the first European ranger ever. It’s not a great statistic, seeing as there have only been six rangers in active combat in the history of the planet, but it’s still something.

The Faenza school is small, and often forgotten; most of the European academies are the same way. That’s why it’s even stranger that Vettel is here, of all places.

The third thing that happens that day is Charles kicks Max’s ass in the Kwoon. It’s not related to Vettel in any way, but it’s still funny.

Charles’ first impression of Max when they met eight months ago was that he’s too serious. His eyes are shaped like half-moons, clearly designed for laughing, but he frowns all the time. His lower lip juts out a little, petulant. Charles’ dad used to scold Charles for pouting like that when he was little, warning him his face would get stuck like that, and if Charles was too old for it at seven then Max is much too old for it at sixteen. It’s possible that his face is stuck like that, in fact, since the months that Charles has known him he hasn’t relaxed once. 

He doesn’t relax while training. He doesn’t relax in the rec room. He doesn’t relax while eating—if anything he’s the least relaxed doing that, shoveling food into his mouth like he’s about to be called to attention at any second. His frown lingers as they run laps of the dusty base in Faenza, the sun beating down hot and unrelenting, and while he’s training on the sim: thirteen drops and eleven kills, a record that’s second best only to Charles’ own.

“Beginner’s luck, huh?” Max had said when Charles had stepped out of the sim for the first time, exactly one kill to his name. He doesn’t say that the second time, or the third, or the fourth.

Like Charles said. No sense of humor.

Max is good at Muay Thai, which pisses Charles off to no end. It’s not that Charles is bad at it, he’s just been a little shorter than Max and a lot more wiry for the entire time they’ve known each other. Max is gangly too, but his legs are stronger, a fact that Charles has learned on more than one occasion by catching a knee straight to the solar plexus—a blow which Max barely has to strain to deliver. They’ve sparred—fought, really—enough times now for Charles to know that no matter how quick he can be, Max still has a serious physical advantage.

“Teach me Judo,” he told his trainer the fifth time Max pressed him out of the ring during a training session—a fight—with a heavy offense and pointy elbows, the director’s assistant watching from the corner and taking notes on a clipboard.

“We don’t usually teach that,” Andrea told him. “You’ll never beat a kaiju by throwing it.”

“I want to beat him.” At Andrea’s hesitation he added, “I’ll train extra. I don’t care.”

So Andrea started teaching him Judo; and on the day that Vettel arrives at the academy Charles steps into the ring with Max, letting him get two swings in before grabbing his wrist, using his momentum against him and flipping him square over his shoulder.

Max hits the mat hard enough that the sound echoes through the empty kwoon.

“Judo isn’t on the training list,” Max gripes, pushing himself up and rolling over to clutch at his nose. “Fuck.”

“I’m just adapting to the style of my opponent,” Charles says flatly. “As any good ranger would do.”

“I hate you,” Max tells him, dabbing at his nose—entirely for dramatic effect, since there isn’t a drop of blood in sight and Charles is pretty sure he didn’t even hit him there—and then spins on the mat to kick Charles’ feet out from under him.

Charles goes toppling, landing with a grunt, which is the moment Max decides to try to wrestle him. A horrible decision, really. Max is shit at wrestling. It takes all of thirty seconds for Charles to pin him, catching his left arm in an ude-garami, which is the exact moment that the door swings open.

“Ah,” Director Binotto says. “Leclerc and Verstappen, some of the brightest in our youth program.”

“Let me up,” Max hisses through his teeth, his breath hot against his ear, but Charles just tightens his grip.

“You haven’t tapped out,” Charles replies, holding Max down with his own chest as he twists Max’s elbow. Max lets out a string of noises that sound very Dutch and very rude.

“They do look it,” someone says blandly, and when he looks up Charles is greeted by the sight of Sebastian Vettel standing over him.

He springs to his feet, snapping to attention. Max follows suit, albeit a little slower.

“Relax,” Vettel says. “We don’t stand on rank in the kwoon. I thought that was the first rule of training,” he adds, raising his voice a little.

Binotto shrugs. “We do things differently here.”

Vettel’s eyebrows flash up, then back down again. He ignores the director, giving them both an easy smile, and Charles and Max’s hands fall away at the same time. “I’ve never visited any of the youth programs, but I’ve heard great things,” he says. “How long have you been training?”

“Eight months, sir,” Charles says.

“Please, it’s Sebastian. You’ve been here since the opening of the academy, then,” Sebastian says, his mouth forming into a C shape. “And you’ve been training to be copilots?”

Charles looks at Max, who’s already looking back. His mouth is pouty again, his eyebrows furrowed. Too serious.

“Our cadets did not begin the matching process until last week,” Binotto says, stepping forward to take his place at Sebastian’s side. “We have been training them as a group in the hopes that compatibility would be demonstrated organically, and for the most part that has proved to be successful.”

“How so?”

Binotto lets out a little hum. “Some pairs we brought in together proved to be compatible—siblings, best friends. Other times this proved to be the opposite. And then of course, some compatible pairs just find each other. We had our suspicions, but neural aptitude tests only confirmed it.”

Charles frowns, a protest poised behind his teeth.

“And you two train on the sim together?” Sebastian asks them, his face open.

“No,” Max says. “We only train solo.”

“What are your scores?”

“Thirteen drops, eleven kills.”

“Thirteen, twelve,” Charles adds, and can’t bite down the smug smile when Max shoots a glare his way.

Sebastian raises his eyebrows, blowing out a breath. He looks to Binotto, who raises his eyebrows with a small smile.

“That’s impressive,” Sebastian says. “You both want to be rangers one day?”

“Yes, sir,” they say, and it unfortunately comes out in perfect unison.

Sebastian looks at them for a long beat, a serene smile on his face. “I’m not here at an official capacity. I’m just here to scope out the copilot matches in our youth program. You probably already had some idea that you’re drift compatible,” he says, which Charles was not aware of at all, and then while he’s still reeling from that piece of information, “but the tests last week identified you at somewhere between ninety nine point seven and ninety nine point nine percent.”

“That’s not right,” Max blurts out. “We’re not compatible.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows raise. “Neural tests prove otherwise. So do fighting styles and sim scores, from the looks of it.”

“But we don’t get along.”

“That doesn’t always mean something.” He tilts his head. “If this comes as a surprise, it might be helpful to know that compatibility is about balance as much as it’s about similarities. You might see differences in each other, but in a Jaeger those things will become complementary parts.”

Charles can’t hold back a tiny scoff. What’s supposed to be complementary about Max? His bullheadedness? His ability to eat food faster than the mess hall can produce it?

“Gentlemen,” Binotto says, which is another first—Binotto has never called them that in their lives. “The Jaeger Program needs cadets. Not just rangers, but mechanics, strategists, engineers, support coordinators, biologists, neuroscientists—we need personnel, and now that the academy is on its feet and more jaegers are going into service, it’s time to identify who is part of a viable drift pairing, and who would be better suited to a different division.”

At his side, Max sucks in a short breath, barely audible. Charles himself straightens. He knows a threat when he hears one.

“We’d like to start a project to test drift compatibility through a rudimentary neural handshake,” Binotto says, “and we’re going to be testing that project on you.”

And that’s how the fourth thing happens.

[captastra]

RT Regency AU 👀✨

So the regency au has a bit of pride and prejudice vibes because Heinrix is Space Darcy lol but basically the story is Lethyan becomes the ward of her Aunt Theodora von Valancius, where Abelard is still by her side. Theo is rare in that she has a business and is a very powerful lady amongst the gentry.

When Lethyan comes into her life, she gets presented to society and that is where Lethyan runs into Heinrix. Lethyan wants nothing to do with the expectations of society and would much prefer to work for her aunt instead of get married. But Theo is insistent.

Heinrix isn't a gentleman in society, he was a soldier turned secret service esque position and his only lead is to . Course Theo has no intention of letting Heinrix question her or learn anything about her business so he and Lethyan decide to pretend to be courting to help Lethyan escape marriage and heinrix have some means of speaking with Theo.

Intrigue, mystery, and romance ensues!! With a bit of action thrown in here and there :D

[whorejolras]

im always down to hear more about the amis sw au!! :DDD

yay i was hoping someone would bc i could talk about it all day 🥰🥰🥰

this one was born from two things 1. ever since i started sex work i've wanted to write sex worker grantaire, and 2. when i rejoined tumblr & started reading fic again last year i thought "oh i remember that one fic where he is a sw" and found it and took psychic damage from the whorephobia 😖

so i went what if i did a similar prompt but sw informed instead of... that. (is it bad that what's turned into one of my fave au's was born out of spite lol)

anyway i also had a wip where les amis were like a radical anarchist group of hackers/political assassins and i always imagined r as a sw in that so i kinda merged the two and it's become this.

Grantaire does independant full service work and is a performer who dances at kink events and clubs etc. which is where most of les amis meet him.

i'm really trying to balance between informative and true to my knowledge of my industry, subtly breaking down prejudices readers might come in with, while also being pure 100% not realistic fantasy with 10/10 smut.

the fantasy being "what if a sex worker had a whole bunch of really hot, kind, interesting, respectful clients who were all people he could be friends with irl AND they were all friends with each other AND they were awesome anarchist political assassins who needed him to move into their secret base while they went into hiding bc they couldn't visit him anymore and just couldn't live without it 😩" like that's all crack none of that would ever really happen lol 😭

also the greatest smut scenes i've ever written are in this wip. i'm quite proud of them. i'm excited to bring this fandom some realistic and hot sex scenes written by someone who is literally a professional in the subject 🫡

if anyone wants i can try to find a good excerpt 👀

[alrightbuckaroo]

oooooh pretty woman au please Ada 👀

Hello!

Alright, so this idea was born out of a few of things. My love of the Pretty Woman arc (Kingsman: The Secret Service is my favorite example, tbh), my love of both Classic Hollywood and Classic Pop, and lastly, a conversation with @strandnreyes.

We were talking about the show Hollywood, and talked about the Archie and Rock story line. Rock is Rock Hudson, the actor, and Archie is an up and coming screenwriter who moonlights as a "Gas Station Attendant" which is code for rent boy

So, in this, it's 1953 and Carlos is a personal assistant for Roy Abrams, a studio executive, but Carlos wants to be more. TK is an actor who hasn't had any luck that works as a gas station attendant at night. They end up crossing paths and well, you'll see:

Here's a snippet:

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at?” Scott Conway takes a drag of his cigarette as he watches the young man in front of him get dressed. TK smiles to himself as he buttons up his slacks and tucks his shirt back in. The Pit Stop: Full Service is embroidered with black thread on a creme patch that’s stitched upon the breast pocket. TK looks in the mirror, looking past his own reflection and to the man he’s just spend the last hour with. Scott’s smiling, his picture perfect white teeth glistening in the low level lamp light. His left hand holding a cigarette above the glass ashtray and tapping the ash down. “I’m not your wife, Scott,” TK answers, looping his leather belt through the belt loops. TK notices that it’s starting to crack and crease, the interior color beginning to peek out. Over his shoulder, he tosses out, “You don’t have to lie to me.” “Of course you aren’t my wife,” Scott utters the words around a grunt as he moves odd the bed. As he reaches for his boxers from the floor, he continues, “You haven’t spent the last hour screaming your head off at me.” “Oh I don’t know,” TK smirks at Scott in the reflection of the mirror. “I think I’ve done plenty screaming.”

ask me about my wips! | previous ones

[m34gs]

-Has had our Twisted Wonderland Saw AU rotating in my brain- Tell me, friend who are the house warden's go-to victim of choice? (For example: they target someone who has committed a certain kind of crime.) I look forward to your answer 👀

Oh, I am delighted to answer this! Thank you for the ask, I love our Twisted Wonderland Saw AU, and as the end of September approaches I become more and more excited to go see Saw X.

Warning, contains mentions of: corruption, rape/sexual assault, harassment, kidnapping, abuse, racism

Riddle - The rules of the games have always been about targeting people who are taking life for granted, whether it's their own or someone else's. Riddle loves rules. I also think this would translate over to laws; as they are definitely rules. So, in general I think Riddle is not overly picky about which law-breakers he puts into a trap.

However, the ones he gets most satisfaction from putting in a trap are the ones who are meant to uphold the rules. People in power who should be protecting others, but end up abusing the power and instead using it to allow themselves to get away with crimes such as theft, assault, etc., those are the ones Riddle feels deserve this the most. He's going after corrupt cops, corrupt politicians, people who scam others out of money with fraudulent practices.

Riddle knows that what he's doing also breaks some laws, but he doesn't feel it's hypocritical of him to target those people. After all, he's using what power he has to protect others from corrupt individuals by forcing them to either change or die.

Leona - Leona also goes for people who abuse their power; specifically people who use their physical strength to intimidate and overpower others and hurt them. Basically, muscleheads who use their strength against others. I think he would hate them the most because he has a bit of a chip on his shoulder about brains vs. muscle.

I think it gives him a bit of satisfaction to trap people who think they can just muscle their way out of problems or make others take the consequences. He likes the realization in their eyes when they finally realize they have to face the consequences of their own actions. They don't have to necessarily be convicted criminals for him. (he still thinks John is a bit nuts though.)

Azul - I think Azul would actually have a list of people for Jigsaw to have investigated on the regular; all people he'd be willing to put into traps. Why? Because he still runs the Monstro Lounge; with multiple locations. "But Meags," you might say, "what does that have to do with anything?" Well, honestly, while Azul works his staff hard and demands a certain level of service for customers, he's not stupid and he hates when people make a mess of what he sees as his. So, Azul goes less for the criminals, but more for the people who are shitty to the waitstaff. People who mock their servers, people who are rude to bartenders and harass them, racists who throw a fit about the nationality of whoever is serving them, people who make a scene and disturb the environment of the lounge, and anyone who makes his staff feel like absolute shit. Azul knows he needs workers who want to come to work, not people who dread every minute of interaction with the customers. So, maybe he doesn't get to know all his staff personally; he's got a big chain of restaurants in this AU. But, he's gonna make damn sure he doesn't let customers get in the way of their work or damage the mental health of his staff. It's a bit of an open secret among staff that if you tell Jade or Floyd or Azul that a customer harassed you, a few months down the line that customer will stop coming to the restaurant for good.

I honestly think he'd want to put so many in a trap that Jigsaw tells him he has to make a wait-list and also has to sprinkle in some different victims here and there to avoid suspicion being thrown on the Lounge.

Kalim - It's been established many times in canon that Kalim has been a victim of poisoning attempts and kidnappings. This is part of the AU too. I think Kalim would want to prevent other children from suffering like that, so I think he actually goes after people who abuse and mistreat children. Especially if the judicial system decided not to put them behind bars or gave them a lenient sentence. It pains him to see how poor the justice system can be when it comes to the protection of children. He feels compelled to do something about it, and while working to support charities and advocate for children's mental health and support is what he can do publicly, sometimes it really feels like it's not enough.

Vil - Vil is going after people who use date-rape drugs. He can't stand it. He's the kind of person who knows what it's like to feel like you have no autonomy in a situation (movie industries are notorious for how they mistreat child actors) and he hates it. He's also of the belief that if a person needs to use drugs to get with someone they're interested in, they are truly pathetic. He hates the attitude of "it should come to me naturally and if it doesn't that's everyone else's fault". If someone says no, they mean no, and Vil is fully in support of that.

SA is a terrible crime and he is fully disgusted by it. While he will choose various committers of various crimes/infractions, sexual offenders are his go-to for traps when he can.

Idia - The bigger the challenge, the more Idia wants to do it. He wants the ones who are so clearly committing crimes, ripping people off, stepping on people, scamming people, and abusing the people who work for them; but have so little concrete evidence tying them to their deeds that the police have nothing to arrest them for. That, or they are technically not committing crimes but are definitely making life miserable or even endangered for other people for no reason. He gets a thrill out of finding all the little pieces and stringing them together, and he feels wholly satisfied when the whole trap comes together and he gets to watch the person finally face their comeuppance.

He's a pro at getting information, almost as fast as Lilia and Malleus are when it comes to researching and stalking the victims. He's got a number of online aliases and uses them to get as much information as he can from any and every source. For him, there's always a thrill when he finally nails someone who thought they were completely able to get away with mistreating and abusing others.

Malleus - For Malleus, his choices depend more on the day and what he sees. In this AU, we've established with each other that Malleus and Lilia being Fae allows them to bump up their timelines because they don't need to spend as much time stalking and researching the perpetrator due to Fae powers.

I think that for Malleus, he doesn't really have a type that he wants to put in traps. If he sees someone committing a crime or degrading another person, they are all potential victims for his traps. Because clearly they need to be taught to appreciate their own life and the lives of others.

Of course, for all the Housewardens, the Number One person they want to put in a trap is Anyone Who Harms/Insults/Offends Yuu. Because they are very protective of their non-magic friend and love them dearly. :D

Thanks again for the ask! I hope you enjoyed these answers; let me know what you think💜

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

To honour him, 🌹👀🤫🤭😤✨️ for Jack the Ripper (and I mean the one from Black Clover one, not the real one, of course 😂)

Hiya! ^^ Oh Jack, the tragedy T^T (Ofc XD our Jack is very much unappreciated in this fandom)

🌹 Love language

His love language is both through acts of service and trying to make you laugh, or feel better in any other way. But it doesn't mean that he's insensitive. He does wait for it to be the proper time or moment to try and make you laugh, letting you have time to process through the frustrations or sadness, while listening to you. But he does want to make you smile at the end of it. Make things lighter, since life is about pursuing things that make you happy. Long-term happiness or short-term happiness. And he wants his spouse to be happy, for the long run.

Acts of service come through the little things he does in the house for you, but also offerring aid with anything he thinks you might need help with. It's not because he doesn't think that you could do it, but usually things are just easier with some help.

👀 Interesting AU

Medical AU has been circling in my brain, so ... what do we think about a Jack PlasticSurgeonAU? He has a reputation of being... maybe a bit too enthusiastic about his work, but he always delivers the best results.

🤫 Unpopular headcanon if any

I don't think I have any "big" headcanons for him, or unpopular ones either (though I suppose it depends on what we count as "unpopular" since eg him being a good dad is quite popular in my circles), but I have a feeling that he's great at darts. Cards? Not so much, but he's very good at darts. That has landed him on a win on a few bets.

🤭 Their silly little secret

He got his tongue pierced as a teen, but the piercing has closed up ever since. Keeping it was just too much of a hassle.

😤 Their proudest moment

When he killed that bear before becoming a knight. Most might deem that knighthood would be something more... worth of being celebrated, but if he's being honest, that bear, and how he managed to take it down, was his proudest moment. And it allowed him to feel like he could become a knight.

It was because of that moment that he is where he is today: A magic knight captain.

✨ Secret wish

Settle down and have the family life he never experienced as a kid. He is focused on becoming his strongest self too, but anyone he winds up with needs to be able to handle him for who he is.

[911-on-abc]

for the wip tag 7 and 8 👀 

hi anon!! thank you for the ask

#7. abandoned Secret Service AU

ah the Secret Service AU, my white whale. I originally developed it for another fandom but it just never worked, so when I got into 9-1-1 I was like oh!! Eddie slots really well into this -- his canon backstory matched the backstory I created -- My plan was to have Eddie be the Governor of Texas, already widowed, and the rest of the 118 would make up his secret service detail during the last leg of the campaign. Buck would've saved Chris during a flash-flood in Austin, Texas à la tsunami. Eddie getting shot in the show folded in really well.

The only problem was that it was really out of character. I could never see Eddie as a politician, plus dude had a mental breakdown over Ana, he could not run a country!! I would also have to age him up and change all this other stuff. Basically, it would've be too difficult for me to suspend my disbelief to make this all work. C'est la vie.

#8. 9-1-1 What If (S7 spec script)

I'm sooo glad you asked about this one!!!! Ahh! I love reading scripts and I find writing them to be very natural bc I always focus on dialogue and blocking first and then build the scene & prose around it.

After S6 ended, I started thinking about what I wanted to see for S7 and wrote a couple scenes. Every season starts with a big event/disaster and I decided that season 7 would start with a cruise liner crash at the LA Port (Athena and Bobby were not on it!! although... hmm...)

There are some Buddie moments in the first episode to set up their relationship arc (couch shopping! couch shopping! couch shopping!), but my favorite scene so far is this madney scene:

INT. MADDIE AND CHIMNEY’S HOUSE - DAY MADDIE and CHIMNEY are sitting at their kitchen table, covered in wedding planning materials. CHIMNEY holds up swatches of fabric to show MADDIE.

CHIMNEY Okay, tell me which tablecloth you like better. MADDIE I don’t know, Howie, they all look the same to me. CHIMNEY No, they are clearly different. This one has a cooler tone and this one has a warmer tone.

MADDIE does not look impressed.

CHIMNEY.  Come on Maddie this stuff is important. MADDIE You should just let my brother help you with this. He cares much more about this wedding stuff than me. CHIMNEY No way. I am not letting ‘Clipboard Buck’ anywhere near my wedding.  MADDIE He can’t be that bad. CHIMNEY  That man is a menace to society when he has a checklist. MADDIE Chimney, the color of the tablecloth or type of centerpieces don’t matter to me. All that matters is having you and Jee-Yun with me.

CHIMNEY looks at his fiancee with a besotted expression on his face. After a beat, he turns in the direction of the living room holding up the pair of swatches.

CHIMNEY Hen, which color do you like better? Snowy Fields or Vanilla Cream?

HEN is laying on the ground with her new foster child, [NAME], approx. [age]. JEE-YUN is with them, playing with toys.

HEN Nah, do not get me involved in this. My wife planned our wedding, both times. This is her area of expertise, not mine.

The door bursts open with KAREN holding bags filled to the brim with wedding supplies. She has a wild expression on her face.

(I'm going to cut it off here!! I hope you like!)

this is part of the wip tag game! if you like any of them, send me an ask!!

[sanjuwrites]

checkmate, i never lose

graphic and beta work done by @chaotictarlos. this fic and this series literally wouldn't exist without their support. thank you <3

this is the first fic in my soulmates series, you would turn into my best life! i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

TK regrets a lot about his life.

He regrets taking his first pill at fifteen. His boyfriend had given it to him, pressing it into his hand with a smile and a “you’ll feel so good, I promise” along with a beer that TK had stolen from his dad’s fridge. His boyfriend was right, he felt good and then never stopped chasing that high.

He regrets relapsing when he turned eighteen, stinging from the rejection from the NYFD on account of his test scores.

He regrets relapsing again when he was twenty-two. Getting high between shifts and disappearing for days at a time on PTO, sleeping on dirty mattresses in shady drug dens with dirty needles surrounding him because he wanted the high he had that first time. He could never achieve it, more drugs causing more problems until his mom found him on a dirty mattress clinging to his life by a thread.

But TK doesn’t regret anything more than seeing his mother and father, the President of the United States and her First Gentleman sitting at the foot of his bed, slumped into each other, dozing off as they wait for their first and only son to wake up from his latest overdose, hands clutched together tightly.

He watches them for a second, and he feels hot tears of shame and regret burn at the back of his eyes. TK doesn’t remember much but he remembers the handful of pills he swallowed, the way the high didn’t feel good, and how he collapsed onto the floor. He would say that he hadn’t meant to overdose, that he just wanted the pain to stop but the truth was he wanted it all to stop. He’s tired of being hurt, of not having the kind of life he dreamed of when he was younger. He’s tired of being soulmateless and watching every person he falls in love with find their soulmate and leave him as if he’s never meant a damn thing to them.

continue reading on ao3!

taglist: @chaotictarlos, @alrightbuckaroo, @theghostofashton, @detective-giggles, @taralaurel, @otter-love-asl, @mikibwrites, and @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut!

[pinkiebieberpie]

Not sure if you’re doing mood boards still, but one of my thoughts recently has been secret service agent!bucky and the president’s daughter ❤️👀

i still make moodboards!! thank you for the ask!! 🤍 and oh my- i LOVE this idea 😩✨ and i have like 3 more moodboard ideas with this au ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 fuck, amazing.

secret agent!bucky x president's daughter reader

bucky moodboards list

[bluraaven]

Can you tell me something more about what the Obsession AU Wip contains, please?👀

WIP Game

Absolutely!   Good choice, because that one's a delicious flavor of DinCobb that I'm unfortunately not sure will ever make it into a full story.  But here's the cliff notes:

Din's a hitman and Cobb is a lifelong professional conman and they meet by accident during one of Din's jobs.   

(Was I inspired by re-watching John Wick?  Maybe.) 

Cue two completely, utterly unhinged feral men that never know whether they'll kill or fuck each other.  Neither of them knows normal, so they invent their own little backstories and intricate rituals in which they pretend to be all kinds of different people and slowly spiral deeper into a relationship that borders on obsession, unable to stay away from one another.  Consensual but not safe and certainly not sane. 

And while Cobb moves through odd jobs from being a casino shark to an investigator, a professor at uni and then back to working a dingy gas station selling cigs and wank mags to passing truckers, it gets increasingly difficult for Din to keep him a secret.  Because if his guild ever finds out about Cobb, he will have to kill him.  And they do find out, of course they do. 

Hell, Grogu is probably the kid of someone Din killed in that 'verse. 

I did roughly sketch out the first chapter.

CW for murder

A rambunctious bout of laughter, near manic in its pitch, springs up from the main hall that's just to the left and down the wide, opulent staircase.  Which with its faux crystal chandeliers and luscious red carpet, threadbare only in the light of day when one can also make out the stains of drinks spilled and the dark smooth globs of gum firmly trodden into its fibers, at nighttime it makes a fairly good impression of a bygone golden age that had never bothered to take so much as a single step beyond the threshold of this establishment even back when it was still cruising the streets of Mos Eisley. 

The shrill sound of amusement rises above the general clamour and heads upwards, seeking solitude perhaps, as it wriggles its way under the door that is marked 'out of service' and currently locked from the inside.  There it brushes lightly against the man's broad back, currently straining as he remains locked in something that from the right angle might be mistaken for an embrace.  It peeks over a shoulder, curious and unsure whether this is the right person, an old acquaintance met by chance, and recoils. 

The corpse in Din Djarin's arms twitches.  The man caught in a headlock claws at his own neck and at the backs of his assailant's forearms, scratching unsightly furrows into the black leather of his jacket.  He doesn't know he's already a dead man. 

It takes seventeen seconds for him to fully lose consciousness, bent over backwards, off-balance and flailing, and the only kick he manages to aim at Din's knee in that time goes wide. 

The bathroom smells of fresh smoke, piss, and an underlying blend of chemical cleaning agents that has mixed unpleasantly with the cloying perfume that the wall-mounted dispenser squirts into the air with clockwork precision. 

Din draws a thin stiletto knife from the sheath strapped to his forearm and drives its point below his target's breastbone and upwards through his heart and lays the body down.  He allows himself a small grunt of relief as he rolls the tightness out of his shoulders and neck while he waits until the man stops breathing.  When he pulls the blade free, there's hardly any blood save for a coin-sized stain that doesn't spread.  Seldom is, with this type of injury.  Din prefers his work neat. 

The laugh from before gutters out and goes wherever forlorn laughter goes, dribbling drunkenly into the cleavage of the reveler's companion most likely. 

Din tugs off his gloves made of thick black leather and with thin plating sewn into the knuckles and backs, a special requisition he'd had made by the kind of craftsman who knows better than to ask questions.  He tucks them behind his belt and opens the tap. 

The water runs cold at first and cleans the blood off his blade in a stream of pink and then runs clear again.  Din washes his hands.  Would feel odd not to, given the place. 

He uses a paper towel to dry the knife before it disappears back up his sleeve and then his hands while he meets the dark gaze of the man in the mirror with indifference.  His reflection sports slightly overgrown curls and a round face, tempered into maturity only by the lines around his eyes and a fuzzy beard that stubbornly refuses to grow in fully despite being touched by the first greys. 

Din fishes his glasses out of an inner pocket and puts them on. 

He knows he looks more like a librarian than someone who kills for a living. 

Din goes down on one knee and checks his target for a pulse.  Satisfied that there is none, he is about to rise when,

"Good job." 

It's said with the condescending tone one might use on a dog that has remembered to do its business outside and Din's hand flies to the inside of his jacket. 

The man who had materialized at the bathroom's far end without so much as the faintest whisper of a sole against the floor is quicker on the draw and as the tips of Din's fingers brush the ribbed grip of his gun, he finds himself on the wrong end of a silver revolver that means bad business.  

The stranger makes a disapproving 'tsk' noise and the shake of his head is a minuscule barely perceptible thing that freezes Din mid-action. 

As the moment stretches between them, Din has ample time to study the other man who is leaning one shoulder into a stall wall, legs crossed at the ankle in a nonchalant way that may just be genuine. 

He wears his good looks with the air of a person very much aware of his own attractiveness, appears put-together in a casually undone kind of way.  The red scarf around his neck clashes with the bland grey of his suit which Din can tell has been tailored to fit his lean frame.  At a guess he maybe has a decade on Din, although the silver hair, a strand of which has rebelled against being styled and falls impertinently across his high forehead, throws Din for a bit of a loop.  But without a doubt the most remarkable thing about him is that he hasn't yet put a bullet through Din's head. 

No one is this unfazed unless they were expecting him so to buy himself some time, he asks,

"Are you a cop?" 

"Darlin', if I were a cop I'd have my buddies bustin' down this door right about now," the man says with the hint of a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth where Din is sure a cigarette rested moments before. 

Would explain the smell of smoke.  

"No friends then?" he asks, gauging his options.  He can be fast, but the man's finger is on the trigger and his gun hand has the steadiness of a professional.  Takes one to know one. 

If the stranger harbours any apprehensions about sharing a dingy bathroom with a corpse and a murderer, there isn't so much as a flicker of it showing in that shark grin. 

"Six, and each faster 'n you." 

He juts his chin a little higher and Din rises from his crouch, straightening his knees with a conscious effort to keep his movement slow.  Everyone slips up eventually and while he'd rather not find his end here and now, he doesn't harbor any particular aversion to the possibility either. 

Dead is dead. 

So he raises his arms up until his hands touch the back of his head and waits, feet planted square until the stranger tilts his head at one of the stalls and Din back up into it until he can feel the toilet as he kicks back with a heel.  The man steps forward.  Looks down at the body briefly with a detached kind of curiosity but without any pity and the muzzle of his revolver doesn't waver as it remains trained on Din's forehead. 

Din cannot quite make out his eye colour when the stranger's gaze flicks up and he watches Din watch him. 

"Play stupid games," he mutters and Din huffs. 

"Something like that," he says evenly and the whites of the other man's teeth are a stark contrast against his tanned skin and the dim interior of the room. 

The man steps over the prone body in a long graceful stride.  He unlocks the bathroom door one-handed and without looking at what he's doing, his eyes never once leaving Din's.  Smart. 

Maybe not smart enough, because he doesn't pull the trigger as Din would have.  He simply leaves. 

Din doesn't lower his arms until he hears the soft catch of the door falling shut, and the faint rasp of the man's drawl addressing whoever had wandered here in hopes of relieving themselves. 

"Oh, I wouldn't go in there.  It's a terrible mess; I'd sooner brave the downstairs queue.  Did they finally stop fucking in that stall?" 

His voice trails off as Din hauls the corpse into the furthest stall and locks it from the inside before climbing back out the top.  By the time anyone complains about the smell he'll be long gone.  He makes a careful round of the casino, eyes drawn to every speck of silver and red, but doesn't find whom he is looking for. 

The stranger has disappeared and it is time for Din to do the same. 

[welcometololaland]

I have crippling imposter syndrome and nothing I've written feels good enough for Seven Sentence Sunday, but thanks for the tags! (@heartstringsduet @strandnreyes @three-drink-amy @reyesstrand and @rmd-writes).

Instead, I wanna tag @marchingatmidnight because I need more zoo Tarlos, @basilsunrise because I KNOW you have some amazing band AU content, @iboatedhere because I would literally die for more secret service AU, @sunshinestrand because your last WIP Wednesday had me 👀 for the cursed apartment, @nontoxic-writes because i see you writing Hangster and I want more and @reyescarlos because your writing is a gift and I love the odd occasion when you decide to share it so I'm lovingly pressuring you 💕

[iboatedhere]

I kinda love that your secret service AU is in its Jane Austen era. I got super excited seeing your latest sneak peak thinking about how now that TK's broken up with Alex him and Carlos can brush fingers, with intent 👀👀👀.

Their fingers did actually just brush and they’re going to dance in a very public and communal way.

[doublel27]

Very curious about the Bodyguard AU 👀👀

The Bodyguard AU. My beloved behemoth. My AU that I’m going to need to be held accountable by this fandom to finish this summer while I have time.

It’s a first son/secret service AU that is currently sitting at 16.6K and isn't close to being done. I love it very much; I just need to work on it. I've been tryin to get some fo the little stuff out of the way as well. Have a little bit that I've been working on recently. ~*~

Things get better. What had seemed like a life ending moment becomes a dull ache as Judd and Grace keep scheduling dinners and Paul sets up a month-long challenge that TK has to plan daily workouts and new rides for the spinning studio and it keeps him ridiculously busy. So much so that Paul sets a fresh one for the next month. And it’s nice, really, that his friends love him enough to keep him running ragged so he doesn’t really have time to breathe between therapy appointments and daily meetings. 

When he does have downtime, TK doesn’t spend it the way he used to. The restless energy he used to feed into going out with friends and dancing and traveling back to New York for dates is spent in his apartment. While it felt claustrophobic that first night, it’s nice to be able to spend his evenings with his guard down. More often than not he invites Carlos to stay, do his paperwork in the apartment if he wants. 

It’s not that he can’t be alone. He could. But somewhere in the first week where Carlos refused to leave, TK found he was used to the way Carlos would hum softly under his breath and click his pen. Also, Carlos will cook from time to time and insist it’s no big deal, but cooking in his family is saved for special occasions or his father’s love of smoothies. It makes his apartment feel homier than it ever has. 

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